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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Phinks Magcub General Profile

Yandere! Phinks Magcub x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, Phinks slaps you, mentions of murder, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, possessiveness, Phinks has anger issues, mentions of stalking, fem! reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE:

Friendly

In general, Phinks is not a soft man. He’s a hard edged criminal, finding his thrills in beating others and theft. There is no part of him that’s sweet – in fact, he’d say that would almost be an insult.

And yet, there’s something weirdly alluring about a darling who is; someone who’s genuine, kind, and social. Phinks isn’t that much of a talker, but there’s something about just being genuinely friendly and open to other people that he finds incredibly cute. Naïve, yes, but adorable nonetheless.

It’s endearing to see his darling so freely chatting and interacting with those around them, making them smile and laugh and feel comfortable. It’s endearing, until suddenly it isn’t – once his obsession with them forms, Phinks is honestly hating this side of his beloved’s personality.

Of course, it’s overwhelmingly cute and only further shows just how soft and sweet and opposite his darling is compared to him, but once his possessiveness forms it’s a bit of a death sentence for anyone his darling decides to smile at, to give a random compliment, to do anything.

He wants no one taking his darling’s time, no one getting the opportunity to bask in the warmth and loveliness that is his sweet, precious darling. All of that is reserved solely for him, and he’ll be damned if he has to share.

So while this his darling’s friendliness is initially part of what attracts him, it also helps drive forward many of Phinks’s more troubling tendencies – he’s so possessive if only because his darling talks to so many strangers, and at the end of the day, isn’t it really just their fault? For being so damn sweet?

Playful

Despite being one of the most dangerous criminals in the world, it’s incredibly easy to fluster Phinks. He’s not particularly smooth with women, and so a darling that is quick on their feet is a perfect match for him.

He likes the idea of his darling being able to keep up with him, always knowing what to say to get him at a loss for words, their quick tongue making him bashful and struggle for words. It’s embarrassing to look so foolish when he’s blubbering and unsure of how to respond when they wink at him and tell him he’s looking handsome today, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn’t fucking love it, his ego multiplying tenfold with every compliment that slips past his darling’s lips.

He likes the idea of his darling being chipper and happy, if only because Phinks himself is easily swayed by his emotions, and having a positive darling helps him stay calmer and more in control.

Besides, as his obsession grows, so do his fantasies – he’s got this daydream of his darling cooking with him, all domestic bliss while they move around the kitchen and he sits at the dining table watching, with they sending him looks and throw jokes over their shoulder. He wants them to boop his nose with a bit of sauce or flour, then kiss it clean, winking at them and watching his face go bright red as he clears his throat and tries to recover.

It’s lame, he thinks, to be so vulnerable, but he can’t deny the way his heart races when he thinks of it, how he gets all warm and gooey on the inside like some lovesick teenage boy.

A playful darling would be a good fit, and Phinks is smitten as soon as he sees this side of them.

Patient

Because Phinks has issues regulating his emotions, having a darling who is more steady and consistent is a good match for him. He needs someone who is able to calm him down, to stop him from exploding and raging at the slightest inconvenience, and as time passes Phinks slowly begins seeing his darling as his rock.

He turns to them for emotional support more often than he would like to admit, and as soon as he feels rage swimming in his veins he’s desperately running to them, because even just seeing them calms him down, the anger replaced by fondness, love, yearning.

He becomes dependent on them from a very early stage, their presence being the only thing to make him feel normal, sane, calm, and he quickly grows addicted to the feeling.

His darling is like his own personal drug, and really, how can Phinks be expected to not chase down this feeling, to not snatch his darling up all for himself? He’s a selfish man, and he has his needs – he’s just lucky that his darling, with all their patience and ability to calm him, fulfill more than just one of his needs.

Many more.

Competitive

This one isn’t absolutely necessary for Phinks, but a more competitive darling is a significant turn-on for him. He likes a darling who isn’t completely meek; he wants them to be a bit of a spitfire, and while he doesn’t want them to be too competitive, he likes that his darling doesn’t just simply roll over and submit to those around them.

It’s attractive to see the way they get this glint in their eye, a desire to win rolling through them, and frankly, when Phinks sees his darling acting this way, he has to shift his pants a bit, discreetly trying to hide the way they’re getting just a bit too tight.

He likes this about his darling, but when it comes to him, Phinks doesn’t particularly like this trait. When he’s trying to take care of them, to protect them, he wants his darling to give into everything he says, to obey him without question.

He’s just trying to help them, and if his darling grows stubborn and decides to be a brat, he struggles to remain calm and rational, to not lash out and tell them to shut the fuck up and get into the bed, you have to sleep.

He wants his darling to keep this fiery personality trait, but to regulate it so that they aren’t super competitive with him – maybe playfully, sure, but not to the point where it throws a wrench in the relationship.

After all, he wants your relationship to normal, perfect, healthy, and if his darling is constantly fighting him, how can it be any of these things? Can’t they at least try and make it work, just like Phinks is? Can’t they see how frantically he’s trying?

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Lucid

Despite not exactly being the most romantic man alive, Phinks has enough knowledge about relationships to know that the way he feels for you is far from normal.

He’s very aware that you probably wouldn’t appreciate how his every thought revolves around you, how he’s constantly wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with, how you’re feeling, if you’re thinking about him…

He knows the obsession he’s harboring over you is wrong, that he’s a creep and a perverted, sick freak for tracking your whereabouts, for killing any man that comes close to you, for loving you in such an uncontrolled, passionate way, and while he wants to stop himself, to halt the feelings his has for you and lose the intense fascination and desire he feels for you, Phinks just can’t – both in reality and in principle. His feelings for you are too great, too intense and overwhelming and wonderful for him to ever be able to dispel of. He'll quickly come to the conclusion that he’ll always be in love with you, regardless of what happens, and regardless of how long he lives.

There’s just no way to lose interest in the person he honestly believes is his soulmate, the person he’d give anything and everything for. He quickly gives up trying, because it only hurts his heart, only makes him more and more desperate for you.

And of course, there’s also the more selfish side of him that loves having someone to love, someone to care for and want to protect at all costs. You’re one of the only people in his life that Phinks actually gives a damn about, that he wants to see safe and smiling and free from every single curse this world can dole out, and so the mere concept of losing you, of trying to forget you and move on causes his heart to physically hurt.

You’re so important to him, the main reason why he’s still living (aside from the Troupe, of course), and while it eats him alive from the guilt, Phinks slowly begins rationalizing his obsession and need for you as simply wanting to give you the amount of love and care that you deserve. He wants to be a good partner for you, for you to always be satisfied and want for nothing because of him, and one of the ways in which he shows this is to absolutely spoil you.

He’s never been the best at soft, gushy feelings, but the warmth that brews in his heart when he picks up the bouquet of red roses, of soft baby blue buttercups, of white tulips, he can’t help but smile softly and feel his cheeks heating up, because you deserve every fucking flower in the world, and even then they wouldn’t be enough to compare to your beauty.

When he picks out the necklace he’d like to steal for you (he won’t tell you it’s stolen of course, but you’ll quickly come to realize the exact nature of his profession), his heart hammers in his chest at the thought of you wearing it, of you loving it and proudly telling him and the world that Phinks owns you, that he treats you so well, and that he gives you everything you could ever want.

He spoils you beyond belief, hoping that the gifts will make up for his all of his violent, overbearing, wrong tendencies. He hopes it’ll work, and for the most part it helps ease his mind – so if you’re somehow who doesn’t like getting gifts or being so indebted, get used to it.

Phinks wants to give you the world, and with his skills in the ways of procuring valuables, he’s readily prepared to give it to you. Anything for you.

Possessive

In Phinks’s mind, you are completely and utterly his.

He still has enough lucidity about his feelings to recognize that you’re your own person, but only to a certain extent – yes, you have your own feelings and thoughts, but every part of you belongs to him. Your mind, such a pretty and entertaining thing to him, is owned by Phinks Magcub himself, forced to bend to whatever he wants and dictates, just as it should be.

Your body (something he spends hours dreaming about, shaky fingers hovering over your curves for minutes at a time once he’s got you in front of him) is his property, for him to do whatever he pleases with.

He figures that because he does so much for you (all of the protection he provides you, the security and guarantee that no one will ever touch you), the least you could do is be willingly his, to give into his possessiveness and let him just completely own you.

He has a real problem with jealousy where you’re concerned; in his eyes, every single male on the planet is a rival for your love and affection, a possible deterrent from you realizing how Phinks himself is the only one you could ever be truly happy with or need. His automatic assumption for every man within a ten foot radius of you is that they want you, that they want to talk to you and smile at you and use you and touch you and fuck you –

His blood boils the second someone approaches you, regardless of their intent – your male friend stops by to ask about the newest assignment from your boss? Immediately Phinks is scowling, fists clenching at his sides, aura flaring up impossibly because why is this piece of shit staring at you like you’re some slab of fine meat?

When the man in the grocery store accidentally bumps into you after turning around, immediately Phinks is shaking with rage, angry that this man thinks he can just touch you like you’re some commoner, like you aren’t the literal reason for his very existence.

It’s unhealthy to be so controlling and obsessive over making sure that you stay his, and for the most part Phinks knows this – he knows that he really shouldn’t have a say in who you hang out with, who you think of and where your gaze falls as you sit on the subway car to work, but he just can’t help it.

You’re all he thinks about, all he cares about, the only thing besides killing and the Troupe that gets him up in the morning; it’s the promise of making sure that you’re safe, of making sure that nothing ever gets between the two of you that gives him the drive to function.

Of course, while the swirling mix of rage and utter desperation for you is never ending in his gut, he’s more than aware that in order to really have you, in order to get you to actually love him back and not be terrified of his every move, he can’t be nearly as obvious as he wants to be about his infatuation with you.

He wants nothing more than to sock every man in the face who so much as glances at you, to leave them bloodied, bruised and thrust to death in the most painful ways, all with you watching and seeing just how far Phinks is willing to go to prove his love to you. But he knows that if you saw that you’d only cower away from him, terrified of what he could do to you if he was able to destroy so many men larger, stronger and more knowledgeable about combat than you.

And really, fear is the last thing Phinks wants you to harbor for him – he craves a normal relationship with you, to have all of the overplayed, cliché romance Hallmark movie moments with you. So while the urge to just grab you and keep you away from everything and everyone, to keep you completely and utterly his is nearly too overwhelming to ignore, Phinks holds out.

For you.

Because he knows it’ll only push you away, and Phinks isn’t kidding when he says he would literally die without you – you’re a drug to him, and he’s a greedy man. He isn’t willing to share his supply of happiness with anyone else, no matter how you beg and plead with him. He’s stubborn, so it’s really in your best interest to just submit to your fate and let him hold you in his lap, hands awkwardly set at your sides and palpably clammy.

Just let him do what he wants, because in the end he’ll always get what he wants.

Protective

While he’s by no means a gentle man, there’s something about you that makes him pale at the idea of being rough. Maybe it’s because you’re just so weak compared to him, so soft and sweet and nice, but he can’t stomach the idea of letting other people hurt you.

He’s more than aware that the world is full of horrible, blood thirsty criminals who kill at the snap of a finger (hell, he’s one of them, he would know), and in the context of your safety, Phinks can’t help but imagine all the worst case scenarios. He can’t help but imagine any number of them getting their hands on you, of any of them deciding that you’d be a quick, fun kill. He can vividly see in his mind you being snatched off the street, gagged and bound at the wrists while some psychopath makes you cry and scream, your pretty blood staining your skin and the life draining from your eyes.

The idea of you being hurt, tortured, raped, killed or any number of other horrible things is genuinely something that gives him nightmares. There’s this cold, sinking feeling in his gut that forces him up and out of bed, racing towards your home when he awakes from these dreams, his lungs burning as he runs faster than he ever has.

He’s picking at your lock with trembling fingers, slipping inside and hurriedly rushing to your room, eyes darting around wildly to make sure that you’re still breathing, that your body is all in on piece, that you aren’t bleeding and sobbing and broken.

He’s only able to take a deep, steadying breath when he sees you safe and sound asleep, your chest rising and falling steadily while your eyes dart around under their eyelids.

It’s a calming sight, one that immediately makes his heart stutter, his cheeks heating up because god, how can you be so beautiful without even trying? He has to grab onto the corner of your drawers to steady himself and keep from sinking to his knees in relief, and sometimes even a tear or two will trickle down his cheek if the nightmare was particularly graphic.

You dream of strange men that night, fingers gripping onto your hand with a force that makes you wince, your palm clammy and aching when you wake up in the morning.

He’s paranoid about your safety, absolutely convinced that without him around you’d be nothing more than a pile of bones rotting in some monster’s basement or left to die in some ditch in the country side. He’s not used to caring so intensely about someone, and he’s quite honestly blindsided by the enormity of his feelings, of how the compulsive need to be checking up on you every minute of the day hits him so hard at the most random moments.

He’s irritated in a way, at how you seem to draw so much emotion out of him without even trying, but Phinks could never, ever be mad at you about it – after all, while it’s overwhelming and scary just how much he cares for you, he wouldn’t trade the way you make him feel for the world. You’re so warm and soft, and you make Phinks so fucking happy.

Just being around you is enough to give him a massive serotonin boost, a smile that doesn’t leave his face all day no matter how hard he tries (the blush is present too, and Feitan is constantly teasing him, always telling him how he’s such a sappy little schoolgirl, did you write about her in your diary?, only to be punched halfway across the room and still snicker). He’s giddy, truly, even if you so much as glance in his direction or give him some half-hearted smile. In general Phinks can’t express enough how grateful he is to have someone like you in his life, such a beacon of happiness and joy for someone as misguided and undeserving as himself.

It’s only natural, then, to want to keep his source of love and devotion and obsession safe, to make sure that nothing will ever touch you or harm your perfect body, your pretty skin.

He isn’t exactly subtle about his protectiveness over you either – you’ll realize very quickly that he thinks of you as a glass doll, with the way he’s always hovering at your side, moving you closer to him anytime another man passes, eyes raking over your frame at constant fifteen minute intervals to check for bruises or cuts.

(And, though you don’t know it, the way that Phinks rummages through your things and makes sure that every blade in your home is dulled, that your stove can’t go any higher than a medium setting, that your locks are all the highest quality grade, it makes his obsession over making sure you don’t ever get hurt more than apparent).

It’s a curse he doesn’t mind undergoing, if only because he honestly views you as needing him, requiring his protection to live your life.

He’s not exactly sure how you managed to survive as long as you did without him, but now that he has you in his sights, so obviously needing him and being desperate for a big, strong man like him to make sure that you can have the easiest life you can, Phinks will make sure that he lives up to your each and every expectation of him.

After all, your opinion means everything, and just seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is enough to have Phinks proud, knowing that he’s fulfilling his role, that he’s keeping you safe and happy and his.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Jealousy is something that gets the better of Phinks much more often than he’d like to admit. He’s so possessive, so hellbent on making sure that you stay his and that no one else even so much as looks at you, that it leads to him interpreting interest from other guys way more often than what’s really true.

You’re absolutely perfect to Phinks, a literal human embodiment of everything he could want in a partner, both good and bad. And because of this, he’s so convinced that everyone else would be just as in love with you, just as desperate to make you theirs and keep you with them as he is, so isn’t it his job to make sure that that can’t happen?

Everyone is a threat to the relationship he’s so desperate to have and build with you, and Phinks will stop at absolutely nothing to make sure that nothing could ever possibly separate the two of you. His desperation is honestly a bit pathetic, to the point where many of the members of the troupe honestly take pity on him, thinking it’s sad to see their fellow comrade so helplessly obsessed with a sweet, innocent woman.

Jealousy consumes him, to the point where all he’s seeing is red, panic lacing at his chest because what if you decide that man who’s chatting with you and making you laugh is better than Phinks?

What if you decide that you’d rather be with the waiter at that restaurant you love – the one who always jokes around with you because you’re such a regular customer?

Phinks isn’t the most insecure man around, but when it comes to you and the question of your relationship, suddenly he feels like a teenage boy again; awkward in his own skin, terrified that the girl of his dreams thinks that he’s too violent, too ugly, too boring and mean.

And while he knows rationally that you don’t think these things, how can he help it when he’s watching from a few dozen yard away as you laugh and thank the man in the supermarket who helped you get the can of food at the very top shelf?

How can he help it when he sees you being so nice to others, being so kind and generous and friendly, only to have them turn around and exploit you for every ounce of kindness in your bones?

It makes him angry, beyond enraged to think of how others could be hurting you, how they could be trying to steal you away, wanting to beat you or kill you or rape you or any number of things – and so, Phinks must make sure that you stay safe, that there’s absolutely no chance on you ever being alone with another man. He has to keep your wellbeing in tact, and, of course, keep you completely his and his alone.

Because he feels so strongly when he sees that man approach you on the street corner and ask you in you know where the nearest bank is, Phinks has trouble holding himself back.

You’re kind to the man, blinking up at him and scrunching your brows in thought, trying to answer his question as he patiently stands beside you, a small smile on his face. Phinks is pissed – how dare this piece of shit, this worthless nobody approach you like that? How dare they start a conversation with you, stare at you, get to bask in your presence when only Phinks himself should be getting that pleasure?

His fists are clenched at his side, jaw set so tightly he almost fears his teeth might crack. His eyes are narrowed in on the both of you, his mind desperately telling him to stop, don’t do it, don’t do it Phinks she’ll just get scared and then you’ll make backwards progress – and it works, to a certain degree, up until the final straw as the man chats with you.

His hand, placed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he smiles down at you, leaning forward ever so slightly for what Phinks is absolutely positive is a glance down your shirt. Suddenly he isn’t just seeing red anymore – he’s seeing scarlet, the bloodlust oozing out of him enough to propel him forward, his face the epitome of rage as he cocks his fist, landing a hard punch against the man’s jaw, hearing a sickening crunch accompanied by the man’s screams.

He’s on the ground in a second, Phinks straddled above him, fists flying as he beats him to a pulp, the rage never ending as he thinks of all the terrible, horrible things that he’d likely been imagining with you, that he’d been aiming to try with you, all while Phinks was right fucking there (or, a good fifty away, but still). He’s growling out curses and spitting on the man, telling him that he’s just a stupid piece of shit, you’re fucking disgusting, you perverted bastard, trying to cop a feel and sneak a peek.

You’re left to watch, shocked beyond belief and too frozen to move as you watch Phinks slowly pull more blood from the man, his body already bruising and twitching as desperate sobs out what you can only assume are pleas to stop escape the victim’s throat. And yet, you can hear perfectly what Phinks is saying, some more distinctly than others – don’t fucking touch her, she’s mine do you understand? I own her, she’s mine, mine mine mine and no one gets to touch her, to look at her, to think about her, certainly not digusting wastes of space like you!

Your jaw is dropped, still too scared to move as you register his words, wondering who this ‘she’ was, if he possibly meant you…?

Phinks doesn’t stop until the man is disfigured beyond recognition, his face smashed in on itself from the beating of his fists, blood staining the pavement under his head, though the frantic rise and fall of his chest and the small pathetic, pained whimpers tell him that he’s still alive.

But at the sudden sound of you sharply gasping and stumbling backwards, trying to put space between yourself and the monster in front of you, suddenly Phinks’s eyes are widening, his head whipping around as he shoots to his feet, running over to you and caging his arms around you.

He pulls you flush against his chest, his heart beating wildly as he whispers frantic apologies in your ear, voice desperate as he tells you he’s so sorry, I don’t know what got into me – he was just touching you and his eyes were basically fucking you and I just – I can’t watch anyone do that to you. Please, you have to understand, tell me you understand!

And while you’re terrified, feeling some of the man’s blood rubbing off of Phinks and onto you, at the end of the day you’re more terrified of one day being in the man’s position, so you shakily nod, whispering that it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.

And as Phinks’s body relaxes, relief coursing through him, you can only stare into his chest, fear and hopelessness settling into your heart, because is this who he really is?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Phinks really does want you to want him.

He’s so in love with you, so desperate for you to return his feelings that it physically hurts, and as a result he’s trying everything he possibly can to approach you normally, to not give away how obsessed he is over you, how badly he wants to just hold you in his arms and never let you go, never let another living soul see you besides him.

He knows his feelings for you are unhealthy, that it’s wrong that he thinks of you as a possession, that he wants to own you, but he just can’t help it. And yet, because of his commitment to wanting to keep your relationship as normal as possible, as happy as possible, Phinks knows that doing something rash like stealing you away really isn’t the best idea.

It’s tempting – tempting as hell, if he’s being honest, because just the idea of you and him living together in a little house bought specifically for the both of you, you waiting patiently for him every evening with a hot dinner on the stove and a big welcome home kiss is enough to have him gulping, a blush dusting his cheeks at the sheer domesticity of it all.

He loves the idea of keeping you dependent on him, of keeping you only by his side where he can keep you safe and make sure that you understand how much he loves you, but he can’t bring himself to actually do it.

He can’t bring himself to gently knock you out, to cover your pretty lips and nose with a chloroform soaked rag, to throw you over his shoulder and give your bum a firm pat, a grin spreading across his features as he thinks of the wonderful, perfect life the two of you are starting.

He can’t bring himself to do it, at least without some push from an outside factor. Phinks will likely try to pursue a friendship with you – he wants to be around you at all times, to have your trust in him build, to make you comfortable and hopefully give you the chance to fall in love with him as well, and because of this he’s able to sate his overwhelming desire for you.

However, try as he may, Phinks just can’t get rid of his possessiveness; even dialing it down to seem more normal and healthy leaves him with enough emphasis on making sure that you don’t talk to anyone else, that you spend all your time with him to raise a brow. And you’ll quickly notice this – he’s a friend, one that you’ve grown to enjoy spending your time with, but his random bouts of jealousy, of insecurity and clinginess are just too much.

The way he butts into your life, changing your schedule to revolve around his is just too overbearing, the signs of a toxic friendship that you know you shouldn’t turn a blind eye to.

And so, you do what makes the most sense – sit him down and tell him that you don’t think you can be friends anymore, that he’s too controlling, too possessive, that you think it would be best if we took some time away from each other, just to clear our heads.

And Phinks is panicking across from you – take a break? Split up? He knows you’re not together yet, but he can’t shake the distinct feeling of rejection, the anger and fear and distress that the idea of you being separated from him causes.

And so, on a bit of a hasty split second decision, Phinks is pressing the pressure point on your neck, catching your limp body in his arms as he takes ragged breaths, mind swimming in anger, excitement and nerves as he hauls you towards your new home, your new life with him.

As a captor, Phinks isn’t too terrible – he’s never been much of a homemaker, not really someone who’s used to taking care of anyone but himself, and while he tries (he tries so, so fucking hard) for you, he’s not especially great at it.

Of course, your health is still the priority in his eyes, something that he cares for more than his own life, and because of this he gets only the best foods, making sure to cater to your tastes and keep your diet a plentiful mix of protein, starch and vegetables, so that your body can stay healthy and strong.

He’s making sure that there’s nothing in the house you could hurt yourself with, keeping every knife and razor away from you, putting a childlock on the stove, not letting you near the freezer. He doesn’t mean to be patronizing, but as he becomes paranoid about your safety and wellbeing, slowly he begins thinking of you as less and less capable, needing more of his help and guidance to do basic things.

He likes to bathe you (though he’ll never force you into it, only ever harboring it as a fantasy until you make it reality), to help dress you (when your body is sore from a night of intense, passionate fucking, he’s more than willing to help slip on one of his oversized shirts, loving the way it pools around your frame), to even help feed you when he’s in an especially loving mood.

But for the most part, Phinks isn’t too touchy with you. He still genuinely wants you to love him, to want to be with him and maybe even enjoy your time under his roof, and in all honesty he’s nursing the dream that one day you’ll turn to him unprompted, completely honest as you cuddle up against him and tell him in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard that you love him, that you’re so happy he’s with you, that you’d never, ever want to leave him.

And because he wants so badly for you to genuinely develop feelings for him, Phinks tries everything that he can to woo you – he’s not great with romance, has little to no experience, but he’s willing to do anything and everything if there’s even the slightest chance that it’ll make you smile at him, that you’ll look at him in anything other than fear, betrayal and apathy.

He begins watching rom-coms religiously, noting the various courting methods, how the male lead always seems to get the love interest laughing, smiling and telling them how funny they are. So, he tries to make jokes around you, hoping to get you to laugh and compliment him, and while you don’t particularly want to, sometimes they’re just so terrible and the look of hope in his eyes is just so heart wrenching that you can’t help but snort, chuckling lightly.

And to Phinks, just that step alone is enough to send him on a wild goose chase, doing everything he can to try and come up with other ways to make you see him in a more positive light. He’s scouring every resource he can – romance novels, online articles about attraction, relationship podcasts, everything and anything.

He even goes to the girls of the Troupe, asking with an embarrassed expression and rubbing the back of his neck if they have any advice on how to win a girl’s heart, something that they all react quite differently to.

Machi isn’t impressed – simply staring at him for a few moments and cocking her brow, before asking him why he thought that she would be a good person to ask – do I look like I’ve ever had a guy pining after me?

Pakunoda is more sympathetic, telling him to try the staples – buy her flowers from time to time, get her little gifts that you know she’ll like. Eventually it might add up over time to where she feels loved and cared for, and then she’ll be more willing to return your feelings.

But, surprisingly, Shizuku is actually the one that gives Phinks the best advice – hmm, well I think just being there for her is important. Ask about things she loves and get her in a happy mood, and just listen to her. Nod along and add a question or comment in every once in a while so she knows you’re listening, but just let her know that you’re genuinely invested in her.

Phinks takes the advice in stride, silently stewing on it before showing up at your shared ‘home’ the next day with a bouquet of lilies in your favorite color, a grocery bag full of your favorite snacks, and a nervous, carefully hopeful smile when he walks through the door.

And really, you know you shouldn’t think of him as anything but your captor, the man who stole you away and wants to keep you as his possession for the rest of your life, but there’s just something about the way he bites his lip as you go through the bag of candy, chips, junk food and snacks one by one.

There’s just something about the way he nearly trips over his own feet as you pat the seat on the sofa next to you expectantly.

There’s just something about the desperation with which he wants to please you, to make you happy and make you love him that will eventually get to you, no matter how hard you try to fight it. Because while it’s wrong and you know it, you’ve never felt this loved before, this desired and wanted, and it’s a strange sort of confidence and boost to your self-esteem, one that manages to warp your whole mental state into thinking that maybe you really do love Phinks, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges.

He spoils you, trying his best to give you every last piece of himself and his affection as he can, and eventually you’ll come to openly receive it, to fulfill his fantasy of you finally accepting him. Besides, there’s just something about the way he blushes and bounces his knee when you compliment him makes your heart melt, and when you tell him you love him, the way he looks so shocked, but so happy and soft and god, is he crying?

Phinks is desperate for you to return his feelings, for you to love him as he loves you, and he’ll stop at nothing to get you there.

PUNISHMENTS:

Phinks has a bit of a temper.

It’s something he’s always been aware of, and for the most part he couldn’t care less – he’s a thief, someone who gets what they want, and if he gets angry in the process, that just means a few more necks to break. He’s used to acting out on his anger, to mercilessly beating and killing those who make him mad, and in a lot of ways it’s simply autopilot to him.

But where you’re concerned, Phinks is absolutely the opposite. He’s terrified of hurting you, of somehow leaving marks of violence on your pretty, soft skin, and for the most part he manages to succeed in not lashing out against you, in not blemishing you in any way. He loves you, and the last thing he wants to do is abuse you, to punch you and kick you and take out every bit of his anger on you, so instead he tries to focus the rage elsewhere.

The desire to just punch something is too great to ignore, and if it can’t be your face or body, the next closest thing is the wall beside him. It scares you and never fails to leave you gasping and shuddering in fear as he punches a hole through the drywall, the grimace of anger and pain turning his features into some monster-esque look, and as you slowly back away, hands covering your mouth and trying to put distance between the both of you, Phinks can only sigh.

He hates scaring you, but his anger gets triggered so easily that it’s something he can’t even hope to control, that he can’t even try to conceal. He gets quite good at fixing drywall, and for a long while it works out. He gets angry at you, punches a hole in the wall, spends a few minutes breathing deeply and muttering under his breath, before turning to you and telling you to not go near the kitchen knives again, do you hear me?

And for the most part, you’re scared into submission. You very vividly remember him beating the living shit out of any guy who so much as looked at you before he stole you away, and because of this you’re more than aware of just how strong he is, at just how talented he is at throwing punches and drawing blood.

Life with Phinks is really just a balancing act in a lot of ways – he wants to please you and make you happy, so as long as you smile and hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear and try to not to make him angry at you in any way, you’ll be just fine.

That being said, there are moments when Phinks loses control, when he lets his anger cloud his mind and overwhelm him, his natural habits of lashing out coming to the surface.

Punching the wall is fine and it’s something that he does mostly when it’s small things you do that trigger his anger, like turning the stove on, hopping into the shower without telling him, flinch away slightly when he goes to peck your forehead. But when it’s larger offenses, things that you do that genuinely make him rage, Phinks has a tendency to get a bit more violent, a bit more mindless in his actions.

When he tentatively reaches a hand out to run his callused fingers over your hair, his breath hitches when you softly smile, telling him in a faraway, dreamy voice that you had a friend who used to play with my hair, it was always my favorite. They were really good at it, too.

His whole body is freezing before suddenly shaking, his breathing ragged as he realizes that you’ve just brought another person up, that you’re thinking of someone else while he tries to be loving and intimate with you, and before he knows it he’s on his feet, pushing you against the wall and slamming your back into the hard expanse.

You gasp sharply, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes while he glares down at you, his teeth grinding together as the swirling pool of jealousy builds greater and greater in his chest, his gut twisting painfully when he realizes that he’s not he only one on your mind, like you are for him.

Don’t you ever talk about anyone else when you’re with me, do you understand? He growls out, hanging his head low so that you can’t see his eyes. You’re terrified, every inch of you trembling in fear as his grip grows tighter on your shoulders.

Answer me!

His voice is loud, curt and terrifying, and as you squeak out a timid y-yes! I understand Phinks, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to make you jealous, she was just a friend – but before you can finish your rambling, frantic apology, a sudden sharp noise and an overwhelming stinging sensation against your cheek has you whimpering, pain flaring up and making your eyes well with tears.

Phinks is breathing hard, his eyes wild as he stares down at you, his hand still raised as if to slap you again, but when you quietly start crying, the pain mixed with the fear and hopelessness of the situation, suddenly Phinks is snapping out of his rage fueled daze, his heart stopping in his chest as he sees you cowering in front of him, cradling your cheek with tears streaming down your face, your body trembling while you beg him to not hurt you again.

And the guilt the hits Phinks square in the chest has him gasping, stumbling away from you and clutching onto his head, self hatred and regret making him shed a few tears of his own, realization that he just hurt you spinning through his mind.

And before you even get to a chance to say or do anything, suddenly he’s racing out the front door, the locks snapping into place as you slowly sink to your knees, sobbing and letting the emotions wash over you.

Meanwhile, Phinks is wandering aimlessly through the city, not hesitating to mercilessly snap the neck of anyone who dares approach him or try to talk to him, all the while he desperately tries to come up with a solution to make it up to you, to apologize for being such a monster. And, when he returns home a few hours later to find you curled up on your bed, a plush blanket thrown over your figure, he can only gulp and lightly knock against the door, watching as you stiffen up and say nothing.

He sighs, hanging his head and stepping inside the room, placing the bags in his hands onto the bed.

I’m sorry, he starts, discomfort and shame coursing through him. I shouldn’t have hit you, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you, I shouldn’t have – look, I’m really sorry and I really, really regret it. You don’t have to forgive me, but I got some uh, some stuff while I was out… and as he gently motions the bags towards you, you slowly sight up, eyeing him wearily with puffy eyes as you paw at the bags.

You’re careful to open them, but when you see the packages of food, the jewelry case with a soft silver necklace sitting in it, you can’t help but feel a bit better, as materialistic as it is. And when you move to the next bag, you nearly cry – pictures and frames from your old home, little stuffed animals and knick knacks you’d cherished that were ripped away from you. your favorite books, a blanket, and countless other treasures that have you softly smiling, wiping at your eyes while Phinks watches with bated breath.

And when you finally look up at him, something in your chest feels warm, and immediately you know that you’re too far gone. Because when you look at Phinks, the man who stole you away, who keeps you locked up in his home, dependent on him and loses his anger when you talk about another soul, you only see an awkward, love struck man, who loves you more than life itself.

You know it’s Stockholm Syndrome at work, but as you softly whisper I forgive you, Phinks, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when the relief on his face is practically palpable, when he fiddles nervously with his fingers as you slowly get up and move to hug him. He gasps quietly, chocked by your affection, but quickly he’s clutching you against him, leaning down and breathing deeply next to your hair, letting your scent calm him as he basks in the feeling of holding you.

It’s wrong, but as time passes, you’ll slowly come to love Phinks – in a twisted, warped way, but isn’t all love just so wonderful?

OVERALL DANGER:

7/10

Phinks, despite being a violent, misguided man, is actually a rather tragic yandere – he’s so desperate for you to love him back, for you to hold even an ounce of the adoration and affection he feels for you, and he’s not at all subtle about it, no matter how he tries.

He wants to love you like a normal man, to give you a happy, loving life by his side, but he just can’t – his obsession is too strong, his possessiveness too overwhelming. He wants to keep you safe and happy, to keep you healthy and next to him, and he really does have good intentions for the most part – he’s awkward in love, nervous and anxious and wanting to constantly be around you.

He’s possessive to a fault, wanting to keep you utterly his and his alone, and in all honesty that’s what fuels the vast majority of his yandere tendencies – when he’s mercilessly attacking other men who might be construed as rivals for your love and affection, it’s the thought of keeping you by his side that’s guiding him.

When he’s gently knocking you out and slipping you into the new, queen sized mattress he’d stolen just for the two of you, it was all on the basis of making sure that you never stray from his side, that he can keep you close and safe and his for the rest of your lives.

He just wants you to love him back, and you honestly might – the desperation he feels for you is strong enough that you can almost physically feel it, the utter need and desire to just be loved by you pulling at your heartstrings and making you eventually decide that he isn’t too bad, that he could be much worse.

And really, Phinks will take anything he can get – he loves you, so much so that it physically hurts, and the second that you show him that the feeling is returned, he’s holding you in his arms, pressing you against him so tightly that you’ll never escape.

#yandere hxh #hxh x reader #yandere phinks magcub #_lee's profiles #_phinks magcub #_hxh

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years ago

Text

Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up

Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?

Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.

Word count: 4363

Can be found on AO3 here.

Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.

After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.

Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.

The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.

You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.

Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.

The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.

Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.

“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.

“Sorry I’m a little early—”

“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.

The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.

He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.

Holy shit.

She was hot.

Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.

“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.

You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.

She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.

��Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.

Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.

“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.

Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.

While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”

You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.

“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.

Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”

You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.

Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”

“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.

She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”

“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.

Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.

Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.

When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.

“Yeah, no issues here.”

“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.

After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.

“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”

“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.

“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.

“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”

“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”

Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”

An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.

“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.

Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.

Good girl.

Oh fuck.

Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.

When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.

“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”

“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.

“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.

“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”

Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.

“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”

“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”

You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”

After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.

Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.

The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.

You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.

“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.

Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.

As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.

When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.

“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”

And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.

As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.

Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.

“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”

“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.

Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…

“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.

Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.

“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”

“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”

So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.

Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.

Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”

“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”

Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.

Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.

“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?

“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.

“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.

“I do stab people for a living.”

Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.

Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.

It was beautiful.

Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.

“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”

She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”

Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.

“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.

“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.

“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”

The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.

“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”

Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”

“Go for it,” you shrugged.

“Are you certain?” You nodded.

“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.

“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”

She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.

“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”

“Honoured to be your…canvas?”

And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.

“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.

The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:

A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,

I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?

Yours, Eivor

#eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #female eivor #tattoo parlor au #modern au #ac valhalla

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yoshkeii · 4 years ago

Text

"𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚢 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑"

࿐ character(s): Ushijima Wakatoshi, Daichi Sawamura, Kuroo Tetsurou

࿐ genre: sfw, soft/fluff, comfort, tiny angst if you squint

࿐ type: headcanons (hcs)? / imagine

࿐ requested by: @dumpsterfireinc

⌦ shymale!reader (he/him)

⌦ ‘if I can request comfort hcs for Ushijima, Daichi, Kuroo, and Oikawa who have a crush on as shy male!reader who thinks the boys should be with a girl and not him.’

A/N: i had to drop oikawa on this one since i cant seem to get his personality out?? i- uh-. i apologize- also my way of writing hcs is weird? idk why i like writing like that, but eventually they’ll shift- somehow- (i’ll probably make a proper hcs post if you want-)

1-16-2021: sorry in advanced if this took waaay to long. im doubting my writings. kinda shit but im just burnt out.

𝚄𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚊:

❀ Ushijima had a crush on you. of course he would, someone so soft, gentle, and shy. he actually found it cute you having those aspects. even though not a lot of people would enjoy such an introverted person at times.

❀ being shy would fit well together with his own personality generally. like being stoic and quiet himself. at some points he genuinely thought you and him were perfect. just two puzzle pieces that could fit together.

❀ he doesn’t know when he had a crush on you till Tendou or someone would bring it up. cause he always somehow had his eyes on you in the halls, classes, etc.

❀ adding on to his personality, he is very blunt and straightforward with his words. and when you heard those three words from the intimidating captain. made your heart skip a beat, muscles tense, and mind race.

❀ “..y-you.. like me??” the softened tone in your voice echoed within the empty afterschool halls.

❀ “Yes. I just stated that.”

❀ “..I heard you.. you dummy..” you muttered the last words softly. fiddling with your fingers nervously, he always found you fidgeting with something whenever you were nervous or put on the spot. your gaze kept low.

❀ the silence only just settled. making Ushijima await another word from your smaller figure.

❀ but he didn’t expect those words to slip out of your mouth. he never did.

❀ “Why.. Why would you want to be with me.. instead.” your voice still kept your softened tone, but it had a faint hint of sadness. the slight wavering of your voice gave way.

❀ “..isn’t it better to be.. with a girl instead? t-they’re better options. pretty. talented. i-i don’t.. have any of those.”

❀ Ushijima just stared, unsure on what to do. no one told him this would be a scenario or a possibility. thought it was simply just a yes or no to a confession, something quick.

❀ “You also won’t l-look.. weird.. o-odd.. with-” your voice cracked, tears gathered in your eyes. quickly wiping them away with a sniff.

❀ “F-fuck I’m sorry.. for c-crying..” softly cursing as you nervously laughed.

❀ “y/n,” Ushijima lifted your head gently with his hand making sure your eyes looked up at him, “..I don’t care, if people will look at us weirdly. I don’t care if they all knew or not.”

❀ he wiped the tears dripping from your eyes as you stared at him with disbelief.

❀ “I like you. No- I love you. That’s that. I love y/n, and nothing will stop that.”

❀ shortly, tears poured from your eyes from his words. softly murmuring apologizes for crying over this accompanied w/ a smile on your face. Ushijima just wiping your tears away for you, seeing how your face just melts in his hand in comfort. regaining composure after a couple of reassurances from him.

❀ “I-I.. I love you.. t-too.. Wakatoshi..”

𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒:

❀ mans had a big crush on you ever since you both had multiple shared classes. especially same homeroom.

❀ Daichi and you had an decent relationship, it wasn’t as close like he has with Sugawara or Asahi. having the same homeroom, he always found you alone and minding your own business a desk or two behind him in the back.

❀ sometimes exchanging the simple hellos and small talk whenever Suga and/or Asahi dared him to. knowing how his eyes occasionally drifts towards your direction of the room.

❀ for someone so quiet.. he didn’t know it could be a cute feature. an adorable one if he would say so himself. just seems too s o f t .

❀ your gentle voice always made his heart skip a beat, it was so calming. a remedy to his ears. after a few small talks and interactions, you both managed to hang out a little more often. being invited on study dates sessions since you were also pretty smart in the academics (brownie points!)

❀ as of right now, his eyes were simply glued on you. just watching you talk about whatever subject. he really wasn’t paying attention... or at all. admiring your features from across the small table on the floor that was littered with notebooks, textbooks, papers and pens.

❀ he knew you were shy so he often kept things low and safe for you whenever you both hung out once in awhile. sometimes exchanging little sticky notes with each other to limit talking.

❀ once he confessed to you, through the last sticky note of his. not a manly way to really confess but he couldn’t figure anything else out for you. didnt want to scare you away.

❀ you stared up at the captain in slight doubt, going back to the note to reread the words written. ‘would you like to go out with me?’ tiny hearts here and there on the note.

❀ looking back up at him, you noticed the slight blush across his face. you realized he was serious.

❀ “..why would you want to go out with me?” your grip on the note slightly tightened, as thoughts began to flood your mind. “wouldn’t it be better- be better with a girl?? a-and.. not me.” you began to slip on your words, gaze slipping down to avoid his eyes as you noticed him looking up at you now.

❀ “..with.. a girl?” Daichi mustered out.

❀ “or.. anyone but... me. I’m not.. popular. I’m not.. p-pretty, c-cute.. handsome.. s-smart either...” you began to ramble, negative thoughts after another.

❀ “H-hey y/n. y/n..!” Daichi was closer to you now, his hands on your shoulders hoping to get you out of your negative trance.

❀ it successfully worked, making you stop but your gaze still remain low. hearing a sigh from Daichi made you tensed, you liked him too. you loved him. but you don’t know if it was best for him to date you. or be in a relationship in that matter.

❀ Daichi wrapped his arms around you, “Don’t be so harsh to yourself. I denied most of the confessions... j-just.. to ask you out one day you know. I’m confident I want you more than any girl.” he muttered.

❀ noticing you relaxing in his arms made him slightly smile, feeling you hug back. your hands grasping the back of his gakuran, mustering the urge to cry you hid your face on his shoulders. eventually muffling out your soft sobs and various ‘i love you too’

𝙺𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘:

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐.

❀ it was obvious Kuroo was crushing on someone. and that someone was you. being one of the assistances, or at this point the team would’ve eventually called you their manager. often there to aid and help whenever needed so you stumbled by the gym many times to either drop something off for one of the members or coaches.

❀ always teasing and flirting with you, which wasn’t such an out-of-character of him. knowing him to be the master of provocation. but often when you weren’t there, he would start talking about you. unconsciously sometimes.

❀ which gave a big sign of his feelings, especially through Kenma. it wasn’t so hard to see, but you were dense and oblivious over it.

❀ he knew you liked him back eventually, seeing how you haven’t turned him down with any of his teases accompanied with the slight blush on your face each time. you were just too shy to say anything about it.

❀ he was aware that you were very shy and introverted. always seeing you staying back or infront of crowds in the hallway and avoided them at all costs. being observant he took note of it.

❀ always managing to catch you away from people or just a little people in the area, he used that time to talk to you more privately.

❀ you both began to get to know each other pretty well each time.

❀ exchanging interests and moments you’ve had in your life. often making you giggle at his silly retorts and remarks, funny moments of his teams and others. he was genuinely seeing a new side of you.

❀ never really seeing you smile brightly and laugh without holding back. it felt surreal and a literal dream.

❀ “Hey, y/n, have you dated anyone yet?” Kuroo looked over at you, eyes staring in curiosity with his common sly smirk.

❀ “I-.. uhh.. n-not yet?” you nervously laughed, messing with the sleeve of your nekoma track jacket.

❀ “Well then.. do you have a crush?” he continued on.

❀ “O-oh.. Ye-yeah! He probably won’t like me b-back though..” you murmured.

❀ “Wait- He!?”

❀ “H-hey,, Kuroo! Keep y-your voice down please..!!” you playfully punched his shoulder in return he faked an ‘ow’ “..b-but.. yes.. i like a guy.. h-he’s popular so i doubt he would like me b-back.” you looked up at him with a weak smile, hoping to not seemed phased by it.

❀ “Ahhh.. why’s that then.” his curious tone turned stern, tilting his head into his palm so it rested comfortably. “hmmm~?”

❀ “Oh.. w-well.. he’s popular with the girls.. a lot of them a-actually. I bet he l-likes them more than me.. girls are b-better for him anyways...”

❀ “What if they weren’t? He could be gay.. or bisexual... or pan and all that jazz y’know y/n?”

❀ “Thats true.. what about you kuroo-san?” you took a sip of water from your bottle aside of your thigh.

❀ “I have a crush too of course. And its actually you.”

❀ you choked on the water, coughing out a reply, “w-wait you.. you like me.. me- back?!” you only looked at him with disbelief, coughing slightly still.

❀ Kuroo only laughed at your off-guard reaction, “K-kuroo!! I-it’s not funnyyy..!” you whined, covering your face with your jacket. “hhhh.. g-god damnit..”

❀ after a few moments it went silently, peeking your eyes out from your hidden position Kuroo pecked your forehead. Suddenly aside of you, entwining his hand with yours.

❀ “Of course I like you back~ I want you to be my boyfriend you softie.”

#at-dusk;- 🌆#folder 📁;- ��𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚢𝚞𝚞 #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #kuroo tetsuro x male reader #daichi sawamura x male reader #ushijima wakatoshi x male reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #Ushijima Wakatoshi #Daichi Sawamura #Kuroo Tetsurou

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

buffer.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: takes place after constellations and before through and through. this is just a fun little piece before i continue my descent into Ouchtown, USA with the ajf 100 arc. i am really excited to include more of these early-series ‘home scenes’ with the hotchners and reader!

an ajf fic that requires no context!

words: 2.6k warnings: language

summary: happy 3rd birthday, jack! it’s a family affair, in more ways than one.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“So, how do you know the Hotchners?” A handsome man, probably just a little younger than Aaron (but significantly shorter), asks, filling his plate beside you.

“I work with Hotch - Aaron - Jack’s Dad - at the DoJ.” You keep your tone neutral, polite. There’s something off about him - he’s a little overeager, a little too comfortable in the Hotchner house.

“Ah,” he says. “A profiler.”

With a little laugh in your voice, you ask, “Are you familiar with the field?”

“Haley’s told me a little bit, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert, no.”

“I see. Do you know Haley well?”

“Yeah, my son is in Jack’s preschool class.” There’s still something he’s not telling you, but nevertheless, he sticks his hand out and you shuffle your plate to take it. “I’m Joseph. It’s nice to meet you.”

Joseph. Not Joe.

What happens if you call him Joe?

Pin that for later.

You introduce yourself and continue to make small talk for another few minutes, noting that he’s filled a second plate - you can only assume it’s for someone else.

Let’s keep an eye on this one...

+++

“I’m so happy you all could make it.”

You jolt back into your body after zoning out for a couple of minutes, finding yourself alone at one of the patio tables with Haley. A smile breaks across your face. “Me too.”

She snacks on a chip, delicately covering her mouth as she asks, “Is there anything exciting you’re all working on right now?”

Since when is Haley interested in cases?

“Kind of. I head out to Colorado with Emily and Spencer tomorrow to go visit a religious cult on a compound in the mountains.” She laughs, and you follow suit. “So, it’s the little things, I guess.”

“Very few things have changed, then?”

You nod, a knowing smile on your face. “Exactly.”

There’s quiet for a moment and your eyes wander across the yard out of habit, taking stock of all the preschoolers running around, their parents at the perimeter.

“Oh!” She sits forward, pulling her knee to her chest and propping her heel on the edge of her chair.

You look back at her expectantly.

“Did you like the book? Catch-22 is one of Aaron’s favorites. I think I wrote that in the note, but…” She gestures vaguely. “I thought it would be helpful.”

Smacking your hand to your forehead, you laugh a little. “Oh, it was! I completely forgot to send a thank-you note, Haley, I’m sorry.” You lean forward conspiratorially. “I loved it. It was such a thoughtful birthday present. Thank you”

Her nose scrunches up as she smiles. It’s adorable. “Good. I’m so glad.”

+++

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Dave sidles up to you, eating a piece of cake.

You follow his gaze, where Haley, Joseph, and their boys are kicking a soccer ball around. Haley’s full of laughter and unnecessary touches, but that’s not a new observation.

You’ve had Joseph-not-Joe’s number since he first spoke with you. He seemed far too interested in getting to know the people close to Haley to be without ulterior motive.

“I’m seeing something. I’m not sure what it is, yet.” You take a sip of your drink, letting your eyes wander.

“Not for nothing,” Dave says, “and, of course, this stays between us -”

“Of course.”

“- But Aaron thought Haley was seeing someone before they got divorced, in the spring before you joined the team.”

You hum. “Interesting. Do you think this is the guy?”

This is definitely the guy.

“Well, there’s more to their relationship than ‘our kids go to preschool together,’ don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your eyes wander to Aaron, who’s chatting with a couple of the parents, Emily at his side. He’s distracted, also focused on Haley and Joseph with the boys on the other side of the yard. “Give me a second, would you, Dave?” You absently hand him your drink as you cross over to the small cluster.

“Hey, Hotch,” you put a hand on his shoulder with an apologetic smile to the mom you just interrupted. “I think we have a little bit of a crisis in the kitchen. Can I steal you for a minute?”

With a grateful look only you and Emily pick up on, he says, “Sure.” With a rueful smile and wave to the other parents, he leaves Emily to her own devices. Much to her (and your) relief, JJ and Will are on their way, ready to save her from the inane conversation.

“What’s up?” Aaron asks, his brow just a little furrowed.

Triple checking that the house is empty, you lead him into the kitchen and lean against the counter, crossing your arms. “What’s going on with you?”

His eyes flicker around the room before settling back on you and his jaw is tight. Somehow, he’s still trying to avoid you when you’ve made it impossible. “What do you mean?”

You level him with a Really? look. “Tell me.”

“Fine.” He leans back and mirrors you, crossing his arms. With only a little bit of reluctance, he shares, “This is the first big event...thing since the divorce and I -” He huffs. “I don’t know how to be a divorced parent when I’m...in front of people? I don’t know.”

You cross the kitchen and lean against the counter beside him, the heels of your hands resting on the marble. “You’re not alone. We’re here with you and nobody expects you to be perfect.” You laugh lightly. “There are at least seven divorced couples out in your yard right now. Weirdly, it’s normal.”

He shrugs. “I guess.” His eyes wander to the window, where Haley and Joseph are still visible with some of the other parents, seated around one of the patio tables. Joseph’s arm rests casually on the back of Haley’s chair.

That’s it.

“What’s going on with those two?” You pointedly match his focus and Aaron sighs.

“Did I ever tell you I thought Haley was seeing someone before we were divorced?”

You shake your head, only a little thrilled he’s choosing to share this with you so soon after Dave read you into the secret.

“I think that’s the guy.”

“I was wondering about him, myself. He seemed a little…eager,” you say with a laugh.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “He thinks he’s subtle, but I’d also imagine it’s rough to be the mistress when the ex is an FBI profiler.”

You snort. “True.”

Aaron’s hand covers yours and you look down, the contact shooting a spark through your arm and down your spine.

Isn’t that the biggest cliche on the planet?

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for being here.”

You look up again, meeting his eyes. “You’re welcome.” With a smile, you add, “I’ll always be here to save you from suburban moms and your ex-wife’s boyfriends.”

The smile you get in return warms you from your scalp to your toes.

+++

A couple of hours have passed, and Aaron settles into his role as the birthday boy’s dad. He’s been particularly demonstrative with Jack, but it’s all genuine. He chased him around the yard, threw him over his shoulder, covered him in kisses, and just generally lavished him in all the love of which he’s bereft while away on cases.

It’s simultaneously weird and very normal to see him with that face-splitting grin. It looks at home there, and you wish you had the pleasure of seeing it more often.

Watching father and son together is something special. The resemblance is often uncanny, even more so now as Aaron has Jack propped on his hip, chatting away, almost nose-to-nose. You’re only aware of the soft smile on your face when Jessica, Haley’s sister, plops down beside you.

“Those two are something else, aren’t they?” She says with a little smile.

You nod. “Two peas in a pod, for sure.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching Haley jog up to the two of them, her cheeks flushed in the autumn chill. She lays a hand on Aaron’s arm as she speaks, her other hand rising to Jack’s face to rub some frosting off his cheek.

“How’s it been on his end? Being apart?”

You look over at Jess. “It’s been alright. He stays even later in the office, if you can believe it -”

“Is that even possible?”

“You’d be surprised,” you laugh. “I’ve been thinking about getting him a shock collar or something so I can train him to be home by eleven.”

She snorts. “That would be a sight, wouldn’t it?”

The two of you share a raucous bout of laughter, drawing the attention of both Aaron and Haley. Their confused looks only make you laugh harder, and pretty soon you and Jess are clutching each other for dear life.

You don’t know her well, but you imagine you’ll jump that hurdle. You’re already halfway there.

In fact, the original thought isn’t even that funny anymore - you’re just laughing for the sake of it. It feels good.

+++

You find yourself next to Haley as the cleanup proceedings begin. She’s got a little smile on her face, and you take a moment to admire just how lovely she is.

Haley, you think, is a bit like the sun. She’s bright, but will burn the shit out of you if you’re not careful.

She glances up at you, blue eyes warm in the waning October sunshine. “Thank you.”

You hold up handfuls of wrapping paper and shrug. “No problem. Happy to help.”

“No,” she laughs. “I mean thank you for looking out for Aaron.” She lowers her voice and leans in toward you. “I know he’s not always cooperative.”

You suppress a rueful smile. “Haley, I don’t -”

She lays a hand on your arm. “I know. Just…” Her eyes wander across the yard, where Aaron’s passing (a very pregnant) JJ a glass of water. “Thank you.”

“I wish I could say it was my pleasure but...” you pull a yikes face and it makes her laugh again.

+++

You end up spending much of your time together as she thanks guests and people start to go home. There’s a kind of camaraderie that develops between you and it feels like you’ve known each other for years.

Her temperament tells you a lot about Aaron. They way they must have functioned together through the years. They’re so different, complementary, but you can see how things could get heated fast between them (good or bad).

She’s surprisingly affectionate by nature, her fingers glancing over your shoulder to direct you to tasks you’ve offered to help with, pressing a kiss to her sister’s temple as she passed her on the porch, holding onto Aaron’s forearm when she’s talking to him, and most notably, embracing Joseph by his car as he leaves, lingering only a little longer than she should.

Nevertheless, you’re almost impressed by their restraint. You haven’t caught them on anything major, and it’s been close to eight hours since he arrived. You’re sure you haven’t seen the last of Joseph-not-Joe.

Haley wears her emotions on her face. She can’t hide a thing. It’s refreshing.

+++

You lean on the porch railing, enjoying the crispness of the early autumn evening. Dave stands beside you for a while in silence. When he’s had his fill of your tacit company, he kisses you on the cheek and bugs out with Spencer.

Will takes JJ home a few minutes later. There’s a little smile on your face as you watch her take his arm down the front path, leaning on him.

They’ll do well together.

Soon, everyone else is gone, and you’re only a little concerned you’ve overstayed your welcome. Jess tells you you’re being ridiculous as you rearrange the fridge for leftovers.

“When has my sister ever kicked anyone out of her house while they’re still of use?”

You take a moment, fighting a smile. “Thanks, Jess.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the BAU is part of my extended family.” She bumps your shoulder. “And family is always welcome in a Brooks house.”

+++

Even when it’s time for you to go home, it isn’t.

Jack almost breaks down in tears when you kneel to hug him goodbye, so you’re trapped. It’s not like you can leave him, right? Not when he holds you hostage with those big brown eyes.

Identical to Aaron’s.

Funny enough, you can’t deny him anything either.

Oh, that’s enough.

Haley catches you by the forearm as Jack runs back to his dad, who gently launches him onto the couch. “You can sneak out, if you want to go home. I’ll distract Jack.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And leave you without your buffer? Not a chance.”

You’re rewarded with another laugh and she lets you go, shaking her head. She can’t say you’re wrong. As much as she and Aaron can fitfully coexist on their own, it’s much more comfortable with you around.

Haley might love him, but she doesn’t always like him. You, for some reason, make it easier to like him.

She resolves to think a little more about that, for future reference.

About twenty minutes later, you assume your role as the buffer and land between Haley and Aaron on the couch, with Jessica on her other side. Jack’s stretched out across all of you, his head in his mom’s lap and his little arm hanging off the edge. You managed to find a movie he actually wanted to watch, but you suspect he’ll be long asleep by the time it’s over.

Aaron’s phone buzzes and he maneuvers it out of his pocket. Being nosy, you peer over him without disturbing Jack.

Strauss.

He answers it, quietly. “Hotchner.”

You can feel Haley’s disappointment and residual resentment without even looking at her.

He continues to speak in hushed tones, drawing little patterns on the back of Jack’s calves as he does so. “Ma’am, I’ll take care of that when I’m back in the office...No ma’am, I’m with my family at the moment...Yes...Thank you, ma’am...You too.” Aaron takes a second and silences his phone, stretching a little to set it on the end table.

You’re sure the rest of you are wearing matching expressions of shock.

“It can wait.” He shrugs like it’s nothing and turns his attention back to the screen.

Turning to look at Haley, you find her staring at Aaron with a kind of soft surprise and pride in her eyes. You feel a little like an intruder, so you drop your eyes to the back of Jack’s t-shirt under your fingertips.

In the rapidly-approaching darkness, Haley reaches for your hand and you take it, your hands landing on Jack’s little shoulder blade. You drop your head onto Aaron’s shoulder, leaning into the casual familiarity of the moment.

It’s nice to feel like family.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s hardly a breath, let alone speech.

You nod once. Anytime.

If either one of them asked, you’d keep them from tearing their heads off forever. It’s not a far reach from your everyday responsibilities, you already do it for Aaron and Derek. Trading out one temper for another is almost easy.

Aaron looks down the line when the credits start to roll, finding Jess and Haley with their eyes closed, leaning against each other. You’ve been out for a little while, now tucked under his arm where it’s stretched across the back of the couch. One of your hands still loosely holds Haley’s while the other rests on the middle of Jack’s back. His lips twitch up into a smile as he rests his head against the back of the couch.

Maybe it will be alright.

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @whoreforhotch @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @bauslut @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #aaron hotchner fanfiction #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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kuroos-moon · 4 years ago

Text

Tetsuro’s Not-So-Secret Admirer

desc: You’re his biggest fan and shame on you for thinking he doesn’t know. When you disappoint him by not showing up during his match, secrets unfold just right after.

wc: 1.5k

warning/s: none

a/n: ik this isn’t a request but it’s his birthday and i love him to the moon and back i’ll literally sell my soul for him 🥺also, i rlly enjoyed writing this pls give it a shot <333

They won; they were going to nationals. Nekoma’s captain had all reason to be happy— ecstatic even; this wouldn’t be his last game and they actually have a shot playing Karasuno. Weirdly enough, he was in too much dismay to enjoy their victory, ordering his team to line up in front of their schoolmates who came to cheer them on.

His fan club was there, but you weren’t. He knows you didn’t attend his game; his eyes would always scan the crowd at every timeout and your absence would disappoint him each time, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he tries to figure out why you didn’t come to support him.

You were his number one fan, right? He pretended to not know and be nonchalant about how you ‘subtly’ admired him, but oh, he knows— and you’d be embarrassed to know how he found out. One last time, before leaving the court, he looks up at the stands; and still, you weren’t there.

Maybe he was twisted or obsessed, but spiking a ball, scoring off a block or amazingly digging a seemingly impossible-to-receive ball just didn’t feel as exhilarating despite the constant cheering of his name. Pride didn’t course through his veins all throughout the match wherein he led his team without flaw and he blames you for it.

He never got to see the head-over-heels look in your eyes, didn’t hear you shout his name or clutch at your chest anxiously at a long rally, and most importantly, you weren’t there to approach him after such a hard-earned and awaited victorious match. If you were, he just knows it was the time to ask you out on a date instead of settling for the ‘let’s like each other from afar’ relationship.

“Kuroo,” Kenma mutters under his breath, making the disheartened captain look up from his own shoes. He wonders why they’ve stopped, the bus was waiting, but when he sees you standing before his team, he’s rendered helplessly speechless.

You stood self-consciously aware that all of them were staring at you. Not that that mattered much, what really made you become a jumble of nerves was Kuroo’s passive stare. How could you even look at him in the eyes? The answer is you can’t, he was too glorious you’re bound to go blind. His hair was messy as usual and his tall figure made him stand out, black shirt beautifully sticking to his body and his red shorts just not long enough to shield your sight away from his thighs.

“The bus is waiting, let’s hurry up,” Kuroo nonchalantly says to his team, your heart sinking for some reason. What did you expect anyway? You were just another one of his fans and your unwavering feelings for him won’t magically make him like you back.

You just want to see him a little longer, cursing yourself for waking up late and not seeing his game. Before you knew it, one of them passed by you, and another, and another until finally, he walked by you as well, the momentary closeness of Kuroo Tetsuro just when he was beside you making your knees weak and your heart ache with longing.

Unrequited love is hard and being his fan is hard though it’s one of your greatest joys. Seeing him happy, knowing that he had aced another test and witnessing the grin on his face as he focused on something he loved to do made you ultimately content and happy, and that was enough.

But were you sincerely content with it or was it just a lie you told yourself to erase the pain of being a mere fan among many?

Screw loving him from a distance. “Kuroo-senpai!” You call for him, turning around with your body set on sprinting towards his bus if you have to. You were so sure you would confess today, in front of his team if you must without fearing his rejection; but what were you supposed to do when you’re met with his chest the moment you turn around?

He was right in front of you, hands inside the pockets of his unzipped red Nekoma jacket. You lose your voice and bravery, pathetically unable to move or even look up at him as you internally go into panic. He is looking at you and you know that he knows you’re flustered.

“I’m right here,” he quietly says and you gulp. “Weren’t you going to say something?”

For a second you doubt that they won, he just seemed so glum and scary. “It’s nothing, I- I’m sorry, I should go,” your strings of stuttered words were barely audible and your rushing to leave made him all the more frustrated, “after skipping my match like that you’ll run off so soon?”

You look up at him in surprise, “how do you know I wasn’t there?”

“Where were you?” He ignores your question, but you were more curious. “Why do you care?”

He involuntarily cracks a grin, just a second ago you were hardly coherent and you were obviously nervous but now you’re answering his question with another question without breaking a sweat. “I don’t have to answer you if you’re not telling me what it is you wanted to tell me earlier.”

You raise a brow at him, “I said it was nothing.”

“You called for me as if your life was on the line, I’m sure it was nothing,” he sarcastically says. You weren’t sure before, but now you’re positive that he was teasing you. He’s lost the depressing aura he had earlier and wore the cutest grin you’ve seen on him as he stares back at you.

You silently commend yourself for not breaking eye contact but now you don’t even know what to do, feeling cornered and restless. Now is the perfect time to confess, there won’t be another chance like this because you know you’re too chicken to go through another nerve-wracking encounter with him.

“Kuroo-senpai,” you softly say, and he subtly bites the inside of his cheek to fight off the smile that threatened to show upon hearing you say his name. “I- I think I like you,” you mutter, biting your lip as you immediately look away.

“You think?” He taunts, taking a daring step closer to you and smirking when you squeak instead of taking a step back. He’s got you wrapped around his finger and he knows it, “you sound unsure, and that’s not good enough.”

“Good enough for what?” You can’t fight it anymore, you just had to look back at him, wanting to touch him all the more that he stood this painfully close. “Good enough to be more than just my silly fan,” he chuckles, before stepping away.

“I have to go, and since you missed my game earlier,” he trails off in thought but you fail to register a word he just said because you were just so mesmerized at the sight of him. He genuinely looked happy and carefree, his eyes twinkling with excitement and his lips pulled up in a playful grin.

His victory earlier caught on to him but what really made him this euphoric was your confession. “Since you missed my game earlier, you could make up for it by going out with me.”

“What?” Your jaw drops, and his grin widens. “Text me later kitten,” he winks, slowly backing away as he takes steps back, his gaze still not leaving yours, “I assume you have my number.”

“I don’t.” You lie.

“Kuroo-senpai, you don’t know me, but I’m your biggest fan and I hope you ace your test today,” he playfully says, looking back at your horrified expression with a smug smirk.

He takes another step back, “senpai, it’s me again. I’d love to run my fingers through your messy hair, oh and you looked really dashing today in a lab coat.”

Another step, “Kuroo-senpai, you haven’t been sleeping well, I’m worried and I hope you start taking better care of yourself.”

“Stop!” You hiss.

His smirk falls off, replaced by a serious but soft look as he stares back at you, “senpai, you were really amazing today, but I don’t like you just because you’re tall, or handsome or an insanely amazing volleyball player and captain. I love how you care for everyone around you; I love how you’re always so eager to study for chemistry and I definitely love how you kindly flash a smile of gratitude towards your fans after every game. It makes me happy; I just like you very much, Kuroo-senpai, and I’ll support you at your every match since that’s the only time I could express how I feel for you without being discovered.”

“You even memorized that?!” You shriek, words couldn’t even explain how embarrassed you are right now as you cover your face with your hands; you’re pretty much close to crying at this point.

“You... broke off your promise, you weren’t there to cheer me on earlier,” his lips press into a thin line before he cracks a grin, “that was how I expedted your confession to go, but it’s fine,” he snickers.

“So all along you knew that was me?”

“I know you thought you were anonymous when you sent me those texts but I had your contact saved too, I liked you first you know,” he chuckles, “and for the record,” he bites his lip, hesitant to continue but he does, “I don’t even look at anyone else after a match— I don’t flash a smile of gratitude to my fans y/n, I smile at you.”

Giving you one last soft smile, he finally turns around and walks away. Who would’ve thought the man of your dreams had you in his every night far longer than you?

General Taglist: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @sunshine-hina @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle @franko-pop @moonlightaangel

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! headcanons #kuroo tetsuro

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kpophours · 4 years ago

Text

Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched.

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse.

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently.

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards.

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home.

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad.

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits.

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you.

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression.

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy.

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come.

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan.

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee.

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing.

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it.

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins.

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - “Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk.

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now.

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all.

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right.

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

[masterlist] | [requests]

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soukokuwu · 4 years ago

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what if chu's s/o escapes port mafia, leaving chuuya to think she left him like dazai did (but in reality, she was pregnant & didn't want the child to grow up in PM. though she has taken extra measures so her son will not be endangered, PM still managed to kidnap him and hold him hostage in exchange for her to come back to their ranks. it is when she comes to save their son that chu discovers that the child is his. you do your own take if you want, your writing, your choice! 💓💓

HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARDS. genre. hmmm,, i guess it’s fluffy synopsis. you reveal a secret you’ve kept to yourself for so long, it’s time you finally come clean. word count. 2,680 author notes. hi, thank you this was an interesting request, i tried not to make it too long. & i usually don’t put so much dialogue (if at all XD) so i hope you can still enjoy this <33

PRESENT.

“Boss, the VIPs are here to see you, they’re being held down at the lobby. Do you want to send them up here?”

The chair swirls around, revealing the man behind the table, a picture of perfect composure. A curt nod is all it takes for the goon to leave the room, ready to escort the guests up.

Once the doors are closed again, he puts the cigarette out on his ashtray, exhaling that last puff of smoke. Gloved fingers intertwine together as he ponders long and hard about how he should greet them later.

The man eyes the drawer under his table, the bottom leftmost one — the special drawer. He opens it languidly to unveil a stash of letters, too many to count at one glance. That’s not surprising though. After all, it’s twelve years’ worth of letters. He grabs the top one, beady eyes glossing over its contents. He folds it back along the same lines.

They all look the same. Made out to him, but with no return address.

TWELVE YEARS AGO.

“They found someone at the house. We have him right now.”

The man on the other line seems to still have something to say, but the redhead doesn’t allow him. It’s a matter that can’t wait.

“Keep him there, make sure he doesn’t leave.”

Chuuya leaves the rest of the torturing to his colleagues as he exits the premises. He recalls what his subordinate reported earlier. ‘Him’? He scoffs. It’s been six years since you left the mafia and basically vanished into thin air. Which is a considerably long time, but Chuuya still can’t wrap the possibility around there being a new guy in your life.

Besides, the redhead didn’t do anything wrong. Why did you have to leave without a word? Why did you feel the need to leave at all, even? It couldn’t be stress. No way. You worked at the Port Mafia casino, yes. You were in charge of it all, and it did anything but stress you out. You loved working there. You loved the gamble. You absolutely revelled in the risk.

They put you in charge of the casino for more reasons than one. You were very calculative, very meticulous. You always had your moves planned out beforehand and you were always able to tell your opponents’ hand without even having to cheat. The gambling was definitely one of the reasons why you were so good at manipulating people. It was also one of the reasons why even Mori asked for your help in some cases.

But your best quality as a mafioso?

Your unpredictability. Or, as Mori dubbed it, your insanity. In both gambling and in general. You had helped the mafia win favours over more than just a few officials by winning against them — be it in poker or any other games. You weren’t even below playing russian roulette. Sure, Chuuya had been worried at first, but after a while it was pretty clear you’d always make it out of it safe — was it luck or was it pure calculation, or a mixture of both perhaps? Chuuya doesn’t really question it. And when it came to planning missions, your unconventional methods always helped, because no one would ever see it coming.

That blew up in his face though. You left him without any clues pertaining to your whereabouts or why you left in the first place. He thought you left along with his ex-partner, that maybe it had something to do with him. But it was apparent that wasn’t the case. Not when you didn’t surface at all even when Dazai did. He couldn’t help but keep thinking of potential things that happened to you. Did you leave because you met someone else? Doubtful. But given how long it’s been, it’s certainly not out of the question that you already did meet someone else by now.

You’re beautiful, smart, fun. You’re everything anyone could wish for. You’re so understanding that sometimes Chuuya questions where you get your patience from. You were just perfect, in every sense of the word.

Chuuya groans just thinking of everything. Even after being kicked to the curb, why is it that now he is still attracted to you? Lucky he was, though. Because that’s the only reason he agreed with Mori’s plan to put all efforts into seeking you out. You were incredibly elusive, and a pain in the ass because of that. And had it not been for a certain intense war against an enemy organisation, they would’ve let you go on with your life, wherever you ended up. You’ve been very quiet, not spreading anything about the mafia, or else Mori would’ve picked up on it. Very well-behaved, and a pardon would’ve been your reward.

But even the best needs help sometimes. And Mori specifically wants yours. He probably figured Chuuya was the biggest factor that would tilt things in their favour, and he agrees. Which is why he heads this mission in the first place. Not only is he the biggest shot at getting you back, but he wants to see you. Wants to know exactly why you left him the way you did.

Closure. He wants closure.

Life is funny though. Because he ends up with more questions than answers when he opens the door to his office.

Suddenly all the idle chatter he passes by in the hallway makes sense. The ones that just skip past his ears because he’s too deep in thought about you. He remembers the gist of them though. Things like “he’s so cute, like a model,” and “right? I think he looks handsome” (to which Chuuya was slightly annoyed by because he thought it was referring to your new beau).

But no, he wasn’t greeted with a man. He opened his doors to find a boy with eyes as blue as the ocean sitting on his desk, fiddling with his pens. Eyes that remind him of the exact shade he looks at in the mirror everyday. Chuuya hurriedly shuts the door, locks it, and steps hesitantly toward the boy.

This boy… looks roughly about six years old. And Chuuya feels his breath hitching in his throat. That’s around the time you went missing. He feels everything closing in around him, the fear of why you left him finally being made clear to him.

Weirdly enough, the boy isn’t the tiniest bit scared. His head is tilted, fingers still fiddling with Chuuya’s fountain pen, and waiting for Chuuya to reach him. He blinks his little eyes, before finally smiling up at him after a while. He opens his mouth, a simple word leaving his delicate lips.

“Daddy!”

Chuuya isn’t even allowed a further minute to process it before he hears knocking on the ceiling and someone falls through the vent onto the floor; one with an all-too-familiar figure. And who flashes an all-too-familiar grin.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Half an hour later Chuuya finds himself struggling to process all the information you’ve unloaded on him. He observes as his son draws on a random piece of paper he’s found lying around, in the other side of the room.

“You let them think they’ve captured our son, when in reality you were waiting for them to?”

You nod. Chuuya internally facepalms himself. How is it that you’re able to gamble with this, too? With your — and his — son’s life on the line? You basically left him there to be abducted, knowing that they won’t do anything without Chuuya’s permission (who’s to say he wouldn’t have allowed them to torture the kid? Well, he wouldn’t, but still…) and then sneak yourself past security and into his office, all in the hopes of letting him know he has a son?

Then again, you wouldn’t bet something like that if you didn’t believe that things would absolutely go your way. He’s been with you for so long before, he’s familiar with your moves and the way you think. Not completely, but good enough.

It was so brilliantly simple. (Also, you used to sneak into his office through the vents when your relationship was still under wraps, so it really wasn’t a surprise to him that you chose to sneak in through there now.)

“Why now, after all this time? Why tell me now?”

For a moment he catches a brief look of guilt wash over your face. You lie back on the couch on your spot next to him, and close your eyes, as though bracing for an outburst as his response.

“I didn’t want to tell you at all, at first…” you trail off, the guilt completely taking over you now. “I only came now because… I want you to get Mori off my back.”

Now Chuuya understands why.

So, you didn’t even intend to give him a chance to meet his son, let alone let him be involved in any part of your life. But you only appeared because you knew Mori would come after you, demand for your help. The only reason you showed yourself today… was to convince Chuuya to help you. Because if there’s anyone who could convince Mori to back off, Chuuya could. And you understood that all too well.

Chuuya can just laugh at himself right now. How foolish is he, to think that you came back because you still harboured feelings for him. How pathetic of him.

He can sense his expression growing grim. Not that he’ll make any attempts to conceal it. His cerulean eyes travel from his son to you. You seem a little less guilty now, though. You look… at peace, somehow.

“What makes you think I’ll do what you want?”

“Because you want to prove me wrong.”

Your answer catches him off guard, and his anger is replaced by utter confusion. You take his silence as your cue to explain.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think you’d make a good father and do what’s right for our son. Prove me wrong. Keep our son away from this. Do what a good father would and give him a chance to grow up normal.”

Chuuya scoffs. So that’s why you didn’t tell him anything. Never told him you were pregnant. Never hinted at a goodbye. You’d rather be branded a traitor like Dazai instead of having to make Chuuya choose between you and the mafia. He knows; if you set your mind on something, it’s hard to change it. And in other situations it might’ve been negotiable, but not with your baby.

You know Chuuya would never betray the mafia. That’s why you think he’d never make a good father. Because he can’t put you or the baby first. And now… Now you come with good faith. You’re trying to believe that he can learn to be a good father.

Starting with this choice.

This impossible choice.

Except not really. He knows what he’ll end up choosing anyway. You were right. If he knew you were pregnant he’d have convinced you to stay with the mafia, convinced you that he’d make sure the baby is well-protected. But then he’d be missing the point of your whole argument. You grew up in the mafia, and technically, so did he. You knew how it didn’t allow a chance at normalcy, and you didn’t want to strip your baby of that choice. You wanted your child to at least have a taste of what being normal is like, before you ultimately let them choose what they want.

Now, even if he gives an unfavourable reply, he knows you’d do anything to keep his son away from the mafia. It’s only a question of whether or not you’d have to struggle against Chuuya for it.

Silently, he stretches a hand out to you as he gets up from the couch. He can see the subtle surprise on your face. You’re impressed, aren’t you? He has on the best poker face since you’ve met him. You can’t guess what he’s thinking, this being the first of such instance since you’ve met him. He doesn’t say a thing when you ask him what he’s up to, only continuing to offer his hand to you, keeping mum.

A gamble, a risk you’d have to take. You can either take his hand and see where he leads you, which could lead to you getting your way or it could just lead to total destruction. Or, you can refuse, and then you’d have to figure a way out on your own. Which Chuuya doesn’t doubt you’d already have ingrained in your head.

But he knows you’ll choose the former. Why? It’s the only one where an inherent risk is present. Because you’d be totally in his mercy.

And that’s why you find yourself flown out of the headquarters, onto some random building’s rooftop. A perfect view of the setting sun and an even more perfect view of your old lover, striking crimson locks imitating the beauty of the orange sunset.

Looks like it paid off.

“Will you let me know where you’re staying? A child needs his father,” Chuuya asks you, your fingers intertwined in his, and you forgot just how much you missed this; him.

“And the mafia needs you.”

A swift rejection, but he’s not going to give up so easily.

“I have a right to know. He’s my son too.”

You inch closer to him and he feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest. It’s been six years since he’s been this close to you, and he can’t believe he has to let you go again. With your son in tow, too. Without so much as a clue as to where you’re going to move to. No way to find out. Given that they only managed to find you in the first place because you wanted to be found.

“Maybe if you’re the boss or something.”

PRESENT.

Now here he is, sitting in the office, new king of the Port Mafia. And his two very important guests are making their way up here. Chuuya hurriedly puts the letters back away. They were how you communicated with him, updated him on you and your son. Though you never put any return address, so Chuuya couldn’t send one back even if he wanted to. Also, you didn’t include any photos, so Chuuya is curious how his son has turned out.

Your timing is impeccable, to choose to visit him just as he’s taken over the office. He suspects maybe you have your ways, what with the vast amount of officials you have wrapped around your finger.

But as the doors open, every other thought he has is thrown out the window. You enter first, and his face lights up, seeing those familiar pair of eyes, so warm, so inviting now. And behind you, your son, now slightly taller than you (and probably Chuuya but he refuses to think of that), greeting him with a polite nod and a smirk on his face.

A wave of understanding washes across his child’s face when he spots something hanging on the wall behind his father.

“Hey! You kept the drawing I did when I first came here!”

He had drawn the three of you together, with himself in the middle, his parents on either side of him, holding his hands and walking in a park.

Chuuya chuckles. “Of course, it was the only thing your mom let me remember you by.” He shifts his gaze over to you as your son gets the hint, moving to admire another far corner of the room.

You let yourself fall into his arms, and Chuuya hugs you tight. Because it’s taken eighteen years. A long, torturous eighteen years apart, which honestly was a run in circles, though it was a necessary one. But now finally, he can be together with you, and his son. Chuuya looks down at you with the warmest gaze you’ve ever seen, wet eyes threatening to spill with tears any moment now.

“Welcome home, my love.”

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @animatedarchives

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damatris · 4 years ago

Text

There's Harshness In Your Voice And Softness In Your Hands

May I offer you a very soft and hopefully funny concussed!Jaskier geraskier fic in these trying times? Also tagging @jaskierswolf since you’re an awesome writer and I super appreciated your kind words and encouragement! <3 This was the third fic I wrote after a 8 year break in writing prose. :’D

Pre-Geraskier, concussed!Jaskier, protective!Geralt, Fluff, And Humor wc: 2,638 Also on AO3 with The Mud Wolf song!

....

"Are we there yet?" Jaskier asked with a grin, knowing perfectly well the town was only ten minute walk away. Exasperated sigh was his only response, just as he predicted.

"I do hope I have enough time to turn your newest valiant fight into an epic tale. Spinning a song out of a mud covered Witcher and his battle with an overgrown worm might be impossible for a lesser bard but I'm sure I can manage." he continued, taking maybe slightly too much joy out of having stayed spotless while Geralt looked like he had rolled on wet ground for a good while. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

For once the hunt had been more of an annoyance than life threatening. Geralt had been hired to take care of an unidentified monster wreaking havoc on the soft soil of nearby fields, threatening the crops.

Turned out the monster was a sizable worm like creature with thick ridged skin and countless teeth similar to sharp picks in a gaping maw. Which could have been deadly if its anatomy didn't require one to stick an arm inside the mouth to be bitten. But it had been strong, squirmy and eager to burrow away forcing Geralt to drag it out of the ground with both hands more than once. It ended up more of a wrestling match than a fight before he had been able to skewer the monster with his sword.

Jaskier had been happy to offer gleeful advice and encouragement from a safe distance where flying muck couldn't reach his silk doublet.

"Really, it would make for a good ditty, something to hum while working the fields" the bard continued, demonstrating a bright tune.

"Don't." Geralt said blankly, dragging the monster's corpse. Mud was starting to flake off his face and armor leaving dusty residue. He would have to give it a throughout cleaning later. Having caked mud in armor joints could only lead to discomfort and possibility of something jamming.

"We'll see." Jaskier said and kept humming until they reached their destination.

Calling it a town might be slightly generous but it was a lively place. During the day there had been a sizable crowd of customers and sellers in the town square, children playing and general bustle of people hurrying on their errands. Even now in the twilight hours there were people walking around giving them looks ranging from disgust to fear to bafflement. Which Jaskier thought was fair enough considering a bloody carcass was being dragged by an extremely filthy Witcher down their streets.

He too would have stopped to stare at such a spectacle once upon a time. Nowadays he just witnessed the hunting of the dangerous creatures instead.

Few minutes later they separated. Geralt was off to present the proof of the completed mission to the magistrate and collect his fee while Jaskier continued to the inn they were staying at. He had a promise to keep to the owner. Not that it was any sort of a hardship. He would have performed anyway but getting free meals for both of them was a very welcome bonus.

The inn's tavern with its warmth and amiable atmosphere was a welcome change from the cooling evening. Conversations and laughter, clinking of drinks being drank and dinners being eaten filled the space with familiar sounds. It had been far too long since the last time they had stayed somewhere nice Jaskier decided. Adjusting his lute he headed toward the bar to talk with the owner.

"Hello again!" Jaskier greeted placing a coin on the counter. "Could you draw a bath in about thirty minutes or so? Not for me, don't worry. I'm ready to sing until everyone here is full of good cheer and good ale!" he ended with a wink.

"That might take quite the while knowing these folks." Oscar, a tall broad man chuckled. Noticing the lack of a looming presence he asked "Bath's for the Witcher then?"

"Absolutely! You should and will see the state he landed himself. So easy to mistake for something that crawled out of a swamp and rolled in dirt for good measure. If you hadn't already seen him, you'd swear his hair is black and skin grey. Thankfully the same fate didn't befall me." Jaskier gestured to his clothes. "Now that would have been a tragedy."

"Plenty of water needed then." Oscar nodded to himself, moving toward a patron looking for a drink. "I'll have it ready for him."

Jaskier gave a small playful bow and twirled around to spot a good place to stash his lute case.

This evening had blessed him with an appreciative audience, Jaskier mused happily. He had begun with true crowd pleasers, jaunty songs that each and everyone knew, to draw the attention and set a jovial mood before moving to his original pieces bridging the change with Toss A Coin. It truly was a great trademark and transition song with addition of people usually complying with the lyrics and handing out money. Sure, there always were some grumblers who would prefer anything over having to hear about the White Wolf in a positive light but you never could please everyone. No matter how much he would like to.

Jaskier had started on the third song detailing a hunt he had witnessed when the Witcher of the tale entered the tavern drawing all eyes and causing murmur.

"Your bard really wasn't exaggerating much." Oscar noted behind the bar with a wry smile. "There's a warm bath waiting for you upstairs. I'd make haste if I were you."

Geralt nodded his acknowledgment while taking a sweeping look at the tavern. Spotting Jaskier near the stairs leading up to the second floor he locked eyes with him for a moment before starting in that direction. While Jaskier's performance hadn't faltered even for a second it was clear he was laughing internally at Geralt's appearance. His blue eyes were sparkling with mirth as he took stock of the stiff hair and dust falling with every step.

Walking past him to the stairs Geralt grunted something that was both a thank you and a warning. Jaskier felt quite proud of how well he had learned the meanings of the various hmms and wordless grunts Geralt seemed so overly fond of.

"Filthy fucking mutant!"

Jaskier was used to being pelted with various objects by dissatisfied audiences so he didn't think anything about stepping between something flying and the Witcher's retreating back.

Until blinding pain hit him.

On a reflex Jaskier threw his arms in front of himself trying to ensure the safety of his lute as he was knocked down on his back. Trying to draw air back into his deflated lungs and focus on anything outside of the ringing in his ears, he vaguely registered a dark shape jumping over him with a curse.

It might have been a year or it might have been a second before a large hand shook his shoulder.

"Damn it Jaskier, breath!"

Ah, yes. He knew that voice. He should probably answer.

"...G'r'lt..." not the most eloquent but passable. It was kind of hard to force words out when you had to think about breathing. Maybe he should go back to practicing basics if saying one word clearly took that much air. How had he ever sang possessing such a horrendous breathing technique?

"Look at me."

But he already was? Oh, wait. That darkness wasn't Geralt's black armor. He just had his eyes closed. But who was he to deny the chance of looking at Geralt's eyes? They were so beautiful after all. With herculean task he blinked and, behold, those molten yellow eyes were intensely staring at his. Such perfection surrounded by dancing stars.

"Can you sit up?"

Should be simple enough but he would need his hands. And they were...

"M' lute...?"

"Of fucking course you would worry about your lute. You're clutching it."

Ah. Good. Everything was fine in that case. Case. Where was his lute case? No, he had put it down before performing. Should be safe. Even if he couldn't recall where it was. Maybe he could ask Geralt. He could just-

"Sniff 'nd find" it with his strange strange Witcher senses. Seemed like a good plan. Geralt would know the scent.

"What the everlasting fuck Jaskier? How hard did that tankard hit your head?"

But tankards weren't for hitting? Why would he have…? Ah. Yes. He must have stepped in front of it now that he thought about it. Still, who would throw one? If you wanted to throw something at a person then-

"Coins ar' good, bre'd okay."

"That's it. I'm taking him to our room."

Jaskier had never realized he could levitate but suddenly he wasn't on the floor anymore. It felt much more safe and warm than he would have thought. And weirdly dusty. Also, Geralt's face was very close. Very, very close. So very close. It was distracting him from the experience. It was unfair how-

"Handsome." Geralt was. Robbing him the chance of experiencing flight. The bastard.

"If you mumble nonsense then you can just shut up."

Rude.

Shit, Jaskier thought. He wasn't levitating anymore. He had missed his chance of enjoying it. Suddenly also the warmth and Geralt's face were gone. No, there was Geralt again. But why wasn't his hair white? It was even in the name. The White Wolf. Not-

"The Mud Wolf."

"Really Jaskier? Not even coherent and you make insults?"

Geralt was an insult. With his pretty eyes and pretty lips and strong arms. Arms…? Maybe Jaskier didn't know how to levitate after all. Maybe Geralt-

"Carried me?" Huh. That would have been even better to register than levitating. If he asked would Geralt do it again while hiding his stupid good looking face? No, probably not.

"Yes."

He would? Wait, no. It was an affirmation for being carried, Jaskier realized with disappointment. He was prevented from brooding by something wet and stinging touching his forehead. He wanted it to-

"Stop. Hurts."

"Stay still. I need to clean this."

Geralt was the one who had wrestled a worm, not him. Heh, that's why he was The Mud Wolf! Didn't explain why his forehead needed cleaning though. Jaskier took a deep breath and tried to focus. Worm, tavern, performing, Geralt coming in. Then it got fuzzy. But hadn't there been a mention of a-

"Tankard. I got hit by a tankard?"

"Finally. Yes Jaskier, you were an absolute idiot and stepped in its path." a relieved sigh passed Geralt's lips.

"You were already in its path." Jaskier accused him wincing against a new stab of pain. Geralt should be thankful. Who knew that an overglorified cup could hurt this much?

"I was the target. It would have hit my back. While wearing an armor. If I hadn't caught it first."

"..." Jaskier blamed his lack of a comeback on concussion. Having one would explain everything. "Please don't say a child threw it and managed to knock me out."

There was an amused huff. "No, it was an adult. One that has a far worse headache."

"They managed this while concus-? You gave them one!" Jaskier crowed pleased with his returning mental skills. "Ooh, I wish I could have seen it. I hope they lost a lot of teeth! And have a broken nose."

"Probably, didn't check. I had more important things to do." Geralt answered prodding Jaskier's head. It didn't look too bad now that the blood was gone. An ugly bruise was quickly forming on a sizeable bump but the cut wasn't long or deep. Shouldn't even leave a scar. Head wounds just bled like a bitch as Geralt knew from personal experience.

"I'm important?" Jaskier breathed with wide eyes and hanging mouth.

Of course. That would be his take away, Geralt thought. Not that he was wrong but…

"Hmmm."

"Dear Melitele, am I hallucinating?" Jaskier whispered lifting his arm to cup Geralt's cheek. And would have promptly poked him in the eye if Geralt hadn't snatched his hand.

"Geralt of Rivia admitting to care about someone? This must be a first!" a familiar sparkle was returning to Jaskier's pinched eyes. He moved their interlocked hands to take a better look. It wasn't particularly romantic with Geralt holding his wrist but Jaskier would take it.

Just as the thought crossed his mind Geralt let go and his arm flopped bonelessly back on the bed. He didn't remember his hands weighting that much. Weird. Combined with his lute he must have far more strength than he had guessed to be able to play for whole nights with no problem.

"Geralt, where's my lute?" Jaskier suddenly panicked trying to get up to look for it. He was screwed if someone had stolen or, god forbid, broken it. All he got for his attempt was splitting pain.

"Your priorities are fucked up." Geralt stated picking a potion and bandage out of his bag. "It's in the corner. Oscar brought it with the case."

"Excuse me! It's my tool of trade, my life line and…" Jaskier trailed off frowning.

"I'll finish that after I've slept." he sniffed radiating offense.

"You do that. Now, stay still." Geralt drawled. Swiping the cut one last time he covered it with gauze.

It might not be strictly necessary but he was quite sure Jaskier would tear it open at least few times with his animated expressions. And, it made him feel slightly better if he was honest. Realizing the bard had purposefully stepped in front of him and crumpled down like a sack of potatoes had been shocking. Just thinking about it made him want to tear the culprit apart piece by piece.

What in the world had driven Jaskier to do it was a mystery. He should be perfectly aware a flying mug was no danger for a Witcher.

"Drink." Geralt ordered shoving the potion toward Jaskier.

Jaskier did make a valiant effort to take the potion but kept missing the mark until Geralt placed it in his hand with an exasperated sigh. Shakily he drank the concoction without hesitation until the bottle was empty, Geralt helping him lift his head enough not to choke.

"Wait. What was that? You always go on and on how your strange Witcher potions are not for us weak fragile humans. You wouldn't poison me after all this time, right? Geralt?" Jaskier suddenly worried.

"If I wanted you dead I'd have killed you long ago. And not with poison." Geralt answered blankly.

"It's just painkiller. You can sleep now. I'll keep waking you up to make sure last of your brain cells didn't rattle loose." he continued lifting the blanket for Jaskier to wrap it around himself.

"That's offensive. I'll let you know I have plenty of commonsense…" Jaskier protested weakly eyelids fluttering.

"Sure. As much as a toddler." Geralt granted. Softer, he prompted Jaskier to close his eyes. "Sleep. You'll feel better after."

"... Uh-huh…" came the eloquent answer. Just before he succumbed to his exhaustion, Jaskier could have sworn he felt gentle hand carding through his hair.

Also on AO3 with The Mud Wolf song!

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fic #geraskier #witcher #Adventures with writing #long post

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calypsoff · 4 years ago

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Sixty Eight. Part 3

Honestly it’s annoyed me that my brother did and said what he said about me to my mother like, he knows what she is like and how she reacts about being a good wife “don’t take it out on your brother” it’s always the boys “I’m not but you’re making out I am bullying my husband when I’m not, he would say I am if I was” Chris snorted laughing “and Robbie I said jokes can hurt sometimes, he is your husband so he is priority. You’re being very hormonal baby” I huffed out “I give up” they really think I bully Chris “I must admit she can be very violent, it’s that Bajan blood” looking at Chris frowning “you need to stop right there, I mean it. Don’t let this ugly ass man make you think you can join him because you will be sleeping in the spare room” Chris gasped “Robbie, it’s his birthday. Be kind” I think my mother is annoying me the most “just nobody speak to me please, I’m done” I can’t deal to hear anymore bullshit from any of these people, like why are they making out I am mean to my husband unless this is a ploy to annoy me, maybe I am being hormonal but I am not mean to him I just playfully annoy him and I like to do it because it’s so easy to do but my family like to make out I am bullying him “don’t speak” I pointed at Rorrey, I knew he was going to try and say something “I can’t even laugh, you’re miserable” getting up from the seat “I am cleaning” I rather clean then sit with these idiots that think I am being mean when I’m not “I will help you” Mel also got up, picking my plate up and walked around the table “relax baby” Mel said to me as I placed the plate in the sink “I am but Rorrey is actually riling mom up to say that in front of Chris making it seem like I am, I am not incapable of supporting my man and knowing when to not tease him” I said in a whisper “I don’t think they meant it, just relax” I am being very hormonal but I find it annoying, it’s my marriage.

I just finished cleaning with Mel, my mother made a lot of mess in the kitchen “ayo, how you get my high school picture in that jersey. I have gone taller too, that is dope” smiling at him “can I speak to Robyn for a moment please Mel” drying my hands off “sure birthday boy, also I need to find why Noella ain’t give you the present” Mel hit his arm “one of twenty six punches” Chris laughed rubbing his arm “mean as hell” watching him walk over to me “you like it? I think you look extra cute in the high school picture, imagine a daughter with long hair looking like you, actually no. That’s not cute” Chris laughed out “I would feel sorry for her if she did when she got a beautiful mom like you, you good?” Chris sat atop of the kitchen counter “what makes you think I’m not? I don’t want her to feel like she has to be like me, I really hope we never get that issue because it would hurt me. I don’t want that for my daughter” walking over to Chris “just seemed very annoyed at your family, you know they are joking with you. You not been doing anything to upset me at all” standing between Chris’ legs “just my family is annoying me and on top of that I am very hormonal and feeling sensitive about things, are you happy?” Chris gasped “happy!? I got a Rolex, and I am sitting in a Versace robe, I am over the moon. Thank you so much and your kind words to me, I don’t deserve it and I feel like you’re feeling a little emotional about things, I feel it, with the messages and everything. I know you, just don’t worry about it. You done a lot for me and I appreciate you” he wrapped his arms around me “thank you Poppa” I adore him a lot “hey Chris, JC is here” Chris looked behind him and at my brother “really? Why?” He questioned “I booked him for you, go and get a cut” moving back “oh wow, ok. Thank you” he is so oblivious about everything and it’s cute.

Yusuf is here and Mylah is also to dress me the hell up, I need to look good for my man’ birthday now “you are pregnant, like wow! It’s been a while, oh my god” Yusuf hugged me “like you really pregnant baby, you are glowing” I laughed out, he is having a meltdown seeing me this pregnant “be quiet and coming up the stairs, is Mel here with my dress and his suit?” He is nowhere to be found “knowing him he’s probably dressing up himself oh my god, my queen you look so good” holding Yusuf’ hand as we went up the steps “ayo Robyn” looking down at Chris “yeah?” He looks so handsome with his new cut “just want to say thank you, you keep surprising me even more. So thank you” I cooed out “it’s ok baby, I am going upstairs now” how adorable is he “your man is a cutie, happy birthday Chris. Can’t wait to dance with you tonight” elbowing Yusuf “hey!” He spat “thanks man” he’s so slow “you are so lucky he didn’t” mean mugging Yusuf “wait, he doesn’t know l... ?” Shaking my head “no he doesn’t know yet” I whispered “you are lucky he is not paying attention to it; he thinks we are going to a meal together and he’s paying” I laughed “he’s very cute you know; I mean bless his heart he came to say that to you. Awww baby” Yusuf cooed out.

It’s been a while since I have been dressed up like this and I am excited to say the least, someone to just do the dressing up for me instead of me doing my own makeup “doesn’t he think why everyone is here and why we came? Like deadass?” Yusuf is confused “well with what went on I stopped speaking about his birthday, I just altogether stopped caring and I just didn’t want to know because I was hurt. So to him he thinks he’s getting nothing but a meal, but I kept everything the same. I wanted to spoil him and he never did cheat on me, imagine if I just thought fuck it let me treat you like shit for something you never did, that would generally hurt him because he did nothing wrong. Privately I of course did what I needed but I kept it as that” Yusuf nodded his head “he seems like not the type so when I was reading I was like, nobody cheats on my sis” the bedroom door opened “oh, I came to get changed” Chris has clearly had enough of his robe “wait a little more, your outfit will be here” Chris nodded his head looking at me weirdly “you really getting ready for this meal huh” I smirked “I want to look nice for once, why not. Are you having fun?” I don’t want him to be sad now “yeah of course, I’m gonna be in the games room” he walked out, I’m glad I have a husband that can be a little slow “he’s cute, I’m gonna keep saying this” I giggled to myself.

Mel tied up my heels, he didn’t want me to bend over and do it which is sweet of him. I may regret putting these heels on but whatever, it goes with the outfit, but my feet will suffer and I am taking my slides with me just for later “you look so good Robyn” Mel got up from the floor, moving back from me “so beautiful, I saw this silk black dress and I was like Robyn will look perfect in it, your boobs have grown but it’s fine, beautiful. For your man’ birthday, I was speaking to Chris actually, he was so confused and said why am I wearing a suit, I said because I felt cute” I chuckled “he is not clicking on at all, he assumes we are having a meal, a real nice one too” Mel laughed shaking his head “he is so funny but come, let’s go down. A lot of the family have already left, let’s help you down” I feel so cute “does my butt look big” walking out of the bedroom “of course it does, but who cares. You flaunt that” he pointed at me as he walked towards the stairs “let’s be careful down these, I got you” smiling lightly at him, I hope Chris likes my dress. Holding onto the side, Mel took my bag from me and then I held onto his arm, slowly making my way down the steps “wow, it feels like I am meeting my wife all over again. Wow! Look at her” Chris cooed over him, his eyes lit up and smiled so wide “you look amazing twin, oh wow” I am getting shy now.

Me and my husband look so good, we look so fly and I am proud of how good we look, Chris thinking we are still going to a meal is making me laugh “how amazing is my Rolex though? Not as amazing as you my love” I cooed out “thank you Chris, you’re always there making me feel so special and so confident, thank you” Chris smiled at me “like you are getting me these things are just amazing, I didn’t expect it because like I wasn’t good to you, I didn’t call you and stuff, so I deserved it. Thank you, like with everything” he’s so thankful “don’t be, today is your day so stop saying thank you. I just want to see you smile and have fun, that’s what we are doing, that’s what you deserve and that’s what I want for you ok?” I love him so much “I’m hungry as hell actually, I can’t wait to eat” come to think of it that means he will be drinking on an empty stomach which doesn’t bother me actually because, it’s his day and if he wants to spend the next day drunk he can, I will let him have that fun today.

The driver stopped outside Poppy Nightclub “Giorgio Baldi?” Chris questioned “you know me so well but I wanted to spice it up, just thought I would you know have it here, a meal that is” Chris looks so confused, he is very confused “they do food in a club?” Rich opened the door for me, I also got Dennis to take pictures today. The full works I got it for him, I told them that I am coming so keep it quiet “it’s quiet isn’t it” I know Chris is not that stupid, maybe he is because he knows I wouldn’t lie to him which I am today “because I wanted it like this” Dennis is here bless him “Rich you looking handsome for my birthday, I appreciate it” Rich just side eyed him, Dennis continued to take pictures of Chris and I “shall we go inside then” I gestured “yeah, man I am hungry” nodding my head “ok go in then, be the man” Chris started to walk and then he stopped “are you lying to me?” he turned to look at me “about what part? Why would I lie? For what? Just go” maybe he is clicking on now, Dennis rushed by us to go inside, Rich held the door as we walked into the place which is pretty quiet the way I wanted it. Chris seems so reluctant to go further inside he seems to be walking so slow, he finally went by the board “allow me to introduce, his name Christopher Maurice Brown used to move snowflakes back in VA. Happy Birthday Chris, it’s big pimpin baby” Jay Z said on the mic as Big Pimpin started playing, I wish I walked ahead of him now. Chris froze in shock seeing the place just filled, I mean I was going to use my contacts, Jay didn’t say no “no way!” Chris spat, he turned to me in utter shock “Happy Birthday, I lied” I laughed saying “you got my dad in a club, oh my god!” I got him good, I am so proud of me.

Mel shimmied herself over to me “we be big pimping, spending cheese!” she sang to me “aye, aye. This is so fucking lit, like I am speechless. See me? His face was shocked, like he just peed himself. You should be proud of yourself” I grinned “I am, now I can relax. My feet are killing me already” looking over at Chris, he is busy just saying his hi to everyone. I invited everyone I could get for him everyone that knows him and then I did as Jay, he said yes so here we are. I will be taking these heels off actually “he looks handsome” my mom pointed at Chris, I grinned “he does” sitting down on the chair “already?” Mel said looking “yes, I have too. Even though these heels make me look even better but I can’t right now, the extra weight is a no” Mel crouched down “let me do it for you” looking up at my mom “I am going to say hi to him” nodding my head, this is going to be long night for me because I love my sleep more then ever, I have to make it through the night but Rorrey can deal with him drunk because I can’t do it.

#chrianna fanfiction #chrianna ff #fanfiction #fanfic #chrianna #chriannaff

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oureuphoria · 5 years ago

Text

Worst of You - JJK 10

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 3,477

Warnings: None I think.

Note: P.S. thing’s start to go downhill from here.

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

When you woke up, you expected to see Jungkook’s side of the bed completely empty but instead, he was right there sleeping peacefully, at 9am. “Jungkook! Wake up, you’re late to work!” You shook him lightly, your voice was still pretty quiet. He tiredly turned to face you before letting out a hoarse, “what?” You pointed at the clock, he took one look at it and went back to sleep. “Jungkook, what about your job? Are you sick?” He turned to face you once again, more awake now. “On Tuesday I got promoted to Corporal, I have Saturdays off now.” “Oh.” You were about to go back to sleep, but then you jumped up quickly and Jungkook winced at the storm that was yet to come. “Wait! Why didn’t you tell me, that’s so amazing! I knew you could do it!” Jungkook pulled the blanket over his head to block out your loud excitement and you got the hint. “Whoops, I’m sorry. I’ll let you sleep now.” You smiled to yourself as you quietly left the bed.

All the sleepiness was knocked out of you so you decided to take a shower, but you were genuinely uncomfortable with the idea of going to the communal bathrooms on a Saturday morning. They were generally filled with puke and hungover college students. You recalled Jungkook telling you a while back that you could use his guest bathroom whenever you wanted and thought you would have to use children’s shampoo because he always kept it there in case his niece and nephew had to stay for a while.

You were still in the bathroom when Jungkook woke up. You were in the middle of harshly judging your skin when you heard Jungkook’s voice just outside your door. “Mom, I told you I don’t want to. No, I don’t have a girlfriend, I’m just not interested.” That sentence alone got rid of all your rationality and soon you had your ear pressed up against the door to hear better. “You know what, fine, I’ll meet her tonight. Are you happy now?” You couldn’t hear what was said on the other line so you had no real way of telling what was really going on or who he was meeting which just made you extremely anxious.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m going out tonight to meet an old friend.” You heard him yell from his room before he came out in slacks and a dress shirt, looking very handsome. You were on the couch, reading a book you bought the other day with Jimin. “Help me with my tie, your small hands make better knots.” You rolled your eyes at the underlying insult but you helped him anyway. You couldn’t help but feel a little angry about having to hear him lie to his mother about you. “Ow! Y/N, too tight.” You didn’t mean to smile but you did and he looked at you suspiciously. “My bad.” He took one look at his reflection in the mirror he has in the living room and angrily took the tie off. “It’s too much.” Then he unbuttoned the first few buttons, his toned chest peaking out. “You seem to be trying awfully hard to impress this ‘old friend’” Jungkook leaned down to face you, pinching your cheeks tightly. “She’s just a friend.” He gave you a quick kiss before he grabbed his things and was out the door.

You went back to reading the book you had just started to read but it was growing harder to concentrate the later it got, and once he was finally back, it was 11pm. You were already asleep on the couch, the book on your lap as your neck hung to the side. Jungkook winced at the uncomfortable position and hoped you weren’t asleep that way for long. “Y/N, wake up. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” You sleepily got up, rubbing your eyes to help you see better. You unlocked your phone to check the time and saw it was 11:17. You couldn’t help but wonder what took him so long considering he left at 7 but before you could address it, the warm confines of the bed pulled you into a gentle sleep.

The next day things were extremely tense. If you didn’t initiate conversations it would often go quiet for a really long time. Jungkook was either on his laptop, on his phone or playing a video game. The cycle got a little tedious around 1pm. “Jungkook, I’m bored.” He didn’t look up from his phone, smiling as he messaged someone. “Hello? Earth to Jungkook?” He once again kept his eyes trained on his screen though this time he found the energy to formulate a reply. “I heard you the first time. I don’t know, go out or something.” You frowned, his days off were the only days you could genuinely spend time with him and yet it felt as if he didn’t want to. You weren’t going to beg for his attention, you knew it would just make him mad.

You decided to go shopping, you wanted new clothes and you were in desperate need of a new laptop charger, you were sick of getting electrocuted every time you tried to charge the damn thing. It was a warm day, significantly warmer than any other this crisp winter, you were nearing the end of February so it was natural for the weather to get warmer. “Isn’t it too cold to wear a skirt?” You heard him ask behind you as you put on your shoes. “I literally just complained to you about the weather and how it was going to be 97 degrees today. Maybe if you listened to me you’d know this.” You stuck your tongue out at him towards the end of your sentence, it was childish yet you couldn’t help but hope he would take you seriously with your complaints. “Do you want me to drop you off?” You shook your head, giving him a peck on the cheek on your way out. “Y/N take a jacket- and she’s already out the door,” Jungkook mumbled the last part to himself, shaking his head slightly at your forgetfulness, he knew it was going to get colder later and he knew he was in for an earful about how cold you were when you’d get home.

“And then the lady told me that they didn’t have any more in my size and I was so sad. Jungkook are you even listening?” On his phone, once again, even when the man wasn’t at work he always found a way to make you feel like a nuisance. You gave up, it was like talking to a brick wall accept maybe the brick wall would be a better listener than Jungkook. You were already in bed when Jungkook joined you, though you were facing the closet door and sleeping near the edge. “Jungkook I think I’m going to go back to sleeping at my dorm.” He wasn’t expecting you to be awake, the statement catching him off-guard. “Really, why?” Despite him sounding fairly uninterested, you were glad he even responded. “If I don’t sleep there then I’m basically paying rent for a horribly overpriced storage unit.” Jungkook chuckled at your joke, but he didn’t reply, you took it as a sign that he wanted you out too.

“Ew, what’re you doing here?” Ellen was exhaling a cloud of smoke when you walked in. “I live here, stupid. Stop smoking indoors!” You spoke through coughs, blowing the smoke away and opening the windows. You looked up to see the fire alarm was off, you glared at her respectively. She didn’t care about your concerns, in fact, to show you exactly how little she cared, she flipped you off as you went to your room. Ellen was a lot of things, but you didn’t think she was a genuinely bad person, she was probably just lonely and sometimes you felt bad for her, but then she would start pissing you off again and you’d go back to hating her.

Your room was still the same, untouched. You often came here to study but you began slacking off as spring break was nearing. Ellen was blasting loud music again but weirdly turned it down when you asked her to. Maybe she liked having you back, maybe your theory about her being lonely was true after all. Whatever it was, you were grateful for it.

The next day was a Tuesday, also known as the worst day of the week. Not only did you have two consecutive tutor lessons but your classes ran nonstop from 8am-3pm. After your last class ended you walked to the library, exhausted and hungry. Unfortunately, you couldn’t eat or rest because your first tutoring lesson started at 4 and you had a lot of content to organize. A couple of students showed up 20 minutes early but you refused to say a word to them and they joked about how you should become a lawyer since you refuse to give out free advice but you were not in the mood.

3 dreadful hours later you were finally done with both sessions and you laid your head on the desk sleepily. You were tired enough to convince yourself to forget food and go home. Sure, you hadn’t eaten anything all day but sleep seemed more appetizing than food ever could. Naturally, since the universe seemed to hate you before you could even get up Jimin sat right in front of you. “There you are! You will not believe who I just saw at the cafe.” You looked at him distastefully. “Who?” You played along for the sake of getting it over and done with. “Jungkook, with a very pretty girl.” You laughed, assuming it to be Mel. “That’s just his coworker.” He looked at you with worried eyes as he shook his head. “No, I saw his coworkers when we went to the club, she’s different. She’s Asian, tall, long black hair, you don’t know her?” You shook your head, feeling the exhaustion disappear. “How long ago did you see them there?” “20 minutes ago, I would’ve told you earlier but you weren’t picking up your phone.” You recalled putting it on night mode before starting the lessons. You took said phone out to message Jungkook, asking where he was. He finished at 6pm which should’ve been an hour ago.

You

Where are you, Jungkook?

Delivered

You waited for a reply but you can’t say you were patient, you were growing more anxious by the second and thankfully, almost 4 minutes later, Jungkook replied.

Jungkook

Work, I’m going to be late tonight.

Read 7:28

“What a fucking liar!” Jimin exclaimed from beside you once he read the message. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up. “Jimin, where are we going?” He speed-walked out of the building, making his way to the student carpark and very literally pushing you into his car. “Jimin, where are we going?” Once he put his seatbelt on, he turned to you smiling. “Station, we’re busting his ass.” You whined out loudly. “No, I don’t want to cause drama, he was probably with someone important for work.” Jimin didn’t reply, driving you there anyways. He went in with you and you saw Mel, he pushed you towards her and she smiled your way. “Hey Mel, I was just wondering if Jungkook was here?” You asked her politely, a little bashfully to be frank. “No, actually, he left a while ago.” You nodded, smiling though it really didn’t feel genuine, you thanked her and walked back to Jimin, telling him about what she said.

“Do you think he’s cheating on me?” You were on the verge of crying when you left the building, Jimin quickly engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m sorry Y/N but after what you told me yesterday and what I saw, I think he is.” You started crying then, you had been cheated on before but you were 15 and you dated the boy for like 3 days. When you were finally in bed, you couldn’t sleep. You felt sick and exhausted but all you could do was dwell over Jungkook. After the phone call you overheard, the night out he had with her on Saturday and lying to you to see her it appeared that he probably was cheating.

When Jungkook left the bathroom, you had just walked out of the doors of the station lobby. By the time he got to Mel, you were gone. “Hey, did I miss anything?” He asked Mel while looking around the station. He was getting ready to leave after finally wrapping up the last of his reports. He had originally finished at 6 but the Chief called him back in because he needed some reports earlier than expected. He didn’t mind though, after finally clearing up with his old friend (the girl his mother tried to set him up with) that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, he felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. Mel paused for a moment before smiling. “No, you didn’t miss a thing.

_____

You were having dinner with Jungkook, it was a Friday night and you had barely spoken to him all week. When he asked what was wrong you were quick to brush him off, saying you were sick. You weren’t lying, at least not entirely. For the most part, you were ignoring him because of the cheating suspicions which you were still yet to address. “Y/N, we need to talk.” Your heart stopped then and there, you genuinely believed he was breaking up with you at that very moment for someone else. “…Yes?” Your voice was small and you had barely squeaked the word out before you chugged an entire cup of water out of nervousness. “You already know I’m not a fan of this facade you put on when something’s wrong so, how about you drop it and tell me what’s wrong?” He spoke softly, in a tone that was more friendly than menacing, but you couldn’t ask him, it would hurt too much if you were right.

“Um…I think we need a break.” “We don’t need shit.” Jungkook spoke so quickly and surely after with such a casual tone, causing your mouth to let out a default, “oh, ok.” There was a silence that followed before you realized what you had said. “Wait, no, it’s not okay. I think we need a break.” You spoke more sternly this time, trying to get your point across. You believed that if you took a break, you’d be able to soften the blow on yourself when it would inevitably come. Time heals everything or so they say. “And why’s that?” Jungkook was still eating his steak, though with more vigor than he had before. “Well, I just think that we should take some time to figure out what we really want.” “The only reason we’d be taking a break is if you’re not sure you want me because I’m already sure I want you, Y/N,” Jungkook spoke monotonously, showing little signs of anger but you knew they were there. “Well, it doesn’t seem like it.” There it was, a simple mumble, a quick thought that accidentally slipped out of your mouth, the trigger to your first ever real fight. “Why do you feel that way?” Jungkook was staying scarily calm. In the past few months, you’ve only had a small number of petty fights that meant nothing but he’d always get super angry and it was generally really funny. Now, however, it seemed as if this fight was far more serious than the rest and it scared you with how calm he was.

“Well, you just never have time to do anything and it feels like you prioritise everything before me.” Jungkook dropped his knife and fork, took a long sip of wine before replying. “Going into this relationship, did I not warn you about how busy I was?” “That’s not what I-” “Just answer the question Y/N.” You nodded in reply, trying to calm yourself down in case you got mad and said something stupid. “Did I not warn you that I took my job very seriously and often put it before anything else?” You nodded, though his work was far from what you were trying to criticise. “Then tell me why the fuck you’re complaining about it now?” He was still calm, yet very stern and you felt as if you’d start crying before you let any proper reply out. You forced yourself to keep it together though, you could have a reasonable argument, you’re an ‘adult’ after all.

“I wasn’t talking about your job, I mean your days off. It seems you would much rather spend time with your phone or friends than with me and it doesn’t feel very nice.” He nodded, picking up his knife and fork again before stabbing his steak with controlled aggression. “I’ve spent nearly every one of my day’s off with you. Your comment only applies to a couple of weekends and I know you’re not this upset over that so spit it out. What’s really bothering you?” Your mind told you to keep your mouth shut but your heart desperately wanted closure and before you could realize it you had already blurted it out.

“I think you’re cheating on me.” For the first time since the argument had started, Jungkook had dropped all of his eating utensils and was looking at you. “What?” You felt judged under his stare so you diverted your eyes to your plate of food while you poked at the chicken. “It started when I overheard you talking to your mother, you told her you didn’t have a girlfriend and that you were going to meet someone for her, then the night that you do, you’re dressed all fancy and stressing over the way you look, what was I supposed to think?” Jungkook’s face hardened, his hand coming up to massage his now aching head. “You thought I was cheating because of that?” You didn’t like how it felt so trivial under his words, it seemed pretty damn important. “No, there’s more. Jimin came up to me on Tuesday saying you were out with some girl, at first I didn’t think much of it but when I messaged you, you said you were working even though Jimin swore he saw you at the cafe with a girl. Jimin and I went to the station to see if you were there and you weren’t, you lied to me.”

“No, you’re lying right now because I was at the station, I would’ve seen you.” “No! I was there, you can even ask Mel, I asked her where you were and she said you had left a while ago.” Jungkook’s face fell at the mention of Mel, she knew he was there the whole night, you had to be lying. “What time did you go to the station?” You looked at him, confused. You didn’t know why that was relevant but you answered nonetheless. “Right after you replied to me about you being at work.” Jungkook remembers he was in the bathroom at the time, but it didn’t make sense, Mel wouldn’t lie, she had no reason to, she was his best friend for as long as he could remember, there was no way she’d lie to him.

“Y/N, if all you’re going to do is lie then this conversation is over. You clearly don’t want to be with me but you’re insistent on being the good guy so you try to accuse me of cheating? Seriously? That’s it Y/N, I’m done. Are you happy now?” It was at that moment that you noticed a couple of tears had fallen down your face, you shook your head quickly, not trusting your voice but he already left before you could tell him how wrong he was, his steak half-eaten. You wanted to be with him more than anything in the world, but you were both stuck in distorted versions of the same reality, not one knowing the real truth.

Every time you saw him from then, it was always at that stupid cafe. You avoided going there as much as you could but it became hard when it was the only place Jimin and Alex wanted to go. Alex, yes. She came to you 3 days ago with. A heartfelt apology and a lot of buried confessions, you forgave her but you let her know you weren’t sure you could trust her the same way yet. Nonetheless, you and Jungkook were both still not talking to each other and every time you saw him, your heart broke a little more.

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #jungkook fics #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts #bts fic

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aksthetwosainthijimiko-blog · 4 years ago

Text

I am not Zero, part two

“Thank you.” Dhira.... Lalita.... Zero inclined his head as took the new E-tank from Hidden Phantom, one the Shinobi had fetched from behind a secret emergency unit.

Zero cracked it open, but didn't drink it yet. Instead, he seemed to be offering it to someone... probably his imaginary friend.

The black and white Shinobi grunted as he studied the ancient build.

... For something that was over a hundred-year-old, Zero didn’t look all that different from Phantom and his brethren, being manufactured at the same time, four years ago in a bid to stop the maverick uprising by giving Master X some potent assistants.

He still looked very worn tough, but who wouldn't after running up the booby-trapped tower and fighting hords of pantheons and the guardians?

‘Any lesser reploid would not have made past the fifth floor’ Of this, Phantom was certain.

“Say... Phantom?” Zero addressed the Shinobi. “Can you hide yourself from X?” Zero asked as he finally began to sip from the can.

“You want me to spy on my Master.” Phantom flatly stated.

“As a Ninja, we do not have masters, and we do not follow the general morality, just a Strong code of ethic and respect.”

If the one you serve is less than stellar and is using your mystic skills to opresse instead of protecting; then it is your duty to kill him.” Zero declared with eyes holding cold steel. “Hidden Phantom, you are not a Dog-like Samurai who will slavishly follow the order of his master unquestionably. You are a Shinobi, a free agent, and instrument of divine justice to be used for those who have abused their power!”

Phantom reflectively swallowed... this, was not the confused dog he had fought the first two times, but an ancient warrior, a Shinobi who lived by the code...

And yet.

“Big words for Ciel’s attack mutt.” phantom gave a nasty smirk.

“I don’t serve Ciel.” Zero flatly refuted as he sipped from the E-tank, letting out a small sigh of relief. “But... I am the Servant of a worthy master.” He admitted with a beautiful and ever-so grateful smile.

Phantom would forever hate himself... but at this moment, Zero became the most beautiful and handsome reploid on the planet.

“Oh? And who would that be?” He asked instead, trying not to stare at the bright-faced maverick. Intel about the red Legend was harder to come by then one would expect.

“ You don’t know them and... They’re not In Neo-Arcadia.” Zero informed the Shinobi, who was now all ears.

“Not in... some reploids raiders, are they?”

“Nope!” Zero took a sip. “A couple of Vaishnavas living in France. In Nouvelle Mayapure.”

“You’re lying!” Phantom immediately denied. “Neo-Arcadia is the last Bastion of humanity, beyond its sacred walls lies a radiated desert!”

“Not everywhere.” Zero simply answered. “Sure most of the big cities are still ruins. But small villages and small settlements have grown into other cities... Nouvelle-Mayapure is one of them. And this was where I found my master and his Saintly wife.” Zero drained the last of the thank and after consuming the can (it was made of specialized Alloy needed by reploids.) He got up. “As much as I would love to keep chatting about my Gurus, we have plenty on our plates... and I would rather not make X wait for me any longer.”

“Right... lead the way.” Phantom bid as he activated his cloaking device and shut off all unneeded communication... essentially, appearing as dead.

:Zero... please wait five minute, I want them all to think I died.: He Radioed the eldest built. And, after five minutes went to the transerver.

He could feel his pump pulsating... what would be revealed from this confrontation?

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

Phantom stood hidden behind Zero, the natural darkness of Area X masking whatever had been left by his cloaking device.

In front of his stood master X, in all of his glories. He was glaring at Zero with both fear and rage. His red eyes glowing in the gloom of the room.

Zero took a few steps forward when the three other guardians teleported in.

“Stop!” Harpuia yield as he launched a wind blade... his accuracy greatly diminished by his wounds.

“We won’t allow you to pass!” Fefnir roared.

“... J... Just give up!” Leviathan managed to say in between her gasps.

It seemed Zero had not been lenient on her.

:Zero... And I thought you holy man would not hit a woman. : Phantom mildly scolded the so called... servant of God. :Not so above all, are you?:

:Technically, we are all female by nature.: Zero replied without a pause as he prepared for the worst. :And Leviathan is a... A coward like the rest of your group... but she’s still considered a warrior in her own right.:

:Cowards?:

:A real warrior will fight to the death and will gladly die in the battlefield... you all ran away the moment you began feeling some of your wounds.:

“Leave, you won’t survive this fight.” The voice of his master resounded from the dark area of the room. Interrupting whatever argument Phantom may have had.

On one side, Phantom knew Master X was right. None of them were in any condition to face the fool...and yet!

They could have given some support to the emperor of Neo-Arcadia. But alas, their Master desired to fight his traitorous friend alone.

He would win, of this, Phantom was sure... like, absolutely sure...

After a round of very understandable cursing, all guardians vacated the place, leaving only Zero, Master X and the hidden Phantom behind.

Zero gave a good look at Master X, then he opened communication with Phantom.

:Phantom, whatever happen... please don’t kill him.:

:I will be the judge of that.:

: Krishna told me the next step will be easier if he’s still alive... and knowing your skills, there would be no chance to even try to reason with him.:

:Reason with him?: Phantom almost asked.

: He’s only four year old, Phantom... he’s practicly a child.:

:If your right, that is.:

Zero didn’t awnser, instead, he turned his attention towards master X. “Who are you?“Do you have a name?”

‘Ah, Acting dumb, are you?’ Once again, Phantom was eager to see where this would be going.

Master X sneered, his red eyes shining with... malice? ‘No, that can’t be right.’

“What you don't remember your old friend? It’s me Zero, X!”

Zero kept looking at his old friend as if he was a stranger... and then.

“X has Green eyes.”

Those four words had the same effect of a missile detonating in the middle of Neo-arcadia.

“He’s five foot three, you barely five feet in height. His nose was covered in freckles, your skin is smooth... And X’s voice is deeper, yours is childlike.”

Master X... is he really was whom he declared to be, sneered.

“Let me ask you again; who are you?”

“I’m X’s perfect copy!” The Copy revealed himself. Opening his arms as his natural cruelty manifested himself in his smile. “I am the new hero, the one who will save the humanity from this wasted world!”

For his part, phantom did his best to remain concealed as he watched a monster move the body of his beloved master.

Phantom knew body language, he had a dedicated computer designated for those type of programs.

“Didn’t you noticed Zero?” The copy continued... and Phantom could only hope his body language was just an illusion. “Humans have never been this happy before. And this is all due to me.” he raised his hands as pride filled his chest. “I have managed to achieve the goal neither of you even managed to come close... I Have achieved what X never could!”

“Alright, and who are you?” Zero asked again. Not with anger (admirably enough). “Do you have a name? A number? Any type of designation?”

This question seemed to take...

Phantom’s eyes grew wider behind his mask... Zero had established that this reploid was but a mere copy, now he needed to know who he truly was.

The copy worked his mouth for a bit, it was clear that Zero managed to catch him in a loop. “I... I’m... AH...”

“They called you X.”

“Shut up!”

“They didn’t even bother giving you your own identity.”

“Shut up!”

“Tell me... how did you discover that you were made at the image of my best friend?” Zero asked as he showed no sing of agretion. His posture was relaxed, and while his arms were crossed, they didn’t carry any sign of fear or mistrust.

His voice was modulated in such a way that it carried a type of kindness only experienced councillor. But from What Phantom had managed to gather from the public enemy number one... Zero was never a councillor, but had needed one.

Unfortunately, he never went to see him, and instead, sealed himself again. Essentially committing suicide, if his final logs were of any indications.

And then Zero’s reaction to Phantom’s attempt made all the more senses.

“Why should I tell you, Maverick.” The Copy spat. “You're a Criminal, a terrorist!”

“I didn’t bomb a peaceful settlement... and I would never murder my kind because human’s can’t live without their Internet and whatever electronic drugs on the market for them.” Zero openly sneered.

“What’s wrong with them if it makes them Happy?” The Copy shot back. “They have whatever they want, they have all the pleasure they desire... Isn’t it the goal of life for them? To have as much pleasure and happiness before death come, and they become nothing?”

“No.” Zero awnser flatly. “ The living entity is the eternal soul, for him, death is but a change of costume.” He explained, reminding Phantom that he was indeed a spiritual practitioner.

Weirdly enough.

“ You want to make your humans happy... and this is the desire of all great leader. But the only thing you saved what the cage the soul is stuck it.” He declared bodily. “No one can truly be happy and not serve God with Love, it’s impo-”

“Oh, Shut up would you?” The Copy snapped. “ The soul’s a myth, scientists has managed to replicate human consciences in machines.” He sneered as he aimed his buster (left-handed) at Zero. “Wake up, Zero, this is the age of technology and cold, hard fact! The whole concept of God and the soul has been busted, I know we’re all going to die, so better enjoy whatever life I have left.”

“And yet, reploids are doing an action only embodied spirit soul can; they desire! They have emotions... and you killed them all for a false sense of peace and artificial prosperity... and out for your own twisted sense of so-called pleasure.” Zero sneered and Phantom realized that he was getting rilled up.

He had heard stories and inspected the result of what a rilled-up Zero could do... it was not pretty.”

And science didn’t disprove anything save the intelligence of those who worship it.” The Blond legend raised his voice as he jabbed an accusatory finger at the copy. “What did science gave us save from a hundred years worth of wars, famines and false promises of a better tomorrow? It did nothing, absolutely nothing... nothing but more misery hidden behind a veneer of so-called pleasure.”

Copy stared owlishly at the Mad maverick, computing what he had just said.

Then... a mocking smile split his lips has he began to cackle at the crazy blond.

“Your... you're funny. You’re hilarious.” phantom heart the bank grade bolt lock the only two exits the room. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“... So, you want to fight?” Zero asked As he took out his Z-sabre. “You demons are all the same.“ He growled. “Fine... Yamaraja was waiting for you anyway.”

And thus... the most brutal of fight began as Phantom helplessly looked on.

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

To be continued.

#megaman #Megaman Zero #Zero #vaishnavism #Copy X #Hidden Phantom #fanfiction #fanfic #I'm not gonna stop #Zero is the best viral agent out there

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beautiful-de4mity · 4 years ago

Text

[Alice Nine Fanfiction] ASYLUM

“You can’t say this world is kind to people. That’s how it is.”

Saga's body freezes instantly, paralyzed. His throat is choked painfully in order to endure a scream that refuses to come out of his chest, a feeling of intense fear gripping him but he is unable to do anything about it. Shou said he means no harm, but Saga has no reason to believe him. If the family that gave birth to and raised you could be so cruel, is there any guarantee that a stranger like Shou won't do the same?

Chapter 01 [Lingering]

Author: beautiful-de4mity

Fandom: Alice Nine

A/n: inspired by ASYLUM that is always incredibly stunning during lives and I have always been captivated by Saga x Shou’s relationship both on stage and real life. This is my first time ever writing Alice Nine’s fanfiction in English, I’m going to need maaaaaaaany critics 😥💦

Inspired song: ASYLUM from PLANET NINE Album

Disclaimer: Alice Nine belongs to themselves wwwww

At two fifteen in the afternoon, all of Shou's classes for the day finally ended. In one deep breath, the handsome young man tidies up all his belongings and hurriedly moves outside the campus. He should have met with Amano sensei at the private central hospital in Shibuya at one o'clock, but Professor Hisashi, his lecturer of Psychological Testing and Measurement, suddenly asked for additional classes after lunch since he has to attend a seminar out of town next week.

Shou's heart skips a beat groggily as he reaches the nearest bus stop, opens his cellphone and checks the reply email from Amano sensei two days ago containing an invitation to meet the man in his office. Shou fell at the first glance with that young neuropsychiatrist—since he was still a freshman to be exact. At that time, the campus held a seminar on Speech Language Disorder by inviting several experts as speakers and Amano Tora was one of them. Shou recalls vividly how fascinated he was watching the young doctor's every move up to the podium, explaining the material on Aphasia for about thirty minutes in a casual manner contrasted with his deep voice. From then on, Shou was secretly determined to focus his studies on neuropsychiatry and began to diligently read articles in that field.

Shou ends his flashback when the bus that is going to take him to the hospital arrived. In a bit of a hurry, Shou gets on the bus and pays using IC card before sitting in the back seat near the window, still trying to calm his nervousness. In the past few weeks, Shou has been working hard on a research proposal on mutism (after reading an article of which Amano Tora is one of the contributing authors) and sending it to the young doctor and asking him to become the instrument validator. Shou didn't even update the contents of his YouTube channel to make a perfect proposal, he was overjoyed when Amano sensei replied to his email and invited him to meet!

The trip to the hospital is painfully slow for the impatient Shou. The young man keep tapping his feet on the bus floor, tidying his shirt, his brown hair, and muttering what words he will say to Amano sensei later. As soon as the bus stops at its destination, Shou jumps excitedly from his seat and hurries off. By his pair of long slender legs, Shou has no trouble getting to the hospital building in less than ten minutes.

“Anou, sumimasen. May I know where the psychiatry ward is?" asks Shou at the hospital information center.

A young female staff member smiles kindly and explains to him where the psychiatric ward is. Shou rushes to follow the female staff's direction while taking out his cellphone again from his pocket to inform Amano sensei that he is already in the hospital.

"Ohara?" Shou's head automatically lifted when someone calls his name as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. His heart is racing when he realizes it is Amano sensei.

"Ha—hai," Shou bows a little too deeply. "Amano sensei, thank you for accepting my research proposal and agreeing to become a validator," he stammers.

Amano sensei chuckles as he waves his hand, “Don't be so formal with me. Just call me Tora sensei or Tora. I'm not that old."

"Eh?" Shou's beautiful eyes widened to find how casual this person he’s always idolized. "Ii desu ka?"

Amano sensei or Tora then nods and invites Shou who is still a little bit overwhelmed to his office. Shou silently watches the side profile of the young doctor; their height is not much different so that their shoulders almost brush, Tora's stern facial lines and unlike Japanese men in general make him even more charming, his enormous figure is clad in a dark shirt with folded sleeves up to elbows and the top two buttons of his shirt are loosely open. Shou’s face starts to heat up and he immediately looks away.

"Please come in," Tora opens the door to his room.

Tora's workspace is large enough to accommodate a set of assembled PCs on his working desk surrounded by paperwork and important documents. There is also a cup of cold, half-drunken coffee and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Shou raises an eyebrow at how 'carefree' this young doctor is, in fact he doesn't reflect a doctor-like personality at all. Or is it because his area of expertise is psychology that's why Tora has this happy-go-lucky attitude? Shou subconsciously starts analyzing in his head.

"Please sit down, why are you staying there?" Tora chuckles at the empty chair across his work chair.

"Ah, yes, alright ~" Shou sits up awkwardly.

"Hmm, so I've read your proposal and I have to admit it's the most interesting topic I've read in the past year, let alone an undergraduate student who compiled it," Tora opens the conversation.

Receiving such praise, Shou can’t help but blushes.

"What attracted you to mutism?"

Shou immediately swallows hard. There's no way he can say that the reason he brought up this topic was because of the article he read last month in which Tora was one of the contributors. Shou was silent for a long time before simply answering the truth.

"I—read an article written by Professor Matsuda about mutism in traffic accident patients and was interested in exploring the topic."

Tora lifts an eyebrow, "Oh," the young doctor rises from his chair and takes something from the bookshelf, Tora waves a print out of a twenty pages-thick paper. "Case Study of Neurogenic Mutism in Traffic Accident Patients with Brain Damage, 2016?"

Shou nods, his hand feels cold.

"I was involved in this research too, it is very interesting indeed." Tora smiles then sits back down on his chair, Shou lets out a sigh of relief. “Actually I invited you here with a wish to offer something, too, if you don't mind."

A slipping sensation like jumping two stairs at once occupies Shou’s belly when he heard that. "What is it, sensei?"

***

You can’t say this world is kind to people; that’s how it is.

Did I lose something? I don’t know what it is, in this empty dissonance.

The surroundings are always cold even though the air conditioner is not turned on and these white clothes cover his whole body. The young man is sitting in the corner, staring at a small aquarium with bluish neon lights located near a large glass window where people usually watch him and take notes on his every move. It doesn't stop there, every corner of the room has CCTV connected to a computer somewhere in this big hospital, he doesn't know, he doesn't care. He just wants to live quietly. He just wants some warmth.

His bony arm is lifted, revealing an iron plaque on his wrist with some information about him engraved on the surface. The young man is stunned to stare at it for a moment.

Name: SAGA Age: 18 Admission date: 2019/05/12

Two people has just come and study him through the glass window, catching his attention. One is Amano Tora, one of the neuropsychiatrists who is assigned to take care of him, while the other one—Saga tilts his face intrigued—a tall, slender fine-looking young man with brown hair and a pair of big beautiful eyes who is now smiling at him. Amano Tora seems to explain something to the beautiful-eyed young man, they seem to be engaged in a serious conversation. A few moments later, the door opens and the two men enter to greet him.

“How are you doing today, Saga?” asks Amano Tora in a friendly tone that always make him feels weirdly relaxed and safe.

He nods curtly while his gaze darts on the other young man standing beside Amano Tora.

“Ah, yes. I bring a friend today. He is Ohara Shou and he is going to assist me in treating you from now on,” Amano Tora explains. “He’s an undergraduate student, you guys are the same age, I’m sure you can get along well in no time.” The doctor flashes a charming smile.

The beautiful-eyed young man named Shou comes forward and introduces himself, “Hajimemashite, Saga san, I’m Ohara Shou. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!”

Shou is confused because Saga doesn't respond and stares at him intensely as if judging him from head to toe. Even so, Saga's dark irises fascinate him. Shou can clearly see Saga's jawline because his body is so thin, his eye bags are sunken and blackened, and his short dark hair is messy that almost covers his entire forehead, his body looks thin and frail. Earlier, Tora had already explained Saga's condition. He is a mutism patient who has been under the supervision of a hospital research team due to years of physical abuse from his own family. Until now, the research team has not been able to determine whether Saga’s case is a neurogenic mutism or the other type of mutism. The MRI scan showed that he had brain trauma which should not have affected his speech ability, but from the day the children welfare discovered him and admitted him to this hospital, Saga hasn't spoken a word to anyone.

After a few minutes allowing himself to be glared at by Saga, Shou kneels in front of the skinny young man and smiles gently at him, causing Saga to move back in fear. “It’s okay, I mean you no harm.” Carefully, Shou tries to reach Saga’s hands and holds them softly.

If the family that gave birth to and raised you could be so cruel, is there any guarantee that a stranger like Shou won't do the same?

#alice nine #アリス九號.#alice 9 #alice9 #fanfiction #alice nine fanfiction #A9 #ASYLUM #shou #tora #saga #shou x tora #shou x saga #tora x saga #SaShou #ToShou #ToSa

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bittysvalentines · 5 years ago

Text

My Best Friend’s Breakup

From: @missweber

To: @pwoops

Tags: Snowy/Tater, Snowy/OFC, background Zimbits, background Parswoops, friends to lovers, fluff, mild angst, accidental marriage, deliberate marriage

Summary: Everyone says that Snowy and his girlfriend are perfect together. This bothers Tater, which makes sense given the crush he has on his best friend. But he’s not the only one who is disturbed by how perfect everyone says Snowy’s girlfriend is. (This is in the same verse as ‘Fourteen Weddings and a Kerfuffle,’ but can be read as a stand-alone story.’)

Alexei wasn’t sure if he loved or hated Family Skate.

Family Skate meant skating with his friends and not having coaches yell at him or some asshole on the other team pick a fight with him. And there was always lots of food. That part, he loved.

What he didn’t love was always showing up alone, with no wife, no girlfriend.

Or no boyfriend, which was an intriguing new way to feel alone.

He tried to be subtle about watching Zimmboni with his little B over by the boards, talking and laughing with Carrie and Snowy…

…and Laurel.

Another thing Alexei hated about Family Skate was that it made him dislike a woman who truly didn’t deserve it. But how could he not dislike Snowy’s girlfriend?

Without his notice or his permission, Alexei’s feelings towards Snowy had turned into something that wasn’t just friendship. It was probably inevitable, given how Snowy was his best friend and a very, very handsome man as well.

Given that Alexei enjoyed men as much as he enjoyed women, he had been doomed from the start.

For the sake of his heart, Alexei had long ago accepted that nothing would come of his crush and he would enjoy the friendship for what it was. And what it was, was the best kind of friendship a man could hope for.

As for that little touch of melancholy that it would never be more than friendship? It eventually settled into something almost pleasurable, like the soreness after a hard workout, or the burn of vodka searing down his throat.

This was very Russian of him, he decided smugly.

Again, he glided past the little group by the boards, past Zimmboni’s hand on B’s back, past Snowy standing close to Laurel, past Laurel saying something about ‘anniversary.’

This time, the jolt of melancholy wasn’t remotely pleasurable.

Everyone said it was only a matter of time before Snowy proposed. Laurel was a sweet girl, a perfect hockey girlfriend who would be a perfect hockey wife.

Marty had even started a betting pool about when Snowy would propose, and Alexei had been grumpy enough to put money on them breaking up before Easter, just to be an ass.

His best friend was going to get married and Alexei would just have to learn to live with that and with the fact he had thrown good money away purely out of spite.

* * *

Dustin sank into the oversized, overstuffed, and over-engineered chair with a groan. Tater’s new recliner wasn’t at all to his taste, what with the red leather and the cup holder, but he would be the first to admit that the vintage Bauhaus furniture in his own apartment was more suited to a fit of ennui than a wallow in self-pity.

“Breakups fucking suck,” he whined.

Tater made a sympathetic noise that abruptly morphed into a huh?

Dustin side-eyed him and got a puzzled look in return.

“I thought you break up with her?” Tater asked.

Another groan. Tater’s recliner welcomed him further into its womb-like depths. It was even uglier than Zimmermann’s god-awful running shoes, but damn it was comfortable.

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, because it’s not like I still don’t care about her, y’know?”

Tater grumbled with frustration, probably over Dustin’s tangle of negatives.

Dustin took pity on him. “I broke her heart, and I feel like the worst person in the whole fucking world right now, okay? And Marty’s gonna slit my throat, because Gabby and Laurel are BFFs, and argh!” He screamed into his hands.

In so many ways, Laurel was perfect. Everyone said they were perfect together. She was hot, smart, funny, fun in bed, thoughtful, able to cope with all the bullshit that went with dating a hockey player…

“I made a big fucking mistake, didn’t I?”

Thirdy had all but ordered him to lock that down, kid, at Family Skate two weeks ago. He had been weirdly insistent that the end of the regular season would be an awesome time to propose, but that wasn’t the important part.

The important part was that afterwards, things started going a bit… sideways with Laurel. Not bad. Just…

Sometimes, looking at something from a new angle made it look like a completely different thing.

Tater let out the long, rumbling hmmm that meant he was putting concepts together, taking them apart, and carefully reassembling them in a different language.

While Tater pondered, Dustin thought about begging Laurel to take him back. He could say he was freaked out by the pressure of trying to secure a playoffs spot, and did something impulsive. She would take him back, right?

The certainty that she would knotted up his stomach more than he expected.

Tater got up and went to the kitchen. “This need pie,” he announced.

Next came the crinkling of foil and the clink of plates being placed on the counter.

“B make blueberry pie, just for me.” Tater called from the kitchen. “When he hear about Laurel, he say I should share.”

The knot in Dustin’s stomach unfurled and bloomed into warmth. “I get Bittle pie? Aw, man, you really do love me.”

A long pause. An exasperated sigh.

“I only share little piece.”

A few minutes later, Tater came back with two generous slices of pie, warmed up and garnished with a dab of sour cream.

The first time Tater had served pie with sour cream, Dustin assumed it was a mistake, and that Tater meant to get whipped cream but read the packaging wrong.

“Is not mistake,” Tater had retorted, testy at being corrected. “You see.”

The combination of hot, sweet fruit and cold, tangy sour cream was a revelation. In retrospect, it should have been obvious how perfect they’d be together.

Tater draped a napkin over Dustin’s lap with a flourish, then handed him the pie. Both plate and napkin were bright and fussy, like something Tater’s babushka might have bought.

Again, not to Dustin’s taste, but you couldn’t serve sympathy pie on minimalist matte-black plates.

“Now we talk,” Tater said. “You sad because Laurel sad, yes?”

He nodded. He saw events play out as if they’d just happened. The expectant, eager look on Laurel’s face when he said he needed to talk to her, the way her smile just shattered when he said he didn’t want anything long-term, the sound she had made. The sudden nausea when he realized that their anniversary was in three days and she had been expecting will you marry me and not it’s not you it’s me.

“Yeah. Like I said, worst person in the world.” He pointed at himself with his fork. He might not want to spend the rest of his life with Laurel, but he still liked her. Loved her, even if not enough for forever. And he had hurt her. Badly.

“Imagine something for me,” Tater said after a minute, unusually serious. He leaned in and put a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “Imagine she not sad at all. Okay, maybe little bit sad, but she say ‘You are right, Snowy. We should break up. Now I move to Vancouver and meet someone new.’ How you feel now?”

He thought. He thought about not having her around to go on dates with, to sleep with, to be around, to have fun with. She checked all the right boxes.

She was the perfect girlfriend—

—for someone else.

“I feel…”

Underneath the guilt and sadness, he felt the same peace he felt when he first realized he could just end things. He felt the absence of a dread that grew each time someone said something about how perfect they were together, or about locking that down.

He felt relief at avoiding something that was starting to seem inevitable.

Other things became clearer as well.

For example, how fucked up was it that he got more of a cozy domesticity fix from his best friend than he ever had from his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend.

“I feel like I did the right thing.”

Laurel could begin moving on instead of waiting for a proposal that would never come or that would turn into a disaster of a marriage. She could find someone who wanted to be with her forever.

“But I still feel like shit for breaking her heart. I wish I could fix that.”

“See? You good person.” Tater punctuated this with a sharp nod. “Not worst in world.”

“You’re a good friend, Tates. The best.” He sighed. “I guess marriage just isn’t my thing.”

Tater went silent and pensive for a moment. Probably thinking about his own lack of relationship success. At least that made two of them, now.

Dustin turned the chair’s massage settings from ‘Meditative Waves’ to ‘Angry Swedish Nurse.’ He deserved it, after all this emotional shit.

“No. I lied. I’m gonna marry this chair.”

Tater tsked. “No. You need time. You just break up, remember?”

Dustin laughed. If it was shaky, he would blame the massage setting. “Where’d you get this thing anyway? And why?”

Tater muttered something vague about impulse buys and winning lots of money on some stupid bet, then showed Dustin how to turn on the seat warmer.

He could stay here forever.

Funny how that thought didn’t fill him with dread.

* * *

Alexei spent more time at B and Zimmboni’s place in the days after winning the Cup than he did at his own. It wasn’t exactly intentional, but Zimmboni had a couch that was long enough for him to stretch out his bad leg, and B loved having someone to fuss over. Besides, his apartment was just two floors down so he could go there any time he wanted.

In theory.

“I’m surprised you aren’t spending more time with Snowy,” B said. It sounded like a question. Zimmboni shot him a look.

B ignored that and handed Alexei a slice of pecan pie. It had taken some coaching on B’s part, but Alexei could finally pronounce ‘pecan’ correctly. He would have to find an excuse to drop it into an interview at some point.

“Snowy live in building two blocks over, not two floors up,” he said between bites of pie. “And his furniture not comfortable.” He sketched out the shape of one of Snowy’s chairs in mid-air. It looked more like a geometry exercise than something you could sit in. “All metal and edges and… yuck!”

It was a reason, but it wasn’t the only reason.

“I see,” B said brightly. “And here I was all worried that something was wrong between you two.”

“Wrong? Nothing wrong! Why you think something wrong?”

It wasn’t really a lie if things were only wrong in his own head, right? Once he stopped dreaming about kissing Snowy after winning the Cup the way Zimmboni had kissed B, everything would be fine. Right?

“Oh, no reason,” B said, voice like sugar. “Just… you two normally spend all your free time together, but instead you’re here.”

Alexei smiled and held out his now-empty plate for a refill. “No. Everything fine!”

B took the plate, but did not head back to the kitchen. He looked down at Alexei.

“Normally, I would never, ever be deliberately rude to a guest, especially an injured guest who knows how to properly appreciate a good slice of pie, or a half-dozen biscuits with gravy, or a whole pound of bacon, but you’ve got me wondering, hon—what’s Russian for ‘cock-blocking’?”

“Jesus, Bits…” Zimmboni groaned, but he was also laughing. “It’s not that we don’t love you Tater—”

“—but a little alone time would be kind of nice. Listen. Whyn’t you come up for breakfast tomorrow? You and Snowy both. I’ll make those blueberry pancakes you like so much.”

Before Tater could do anything but nod, B was on the phone with Snowy. “If you want to come over and retrieve your favorite Russian, that pie I promised is all ready for you… Mmm-hmm… Blackberry with crumb topping… Right… See you soon!” He hung up and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, showing that any irritation he had felt had melted away. “I think he’s missed you, the past few days.”

It took less time than it should for Snowy to get to Zimmboni’s place. Maybe he was already on his way over when B called, and Alexei didn’t know what to do with that idea.

Maybe Snowy didn’t know, either, because instead of coming right in when B opened the door for him, he just stood there for a moment.

“Hey, Tater,” he said, strangely quiet. B ignored any awkwardness, and handed Snowy a pie box before dragging Zimmboni down the hall towards the bedroom. Neither he nor Snowy said anything until they heard a door being shut firmly.

“Sorry if I’ve kind of been avoiding you the past couple days,” Snowy said. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it all out of order. “I had to get my head around a couple of things.”

“I understand.” The daydream about kissing Snowy started up in the back of his mind. He had no idea how to stop it playing. Also, hadn’t he been the one avoiding Snowy? “Is okay, now?”

Snowy nodded sharply. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about things since I broke up with Laurel, and also since…” He nodded down the hallway. It was quiet for now, but it wouldn’t be much longer. “Things have changed, or no… it’s not that they’ve changed. I’m just seeing them differently. Anyhow, I’m not making a whole lot of sense, so let me just get to it—can I take you out to dinner?”

Alexei looked at Snowy. At the way Snowy looked at him. “That sound like date,” he said cautiously.

“It can be.” Snowy paused, so nervous it broke Alexei’s heart. “If you want, that is.”

“I do. I do want. For long, long time.”

* * *

Two years later, or at least close enough to the two-year-anniversary of being more-than-friends, Dustin and Tater woke up in a Las Vegas hotel room that made Tater’s apartment look starkly minimalist by comparison.

Tater frowned at the ring on his left hand. Dustin had a matching one. “Not again…” Tater groaned.

“Viva Las Vegas,” Dustin muttered. It was about time he got accidentally married in Vegas, like so many other Falcs had. Tater had been through it twice already with Parson and Seguin (they really needed to not have the NHL awards in Vegas). “So, you know what to do about this?”

“Da. We take care of before practice, easy-peasy.”

Or not so easy-peasy, as it happened. The Aces’ lawyer, a fussy, grumpy little man, glared at them through big, round spectacles as he explained why—given that they freely admitted to engaging in intimate relations over the past two years—a nice, speedy annulment was not an option.

“It will have to be a divorce, which will take longer, which means more of my time that will be billed to the Falconers. Most teams have it set up so the fees can be deducted from your paycheck. Please note that I bill five hundred dollars hourly, and that—”

“No,” Dustin blurted out. In the silence that followed, he wondered what the hell had possessed him.

“No?” The lawyer’s gaze could have impaled butterflies to a mounting board.

“No?” Tater just looked confused. And also a little sad. “But you always say you not want marriage, nyet? Is why you break up with Laurel. So we divorce.”

“Yeah, you’re right. No! Not about the divorce!” he said quickly, before Tater could look any more sad. “I mean about Laurel and why I broke up with her.”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “While these soap opera dramatics are entertaining, gentlemen, I do have other business today…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, it took me a couple of years, but I finally figured it out.”

Tater raised an eyebrow. He looked as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be married. What I didn’t want was to be married to someone who isn’t my best friend. Who isn’t you.”

Tater’s smile started small, then bloomed across his face. He turned to the lawyer. “Never mind! We go!”

“Yes, yes, fine.” He shooed them off with a flick of his fingers. “Congratulations and so on, but please refrain from any celebratory fornication until you are off the premises.”

They hurried out past the line of other happy couples waiting to have their marriages annulled. Tater paused to fist-bump Bogrov, his good buddy on the Aces, who apparently had accidentally married one of the linesmen instead of his girlfriend. They also nodded hello to Marty and Guy, and said they’d tell the coach they might be a little late to practice.

“So, when do you want to tell the guys?” Dustin asked.

Tater looked guilty. “I already tell them about accidental marriage.”

“What?!”

“Not that we decide we stay married,” Tater hurried to explained, “but Parson tell Zimmboni about tradition Aces have—”

They entered the locker room just then, and Dustin learned the hard way that the Aces glitter-bombed players who got drunk-married for the first time.

He was still finding glitter in awkward places later that night, when he and most of the other Falcs were at Kent Parson and Jeff Troy’s place for a sudden but not-so-accidental wedding.

He enjoyed the ceremony, even though both grooms had crashed his net a total of four times during last night’s game and they were all in the middle of the goddamn Stanley Cup Finals. He would always remember how for a few blissful hours under the desert sky, it didn’t matter that they’d played a vicious game last night and would play another one tomorrow night.

What he would remember most of all, though, was the way Parson and Troy couldn’t stop gazing into each other’s eyes as they recited their vows. It left him awestruck and reaching for Tater’s hand. From the way Tater squeezed his hand in return, Dustin knew he felt it, too.

If that’s how he and Tater looked at each other, then why the hell had they taken so long to get their act together?

“Wanna join in?” he whispered to Tater. A number of other couples were taking advantage of Nevada’s marriage laws and the presence of an ordained Elvis impersonator to tie the knot or to renew their vows. “It kind of sucks that our friends weren’t at our first wedding, huh?”

Dustin wasn’t sure what he expected when Tater told the group that they were staying married and renewing their vows. Congratulations, for sure. Also chirping. Marty might take in and dole out cash as people collected and paid off wagers on their wedding. There might even be tears.

What he was not expecting was slack-jawed silence followed by “Wait, WHAT?”

“Uh, I don’t see what’s so surprising, guys. We’ve been dating for like two y—”

“You’re dating?!”

“TWO YEARS??”

As for poor Jack, he looked like someone had shorted his circuits.

“I think we forget to tell them,” Tater whispered.

“Whoops?”

The only one not surprised was Bitty, who gave the rest of the Falcs a gentle bless your hearts before turning back to him and Tater.

“I think what they all meant to say is ‘congratulations.’ I don’t know why they’re so surprised. After all, anyone can see that the two of you are perfect together,” Bitty said.

Other people had said that to him once, and it had felt like a life sentence. Now, though, it felt like freedom.

“Yeah,” he said. Dustin leaned up to peck his husband on the cheek. “It just took some of us longer to see that than others.”

#snowytater #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

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inyournightmares97 · 6 years ago

Text

The Leading Lady

Im Jaebum wants to make a short film, and you end up as his leading lady.

Warnings: MAJOR Cringe, fluff and a little language. College!au

Word Count: 11.6k

Dedicated to my buddy, the soft Jaebum stan: @ijustwantacue!

Im Jaebum had adorable hands.

You noticed them the very first time you met him on a warm Saturday afternoon. It had been a long week of academic work and you had finally submitted a bunch of papers that were long due. Relieved, you intended to spend the entire day watching television and languishing in your apartment to enjoy the newly-repaired air conditioning. It would have been perfect had Jackson Wang not texted you at 2 pm and told you that he was in the park across from your apartment. Apparently you needed to come down instantly, it was an emergency.

You ran down with your hair still in a messy bun and wearing your sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. It wasn’t until you spotted Jackson sitting on the park bench that you realized you shouldn’t have taken his words too seriously. Dammnit, your sweatpants even had a hole in them. Why hadn’t you taken five seconds to change into jeans? What sort of emergency could Jackson be having at the park, anyway?

Evidently, it was the non-urgent kind.

Jackson was sitting next to another guy and chatting with him casually. Both men looked up at you as you arrived. You flushed, out of breath and confused.

“Jackson! What is it? What happened?”

Jackson grinned at you. “Hey! That was quick! Did you run?”

“You told me you needed help-“

“Yeah, yeah! Sit down,” he insisted, moving over to make room for you on the bench. You sat down awkwardly and glanced at the other man. His dark eyes were fixed on you as though he was analyzing you for some purpose and you felt extremely uncomfortable. You crossed your legs together and tugged at Jackson’s sleeve impatiently.

“Jackson, what’s going on-“

“Meet my buddy Im Jaebum,” Jackson introduced you to the other man enthusiastically. You turned and forced a polite smile in Jaebum’s direction. His face was still unsmiling and his small eyes narrowed at you. Jaebum reached across Jackson to offer you a handshake, and you hesitantly complied. Your eyes nervously looked down at his hand because looking at Jaebum’s face was making you flustered. His hands were small and his fingers were short. You could feel the softness of his skin against yours.

His hands were like a baby’s.

“H-hi,” you greeted nervously.

“Jaebum’s a film student,” Jackson explained to you enthusiastically, not noticing how your handshake was lingering in front of him. “He and his group are working on a short film for his final project and they’re having trouble finding a female lead.”

You swallowed and nodded, slowly withdrawing your hand from Jaebum’s and trying to collect yourself. For some reason, all you could think about was the hole that you knew was in your sweatpants (why had you put them on knowing that they were torn?) and how Jaebum might see it. You folded your hands in your lap and tried to focus on Jackson.

“Oh? That’s really interesting. What sort of film-“

“I suggested you!” Jackson cried enthusiastically.

You stared at him, trying to see through the cloud in your mind. “Sorry, what? You suggested me for what?”

Jaebum leaned over and cut off Jackson. His voice was calm and deep, and it sent shivers down your spine. It was almost scary how intimidating yet attractive this man was.

“I was hoping that you would agree to act as the female lead in my short film. Jackson showed me some pictures of you and you’re exactly how my team and I visualized the role,” Jaebum informed you calmly.

You gaped at him for a long moment. “Wait…you want me to act? I don’t have any acting experience!”

“That’s the best part! You barely have to act at all!” Jackson insisted. The enormous grin on his face was infectious. What was he so excited about? It wasn’t even his film. “I had a look at the script and the main female character is almost exactly like you. She’s a writer and she’s just kind of dorky and a little bit of a mess while still being weirdly cynical about life. You don’t need to worry. It’s not a glamorous lead role at all. It fits you perfectly!”

Wow. Thanks, Jackson.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you,” Jaebum reassured you calmly. He reached up and ran his fingers through his dark hair as he blinked at you. The simple action made your heart skip a beat. “Obviously, it’s not something everyone is comfortable with. It might also require a bit of a time commitment and I can’t afford to pay you for the appearances although I will ask my professor to see if he can offer you some academic credits.”

You nodded. “I see.”

Jaebum reached into his backpack and pulled out a small transparent file which he offered to you. You took it from him, eyes flickering once more to his soft hands. A Conversation, the black lettering on the first page read. “This is the basic outline of the script. The scriptwriter is still working on some of the final details but you can find the general gist of it. You can take a look and get back to me in a few days. You’ll find my contact number inside too.”

Jackson grinned. “Come on! Of course she’ll do it!” He nudged you playfully. “It’s not like you have anything better to do with your time, right?”

You gritted your teeth. “Shut up, Jackson.”

Jaebum ignored Jackson’s antics, evidently well used to them.

“Please don’t feel pressured,” he added. “We’ll mostly shoot on weekends and we can be pretty flexible about scheduling, if that’s something you need. But I really hope you’ll take a look at the script before you make your decision.”

You nodded. “I will.”

You noticed how small Jaebum’s fingers were when you realized they barely went all the way around the coffee mug he was holding.

The second time you met Im Jaebum was at a coffee shop two days later. You’d spent all night reading and re-reading the script while contemplating whether you were really capable of acting in a film. You didn’t have much experience in front of a camera and you’d never thought of yourself as very emotionally expressive. But the script was intriguing and Jackson had been right. The character was a lot like you. She shared similar thoughts and fears. It was just…

“The romance part is the problem,” you told Jaebum honestly, pointing at the script while he calmly took a sip of his coffee. There were two large silver rings on his right hand today. Jaebum’s fingers tapped the mug lightly while he listened to you speak. “I really like the characters and I really like how the opening conversation goes. But some of the dialogues… honestly, they seem like they were written by somebody who has absolutely no understanding of women.”

To your surprise, Jaebum’s lips curved into a handsome smirk. “Yeah, that sounds like Park Jinyoung. I don’t think he’s ever dated a woman in his life. But he seemed to have an interesting plot idea so I let him on board my team as the scriptwriter.”

You bit your lip. “So can I make some changes to the dialogue?”

“Depends. Does that mean you’re agreeing to be the main actress?”

“Only if you’ll let me tweak the script,” you insisted.

Jaebum stared at you for a short moment before giving you a small chuckle. “Yeah, okay. But if Jinyoung gets mad then that’s on you. He’s my roommate and I don’t want him suffocating me with a pillow while I sleep because I dared to mess with his script.”

“Is he that scary?” you asked doubtfully.

Jaebum ignored your question and simply took another sip of his coffee. “Why don’t you make whatever changes you want to make and we’ll all meet up this weekend to lay out a filming schedule? The completed film isn’t due until the end of the semester but I don’t want to rush and have to do all the filming at once. We have to figure out some locations too.”

You nodded eagerly. A small part of you leapt in excitement. You’d never been a part of something like this before and the smile on your face revealed your innocent enthusiasm. Jaebum couldn’t help but smile at you himself. He had been a little doubtful when Jackson first recommended his ‘really good buddy’ for the role but after seeing your adorable smile and beautiful eyes Jaebum knew that he’d made the right choice.

You were the perfect protagonist for his romance film. After all, if Jaebum found you so sweet and adorable then surely the audience would fall for you too, right?

Park Jinyoung was not pleased with the changes you made to his script.

He didn’t say so outright, of course. He merely looked at the edited script with his lips pressed together and made a small ‘hmph’ing noise before proceeding to sit as far away from you as possible. There was nothing much you could do while Jaebum proceeded to discuss the filming locations for each scene. You were also promptly introduced to the rest of Jaebum’s film-making project team. Youngjae, the cheerful technology student who would be the cameraman. Bambam, the flirtatious modelling student who was in charge of wardrobe and make-up. And finally Yugyeom the dance major who was…

Actually, you weren’t sure what Yugyeom was meant to be doing. You got the feeling that he didn’t really know why he was there either.

Jaebum was all work and no play. He insisted on laying out an elaborate schedule for the next few weeks, including rehearsals and filming time as well as clearly dividing out the responsibilities. Jaebum rarely smiled throughout the entire meeting but his passion and seriousness for the project were unmistakable. You found yourself feeling even more excited to work with him. Jaebum had set a professional atmosphere about the whole thing, which was impressive considering that Bambam and Yugyeom kept trying to crack jokes throughout the meeting.

“I hope you’re not overwhelmed?” Jaebum asked, once everyone else had dispersed from the little café that served as the team’s meeting spot. (Jinyoung had subtly bumped your chair as he walked out. You had a feeling he had done it on purpose.) “I don’t want you to feel like you got yourself too deep into something.”

You shook your head and beamed. “I’m fine. I’m actually really excited to be doing this!”

“Good. The guy I cast as the main lead couldn’t be here today because he had class. But you, me, him and Jinyoung can meet up on Wednesday and do a quick script reading to get things going. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah! Sounds great!” you replied.

Jaebum glanced at you and chuckled. “Are you usually this enthusiastic about everything?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “No, not really…” you tried to say, but your smile wouldn’t disappear. Jaebum merely raised his eyebrows at you in amusement. You flushed pink and smoothed down your shirt awkwardly. “Okay, the truth is that I’ve always kind of wanted to act. I tried out for a couple of plays in high school but there was this girl who was much prettier than me and she always got the roles I wanted. I was always the reject. So I guess I’m a little excited,” you admitted shyly.

“Is that so? Maybe I should give her a call and see if she’ll take your place here, too.”

You stared at him, appalled for a moment until you saw that Jaebum had a small, mischievous smirk on his face. Was he teasing you? You hadn’t imagined that such a stone-faced man could be capable of joking around. You frowned at him.

“Hey!” you cried, offended.

Jaebum raised an eyebrow coolly. “What? You said it yourself, you’re the reject. I didn’t even ask you for that information. You just randomly volunteered it.”

“I mean… yeah, I said it. But it’s kind of mean for you to say it,” you complained. But Jaebum still looked amused. He ignored the small pout of your lips and reached out to pat your head in a fond manner. Something about your loose tongue and indignant expression was adorable. He simply cut you off before you could complain further.

“I have to go. I’ll see you on Saturday. Oh, and about your enthusiasm…”

“Tone it down?” you wondered, already used to being told that you got overexcited.

Jaebum shook his head and smiled.

“No. Keep it. I like it.”

Im Jaebum was fiddling with the pencil in his hands and it was distracting you. He was wearing different rings on different fingers today and you wondered how many rings he owned. Jaebum deftly twirled the pen around but his hand and fingers were so small that it looked awkward.

You stifled a giggle as you remembered that this big, broad-shouldered, scary man had baby hands.

“I can’t believe they’re taking so long,” Jaebum complained. The weather was nice and so you and Jaebum had sat at one of the outdoor tables of the coffee shop while you waited for Jinyoung and the male lead to turn up. “I told Jinyoung to get here on time. Mark’s probably the one that’s late.”

You blinked. “Mark? Is that the name of the guy that’s playing the male lead?”

“Yeah, Mark Tuan.”

You gaped at Jaebum in horror. “Mark Tuan?” you demanded. Your brain had gone numb. You couldn’t think anymore. You simply stared at Jaebum with your mouth open. “You mean… you mean captain of the college baseball team, Mark Tuan? The one who keeps winning championships for our university?”

Jaebum stared at you. “Yeah. He’s a friend of Jinyoung’s and he agreed to work with us, just like you did. Is there some problem?”

“No,” you squeaked.

“Evidently there is, you just turned green,” Jaebum pointed out while jabbing his pencil in the direction of your cheeks. He raised an eyebrow when you stubbornly pressed your lips together and shook your head firmly. Then Jaebum slammed the pencil down on the table and frowned at you. “Are you not going to tell me what you’re worried about? As the director, don’t you think I should know if the female lead has some problem with the male lead?”

You swallowed, a little scared because Jaebum was now glaring at you. “It’s not a problem, exactly…”

“Then what is it?”

“I just… I just thought it would be hard to maintain the chemistry,” you admitted in a small voice. You were beginning to feel a little stupid now. You should have just kept your mouth shut. “Because, you know. In a romance story the male and female leads should sort of be balanced in the looks department but Mark Tuan is Mark Tuan and I’m…”

Jaebum’s eyes softened. “You’re what?”

You flushed red. “Come on. Mark Tuan is out of my league, you know that! Are you really going to make me say it?”

“I had to make you say it because I didn’t know what you were getting at,” Jaebum told you honestly. He rested his chin on his hand as he blinked at you. You felt yourself becoming more flustered as his eyes scanned your face. Was Jaebum judging how you would look next to Mark? Was he maybe realizing that he should have chosen a prettier actress to act beside the college heartthrob? Your heartbeat thudded as he stared at you calmly with his emotionless eyes and then nodded.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?” you repeated, confused.

Jaebum simply nodded as he turned back to the script in his hands. “Yeah. Okay. Oh look, I got a message from Jinyoung. He and Mark are right outside. Let’s get this over with quickly and do a run-through, yeah? I have class this afternoon and it’s not like you and Mark aren’t already familiar with the script. You edited it, after all.”

You didn’t have time to press him further because Mark and Jinyoung both entered the cafe and joined you at the table. Jinyoung sat down with a simple glare in your direction. Mark, on the other hand, gave you a polite smile and introduced himself. You turned red and sank down into your seat in embarrassment. It wasn’t until Jaebum frowned at you and told you to start reading off the script that you hurriedly complied.

You managed to relax after a while and the script reading went surprisingly well. Jinyoung’s frown intensified whenever one of your edited dialogues came up, but Mark was excellent at his lines and Jaebum seemed satisfied with both his lead actors. He occasionally made you both stop and repeat your lines when the tone or the emotion was off. Once the entire script had been run through, he clapped his hands together.

“All right! This was good, guys. I like the feel of the whole thing. I think we can start filming next week.”

“Cool, man,” Mark said.

“So this is the final version of the script we’re using?” Jinyoung wondered, a hint of acidity to his tone.

“Why, do you have some problem with it?” Jaebum asked.

Jinyoung scoffed. “Me? I wouldn’t dare. What do I know about scriptwriting? Anyway, Mark and I have class in a bit so we’re going to get going. See you guys later.”

Both Jinyoung and Mark hurried to leave. Jaebum began gathering his things and stuffing his script into his backpack. You hovered near him for a moment and cleared your throat nervously. “Um. Jaebum-ssi…”

He glanced at you. “Yeah?”

“Do you think Jinyoung is really mad about me changing his script a little?”

Jaebum only smiled and shook his head as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. His fingers closed on the straps as he looked at you with his dark eyes. “Relax. If he really didn’t like your changes to the script then he would have insisted that we change it back. He’s only being like this because he knows your version is better than his, and he’s bitter that he has to accept it.”

You breathed out nervously. “Okay, if you say so…”

“Want to walk back to campus together?”

You blinked in surprise and then nodded, quickly gathering your things and following Jaebum out of the café. Even though he seemed a little stiff and hard to understand, you still got really warm vibes from Im Jaebum, somehow. Maybe he wasn’t as serious and scary as he seemed. Jaebum’s small smiles made your heart flutter a little bit. He wasn’t as handsome as, say, Mark Tuan, but Jaebum was charming in his own way.

“Why are you studying film?” you asked casually, as you bounced beside him and tried to keep up with his long strides. Jaebum wasn’t extremely tall but he walked fast and with purpose.

He blinked at you. “Why am I studying film?” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. I guess I like films.”

You frowned in disappointment. “What, that’s it?”

“What other reason would somebody have for studying film?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But you’re so serious about this project and you seem to be spending so much time planning out this short film while most people just half-ass their work so… I guess I expected your response to be more passionate? You seemed like a really dedicated guy so I thought you would have a backstory or something driving you. I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Jaebum muttered thoughtfully. “Why are you a Literature major, then?”

“I love books!” you chirped.

Jaebum stopped walking suddenly and stared down at you, a hint of annoyance in his expression. You were forced to halt your own steps. “How is that any different from me saying I like films? For someone who expects others to have a backstory for selecting their major, your own is severely lacking.”

“But it’s different,” you pointed out.

“How?”

“I said ‘I love books!’” you chirped once more, before putting on a small frown and mimicking Jaebum’s emotionless face and deep matter-of-fact tone. “While you said, ‘I guess I like films.’ Can’t you tell the difference? The difference is in enthusiasm! It’s in the passion! You can’t speak about your passion like that! ”

Jaebum stared down at you in disbelief before letting out a small sigh and then resuming walking. “Why am I even surprised? I should have known.”

“Should have known what?”

“That no friend of Jackson Wang’s can be entirely normal,” he replied. Jaebum’s strides were becoming longer and faster and you had to struggle to keep pace with him on the sidewalk. But you could see the small curve of his lips. Im Jaebum wasn’t as serious as he pretended to be and you decided that you rather liked pushing him so that his stern surface cracked and let through a smile. “Besides. I know that I like films, I don’t need to prove it to you by squealing excitedly every time films are mentioned.”

“I didn’t squeal,” you complained. “And how would anyone know you love films if you talk about them in such a dead-pan tone?”

“Not everyone visibly shows excitement like you. In fact, I think you should be a little bit concerned about how easy your emotions are to read,” Jaebum pointed out to you. “You look like the kind of person who would never be able to keep a secret because she’d just blurt it out the moment she heard it. Am I wrong?”

“I’m… not great with secrets,” you admitted reluctantly. “But I stand by my point. Shouldn’t somebody who has a passion for something get excited about that passion, and want to share it with others? Like, shouldn’t you want to tell me how amazing films are and how much they’ve impacted your life and how everyone should watch films? Because that’s how I feel about Literature.”

Jaebum chuckled. “You really think so?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay. I’ll share my passion for films with you. I’m headed to class now, but meet me at 7 pm outside of the local theatre. I’ll show you how passionate about films I can be.”

You beamed. “Okay!”

Jaebum wasn’t lying.

You had been a little excited at the thought of going to a movie with Im Jaebum. Maybe it was because he was handsome and even though this was surely not a date, it had been a while since you’d spent time with an attractive guy. So you’d put on a nice skirt and maybe spent a few extra minutes on your hair. Maybe you could have a fun evening.

You were wrong.

Apparently the local theatre screened old movies on weekday nights when there was hardly anyone around. Jaebum bought the tickets and you both settled down with a small bucket of popcorn. And then the true torture of the evening began.

Im Jaebum would not shut up.

He spoke throughout the entire film. Even before it started, Jaebum began telling you the entire history of the film: how many awards the director had won and what other films he had made previous to this one. Jaebum knew everything. He knew the exact box office collections the film (which was from the 80s) had made in its first week and he knew what personal events in the life of the writer had influenced the plot. By the time the opening credits had finished rolling you’d received an entire history lesson about the film.

Then it only got worse. As the story began, some vague scene in black and white about a wartime romance, Jaebum went even further into the details. He began telling you about the camera technology used to film each shot. He knew which lines were scripted and which the actors had improvised. Whenever there would be a short silence and he had nothing to say about a particular scene, you caught him silently mouthing the dialogues to himself.

It would have been extremely annoying if there hadn’t been a certain excited sparkle in Jaebum’s eyes. This really meant something to him and you suddenly felt a little guilty for accusing him of not having any passion for films.

“So? What did you think of the film?” Jaebum demanded once the movie was over and the theatre lights turned on. Your eyes snapped open and you tried to look awake. You’d drifted off for the last twenty minutes of the movie while Jaebum had ranted about how clever the lighting techniques they’d used were.

“Uhh…”

He raised an eyebrow. “You fell asleep, didn’t you?”

“What? No!” you defended yourself firmly. “I watched the whole thing, I really did! It was an excellent film! And your, uh… your trivia really made it even more interesting. I honestly had a wonderful time! You really are passionate about films!” you gave him a small thumbs up, hoping he would fall for it.

Jaebum couldn’t help but chuckle. He had noticed you drifting off during his rant because your head had suddenly jerked forward a few times, the way it does when someone is trying really hard to stay awake. Your hair had become a mess in the back and you had opened your eyes wide to hide the tiredness. Jaebum had never seen anything more adorable.

“Do you regret accusing me of not being passionate about films?” he questioned, with a mischievous grin.

You frowned. “Wait, you did this on purpose?”

“Of course I did. How can I have my lead actress doubting my passion for films? I figured one night of torture would teach you a lesson,” he grinned. He stood up and then offered you a hand to help you get out of the comfy theatre seat. You slipped your hand into his and stood up with a pout.

“You could have just said I love films, you didn’t need to put me through an evening of torture if you knew that was what you were doing,” you complained. Your back was stiff and you stretched as the two of you walked out of the theatre. You turned and smiled at him playfully, nudging the large man. “Or did you maybe want to go to a movie with me? You know, as a date?”

Jaebum stared at you for a moment and then scoffed. “Excuse me? Is that what you thought?”

You pouted. “You can just say no, you don’t have to be mean about it.”

He smirked at you, his eyes flashing mischievously. “I wasn’t being mean. I just don’t understand how a woman who thinks that Mark Tuan is out of her league thought that she had a chance with me. How does that work in your brain?”

“Wait. Does that mean you think you’re better than Mark Tuan?” you demanded.

“Of course I am. I get plenty of women.”

“Oh really?” you teased, bouncing along beside him as you both exited the movie theatre. It was dark outside and Jaebum automatically turned in the direction of your apartment. You followed him with a smile. “And what exactly is so charming about you? Besides your passion for old films that would put any girl to sleep?”

Jaebum scoffed. “I don’t need to list out my charms to you.”

“So then you don’t have any.”

“No, I just think it’s beneath me to list them.”

You grinned and bumped your shoulder against his, ignoring the annoyed look that he gave you. You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly weren’t scared of Im Jaebum anymore. Perhaps it was because you had seen the childish and innocent side to him tonight. Maybe Jaebum wasn’t particularly sweet or affectionate, but he had a warm and playful side to him simmering just under the surface.

“But I honestly can’t see any,” you insisted childishly. “You’re not even that tall. Yugyeom and Bambam are taller than you. Mark is more handsome. Jackson is funnier. Jinyoung is smarter. So what exactly does Im Jaebum have other than his boring-ass passion for films-“

He turned and glared at you. “Wow, you’re really trying to drag me down, aren’t you?”

“It’s revenge,” you muttered.

“Revenge?”

“Yeah. I told you this morning that I thought Mark was out of my league because he was more handsome than me and you didn’t even say anything. You could have said ‘no, you’ll look fine beside him’ or ‘you’re pretty’ but you just said okay. What does that mean? Okay? Would it have killed you to have just said a few insincere words of comfort?” you demanded.

Jaebum rolled his eyes. “I never say anything that’s insincere.”

“So you’re going for the tough-guy charm, are you?” you teased. Jaebum turned away from you but you could see the small smile on his face. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets and you had to struggle to keep up with his walking pace. “It would have worked if you hadn’t just spent two hours talking about camera angles and lighting.”

“Are you done dragging me down?” he demanded.

“Not until you apologize for not reassuring me that Mark Tuan isn’t out of my league,” you insisted.

“You are unbelievably childish.”

“Just say ‘I’m sorry’ and we can part on good terms,” you insisted. The two of you had reached your apartment building already and Jaebum stopped walking, letting out a small sigh of mock frustration. You turned to face him eagerly, waiting for his apology.

“Fine. You just want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Yup.”

Jaebum took a deep breath as though he was preparing himself and then looked you dead in the eyes. You felt a little flustered at the sudden, intense eye contact but you forced yourself not to break it.

“All right. I am extremely sorry that Mark Tuan is out of your league. Happy?”

You gaped at him. “What? Excuse-“

“Bye, have a good night. We start filming on Saturday so don’t let yourself get dark circles or something. You are the leading lady after all,” Jaebum said quickly. He couldn’t hide the pleased little smirk on his face as he turned around and walked down the street in the opposite direction. You stared after him with your cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment.

“Fine! Be that way!” you yelled after Jaebum. “And do yourself a favor! Don’t ever take a girl you actually like to that stupid movie because she’ll probably be dead of boredom when by the time it ends!”

Jaebum smirked to himself. Too late.

You pouted and turned around to go into your apartment building. Whatever. What right did Im Jaebum have to tell you what league you were in anyway?

He had baby hands.

“What are you doing?”

You blushed and quickly lowered your phone, embarrassed to have been caught admiring yourself in your cellphone front camera. Bambam had done your makeup before the filming and to your surprise, it had only taken him twenty minutes to make you look like a much prettier version of yourself. You weren’t that good at makeup but Bambam was an expert and you felt kind of giddy and happy at how pretty he’d made you look.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glancing sideways at Jaebum.

He raised an eyebrow. “You were just smiling at your phone as though you were posing for a photo.”

“I… might have been taking a selfie,” you admitted reluctantly.

Jaebum’s expression was blank and disbelieving. “In front of the convenience store? Why?”

You shrugged. Judging from the playful glint in his eyes, he knew exactly what you were doing because he’d caught you in the act. But Im Jaebum never backed down from an opportunity to make fun of you. He had changed drastically from the serious and unsmiling man you’d first met last week. He seemed to love teasing you and it was both entertaining and frustrating.

“Because the way Bambam did my makeup today makes me look pretty, okay?” you snapped. “Are you satisfied? You caught me checking myself out. Is that what you came over here to make me say?”

Jaebum folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow at you coolly. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt that was a little too loose on him and his black snapback exposed his forehead. It annoyed you how handsome Im Jaebum was. Just because he looked so flawlessly perfect all the time didn’t mean that other people didn’t need makeup to feel pretty. Jaebum’s eyes scanned your face in amusement before he shrugged.

“No. I came here to ask you to go stand next to that table while I adjust the camera positioning. Youngjae and I need to check whether the lighting is all right so just go stand in the frame for us.”

You flushed and stuffed your phone in your pocket. “Fine, Director-nim.”

Jaebum walked over to where he had set up the camera on a tri-pod stand and began fiddling with it. You stood where he told you to and scrolled lazily on your phone while Jaebum leaned down and looked through the camera lens. You were perfectly in the middle of the frame. Jaebum felt his heart skip a beat. Standing there with a small pout on your pink lips and the evening sun shining in your hair… he found himself speechless for a few moments. Bambam had done your makeup perfectly and the cute little skirt you were wearing made you look extremely feminine.

You were so beautiful.

Instead of adjusting the camera frame and the lighting like he was supposed to, Jaebum found himself just staring at you and taking the chance to drink in the sight of you. He had known that he was attracted you to since the first time Jackson showed him your picture… but he’d never had the opportunity to stare at you so openly and not get called out for it.

He would have forgotten about the shoot and just watched you through the lens for hours, if Yugyeom hadn’t started complaining.

“Hyung!” he whined from his seat nearby. “This is really boring. I don’t know why you made me come here today when I don’t even have anything to do. What exactly is my role in this team?”

Jaebum cleared his throat and frowned, annoyed that Yugyeom was interrupting the few moments that he could admire you. Without turning his eyes away from the lens, he pretended to adjust something on the camera and cleared his throat. “You don’t have a defined role, Yugyeom. You’re just here to handle all the residual responsibilities.”

“Why haven’t any of these residual responsibilities popped up yet?”

Jaebum sighed in frustration. “Just go get everyone coffee.”

You glanced up from your phone suddenly, eyes bright and hopeful. “Oh! Yugyeom, are you doing a coffee run? A mocha latte for me please!” Jaebum smiled at the enthusiasm on your face. Why were you so cute and innocent? How could mere coffee elicit such a beautiful smile from you?

How was he going to deal with these growing affections?

“Fine,” Yugyeom grumbled. He walked past Jaebum and frowned, leaning closer to whisper in the director’s ear. “I’m only getting coffee because noona asked. So stop staring at her and just adjust the frame already.”

Jaebum cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened up.

“Okay, we’re good here. Mark, are you ready? Go take your position and we’ll start filming!”

The next few weeks were some of the best of your life.

You had expected that filming would be stressful and awkward, but it wasn’t at all. You liked acting and you liked immersing yourself into the character and pretending to be someone else. Besides, the entire atmosphere about the filming was light and casual. Mark, despite seeming quiet, had a tendency to burst into laughter randomly during his lines and that ended up causing everyone to laugh like a chain reaction. You had to control your own laughter as well. It didn’t help that Bambam and Yugyeom stood just a few feet behind Jaebum and silently mimicked him whenever he tried to get everyone to focus.

Besides, Jaebum was an amazing director. He had a vision of exactly how each scene should play out and he made sure it was perfect. He never compromised on anything. Even though he often forced you and Mark to take multiple retakes of particular scenes, you could see from the way his eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes narrowed at the camera display that he was looking for something. When Jaebum was satisfied, a small smile spread across his face and he clapped his hands together.

“All right! Let’s call it a wrap for today!”

You walked over to Jaebum as he and Youngjae began to dismantle the camera and pack it up into a bag. You tapped his shoulder and smiled lightly.

“How’s the film coming along, Director-nim?”

Jaebum smiled at you lightly. “It’s coming along pretty well, actually. Do you want to see how some of the shots turned out?”

You brightened up. “Yeah!”

“Let’s go into the café. I’ll load the memory card onto my laptop and you can watch some the scenes I edited.”

You waved goodbye to Youngjae, Bambam and Yugyeom and then followed Jaebum to the coffee shop. You ordered coffee for the both of you, before sliding into the booth beside him and peering into his laptop. Jaebum had some sort of video editing software that you were unfamiliar with. He was loading the video clips onto it. He turned the laptop to face you once he was done and showed you some of the scenes he’d already edited.

You grinned, scooting closer to Jaebum and sharing a pair of earphones as you watched the clips. They actually looked really good, considering that there was no professional equipment being used. You felt a little shy and awkward watching yourself on screen.

“Wow. It’s actually coming out really well,” you said enthusiastically. You bit your lip and glanced at Jaebum nervously. “What do you think? My acting isn’t too awkward, is it?”

Jaebum rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked at the screen. “Your acting is fine, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I mean…” he pointed at a scene where both you and Mark were in frame and smirked. “Don’t you think the lead actor looks a little bit like he’s out of the girl’s league?”

You yanked the earphone out of your ear and glared at him. Jaebum was laughing silently and you could tell that he was pretty proud of himself.

“If you’re going to be like that, then I’m not going to act for you anymore. You’ve already shot about half the film with me so you can’t afford to drop me at this point. That gives me a bargaining chip. You’ll have to start being nicer to your leading lady if you want to keep her, Director-nim.”

Jaebum rested his hand on his cheek and smiled at you. “Oh? Nicer how?”

“You can start by paying for my coffee.”

“Done,” he agreed without missing a heartbeat. “What else?”

“Most importantly, you’re never going to get anywhere as a Director if you can’t even reassure your leading lady that she’s pretty. I know I felt a little bit insecure at the thought of acting with Mark at first but you’re not allowed to keep bringing that up. If I’m insecure then you have to reassure me that I look great.”

Jaebum sighed. “That’s a tough one.”

You pushed at his shoulder. “Do it, or I quit now.”

“Okay, let’s give it a trial run. Say something that indicates you’re not feeling confident.”

You rubbed your hands together excitedly. Finally, you would elicit something that resembled a compliment from Im Jaebum. You let out a loud, dramatic sigh and rested your hand on your chin with a disappointed pout.

“Sometimes, I wonder if you should have chosen somebody else to act in my place. Do you really think I’m pretty enough to be playing a female lead, Director-nim?”

Jaebum suddenly reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear slowly. His soft fingers hovered near your cheek and you could feel the cold touch of one of his rings on your skin.

“Why are you so worried?” Jaebum asked you softly. His dark eyes were gentle as they looked at your lips and flickered up to meet your gaze. There was something in them… affection? Admiration? You suddenly felt your throat clench as Jaebum whispered to you. “I don’t understand where your insecurity comes from. I’ve known from the moment I cast you that you were gorgeous.”

You couldn’t breathe. Your eyes widened in shock for a few seconds as you felt a warmth explode in your heart. No. Bad idea. He doesn’t mean it, he’s just joking. You blinked a few times and then quickly pulled away from him. Your cheeks had turned red.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you muttered.

Jaebum chuckled. “Like what?”

“Like you’re in love with me or something. Jeez, tone it down a little, Director-nim,” you complained. Your heartbeat was thudding and you couldn’t bring yourself to look Jaebum in the eyes. No matter how attractive he was, how could you allow yourself to get so excited over a joke? You grabbed your bag and Jaebum laughed at how evidently flustered you’d become.

“Why? Did it make you excited?” he teased.

You frowned. “No. I just… I just wasn’t expecting you to touch my hair, that’s all.”

“Then why is your face red and why are you avoiding eye contact with me?”

You turned and looked at him boldly. Jaebum’s lips were spread into a broad smile and he looked more handsome than ever as he laughed at you. You cleared your throat and grabbed your coffee. “I’m taking this to-go. I have an exam to study for.”

Jaebum was still laughing. “You did get kind of flustered, didn’t you?”

“No! Shut up. I’m leaving.”

Jaebum stopped laughing and grabbed your hand, pulling you back down to sit beside him. His warm fingers closed around yours firmly as he used his other hand to press a few buttons on his laptop. “All right, all right. Wait for me. It’s late, so I’ll walk you home. I just need to save all these files.”

You looked down at his hand entwined in yours while he turned off his computer. Considering how much bigger Jaebum was than you in general, his hand should have engulfed yours the way the rest of him did. But his small fingers were soft and you giggled at the sight of them wrapped around yours. You squeezed his hand back and smiled to yourself.

Maybe Jaebum’s baby hands represented his soft side.

You decided that you liked his hands even more than the rest of him.

And to be perfectly honest, you liked the rest of him a lot.

On the day of the last filming, you were a little late. The final scene involved the two leads meeting up in a park and sharing a kiss as they declared that they both finally believed in love again. The park across from your building was chosen as the perfect location, but one of your classes had run late and so you’d come sprinting to the park to find that Jaebum and Youngjae were done setting up and Mark was already dressed and finished with his makeup.

“Sorry I’m late!” you apologized to everyone loudly as Bambam ushered you to sit down on a park bench so he could quickly apply some foundation onto your face. You expected Jaebum to roll his eyes at you or make a joking comment but he didn’t even turn to look at you. He was just sitting on the grass and fiddling with a camera with a frown on his face.

Bambam lowered his voice as he swiped the makeup sponge across your face. “Jaebum-hyung is in a bad mood today.”

You blinked. “Why? It’s the last day of filming.”

“Yeah, I know. Jinyoung says he’s been like that all day. I think he’s nervous about the film. Most people in his film class are just submitting shit but Jaebum-hyung’s put in so much effort that he wouldn’t be able to deal with it if the finished product wasn’t excellent. Mark’s leaving on a trip tomorrow so we can’t even reshoot any scenes if they’re not perfect.”

You blinked and closed your eyes as Bambam started on your eyelids. “But it will be perfect.”

“Tell Jaebum that. He’s been snapping at us all afternoon.”

You nodded quietly, letting Bambam finish your makeup. Once he was finished, you hurried over to stand in the frame so that Jaebum could adjust the positioning of the lens. Jaebum usually took at least ten minutes to adjust the lens and the frame but somehow, he was done in a matter of seconds today. You could tell from the way his shoulders were tense and the frown lines on his forehead that Bambam was right. Something about Jaebum was off today. He wasn’t usually very smiley but today his frown was deep.

“Mark! Can you get in the frame too? Let’s finish this quickly,” Jaebum called.

You took a deep breath and tried to focus on the script. You were kind of nervous that this was the final kiss scene; there had been once earlier on in the script that was originally a proper kiss, but you had rewritten it to a small peck. But this was a proper kiss scene and the camera would be closing in on your lips. You gave Mark a nervous smile and he smiled awkwardly back at you. Let’s get through this.

You tried to block out everything else and focus on your lines. The scene was extremely sweet and since you had rewritten some of the dialogues to suit you, you were able to perform it easily. It was a little difficult to stay calm when Mark cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours, but you managed. Your mind was screaming due to the awkwardness. You both kept your lips together for a few seconds so the camera could get a good enough shot and then pulled apart.

“Cut!” Jaebum called out sharply. “That’s good enough. Let’s wrap up.”

Youngjae frowned. “Hyung, to be honest that was a little awkward. Shouldn’t we get one more? From a different angle”

Jaebum ran his fingers through his hair and barely glanced at Youngjae. His shoulders were still tense and he wasn’t looking at you. In fact, he hadn’t looked at you since you arrived. He started to turn off the camera. “We’re fine. It’s okay if it’s a little awkward because that makes it more realistic. Besides, we can’t show too much of the kiss anyway. There are guidelines on the explicit content.”

Youngjae blinked. “Explicit content? For a kiss-“

Jaebum glared at him. “Are you the director, or am I?”

“I mean… fine. If you think so. Let’s wrap it up.”

You waved goodbye to the other boys, all promising to get together and watch the film once it was edited and put together. Bambam and Yugyeom left first, followed by Mark and Jinyoung. Once Youngjae had taken the camera and left as well, you slowly approached Jaebum. He was doing what he always did after a shoot; loading the clips onto his laptop. You sat down next to him and gave him a small smile.

“Hey. How are you doing?”

He barely glanced at you. “Fine. Don’t you have anywhere to be?”

“Nope,” you replied with a bright smile. You playfully nudged his shoulder. “I don’t have anything to do, so I’m going to bug you today. How does that sound?”

Jaebum sighed, his eyes fixed on the laptop screen.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

You felt your heart sink. Something was seriously wrong. You paused and reached over to close the lid of Jaebum’s laptop shut. He turned to glare at you, irritated, but he froze at the corresponding glare on your own face.

“Jaebum. Is everything okay? You’re not acting like yourself. I thought you would be more excited to finally wrap up the filming and finish your first short film, but you’ve been acting weird. Is something bothering you?” you demanded.

Jaebum stared at you for a few seconds, before letting out a small sigh. “I’m just stressed,” he muttered.

“About what?”

He leaned back on the park bench and let out a small groan. He turned his head upwards and squinted at the sky as he spoke. “I guess it’s stupid. My professor came up to me the other day and say he had really high expectations from me out of this project. He really thinks that my short film is going to be the best in the class. He even says that once he’s done grading, he wants me to submit it for a national short film contest.”

You blinked. “Isn’t that a good thing? That means he thinks you’re really talented!”

Jaebum turned and looked at you, his eyes torn. He was evidently not feeling confident about this and the way his shoulders hunched down miserably broke your heart.

“What if I’m not? What if this short film is shit? I’ve wanted to be a film director for a really long time and this is the first time I’ve ever shot an entire project like this. What if it sucks? What if this is all I’m capable of, and my career just ends here? What if I’ve just wasted everyone’s time?”

You reached out and grabbed Jaebum’s hand. “Jaebum. You are an amazing director.”

He bit his lip and stared down at your entwined hands, your fingers grasping his own soft ones tightly.

“Say that again,” he mumbled.

“You are an amazing director. I know I’m not a professional actress so my word might not count for much. But I loved working with you. Filming this project is the most fun I’ve ever had and not just because of how much I like spending time with you and the other guys. I’ve seen how you analyze every detail. I’ve seen how you make sure each and every shot is perfect. I’ve seen the amount of effort and care you’ve put into this project. I don’t know if your professor will like it and I don’t know if it will win the short film contest. But there is absolutely no way that this film is not amazing.”

Jaebum turned and stared at you. There was something soft and vulnerable in his eyes. “Do you sincerely mean that?”

You smiled. “I’m always sincere.”

Jaebum took a deep, calming breath and gave you a small smile. “I guess you’re right. I’ve done my best. There’s no point worrying about it anymore. I just need to edit it and hope it all goes well.”

“It will.”

“If even one person enjoys it, I think I’ll be okay.”

You watched Jaebum lift the lid of his laptop and start to open the video editing software but you quickly stopped him and closed his laptop again. “Hey. You have a lot of time. Give yourself a break,” you insisted. “You don’t have to edit it all tonight. Let’s go do something fun.”

“Fun?”

You beamed. “Yeah! What do you do for fun?”

Jaebum raised an eyebrow. “You know what I do for fun.”

You suddenly had a traumatic flashback of falling asleep in a dark theatre while Jaebum talked about camera angles and sound recording techniques. Jaebum laughed at the horrified expression on your face and suddenly reached out to ruffle your hair playfully.

“I told you. You don’t want to do what I do for fun.”

You clenched your fists and took a deep breath. “No. Let’s do it. Let’s… go watch another movie.”

---

Jaebum surprisingly toned down the spontaneous trivia this time around, confirming your belief that he’d only gone overboard last time because he’d wanted to annoy you. He picked another black and white film and when, halfway through his explanation on how this was the last movie that this director had filmed before committing suicide (you had no idea how Jaebum could still sound enthusiastic while explaining that to you), you sighed and rested your head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, craning his neck to look at you. Jaebum’s shoulder was an extremely comfortable headrest and it had been about twenty minutes since you lost track of what was happening in the movie.

You pouted. “If you’re going to make me fall asleep, then the least you can do is be my pillow. Sit straight and stop fidgeting. My neck ached all night last time.”

Jaebum was silent and you peeked up at him to see him turn his head back to the screen, a small smile on his lips. You snuggled against him happily and hid your own smile. Maybe watching these old films with Jaebum isn’t so bad if I get to cuddle him. You fell asleep to Jaebum whispering to you about all the awards the film had won. You didn’t even notice when he gently shifted your head and put his arm around you. Once the lights in the theatre came back on, you blinked in a confused manner.

“Good morning,” Jaebum joked, as he watched you squint.

You slowly pulled away from him, missing the warmth of his arms as you stretched and sat up. The few other people in the theatre were starting to leave and Jaebum was smiling at you. “How did it end?” you wondered sleepily. “Was it a happy ending?”

Jaebum chuckled. “Everybody got blown up.”

Your smile dropped. “Wow. Really?”

“Yeah. Come on, you’ve suffered enough at my expense today. Let me take you home,” Jaebum insisted. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat, leading you out of the theatre. You smiled sleepily as you looked down at your entwined hands. Jaebum’s small hand wrapped around yours would never cease to make you smile. Once you both stepped out onto the cool street, he turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

“What are you smiling about?” Jaebum wondered.

You held up your entwined hands to him and giggled. “Did you know that you have really small hands for a man of your size? I mean… ýour fingers are kind of short. I think my hand is even bigger than yours.”

Jaebum stared at you in disbelief. “Really? That’s what makes you laugh?”

You pouted. “Hey. It’s a difficult world we live in. Let me have my small amusements.”

He rolled his eyes and started walking down the street but didn’t let go of your hand. You were forced to partly jog in order to keep up with him. Jaebum’s strides were long, yet the feeling of his warm hand holding yours made you feel happy. You simply bounced along beside him while the two of you strolled down the street. He was silent but there was a smile on his face.

“I can’t wait until the film is edited and ready to go,” you chirped. You turned to Jaebum with wide eyes. “Oh my god. It just occurred to me. What if your film really wins some kind of short film competition? Do you think I’ll become famous? Do you think I could have a career as an actress?”

Jaebum turned to you with a grin. “Are you dreaming of stardom already?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t forget the film school director who gave me my humble start,” you promised him playfully. Then your face turned into a grimace. “But ugh. No more romance dramas. The kissing scene today was so awkward. I guess I just can’t get into character with something like that.”

“Was it that awkward?” he wondered quietly.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It didn’t feel bad really, but I couldn’t really bring myself to enjoy it either. And it felt even more uncomfortable knowing that you and Youngjae and Bambam were watching. Like who wants an audience when they’re being kissed? Yuck.”

Jaebum smiled. “Why? I thought girls would find it romantic to be kissed in front of a lot of people.”

“You know nothing about women, Director-nim.”

“Enlighten me.”

You bit your lip thoughtfully. Jaebum was watching you with an intense expression, as though he really wanted to know what you had to say. You faltered for a moment. Were you really about to give him advice on women? What if he just went and used whatever you said on some other girl?

Your smile dropped and you shook your head. “Nah. Figure it out yourself.”

“Why?” he asked with a laugh. He tugged at your hand. “Tell me what you were about to say!”

For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just say it. I really like you, Jaebum. I’ve fallen for you. What if you just looked him in the eyes and blurted those words out? What was the worst that could happen? He might reject you. As much as Jaebum made fun of you and teased you, you knew that he would let you down nicely. But what if he never talked to you again? What if he thought you were weird and foolish for even thinking that he could be attracted to you? Jaebum had never done anything to indicate that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

The small burst of confidence passed and you recoiled into yourself.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Jaebum asked. His voice sounded serious.

You cleared your throat and blinked. “Like what?”

“Just… I don’t know. In a weird way.”

You shrugged. You could see your building a few feet ahead and you reluctantly pulled your hand out of Jaebum’s. It felt cold and empty but there was a sickening feeling growing in your stomach. You suddenly realized that you wanted to get away from him. You stepped back and forced a smile.

“I must be really tired. I’m gonna go upstairs now. Thanks for walking me home. Bye, Jaebum!”

Jaebum’s eyes brows furrowed in concern. He called out your name but you quickly rushed into your apartment building and went inside, closing the door behind you. You took a deep breath and waited until his voice could no longer be heard. Then you composed yourself and went upstairs.

Let’s deal with it some other day.

Jaebum didn’t go home.

He walked halfway down the street and then turned back, feeling the urge to call you back down and talk to you. He couldn’t decide whether he should just leave and talk to you another day, or if he should just man up and call you right now. Jaebum found himself strolling into the small park across from your apartment building; the park where he’d first met you the day that Jackson introduced you to him, the park where he’d watched you kiss Mark and resisted the urge to strangle one of his own friends.

Why hadn’t you waited and listened? Jaebum had had a whole speech prepared for when he dropped you off. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. Why had you just run off without letting him speak?

Honestly, you really pissed him off sometimes.

He took a deep breath and grabbed his phone, dialing your phone number. You answered after two rings, your voice sounding a little confused.

“Jaebum. Hey, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath. “You just ran off without letting me speak. I had something to say to you. Come back down and meet me in the park.”

Your voice cracked. “Now? You’re still outside.”

“Yeah, come down.”

You hung up and hurried downstairs, confused. It had been almost an hour since you had left Jaebum at the foot of your apartment building. You had assumed that he would have gone home by now. Why was he still hanging around in the park? You crossed the street and spotted him sitting alone on one of the park benches. Jaebum’s hands were folded in his lap and his lips were pressed together tightly.

“Jaebum? What’s going on?” you demanded.

He looked up at you, eyes wide. “Uh… I had something I wanted to say,” he admitted quietly. “Actually, it’s something I’ve wanted to say for a while but I promised myself I would only tell you once we were done filming so that things wouldn’t become awkward in case you don’t react the way I’m hoping.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “O-okay.”

“I… uh…” Jaebum groaned and clenched his fists. “Ah, fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“What? Just say it!” you insisted nervously.

Jaebum stood up and stood directly in front of you. You could see him taking a deep breath as he prepared himself and then he reached up and cupped your cheeks gently with both hands. He tilted your chin up so that you were looking directly at him. His dark eyes were soft. “I’m only saying this once, so listen carefully,” he insisted. “You… you’re fucking beautiful.”

You stared at him, your head spinning. “What?”

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. That’s what I’ve thought since even before I met you, since Jackson showed me your picture and suggested I ask you to act in my film. And the more I got to know you, the more I kept thinking that dammit, you only become more gorgeous every time I see you. I keep wanting you to look at me. I keep wanting to look at you. Whenever you smile, it makes my heart pound like crazy.”

“Jaebum…”

“That day when you said Mark was out of your league? I couldn’t even respond because I was just thinking is this woman insane, how does she not see what I see? I love your enthusiasm. I love your childishness and your innocence. I love everything about you. These feelings have been growing inside of me for weeks now. When you took my hand today and told me that I was an amazing director… I realized that I could deal with anything in the world if I just had you beside me, holding my hand and believing in me.”

Your throat clenched and your heart pounded in your chest, as though it was going to explode. Was Jaebum really saying these things to you? You could tell from the firm, determined look in his eyes that he was being more honest than he’d ever been.

“Jaebum… shut up,” you muttered.

He stiffened. “Should I?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. You slowly pushed his hands off your cheeks. You saw Jaebum’s eyes flicker with hurt for a few seconds before you stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jaebum was still as you pressed your face into his chest. He was warm and comfortable. Jaebum finally came to his senses and hugged you back tightly. You felt perfect in his arms.

“You scared me,” he whispered. “I thought you were mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you mumbled against his chest. You hugged him even more tightly and sighed. “The whole heartfelt confession thing just doesn’t suit you. You should have just waited for me to do it and then you could have reacted in a cool, tsundere manner and maintained your dignity.”

Jaebum chuckled and pressed his cheek against your hair. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not as cool as you think.”

“I’m not either,” you pointed out. Your face was burning red and you had a stupid smile on your face that you were trying to hide by pressing it against Jaebum’s shirt. You panicked when Jaebum slowly removed his arms from around you and tried to push you away from him. “Stop it, let me hug you!” you protested, swatting his hands away from his shoulders.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Well, you can’t, because I’m blushing really hard now and I don’t want you to see. So just let me hide for a few more minutes.”

Jaebum sighed. “God, you’re such a handful. Never mind. Forget this confession, I’m going home-“

You clenched your fists in his shirt. “No! Don’t you dare!”

“Then let me kiss you.”

You slowly lifted your head from Jaebum’s chest. He was smiling down at you with shining eyes, and his thumb stroked your red cheek before he leaned down and kissed you. You melted into Jaebum’s gentle touch. His lips were sweet and caring. You had never imagined that the stone-faced Im Jaebum could be capable of such a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer while he pecked your mouth slowly and repeatedly.

“Wow,” he mumbled, slowly pulling away. You blinked at him dazedly. “No wonder your kiss with Mark was awkward. You really don’t know how to kiss.”

You stared at him indignantly, flushing red. “Excuse me-“

“Come here. This is how you kiss,” Jaebum whispered. Before you could respond, his lips came down on yours once more. His tongue teased the inside of your mouth and his mouth slanted over yours hotly. Jaebum let out a soft, low groan that made your stomach twist in desire. He claimed your mouth passionately and let his fingers twist into your hair. You gasped and melted against him. You slid your own hands into his hair and pulled his lips downs towards yours, making him groan once more.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “This is too much.”

You giggled, face flushed. “What? Im Jaebum can’t handle my kiss?”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours. “I can handle anything,” he reassured you.

“Then come upstairs and let’s see how true that is.”

---

Epilogue:

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the piece which won me an A+ in Film Class and which I submitted last night to the national short film contest,” Jaebum announced proudly.

Everyone clapped and cheered. The team had all gathered in your apartment to hold a little screening of the completed short film. It had turned out as a masterpiece and Jaebum’s Professor had been so happy that he had insisted Jaebum submit it to the film contest. You snuggled closer to your boyfriend and smiled happily. Jaebum’s arm was around you and you were both cuddled together on the armchair. Bambam, Yugyeom and Mark were sitting on the couch while Jinyoung, Jackson and Youngjae sat on your floor.

“Wow, hyung. I knew it was going to be good but this really looks like a professional film,” Youngjae insisted excitedly.

“Shush! Everyone shush, it’s not over yet! The credits are rolling!”

Jaebum wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead as the credits rolled on. It revealed you and Mark as the lead actors, Jaebum as the Director, Youngjae as Cameraman and Technical Director, Bambam as Make-up and Costume Director, and…

“Errand boy?” Yugyeom burst out suddenly. He turned and looked at Jaebum in horror. “Hyung, did you seriously put my name in the credits as errand boy?”

Jinyoung frowned at him. “All you did was bring people coffee, Yugyeom. What did you expect?”

“You didn’t even write the script yourself, noona had to change most of it!”

“She made minor changes to the dialogue!” Jinyoung shot back furiously. “The original idea was all mine!”

“Then explain to me why the hell Jackson is credited as Casting Director. There’s two fucking people in the entire movie and all he did was introduce us to one of them. He never even came to a single filming or meeting. Why does he get Casting Director and I get errand boy?”

Bambam smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at you and Jaebum. “Because he didn’t just introduce our Director to our female actress. He introduced Jaebum to his leading lady,” he said in a sing-song voice. You rolled your eyes as Bambam set off a chorus of ‘oooooh’s that was picked up by Jackson and Youngjae.

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Director-nim, can’t you control your team?”

Jaebum chuckled. “Sorry, ma’am. I’ll get rid of them for you.”

“Yes, please do.”

You slowly untangled yourself from Jaebum and went into the kitchen to get more drinks and popcorn for the others. As you stuck a new bag in the microwave and reached into the fridge to get a new bottle of coke, you heard Jaebum’s soft footsteps follow you into the kitchen. He wrapped his arm around your waist and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What did you really think of the film?”

You turned and smiled. “I loved it. Well. Watching myself kiss Mark on screen was a little awkward, but otherwise the film was amazing. You really should have let us do another take of the kiss.”

Jaebum flushed. “You know why I didn’t.”

“I do now. Were you jealous?” you teased him playfully.

“I was.” Jaebum leaned down and kissed you softly. “I was crazy jealous seeing you kiss him. It was even worse watching that scene over and over while I edited it. But don’t worry. Now that I know you’re mine, I promise I’ll try to stay cool if you ever try acting again and a situation like that comes up. You just have to promise me that I’m a better kisser than your partner.”

You chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll be acting again.”

“Oh? Why not?”

You shrugged and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Because I kind of like the idea of being exclusively your leading lady forever.”

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