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mochikeiji · 4 years ago

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Looking Like U Got Me

Request: "Prompt no. 56 and 55 for Gojo ＼(^o^)／"

55. "You look like my husband/wife"

56. "Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster"

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x Reader

↠ Warning: none! Simply fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

↠ a/n: i accidentally mixed up prompts 55 and 57 ;-; but still hoping this turns out good!!

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event!

All he wanted was to wake up in bed, next to you— who would cuddle deeper in his arms even in slumber so he'd smother you with his kisses and tighten his hold around you and drift back to sleep longer, finally free of responsibilities for once and enjoy quality time with his only favorite person. But instead he wakes up with a groan passing through his lips, supporting his back side with his hand while shuffling to his side in a different position as the light sun rays shun through the window blinds, softly fanning his eye and forehead.

Gojo chuckles a bit before wincing. His lower back so tensed that he feels himself get older by the day. Pouting at the empty space next to him, he palms the cold sheet in wonder of where you are. Up so early in the morning when you could've just stayed in for him. How annoying. His eyes shut for moment when the scent coming from outside the room intruded his senses. Ah, you must be cooking breakfast. How sweet of you.

Thank goodness it wasn't another batch of dried crackers or cup of noodles that'll enter his mouth. He was never one to cook meals when he was on solo or when you weren't around. The very thought of not only the meal was awaiting for him outside, but also you excites him that it made him feel tingly inside. Call it dramatic, yeah, but it's not every day someone gets to wake up and immediately feel this full of love in the morning. You were the only and last love he's ever wanted to have in this world. It was so surreal even to him.

Sighing before pushing himself up, Gojo yawns out the remains of drowsiness in his system and stands. He didn't bother wearing a shirt since last night, claiming that he misses how his body rubs off yours in both comforting and suggestive ways. Plus it was just you and him home, he'd rather walk naked than wear the usual long sleeved uniform on a warm day.

The scent of coffee got stronger as he closes in his journey towards the kitchen. There was faint sizzling coming from the pan as you stood there in attendance. Stuck in your own little world, swaying to the sound of the radio playing, U got Me by Yung Heazy. It was one of the few songs that reminded you of Gojo back when you were both high schoolers. The exact song you remembered playing when you both hung out on a small cafe in Tokyo. Where he was so flustered, attempted to hide his blushes with his round glasses. The little things that reminded you of that memory never fails to make your heart race.

Of course Gojo knows this one as well. Because it was on that date as well he had call you, "his" after masking his embarrassment and from obviously checking you out every minute. How could he contain himself? He was a young man who was having trouble in the arts of love. Nevertheless he was glad to have grown up from those years. If his younger self could see him now, he'd be gagging at the sight of a softer version of his older self.

Snaking his arms around your torso carefully to avoid surprising you, he places his chin above your shoulder. Salivating at the sight of thick bacon in deep frying, shamelessly letting you know he was hungry from the sound of his stomach growling. "This is a nice way to greet me." you smile at the man behind you, who had his eyes closed in delight while rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat in need of attention. "Good morning to you as well, sweet cheeks." he says after pressing a kiss on your skin.

"You got up early." whining softly, his hair and nose tickling the side of your neck and shoulder, "I was hoping to stay longer y'know?" trailing his hands underneath the his shirt you were wearing, mapping out on all the skin he could squish and hold with his large palms. Noticeably pressing himself closer to your body, the much needed space gone but you weren't complaining. After all, this was Gojo, a man who knows no boundaries.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you. We haven't had one together since we're both busy." you say as you grabbed the nearby plate, turning off the stove as the now cooked meal sizzles softly from the pan before sliding down to the porcelain surface. In attempt to lick his lips at the now prepared food, his tongue grazes upon your skin, sending you to jolt a bit, hearing the joyous laughter from him as he places a kiss on the spot as an apology.

"W-why don't you go sit down, there's rice bowls and cooked eggs prepared already." stammering, you quickly excused yourself away from his embrace to clean out the mess from the counter. Gojo sighs out the adoration but obliges to your command. Not long after you had finally settled down in front of him. Seeing him in all smiles as he scarfs down on his food made you smile as well. Thank goodness his blindfold was off, they looked adorable twinkling in happiness.

This felt nice. To have an opportunity to be a normal couple once again. So many times you could only daydream of scenarios like this. He could say the same as now that you were present on the usual spot he'd come home to empty. Often dozing off during meetings thinking of where you were or how you were, the multiple times Megumi has fed up with his whining about how he never gets to see or have more time with you. Nobara even pointed out a fact saying, "You act as if you're both married." and Yuuji, being the happy child of the three had said something that always ponder in his mind, "Why don't you marry each other yet, sensei?"

It was a statement he's been considering for a long time. Marriage. Of course Gojo wanted to marry you after years of torment love. To have his precious students say that you both already looked as if you were married got him all heart racing, and very very happy. He's had vivid images of a life with you. Not far from what it is today, but imagine. Unlimited happiness after so long of fearing it. Perhaps maybe even tiny legs running around, giving him such big love as his grows for the family he's craved, watching you smile beside the doorway and calling them in for a meal.

If marrying you means he can have that every day, then the hell with it.

"You look like my wife."

The spoon drop echoes. Slowly his face erupted into a faint blush while staring back at your widened eyes and opened mouth. "What?" gulping down the stuck food in your throat, Gojo bites his lips watching you maintain your composure. So cute. "Y-you know you say funny stuff when you're out of it. Maybe some daifuku would help? Yeah! Wait a sec." quickly getting up from your seat and rummaging in your fridge, you breathed out the heavy puff of air from your lungs.

He did not just say that so directly towards you. Maybe you were dreaming? You wouldn't be if your heart wasn't practically being forced out. Gojo is always fun and games, right? He doesn't mean that.

Sad to think of it that way.

"Ow!" thumping your head above the fridge as you grabbed some of the take outs of Daifuku you got yesterday, closing the fridge back before returning shortly to Gojo, who seemed as out of it as you were. "You did say your brain functions best when you eat sweets. Luckily for you I bought these yesterday. That's why I cooked earlier now because I wanted to try it out with you!"

Gojo can't tell if he wants to be offended at the fact that you think he was joking or just now, cover his half of his face to hide his laughter and igniting squeals. God he wished he had his phone right now, the moment was just so priceless and precious as you were.

"...ter"

Muffles from behind his hand was heard. Tilting your head to the side, trying to process what he said but no avail. "What was that?" you moved a little closer next to him, tapping his hand away almost eagerly. When he does, you spot that knowing smile present on his lips and the uncharacteristic blush still painted on his cheeks.

"Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster, honey."

You've gotten more shy when his hand held yours in the most loving way while drawing patterns. Searching through his eyes if he was playing around, but you were met with ones you know of when they were full of sincerity. "I-i. You know, they were so cheap anyways and I figured you'd want them." he snorts before leaning his head on your arm and laughs hysterically. It was painfully obvious that you were in state of shock that you couldn't even process his words.

Up until now the effect he has on you was still there like before.

"Sweetie." he turns his body away from the table to face you, pulling you so that you were standing in between his legs looking down shyly on the floor. "I'm serious." his fingers reached for your chin to pull your head up to meet his features. His other hand still holding your smaller one; index finger tracing your ring finger in circular motions as if he was creating a make believe ring.

He should thank himself for falling in love and be trusting once again.

Because now, staring back at your eyes filled with the same amount of emotions as his. Reciprocating the exact thing he was feeling. Waking up just to start the day already wanting him to be there. Knowing all the littlest things he's shared. Hearing the erratic sound of both of your heart beats.

He knew he's made the right choice.

"You really do look like my wife. My future."

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo scenarios #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #raines: gogatsu event

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yelenasdog · 3 years ago

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moving out, moving on (mitch rapp x fem reader)

genre: fluff

summary: mitch and reader are taking another step towards mitch moving on, and it’s bittersweet.

words: 2.2k

warnings: drinking wine, kinda suggestive at times, talks abt katrina, mitch being emotional, my writing being melodramatic LOL

a/n: so. this was written during an all nighter that went to 7 am where i was listening to nicki minaj and eminem (???) for a good duration of it so. i’m very sorry if this is wonky at times! i hope u enjoy either way! mwah

🥍🥍🥍

The early morning rays streamed through thin fabric, draped above the assassin's window. Dust particles floated about, becoming visible within the section of light cast from the sun. The birds perched outside the small apartment tweeted happily from their branch, their songs beautiful.

Though, they were quite pesterous to the pair that lay together, wrapped in gray sheets. They reveled in the heat provided by the soft blanket, but even more so by the warmth from their joint bodies.

A mop of dark brown hair stirred, bringing one hand up to softly rub his eyes with his knuckle, the other hand snaking around the waist of the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. He watched with fond eyes as she lightly groaned, rolling to face away from the invasion of bright, turning towards her love.

Mitch smiled down at her sleepy behavior, reaching out and brushing stray hairs from her forehead. He reluctantly retracted it only moments later, forcing himself out of bed to go and prepare the two of them for their big day as best he knew how: Coffee.

His sock clad feet dragged across the hardwood as he went, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and groggy-ness (a word Y/n had donned as her own, and Mitch had caught on to) still very prevalent in his entire system.

The Rhode Island air was frigid this time of year, Mitch allowing a grin to break out on his face upon remembrance of two nights previous, just how cold Y/n had been in the arena of the Providence Bruins hockey team. Nose pink, donned in a beanie proudly showing the team's logo, well, he had found himself a new lockscreen.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of said groggy-ness, his body on autopilot as it made the beverages. He picked out her favorite mug from the cupboard (AKA a souvenir from Dubai he had picked up long ago) that she had adopted as her own, drinking out of it every time she would spend the night, almost like clockwork. He waited for his coffee beans to brew, scratching his stubble along his jaw. He flinched, though, when he felt two arms wrap around his middle. He quickly relaxed into the embrace upon realization of who the supposed assailant was, her head finding its way to rest on his bare shoulder.

“You scared me, there.” Mitch muttered, his larger hand inching towards her’s on his waist. He closed his eyes in content and she hummed in acknowledgment. Mitch allowed her to turn his figure to face her, still residing in her arms, seeing a bright smile plastered across her face.

“Only for a minute though, right?”

She laughed to which he chuckled in response, nodding in false surrender. “You’ve got me there, Y/n/n.” He mused, his eyes lighting up at the sound of the coffee machine beeping. He looked back to her, shrugging.

“I made you coffee, was gonna bring it to you in bed but, y’know.” He gestured to where she had now climbed up to sit on top of his counter, his sweatshirt around her that read “Brown University” across the front in large lettering pooling around her thighs.

“It’s alright, I need to get a move on anyway.” She smiled, hopping down to retrieve the mug, taking the warm ceramic from Mitch’s hands and sighing at the wondrous feeling that had spread through her whole body. She lifted it to her lips and drank, not surprised that her boyfriend had made it just the way she liked, to perfection.

“Thank you, baby.” She commented, reaching up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Her lip curled as she pulled away, Mitch already knowing what she was going to say, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“Mitch! Go brush your teeth, for the love of God!” She whined, watching as he scampered off towards the bathroom, snickering all the way. She rolled her eyes, downing the rest of her beverage before following where Mitch had gone.

Once in the bathroom after rinsing her and Mitch’s mugs, she tied her hair up, undressing and turning on the water (practically scalding hot, of course). Mitch had no objections to the temperature, though, seeing as it was his last time showering with her in that apartment, and in that apartment, period.

The whole thing felt very symbolic to Y/n, at least, seeing it as washing themselves clean for the next phase of their lives together, a sort of preparation. (Maybe not so much for Mitch, who really was just pleased for any excuse to see his girlfriend naked.)

They used generous amounts of soap, as not only were most of them nearly empty (in fact, a few were and if it weren’t for Y/n, they probably all would be), but also that they had decided to simply just buy new toiletries as a whole for their new place.

They giggled at the sight of each other, all lathered in bubbles and suds. Mitch reached a finger forward, wiping it from above her eyebrows and preventing it from falling into her eyes. Y/n brought her arms around his neck, her lips connecting with his. “Much better.” She regarded with a smirk, before leaning back in.

Nearly 40 minutes later, they both emerged from the shower, fresh faced and ready for the day ahead. He didn’t have a lot that needed to be packed up, given that his place came fully furnished, so it took all but 2 hours and 5 boxes to pack up Mitch Rapp’s life. It honestly might have taken even longer than originally would have been needed, as Y/n would stop every time she found something interesting, allowing Mitch to tell her all about whatever stories had been connected to the item.

It had started with the ridiculous bird lamp that sat on his bedside table, once belonging to Mr. Nazir, and ended with his lacrosse stick. (And, a promise that one day, he’d show her how to play. He swore he’d never seen her smile that big.)

They also threw away and donated a lot, some of Kat’s old stuff bringing a pained smile to his face as he would place it in a box simply labeled “Kat” in messy, thick letters. He wasn’t sure if the box would end up in his new closet, covered in dust and unopened, or back with her family. But either way, he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to her completely, which Y/n was able to understand.

“Mitch? Did you pack away your coats already?” Y/n called out, opening up the closet near the front door. Her breath slightly hitched in her throat upon seeing all of the photos of Mansur, still pasted to the painted wood, the edges curling up.

“Nah, not yet, I was gonna handle that while you worked on the cupboards” He responded, busying himself with a text from Irene on his phone wishing him good luck. He looked up and saw what she had been asking about, his phone quickly sliding into his pocket as he made his way over to where she stood, visibly distressed.

“How long have these been here?” She questioned, feeling Mitch’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She brought her hands up to grasp onto his wrists, leaning backwards into him and biting into her lip.

“Since the beach, when I decided to go after Mansur. When everything happened with the CIA, it was kind of a whirlwind, I didn’t really have enough time to even think about taking it down when I was only even here for hours at a time.” He lightly chuckled, watching as she stepped forward and began to take the pictures down, crumbling them up in her hands.

She ran her fingertips over the indents left in the door, feeling the splinters against them. She turned back to Mitch, quipping how “Mr. Nazir won’t be too pleased about that.”

He smiled, joining her in taking all of the images down, ripping them or balling them up in his fists. All of them ended up in one of the old Target bags they had been using for trash, filling up an entire bag (minus a few Dunkin cups sitting at the bottom).

Mitch trailed a few tender kisses down the left side of her next, and though it sounds cheesy, a feeling of hopefulness flooded himself out of most of the bitterness that had been stuck inside for so long.

She turned her head to catch his lips with her own, and smiled into the kiss, her hand finding the back of his head. She lightly tugged on the chocolate colored strands and he groaned in content, to which her grin only widened. She pulled back, ruffling the top of his head before beginning to pack away the remnants of what was left in the closet. He rolled his eyes, following suit.

They had piled all of the boxes into the back of Mitch’s old decommissioned CIA vehicle (which was obvious that is was such, given that the side was littered with bullet holes and metallic scratches), returned the key to Mr. Nazir (who was glad to see Mitch go), and with that, they were off.

The new place wasn’t too far away, the pair taking a page out of Stan’s book and opting for a wonderful sense of privacy. It was nestled in a rural corner of Massachusetts, where Mitch would be able to come home to a sense of serenity. Y/n had already moved in her possessions, Mitch’s items being the last step. They’d also furnished the cozy cabin, trips to IKEA and Urban Outfitters (along with several other over-priced boutiques) making the place feel like a perfect fit for the couple.

Mitch’s strange and varied knick knacks made the house feel like a home, his lacrosse stick finding a new home by the front door, right under a hanging potted plant that Y/n and Mitch had decided to affectionately name “Charles” after a drunken night watching the X-Men movies. The house was littered in plants such as Charles, in fact, with Mitch’s first response to seeing all of them being “Wow, looks like a greenhouse in here.”

(Still, he’d grown to love the plant babies. Trust me.)

Two tired smiles made their ways to their faces as they both sat on their new sofa, admiring a job well done. Though several boxes still lay on the hardwood, unopened, they felt accomplished enough to pull out a bottle of wine that they had been saving for the occasion. It was an early housewarming gift from Stan, to which they were unprepared to take advantage of, it seemed.

“Baby, did we unpack the wine glasses earlier?” Mitch questioned, his mind slightly foggy of the day's events and early start.

“No, I think they’re still packed up.” She replied, to which Mitch’s eyes lit up, an idea forming and an imaginary lightbulb popping up over his head. He got up from his seat, a wide smile spreading across his face. Her expression mirrored his own, with an added quirked brow at his antics.

“I’ve got a solution, wait here.” Mitch responded, padding over to where he had remembered the new home of the mugs to be. Upon realization of what he was doing, Y/n smiled, rolling her eyes and bringing a hand up to run through her roots.

He shuffled back over moments later, his girlfriend recognizing one of the mugs in his hands as her favorite. He sat down next to her, with the bare skin of her thighs touching his own, jean clad. He bumped his knee to hers with a giggle, pouring out the Pinot Grigio into the mugs.

She gratefully accepted it as it was handed to her, smiling as she took a sip. Mitch did the same, the two of them leaning back into the soft sofa. Y/n brought her legs up, cuddling into his side and absorbing his warmth. He brought his free hand to her side, a strong hold giving them both a strong sense of comfort as she lay her head on his shoulder.

The box labeled “Kat” remained unpacked along with the others on the floor, dust already beginning to gather. Mitch had come across it a few times that day, each time more thoughtful than the last as he struggled to decide what it was exactly he was feeling towards the objects; or perhaps towards the memory of Katrina.

He had come to realize that it was acceptance he felt, deep in his stomach, settling down. It had been brought upon him in totality over time, today’s events being the final step. A soft smile spread across Mitch’s face, a single tear falling from his eye. Y/n looked up, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Mitch, are you alright?”

He leaned down, connecting their lips in a watery yet nectarous kiss, his hand beginning to rub small circles on her shoulder.

“Yeah, Y/n/n.”

The fire they had built earlier was roaring, now, casting a warm glow across the pair’s features. The damp trail down his cheek was highlighted, nearly glistening on his skin like an amber.

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

🥍🥍🥍

ok btw ik that wine in mugs would be a horrible idea but this is fiction so SHUSH

anyway i hope yall enjoyed! i love writing for mitch and i have lots of future fics for him, so if u liked this, please reblog and follow if ya wanna. mwah, go drink water and have some protein <333

xx hj

#mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp imagine #american assassin fic #american assassin fanfiction #american assassin imagine #dylan obrien imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brian imagine #mitch rapp x y/n #stiles x reader #we will rock queue #yelenasdog

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sendyefrogs · 4 years ago

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wish you cared

a/n: this was a rollercoaster to write, and through tears, all i say is, osamu big himbo :/ tw: swearing word count: 3.9K (lot of word ;-;) pairing: osamu x gn!reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

The late nights with the light breathy words, whispered discussions, the iridescent illumination of the screen on you face, exchanging words that would have neither rhyme nor reason when the next day greeted you. But not a day went by that you didn’t giggle to yourself, alone in your room, as your eyes skimming over the words that Osamu’s fingers carelessly typed out. And you knew, before you realized, you knew in the deepest of hearts that you were gradually falling for the inane spiker, that this was your middle school infatuation. Little did you realize that this was not, in fact, an infatuation but rather something that would plague you for years, building up for years, overwhelming you, pouring out, resulting in meaningless words and broken hearts.

But for now, it was no different than normal, your heart skipping a beat as he replied to every message of yours, head whirling with possibilities of what he would say next, feeling slightly giddy if you were to describe the emotion you experienced.

The truth was that talking to Osamu Miya, it was like being intoxicated. Not that you truly knew what it meant to be in such a state, but this was what you imagined it to be like. Always waiting for more, desiring to keep going, for the night to just still right then so you may converse endlessly, not having to worry about your mundane duties as the moonlight that shone through your windows left you feeling light-headed and weightless.

But the moon always set to give way to a new day, where you could see him in real time, but none of it felt as ethereal as the late-night talks, as intimate as it was when it was just the two of you alone, as scandalous as it felt spending hours mindlessly revealing the tiniest details of yourself to him.

You’d hoped, of course, that things wouldn’t change when time came for high school; the time, most say, is when old relationships are forgotten, the path to the future is forged, a future you hoped still entailed the time you spent with the Miya twins and Suna. You weren’t ready to move on from Osamu yet, you’d never really gotten to know if he returned the emotions you experienced. And so, you ended up a freshman at Inarizaki High, manager for the volleyball team, an integral part of the group.

You were content. Or so you thought.

Y/n was not someone who forgot easily. This was a thought that occasionally graced the train of thought that ran across Osamu Miya’s mind. They hadn’t forgotten when he said he preferred citrus drinks over plain water, hadn’t forgotten the day he’d mentioned that onigiris were his favorite, or the time he’d wished someone would make him a playlist for when he cooked.

A thought that sprang to mind as he sipped on his lemon water every practice, you beside him, mocking Atsumu, or having sarcastically enthusiastic conversations with Sunarin, or tilting your head upwards to smile at him and telling him about your day while he chuckled lightly.

A thought that crossed his mind every time you cheerfully called out his name during lunch, plopping your pale blue lunchbox on the table, bringing out an onigiri for him every other day, leading to much whining by Atsumu, but he liked it; he was special to you, not his brother, not Sunarin, it was him.

A thought that occurred to him as he put on his headphones, clicking on the song queue you made for him, one that was admittedly perfect for his cooking, calming enough for him to know what he doing, yet passionate enough for him to feel inspired. He never told anyone, but each dish he procured after a day’s cooking, was modelled after a particular song you spent day picking out to put in his playlist; one that was just for him.

He liked being special in your eyes. It made him feel like he was at the top of the world. He noticed, even if you didn’t realize, he noticed everything you did for him. Your encouragement for him at volleyball matches slightly louder than for the rest, not enough for anyone to realize but enough for him to spike the ball down stronger as your voice drowned out the crowds’ cheers for him. The sound of happiness you made eating his food, always motivating him, telling him that he was the best chef you’d ever met. The subtle blush that spread across your face as he patted your head, ruffled your hair. How a simple smile from him could light up your face, no matter how bad you’d been feeling before that.

And how could he ever forget the conversations you had under the covers of darkness? The night only rejuvenated his hope that you were only his, your gentle words and stupid memes, the quiet chuckling under his blankets that made Atsumu throw a pillow at him, yelling at him to take his ‘lover boy’ talks elsewhere.

That was the part he disliked. He was fond of you, of everything you did for him, of how you made him feel like he could do anything when you smiled at him. But it wasn’t a crush. You were his friend. Not everything was about romance. Just because your face made every day, and night, of his better, it did not mean he had to be in love with you. You weren’t exceptionally attractive or anywhere close to the type he preferred, so why did people assume he was in love with you?

For some reason, however, he couldn’t utter those words to you. He knew, that you liked him, else why would you do so much for him? But he chose to ignore it, because if the truth came out and you decided to part ways with him seeing as nothing would ever come out of your efforts, he couldn’t bear it. He needed you. He wanted you.

But not in the way you wanted him. So, he kept you around, no matter how selfish that was.

“Good work, captain!” You smile at Kita-san, handing him a water bottle, quickly moving down the line. “Good work, dipshit.” You toss the bottle to Atsumu who stuck his tongue out at you. “Work, Suna,” you teased and received an eyeroll in response. Handing out all the bottle and murmuring ‘good work’, you finally moved to Osamu.

You loved the whole team and spending time with all of them was something that you adored, but you always saved the last bottle for Osamu. You were sure to keep it separate from the other ones, tucked in the pocket of the basket you carried so you didn’t mistake it for another bottle.

“Here ya go Osamu, good work today! You’re getting so much better.” You face away from him, towards the pair that were walking towards you now that they had a small break.

“Thanks y/n. So, did you decide who you would like as your partner for the English project the teacher assigned us? I mean Sunarin and Atsumu would be glad to have you as their partner too, seeing as you’re the genius among us.” He brought his face down closer, attempting a mocking tone, but it came out as a genuine whisper, directly sounding in your ear, that made a shiver run down your spine.

“W-well, I h-haven’t really decided yet, but I-I was thinking we could work together.” His proximity had flustered you. Your face tilted slightly upwards to him, and only then did you realize that god fucking dammit he’s too close, I can’t think like this. The thumping of your heart against your chest didn’t help either, or the fact that he, apparently, didn’t understand how much you affected him.

You collected yourself before you stuttered anymore. However, barely a word passed your lips that you were interrupted. “Ay lovebirds. This is still a public place. Yer too close to them, ‘Samu. Do you not see how red they’re turning?” You blink twice and throw a punch at the blond, missing completely in your embarrassed state, end up crossing your arms while the two laughed.

“Aw did I say something wrong though? Are you upset I exposed you to your knight in shining covers? Ya talk way too much with him at night. Do you even get any sleep?”

“Just shut up, ‘Tsumu.” Gathering up all the bottles, you walk away, too discomposed to face Osamu after what his twin said. It was probably already obvious to him, but you didn��t want to be humiliated like this in front of someone you held so dear. At the water cooler, you realize you’ve forgotten to bring Osamu’s bottle in your hurry to get as far away from him at that moment as possible. “Fuck.”

You turn back towards the gym.

The three boys watched y/n almost sprint away, laughing lightly. He can feel two sets of eyes on him, and the question echoes in his head. When are you confessing ‘Samu? He wasn’t. How could he when it would just be a lie? He didn’t want to be unfair with you, you deserved a shot at true love. But then again, he wasn’t exactly giving you a chance here was he? Keeping you bound to him, avoiding conversations about admitting romantic intentions, flustering you just for a reaction when he knows, he knows what he does to you.

“You should confess ‘Samu.” His brother’s voice sounded out, unusually soft and serious. Sunarin eyed him, seemingly thinking the same words, but not uttering them. This was the last straw. He had grown tired of people asking him about his affection for y/n, he didn’t realize how or when, but he had. He didn’t want to keep having to repeat the same tactics over and over, dodge and deflect. He was done talking about you in his free time, time he would much rather spend with you than about you, and people just didn’t seem to get it.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” The words came out as a snarl, his temper rising too high too fast. “I don’t fucking like y/n, they’re not my type. I just keep them around because I know they care.” He inhaled, avoiding all the staring eyes of his teammates. The words had come out unintentionally hostile, but he was glad he’d said them. “I mean, have you seen them? They’re not really attractive or interesting at all. It’s just because they make me feel special that they still hang around with us, that I let them hang with us.” His secret came spilling out and he didn’t regret it; he was glad to finally get it off his chest.

Atsumu and Suna, however, weren’t listening to him anymore. They were both staring past him, at the sight behind him, which Osamu whirled around to see. You were standing completely still, arms trembling at your sides, basket of bottles at your feet, eyes glassy.

The whole team followed you with their gaze as you quietly walk to the captain, bow without opening your eyes, murmur out an apology and exit the gymnasium as fast as you could. It was not a swift recognition of what had happened, but Osamu understood eventually that it was his words that had caused this. His brother and Suna merely stood there, shock evident in their eyes. “So, you were just taking advantage of them?” Osamu’s head whipped up at the soft voice of his captain. His words were calm but his expression was one of silent fury. “Do you truly realize how much you broke them with those few sentences? You may not have understood it but, we can all see it. They don’t just care for you, they love you. More than you’ve ever loved anything in your life.”

Osamu was overwhelmed, to say the least. He never intended to hurt you like that, but it had happened. Now, what of all those late-night talks and secret shared smiles? What of the playlists you made for him and the encouraging words you whispered to him before a game? What of his onigiri supply that you procured for him from your little blue lunchbox and the motivating comments you gave him on his cooking?

Before he could stop it, the stinging behind his eyes gave way to tears. Not because he loved you, he still didn’t harbor any romantic intentions towards you, he didn’t want to. But because his heart ached at the thought of being away from you, at the idea of losing you to another group of people, at the realization that you belonged with him.

Belonged with him, just as friends.

Your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. It was bad enough that you learnt that someone you’d been in love with for years now, had just been using you, but it was worse that he admitted clearly it in front of a group of people that you adored. The shattering of your heart as he spoke masked the quiet chatter of his teammates at the display. The humiliation seeped through you, the pitying glances of the team piercing you as Osamu’s words echoed in your ears - have you seen them … not my type … let them hang with us … keep them around … not attractive or interesting.

If that was what he really thought, then why did he let you make those advances? Why did he let you make a laughing stock out of yourself by doing so much for him? Why did he make you believe that he was equally interested, staying up late with you, returning the same energy you exuded?

You knew why now – he wanted to be special. He wanted to bask in the passion that you showed towards him without having to reciprocate any of the emotions. And you gave him that every day, didn’t you? Making him a separate water bottle, bringing him an onigiri, compiling playlists for him, asking him to work with you on the project even if it usually ends up with you doing all the work so you can keep up your grades?

Everything you did, you did for him. What hurt most was that he had been there for you too. He was, in all truth, your best friend. He knew every insecurity, every desire.

The time when your grades plummeted because you stayed up too late, he was there to comfort you, hold your hand and let you lean on his shoulder, cry in fear of what your parents would say, murmuring in low voices about things he did that day to distract you. The time you had refused to leave your room for days after watching that terribly sad anime, he was there to knock some sense into you, but he also laid gentle kisses on your forehead and let you explain ‘everything that was wrong with the world’. The time that he snuck into your bedroom at night just because you mentioned that you were bored and wanted to meet him; cuddling with him until he fell asleep, so you let him stay the night, waking up with his arm around your waist.

And yet, he had absolutely no hesitation in bad-mouthing you in front of everyone you were close with. Did none of that mean anything to him?

Even as the tears streamed down your face, the anger built up slowly, creeping out of you, staying with you long after your face was dry and eyes were left red. And that’s when you decided – Miya Osamu wasn’t special to you anymore. First things first, you had to sort out a few things; your life revolved around the gray-haired spiker. Well, no more.

Pulling out your phone, a text message is sent just a quickly as it is typed out.

y/n [13:25] hey tsumu, I need a partner for the English project. Do it with me or you suck. You were deflecting your emotions with humor, and yet if his face came to mind, you would breakdown right where you stood.

tsum-tsum [13:27] y/n! oh god, where are you????

y/n [13:30] um, home? Where else would I be?

tsum-tsum [13:31] are you okay? I think you should let ‘Samu explain himself. I’m sure he didn’t mean any of that. It was probably all just a lie, just so he didn’t have to answer us.

y/n [13:40] Atsumu I know yer his brother but you don’t have to cover for him like this. He said what he said. We all heard him loud and clear. It’s alright, each to their own ig.

tsum-tsum [13:42] y/n I know what he did is wrong but hes locked himself in his room and he needs to process his feelings. Yer the only one who can talk to him, so please please im begging, help him out.

y/n [13:50] I appreciate the offer but I will have to decline. It’s not often you find out yer being used by someone you love, and you rarely want to see their face after.

tsum-tsum [13:51] love? tsum-tsum [13:51] you actually love him?

y/n [13:52] ah fuck. don’t tell him I said that, I don’t want him to know this now, after he told us how he feels. y/n [13:53] Tsumu? Hello?? y/n [13:53] please don’t do it.

Osamu felt… empty. It was like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think. He was sat on his bed, staring at his phone. He tried to contact you, but none of his calls went through and his texts were undelivered. Was this how it was going to be? No more midnight conversations, no more spontaneous gifts, no more affection or encouragement? He had never implied that he wanted a relationship with you, then why were you so broken?

He never intended anything romantic… did he?

He was a fucking liar and he knew it. He knew what he was doing when he snuck into your room to spend the night with you. He knew what he does when he puts his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort. He knew how you felt every time he stood behind you, your breathing slightly faster, a faint blush running down your neck, struggling not to stutter over your words.

Osamu wanted to scream. Everything about you was adorable. When you weren’t with him, it ached. His arms itched to wrap themselves around you, forehead leaning against yours, your lips moving against his ears, telling him that it would be okay when the coach yelled at him; calming him down when Atsumu got on his nerves; making him smile when nothing went his way. You were there, since middle school, and he never got tired of being around you.

You were his as he was yours. And he…

He loved you.

The tears finally came. Messy and fast, moans escaping his lips through the suppressed sound of hiccups, tears welling up and spilling over no matter how hard he tired to wipe them away. The door slammed open and a furious Atsumu grabbed him by his collar. Osamu could barely fight back, much too devasted as the words he said in the gymnasium came echoing back to him. He loathed himself, for saying all that, even as he knew, you were the light in his life.

Atsumu was yelling at him but the words fazed past him. Out of the blue, his face stung, a slap landed squarely on his face. “Yer so stupid, ‘Samu. They loved you. They loved you and this is how you respond?” Only at Osamu’s sobbing calls for you did Atsumu realize that maybe, maybe his brother had finally understood his own emotions. “Are ya- are ya okay?” The blond wrapped an arm around his twin, pulling him in close while the latter wept, for minutes, hours. It was his own fault, for not seeing all the signs and now he had lost you forever. “It’s not forever ‘Samu. Not if you fix it right now. Do you really want to give them up?”

Cries slipped past Osamu’s lips. No, no he didn’t.

The fervent knocks on your door gave way to the shaking figure of Miya Osamu, his hands balled up in fists, head aimed downwards as quiet sobs escaped his mouth. “Y- y/n.” His arm wiped across his face, failing miserably to compose him. “Pl-please talk to me. I can’t stay away from you any longer.”

Merely the sight alone was almost enough for you to reach out to him; almost. “Go away Miya. I would like to retain my dignity, thank you very much.” You reached to swing the door shut, only to be blocked by a trembling arm. There were no words but you could see it in his eyes – something, something had changed. It was saddening, watching the strong, self-confident spiker fall to his knees at your bedroom door, no longer able to hold it open.

You’d tried all your life to pry open the door between the two of you, making every effort to keep you both close, getting along with his friends, cutting off ties with anyone he didn’t deem fit to interact with you. You did it for him – but you were tired; holding the door open this long, it hurt, a deep ache that pulled on your heart strings; binding you to him but at what cost?

“I wish-,” your voice came out quivering, your lips carefully trying to form words around the lump in your throat. Osamu glanced up, gazing at your through watery eyes, hopeful, longing. “I wish you would have told me, before I invested so much of myself. But then again, I should have realized, that when something seems too good to be true, Miya, it usually is.”

He gets up slowly and reaches to you, with shivering fingers, but you step back and his fingers clench into a loose fist, eyes showing emotions that have never graced his face before. Atsumu promised, it’s probably not too late yet. You can still convince them. But behind your stained face, was resignation. You were no longer his. He had lost you, the ground underneath him crumbling away, the thread that you had so carefully woven the only thing connecting the both of you.

A thread, that could not bear anymore weight. Before he could say anything to bring back what you had before, you spoke. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry I wasn’t everything you wanted. But I’m done. My heart is tired of being played with.” You glanced at him with determination clear in your eyes.

“N-no, no please y/n. Let me explain.”

“I think, I think this is goodbye Miya Osamu. I hope you find someone who made the moon seem as beautiful to you, as you did for me.” With that, you gave him a forlorn smile, shutting off the door that connected you to him, snapping any threads surrounding you. Not another word was exchanged ever.

And yet, at that moment, you were tied, sitting on either of your mahogany bedroom door, weeping for someone you would never have.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #osamu angst #osamu x you #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu angst #haikyuu miya osamu #haikyuu miya #haikyuu!!#haikyuu

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

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A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song."

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention.

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard."

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night."

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked.

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking."

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band."

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right."

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid.

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!"

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!"

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation.

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover.

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?"

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me."

"What does it look like?" You asked.

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one."

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told."

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it."

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned?

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back.

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner.

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table.

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this."

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care."

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-"

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor.

"It was a gift." He finished anyway.

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head.

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much."

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered.

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering."

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me."

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.”

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage.

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help?

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition.

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly.

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack.

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile.

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you.

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?"

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy."

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music.

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush.

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone."

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans."

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?"

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side.

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

#doctor strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x you #what if #what if marvel #doctor strange supreme #tw guns #tw abusive parent

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batarangsoundsdumb · 4 years ago

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guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

#this is only like half of it #but at least you can get like a few answers #yanno fuck it #bataranswers #ask #asks #anon

223 notes · View notes

jeonsjiddies · 4 years ago

Text

you found me | myg (m)

⏤ Pairing: Yoongi x reader ⏤ Genre: smut, fluff ⏤ Word Count: 5.5k ⏤ Warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m recieving), nightmare,

⏤ Summary: When you found a fluffy dog during your evening outing, you didn’t realize you’d also be finding the love of your life.

- for the yoongi to my jimin @sugaflake and special thanks to @excusemin for beta-reading!

Part of my Milestone Celebration Event! Check out the other fics here.

Holly had been gone for days and Yoongi... was not okay. He’d scoured the city, put up posters, called every animal shelter and pound within a fifty mile radius. To put it simply, Yoongi was losing his damn mind. If only that stupid wild rabbit hadn’t hopped across the lawn when Yoongi had let Holly out to go to the bathroom, none of this would’ve happened. Holly usually didn’t require a leash just to use the restroom so Yoongi hadn’t been worried when he’d let him out.

He should’ve been more aware of his surroundings, because Holly’s ears had perked up, his whole body going still before he darted off, chasing the rabbit. Yoongi had tried to run after him but had quickly lost sight of him, and it didn’t help that the sun had been setting when he’d let him out and the dark chill of the night had already taken over the warm summer breeze.

Yoongi walked the streets for hours, calling out Holly’s name with a flashlight in hand. He brought the pup’s favorite treats, favorite toy, trying to lure him out had he been hiding somewhere, but his beloved pet was nowhere to be found. Yoongi was gutted, wondering if someone had abducted Holly, if he’d been run over, if something terrible had happened to him. What if he’d fallen down the draining system and was stuck, cold and scared and alone?

Yoongi didn’t sleep that night, or the nights thereafter, laying awake and constantly checking the local Facebook community pages, the lost pet websites, and the animal shelter sites, hoping for any sign of his baby, but it seemed like any attempt at a reunion was slowly becoming futile. Running out of ideas after searching the same empty streets for the 100th time, Yoongi felt hopeless.

He drowned his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey and far too much takeout for one person, his eyes traveling over to Holly’s dog bed, his favorite toy laying untouched inside of it. His eyes drifted to the many pictures of Holly he had framed around his apartment. Yoongi hung his head, feeling like he’d lost a piece of himself and feeling useless for being unable to bring Holly home. He sighed with a shaky exhale, willing the tears not to fall. That was when his doorbell rang.

You sat at a cute little café, enjoying the cool evening air and watching the sun slowly dip down into the horizon while you nibbled on your food halfheartedly. You weren’t hungry, but you weren’t ready to go home to your quiet, empty apartment. Your roommate and best friend had just moved out, opting to move in with her boyfriend instead, and you didn’t know how to handle the silence with her gone. You’d tried inviting a few friends to dinner, but everyone had been busy, so you sat alone on the patio of the small café with your sandwich, watching the birds.

Your pleasant thoughts were interrupted when you felt something press against your leg, and looked down to see a small, brown, fluffy dog had hopped up, pressing his tiny little paws into your skin. He whimpered pathetically, giving you his best puppy eyes and licked his lips, his eyes darting to your food. His tail wagged as you picked him up and sat him in your lap, even though he was dirty, his fur beginning to mat in a few places and he was covered in dried mud.

“Omg, hi little guy!” you cooed.

The small dog panted, his tongue sticking out and he seemed thirsty so you poured some of your water into your hand and allowed him to lap it up, then gave him a bite of your grilled chicken sandwich. He seemed to inhale the small taste of chicken, then sniffed at your plate. You just scooted it closer to the edge and let him have it. You scratched his head affectionately while he ate, then found under his fluffy fur was a collar, stating his name was Holly.

You giggled at the name, thinking it was cute for a boy dog, and you were glad he had a home, if not a little disappointed. You were more than willing to take the sweet pup in, especially after he’d finished eating and licked your cheek in a thank you and cuddled up in your lap. You absentmindedly stroked his back while you looked up the address on his collar. It wasn’t far. You decided you’d walk him there, his owner was probably missing him.

You dialed the number listed on the collar to alert the owner you were on the way, but it immediately went to voicemail and you ended the call with a frown. Sighing, you stood, leaving money for the food and tip, then carried Holly down the sidewalk, using your phone to navigate you.

Holly didn’t squirm or try to leave your grip, he was simply along for the ride, panting heavily and sniffing the air as you walked, nearing a large apartment complex with a minimalistic design that looked very fancy. You entered the front door and took the elevator to the third floor, locating apartment 3C, and knocking gently.

You heard some clattering and some grumbling before the door swung open, revealing a blonde man in sweatpants, a scowl resting on his (quite attractive) face until he looked up and saw Holly.

“HOLLY!” he screamed, grabbing the dog from you and hugging him tightly, pressing kisses all over his face while Holly barked and wagged his tail excitedly, wiggling in the man’s arms and attempting to lick his face.

“Oh my god you’re okay! Where were you?! I was going crazy, I looked everywhere!” he whined, holding the dog up to his face as if he could give him any real answers, then held him close to his chest and hugged him.

Your quiet giggle seemed to remind him that you were there and his eyes darted over to you and he engulfed you in a hug as well, Holly pressed between your chests as he held you against him. Even with Holly inbetween you, you could feel the man’s body heat and his hips pressing against yours, and sparks shot clear to your fingertips.

“Thank you so much! Oh my gosh. I have missed him so much.”

“He is a very good boy, I can see why you missed him,” you smiled after taking a step back from him, attempting to put distance between you and clear up your foggy mind.

“Oh, the reward! You probably want the reward,” he spoke more to himself than you as he looked around for something.

“Reward? No. I just wanted to return your dog,” you shrugged.

“You don’t want the reward?”

“No.”

“Then how can I repay you?”

“You don’t have to?”

He stopped searching, turning to look at you, confusion written all over his face, Holly held in his tight grip.

“You don’t want anything?”

“No?”

“Well… would you at least stay for dinner? I would really like to thank you somehow and I ordered way too much Chinese takeout to drown my sorrows,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“What did you order?” you peeked past him, your stomach growling at the smell.

“General Tso’s and Chicken Chow Mein,” he offered sheepishly.

“Oh that sounds so good, since someone,” you sent the dog a pointed look with a smile, “ate my chicken sandwich.”

“I’m so sorry!” Yoongi immediately apologized.

“Oh no, I gave it to him of my own free will,” you smiled reassuringly.

“Well I definitely owe you dinner now. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

Yoongi set Holly down, gently patting his head before walking over to wash his hands and open the fridge, pulling out a water once you’d requested one, and walking over to you. He sat beside you on his plush couch, offering you some chopsticks and letting you pick your entrée.

“Thank you for dinner… what’s your name?”

You glanced over at the attractive man to your right, his ears turning pink at the tips.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m Yoongi, it’s nice to meet you,” he extended his hand out and you took it in yours, that same zing of electricity shooting through your body, and you struggled to suppress the shiver.

“Nice to meet you Yoongi, I am Y/N.”

“Thank you so much for bringing Holly home, I was going insane without him. I thought he was gone forever…” Yoongi trailed off with a sigh, “you don’t know how thankful I am for you.”

“It was my pleasure, I even got free food,” you joked, sticking your tongue out.

Yoongi seemed to relax then, laughing along with you as the two of you ate and talked. He was actually super funny and smart, telling you all about his life, his passions, and listening when you spoke. Yoongi told you he liked to rap and produce music, and had even let you listen to a couple of his songs. They were absolutely fantastic. He was extremely talented and you had no qualms with letting him know that, enjoying the way he’d look down with his hand on the back of his neck, tips of his ears tinted pink as he mumbled his gratitude.

You found him endearing, slowly being less intimidated (though not less affected) by his gorgeous appearance, since he was so humble and approachable once you got past his steely (gorgeous) face. Holly had taken it upon himself to snuggle in between the two of you, nestled up against your thighs and using both of you for warmth. You smiled fondly, reaching down to stroke his fur at the same time Yoongi had, your hands brushing and both of you pulling away quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. You glanced away and looked up at the clock, noticing it had been hours, though it had only felt like a few minutes.

“Oh wow, it’s getting late,” you slowly stood from the couch, your gaze shifting to Yoongi, “I should probably head home. Thank you for dinner.”

“Yeah, I should probably give this one a bath. Thank you so much for bringing him home.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later?”

You bit your lip and prayed you didn’t sound as hopeful and needy as you felt. You wanted to see Yoongi again. You wanted to see his cute, gummy smile, hear his melodic laugh. You liked the way you felt around Yoongi, warm and free. Yoongi nodded enthusiastically, fishing his phone from his pocket and handing it over to you. Your fingers brushed as you took it, an involuntary shiver running down your spine before you typed in your contact information and bid him a goodnight, giving Holly one last head pat before you left.

Once you’d arrived home and changed into your pajamas, you laid in your bed, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You leaned over and checked your phone, seeing a text from an unsaved number.

Unknown [9:04pm]: Hope you made it home safe?

You smiled to yourself, saving Yoongi’s number before replying.

You [9:18pm] I did, thank you for checking.

Yoongi [9:20pm] Good. I’m glad. Sweet dreams, Y/N.

You definitely had sweet dreams, filled with the sweetest smile and the most musical laugh you’d ever heard

Months went by and Yoongi had slowly become your best friend. You’d begun hanging out sporadically, but the more you got to know each other, the more time you spent together, (and the more the butterflies in your stomach began to swirl around any time the man smiled your way), until you were at Yoongi’s apartment more often than your own. You’d even left a toothbrush and a change of clothes there, as the two of you often got distracted and didn’t notice the time, having too much fun together, and Yoongi would encourage you to just sleep on the couch.

You’d spend those nights with Holly cuddled up to your side, keeping you warm while you talked and joked with Yoongi about anything and nothing at all, which only served for your heart to continue to constrict from how deeply you had begun to feel for the sweet man.

As per usual, Yoongi was participating in some playful banter with you whilst the two of you continued to ignore the serial killer documentary you’d put on.

“I swear, that’s what I always called them growing up!”

“Y/N, I have literally never heard that before in my entire life. Never in my 28 years of existing have I heard someone call a walk-in clinic a doc in a box,” Yoongi scoffed incredulously.

“Well, that’s what my mom called them, what my grandma called them. Doc in a box, stop and rob, hairdryer cops-”

“What the fuck is a hairdryer cop?!”

“You know, the ones on the motorcycles? Their helmets look like the hairdryer caps at the salon!”

Yoongi leaned forward, placing the back of his hand on your forehead with a concerned look in his eyes.

“Are you sick? Do you have a fever? You’re clearly hallucinating.”

“Oh fuck off, Min. You’re just jealous you didn’t get to call gas stations stop and robs,” you huffed, shoving him away from irritation and also to put some distance between the beautiful man and your racing heart.

“Why would I ever want to?”

“Don’t be so mainstream, Yoongi,” you teased with a wink, causing him to roll his eyes and catch sight of the clock on the wall.

“Oh crap, it’s midnight,” Yoongi gasped.

“Ugh, I have work tomorrow,” you whined.

“Stay here tonight, I’ll drive you in the morning,” he shrugged.

You leaned over and wrapped your arms around him, knocking him off balance and sending him backwards on the couch, and squished his cheeks between your hands.

“Thank you, you’re the best!”

“Yeah, yeah, now get off me,” he playfully shoved you away and stood, fixing his sweater.

“Goodnight, Yoongiiiiiiiii.”

“Goodnight, pain in my rear,” he winked at your feigned offense before walking down the hallway to his bedroom.

You snuggled up to Holly on the couch, listening to the soft whir of the air conditioner, and slowly fell asleep, warm and content. That was… until the nightmare started.

You walked into Yoongi’s apartment uninvited, as usual, having become so accustomed to being there that you didn’t even knock anymore. You had his favorite pizza in hand as you leaned down to pet Holly, who let out a hostile growl when you got too close, baring his teeth and backing away from you. You watched him quizzically, wondering why the typically affectionate animal had become so angry.

You shrugged it off and set the pizza down on the counter, walking down the hall towards Yoongi’s bedroom and giving a quick courtesy knock before entering. You stopped dead in your tracks when your eyes landed on Yoongi’s bare backside as he pistoned his hips in and out of some woman you’d never seen before, her high pitched moans so loud you wondered how you hadn’t heard them before you entered.

You tried to shut the door before they saw you but Yoongi whipped around, fire in his eyes that were directed right at you, making you feel about two inches tall. You apologized profusely, backing up with your hands in the air before shutting the door and bolting down the hallway, attempting to flee his apartment as quickly as possible. Holly darted out in front of you, barking ferociously as though you were some sort of threat, an intruder.

“What the hell, Y/N?! Why would you come barging into my house like that?”

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought we could do pizza night like usual, I didn’t know you had company,” you floundered, stumbling over your words as Yoongi glared at you from his space by the couch, his shorts haphazardly thrown on his body.

“You don’t fucking live here, you’re not my girlfriend, you’re nothing to me! I’m so sick of you coming around whenever you feel like it. Thanks for bringing my dog home, but he’s safe now. I don’t need you anymore,” Yoongi seethed, getting right up in your face.

“But… but you’re my best friend…” you whimpered.

Yoongi let out a harsh, condescending laugh.

“Best friend?! You’re not my best friend, you're nothing. I was bored and you were there, but now I don’t need entertainment. You can go. For good.”

“Yoongi…”

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Can’t you just leave? I don’t want you here,” he hissed, pointing towards the door, “get the fuck out.”

“Yoongi, please-”

“Just stay away from me, you freak!”

You woke up gasping for air and clutched Holly close to your chest, him giving a quiet, frightened yip at your unexpected action. You stroked his head softly, your whole body shivering as you tried your best to shake off the fear that seemed to chill you straight through to your bones. You took deep breaths, turned the light on, and drank a glass of water but nothing was putting you at ease.

You glanced down the hallway towards Yoongi’s room, wondering if he’d be annoyed if you woke him up. You slowly tip-toed your way towards his bedroom door and cracked it open slowly, attempting to make minimal amounts of noise. The light from the hallway barely illuminated the room but it was enough for you to see Yoongi’s sleeping form, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. You smiled to yourself.

You didn’t want to disturb him, and you wanted to go back to the couch, you really did. But you just couldn’t shake the images of the fire in his eyes. You needed to know Yoongi was okay, that he didn’t really hate you. You snuck into the room, sitting gently on the edge of Yoongi’s bed. You watched his chest rise and fall for a moment, your gaze shifting to his serene face.

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and gently stroked the side of his cheek, letting the tip of your finger run along his smooth skin and feel its warmth. Yoongi’s eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t move. Still, you froze, waiting for him to settle before you continued. You brushed his hair out of his eyes gently, and nearly screamed when a hand softly wrapped around your own. You glanced down and saw Yoongi’s eyes open, though fluttering with the strain to remain that way.

“Y/N?” he asked groggily.

“Hey, sorry, I uh… couldn’t sleep,” you trailed off, looking away and willing your voice not to crack.

But it did. Yoongi slowly shuffled into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his fists before placing his attention on you. He watched the way your shoulders slumped and you avoided eye contact, taking slow, shaky breaths.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” you sighed, twirling your fingers around each other.

“It’s not if it’s got you this worked up. Come on, talk to me,” he urged, placing a hand on your back and rubbing soothing patterns.

You could feel the warmth of his skin soaking through your shirt and your body relaxed from the slightest touch from him. You sighed and turned to face him, biting your lip nervously.

“I had a dream that you… that something really bad… and I just… I tried not to be a baby about it, I mean I’m not a child, I can handle a bad dream, but it just felt so real and I…” you choked on your words, a single tear slipping from your burning eyes.

Yoongi pulled you into his body wordlessly, allowing you to fall apart on his shoulder. He held you close, though that was seemingly unnecessary given the way you were clinging onto him for dear life, as though he’d disappear if you let go.You were certain that if either of you pulled away, for even a moment, that you would fall apart and be nothing but debris stuck in the carpet of Yoongi’s bedroom.

Yoongi let you cry, slowly rocking your body back and forth along with his to soothe you, rubbing gentle shapes into your back, stroking your hair, and humming softly until you went lax in his hold, your body weight pressing into his chest. Your deep, even breathing told him you’d fallen asleep, likely exhausted from the toll your emotional breakdown had taken on your body. Yoongi slowly maneuvered you so that you were laying beside him, careful not to wake you. He wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him, if only to make you feel safe. At least, that's what he told himself.

Waking up without Holly tucked into your arms felt strange, but waking up next to Yoongi felt… right. Yoongi still had an arm wrapped around you, and you were snuggled into his warm chest. You felt safe, happy. You sighed with content and flipped over before you snuggled closer to him, your head resting against his chest. Yoongi groaned sleepily, turning onto his back and pulling you with him so that you could lay on his chest more comfortably.

Yoongi didn’t open his eyes, but his voice came out low and a little rough and entirely too enticing when he asked you, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you. I’m sorry about last night, I don’t know what came over me,” you sighed, fiddling with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Don’t apologize, you were scared and needed comfort. There’s nothing wrong with that. I will always keep you safe, Y/N. Now that you’re awake and calm… do you want to talk about it? You seemed really upset.”

You sighed, sitting up and facing Yoongi, who also sat up, his eyes meeting yours with a soft look, quiet and patient, waiting for you to speak.

“I just… I had this terrifying dream that something awful had happened to you and it felt so real.. And I just couldn’t stop picturing it, losing you, and I can’t lose you, Yoongi. You’re my best friend, my rock, you’re everything to me. You are where I go when I’m sad, when I’m scared, when I’m happy. You’re my favorite person in the entire world and I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I don’t want to imagine a world without you in it, and I don’t think I could survive one. I just…” you trailed off with a sigh, hanging your head and willing the tears forming not to fall.

“You’re always there, to comfort me, to celebrate with me, and I love doing those things for you too. I guess it just smacked me in the face with how important you really are to me and how much I appreciate you and need you in my life.”

Yoongi’s face softened even more at your words, and he reached out to wipe away the stray tear that had escaped your watering eyes.

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he grinned when you giggled at his attempt at a joke, “and I feel the same way. I’m so glad you’re in my life, Y/N. You’re the best friend I could’ve ever asked for. I didn’t realize there was a missing piece in my life until you showed up. You didn’t just find Holly that day, you found me too. I didn’t even know I was lost.”

You were at a loss for words, watching Yoongi’s eyes swim with an emotion you couldn’t name, neither of you daring to look away, seemingly caught in a trace, bound by the spell of each other’s presence. Without realizing it, or maybe it was subconscious, you’d both begun to lean closer like magnets. Your souls drawn to each other, no longer able to fight the connection, the pull to be closer.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered to your lips in a silent plea for permission, and you gave the faintest of nods, closing the gap yourself and pressing your lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. His soft, sweet lips pressed against your own felt like coming home, and you couldn’t get enough. You shifted closer, putting more pressure on the kiss and Yoongi wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into his lap.

The kiss deepened, the two of you working together to explore each other, hands roaming, tongues dancing, hearts beating in sync. You pulled away, barely a hair away and rested your forehead on his, your breathing shallow and labored.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I think I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. You are so beautiful, so kind, so perfect.”

“I love you too, Yoongi. So, so much.”

Yoongi’s smile could’ve lit up the entire sky, his eyes shone with so much joy and adoration that you almost wanted to be sick, in the best way. Yoongi ran tender fingertips up and down the expanse of your arm slowly, his eyes locked on yours, your breaths mingling as neither of you moved away. You were certain if you put any space between the two of you that you would simply melt into a pile of goo on his plush carpet.

The silence was comfortable, safe. Being in Yoongi’s arms was like coming home from war, finally feeling peace wash through your body as you spot your safe haven on the horizon after being gone for so long, constantly searching for a place to belong. You belonged with Yoongi, tucked up in his tiny apartment with his arms wrapped securely around you while you watched the sun begin to filter through the curtains covering the windows.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmmm?”

You leaned in again, capturing his lips in another kiss, this one slightly more urgent. You worked your lips against his own, letting your tongue roam his mouth, and pressing your body closer to his. You wanted him. You wanted to show him how much you loved him. How much you craved him. Your fingers danced up his shirt, feeling his warm skin against your palms, and you lifted the hem just a bit, just enough to get your point across, sending a questioning look his way.

Yoongi assisted you in removing his shirt, tossing it carelessly aside while your eyes raked over his newly exposed flesh. Of course you’d seen him shirtless before, but not like this. Not for your eyes alone. Your lips attached themselves to Yoongi’s neck, kissing your way down and along his collarbone. You gently pressed him into the mattress, hovering above him and allowing your lips to travel farther down, ghosting across his pert nipples as you continued your journey.

Yoongi sucked in a shaky breath that had you smiling to yourself, a feeling of victory washing over you, especially once you reached the hem of his sweats, your lips and tongue dancing along the skin just above them. Yoongi groaned, squirming underneath your teasing. You looked up at him, finger tucked under the waistband as you waited for his permission.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N? We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready-”

“I want this. I want you. If you want me,” you bit your lip in an attempt to hide your nerves.

“I want you. So badly.”

Your heart soared at the confession, and you swiftly freed him of his sweats and boxers, letting his thick, leaking member to spring free of its confines. Your mouth watered at the sight of his swollen head, and you leaned down to lick the precum free of it, causing a strangled noise to erupt from Yoongi. The sound was music to your ears, sending electricity straight down to your core, enticing you to take Yoongi’s length into your warm mouth.

Yoongi threw his head back when you wrapped your lips around his member, slowly pushing your head down to take more of him into your wet warmth. Your name tumbled from his lips in soft whimpers, almost like a prayer. You worked your mouth along his cock, twirling your tongue around the tip each time you moved your head back, attempting to take him deeper each time until his head hit the back of your throat, making sure to hollow your cheeks while you sucked the life out of the man falling apart beneath you.

Yoongi was almost embarrassed how quickly he reached his high under your ministrations, your skillful mouth and tongue bringing him close to the edge in nearly record time. The fact that he hadn’t had sex since he’d met you probably played a role in it, not interested in anyone but you since he saw your kind eyes and bright smile.

“Y/N...close,” he groaned out.

You kept working his length, reaching up to cup his balls and massage them gently, and that sent Yoongi over the edge, shooting hot ropes of cum down your throat with a cry of your name, and you swallowed every last drop he gave you before climbing back up his body and pressing a kiss to his lips, parted with his shuddering breaths.

“Holy shit,” he managed to say between his panting, “that was amazing.”

“Mmm.. I’m glad you liked it,” you giggled, trailing your nail gently over his chest, grazing his nipple once more, causing him to shiver.

“Allow me to repay the favor,” he smirked, flipping you over so you were now on your back.

“As lovely as that sounds, I really just want you to fuck me.”

“Don’t I need to prep you first, baby?”

“Mmm.. no. I’m ready. I’m so wet for you, want you so bad, Yoongi...” you trailed off, biting your lip seductively and leading his hand down to your core to feel the juices flowing there.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” he whispered in awe.

“For you. Please, Yoongi.”

Yoongi wasted no more time, dexterous fingers ridding you of all clothing as quickly as he could, his naked body hovering over yours once more, skin to skin as he began to kiss along the swell of your breasts before taking a pebbled bud into his mouth, sucking gently and barely scraping his teeth along it while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. Your desperate whimpers fueled him on as he lined his member up with your core, giving you one last questioning look, but sliding inside your drenched heat when you sent him a reassuring smile, nodding slightly while tangling your fingers in his bed-head.

Yoongi’s cock had felt large in your mouth, but you were in no way prepared for the delicious sting it would bring upon stretching out your walls, filling you up so perfectly that you swore you might actually faint. Yoongi let you adjust to his size before he started moving, pulling out until just the tip rest inside your inviting hole before plunging back in and building up a rhythm.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Yoongi grunted as he worked his shaft in and out of your pussy, hitting all the right spots every time.

“Me too,” you admitted breathlessly, clawing at his back to try and ground yourself, “love you Yoongi.”

“I love you, baby girl, so so much.”

A few more deep, precise thrusts had you digging your nails into the skin of his shoulder blades, clinging to him as though you’d float away if you didn’t.

“Yoongi!” you moaned, back arching up and your chest meeting his.

“Close, baby? You gonna cum for me? Let go for me,” he encouraged, coaxing you off the edge with a softly spoken “come on, be my good girl.”

You climaxed with a cry of his name, clutching onto his quivering body as he came with you, painting your walls white with warm spurts of cum, filling you up again in a different, but oh so wonderful way. Your body shook as you came down from your high, hiding your face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck as he held you close.

Moments passed in a comfortable silence before Yoongi forced himself to part from you, watching with rapt attention as his seed seeped from your battered hole when he pulled his softening member out. He licked his lips at the sight, before picking you up bridal style in his arms, ignoring your shriek of surprise.

“Where are we going?” you asked, wrapping your arms lazily around his neck and snuggling into his embrace.

“We’re going to run a bath, get you all cleaned up. You do have work today, remember?”

“Oh. Ugh.”

“You know… you could… just call in… spend the day in bed with me…”

“Mmm.. that sounds amazing.”

You called into work, using one of your personal days and took a relaxing bath tucked into Yoongi’s embrace while he tenderly ran the loofah along your back and arms, and possibly across some more erogenous zones a few times as well, which earned him a halfhearted swat from you. After drying off and putting on one of his larger t shirts, you spent the day snuggled up on the couch with Yoongi and Holly, watching movies, eating snacks, and basking in the beginning of forever with your best friend.

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

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breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

#Jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #pjjg fanfic

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voidaus · 4 years ago

Text

Slow Dancing In The Dark

Part 4 of the Grocery Shop series

Genre: Fluff?

Warnings: Swearing

Requested? Kind of

Word count: 1347

Here goes nothing.

You walk up to the apartments and look for his address. It's not that hard to find, seeing as the place isn't that big. Although you were kinda hoping it would take you a little longer, so you can calm your nerves, you're glad because you finally get to see him again. Standing in front of the door, you adjust your shirt. It is pretty warm out, which isn't weird, considering where you are, but that spikes your heart rate even more.

A soft knocking rings through Corpse's ears. He probably wouldn't have heard it if he wouldn't be waiting for it. He wipes his palms on his trousers before opening the door. For the first time in a month, he sees you again, and a blush creeps onto his face.

You're wearing a casual white T-shirt and some shorts, all very simple, but it fits you amazingly in his eyes.

You two look at each other for a few seconds, a smile on your face. Corpse then takes the initiative and wraps you in a hug. You hold each other tightly. With your head on his chest, you can hear his heartbeat fast. "Hi." One of you spoke up after a while. You are both too tired to realize who said it.

You finally let go and look him in the eyes. Well, the one eye that wasn't covered by his mask. The hazel-brown color gives off a happy vibe as it twinkles. "It's good to see you again." That deep voice you have grown used to speaks up. You smile, "Yeah. I've missed you." Both of you are so sleep-deprived at the moment and no one seems to bother filtering their words.

Corpse opens the door a little wider, allowing you to walk inside. You give him a quick smile and take off your shoes. "You want something to drink?" he asks. "Sure! Just water please."

Corpse had already walked ahead, to what you assume is the kitchen. The clinking of glass sounds as you wander in his direction. The dark-haired man turns around and gives you your glass.

It's a little awkward at first, considering this is the second time you guys meet, but shortly after you get a little looser and more comfortable with each other. You are now lying on his couch with hot chocolate in your hands. Corpse is sitting in front of you with his guitar in his hands. After you found out he owns one, you had practically begged him to play something.

So here you are now, wrapped in a blanket, a hot drink, and Corpse playing some songs. He had already played stuff like All of me, and A-team, to which you happily sang along. You are in the middle of listening to him play Say you won't let go when the music suddenly stops. Immediately zoning back in you look at him, confused. "Hold on, let me just-" He cuts himself off as he grabs his phone from the table.

"Whatcha doing, bub?" You ask, still a bit sad he's not playing anymore. His style was amazing to listen to, you loved it. He puts his phone back down and just looks you straight in the eyes again, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Corpseeee?" You ask, stretching out the e. "Yeeeeesss?" He asks pulling the same trick on you. "What did you do?"

"I Uhmm... I ordered fries and chicken nuggets from MacDonalds..." He answers, sounding like a child that did something wrong. "Are you kidding me?" He's about to apologize to you when you beat him to talking "I fucking love you, dude!"

Relief washes over him. He sighs and slumps back into his chair, but not before hitting your arm "I thought you were mad at me! Don't ever look at me that way again!" You start laughing and soon enough Corpse joins in.

"Did I ever tell you, I love your laugh?" You ask him, now serious again. "I'm pretty sure you did. Like a million times."

"well, I do. It's so nice to listen to!" You rest your head on your hand and look at him in amazement. "It's like, you have your voice, and it sounds all deep and cool and intimidating, and then your laugh is so adorable and cute!" Not noticing that you're rambling, you keep talking about him for a while. Corpse just sits there and listens to your voice. He almost falls asleep, seeing as it's almost 5 AM when the doorbell rings. "CHICKEN NUGGETS!!" you suddenly scream, scaring him awake. "Dear God, Y/N WHY?" You laugh it off as he goes to the door.

**Small time skip brought to you by The Gongoozler (You wouldn't get it)**

“Listen, we have to move on. The past is in the past Y/N. What we have now is everything!” Corpse said, trying to keep a serious face.

“Apologise for eating my chicken nuggets you little shit!” You dryly said. This only made him burst into laughter for the hundredth time this night.

“Oh, god, you’ve insulted me! Whatever shall I do? I’ll be mentally and emotionally scarred for years!" He said in a horrible ancient accent, which only became worse due to his laughter. A small smile crept onto your face. That quickly turned into you two both laughing your asses off for at least 10 minutes. "Co- Corpse, I can't bre- breath" You attempted to tell him in between wheezing.

After a while, your laughter died down again. Now you were lying on the couch, your head in his lap. He's tracing figures on your arm. It's already 7 in the morning and both of you had quite the night. It tired you out extremely making you fall asleep a few times before quickly waking up again.

"Y/N?" Corpse spoke up in a gentle manner. "Yeah, bubs?" You shift your head so that you're looking up to him. "Could I- No wait, nevermind, it's dumb."

You sit up and hug his torso. "Hey! Don't say that. I bet it's not, and even if it is, I won't laugh bubba." You pout. "Do you promise not to laugh?" he was greeted with a finger in his face. "Pinky promise!" He stuck out his pinky and wraps it around yours. 'It's amazing how much bigger his hand is!' You think to yourself.

Corpse shifts a bit and you sit back on the couch again. He looks like he's fighting with himself before his eye meets yours. You give him a reassuring smile and Corpse nods. He then reaches for his face. You're confused until you realize he's reaching for his mask. And you were right. Corpse slowly pulls it off and immediately looks down at his lap. You stare at him in awe before gently grabbing his chin and bringing it up with your hand. You could now see both of his eyes. The hazel color springing out by his simple eyeliner. His black hair looks even curlier now. "Corpse..."

His head drops again. "No, no no! That's not what I meant!" you quickly add. Suddenly he feels two warm hands on the sides of his face. His eyes meet yours again and then drop to your warm smile. "Corpse, you are so gorgeous! You are so handsome and incredibly beautiful, and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise!"

A bright smile appears on his face. He wraps you in a hug again, tacking you on the couch. "I love you, Y/N." He whispers in your ear. "I love you too, Corpse."

He gets up after a while and holds out his hand. "Would you care to dance?" you take his hand and stand up too. "Gladly. "

He clicks something on his phone and your favorite song starts playing. You smile and grab his shoulder. You waltz away while Joji plays in the background.

The sun is almost fully up, and birds are chirping outside. And here you are, dancing in his arms. Safe and secure. This is all you could ever ask for.\

The End

Hey guys! I'm so sorry it took me so long! (And that it's such a bad chapter omg) It's just been shit here, my grandpa is sick, my country went into a lockdown again and my mental health is just dead.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter though! If you found any mistakes, please point them out. Also, I love to read your comments/opinions on the story, so keep commenting! Take care, lovelies :)

For a sequel, send me an ask! I will write one if I have a few of them!

If you liked this, the taglist is open and so are my requests

@persephone-sideblog @reinyrei @cherry-piee @alienvarmint @divine-artemis @milanienne @struggling-with-time @insanedeathwish @134340cm @airwaveee @weirdopoptart @impossiblepersonazipperlawyer @khearts14

#corpse #corpse x reader #corpse husband #corpse fic #GroceryShopSeries #corpse imagines #softboiicorpse #corpse husband imagine #y/n #y/n x corpse #corpse x y/n #fluff #corpse fluff #yourpov #pov #fanfiction #one-shot #corpse oneshot

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just-come-baek · 4 years ago

Text

get in, loser 3

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | streetracer!reader | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.8k

Summary: Taeyong has another assignment for me, and though it seems quite simple, I could not foresee these complications. Also, why do actions have consequences? Somebody should’ve warned me before!

A/N First of all, special thanks to Ally for supporting me through ko-fi! 🥰 Also, sorry for not updating it sooner, I’ve been busy with work and college, the next chapter will be probably around New Year, since I’d like to write something christmasy. 🎄Enjoy~~

There’s something unexplainable about Taeyong.

He’s a living paradox; on one side, he’s a ruthless mafia boss who won’t hesitate to attack people who had dared to wrong him. However, on the other, he’s a caring leader that is ready to go out of his way to protect his loyal associates.

Though it was, give or take, two weeks since I got to know him personally, I could deduct this much. There was nothing he valued more than loyalty, and I made a mental note to myself to never let him down, especially in this department.

Despite witnessing him murder Haechan and Jisung, I felt oddly safe in his arms, and it was alarming as fuck. Only God knows how many red flags I decided to ignore this night for the sake of his warm embrace. Perhaps it was stupid and reckless, but I didn’t care.

I was scared, and it provided me with warmth and comfort. Taeyong was the one who inflicted the wound on my mind by making me torture Haechan. However, at the same time, he was helping me to treat it with his support.

I didn’t do anything wrong. However, according to Taeyong’s twisted sense of justice, it should be me to punish them – an eye for an eye and all of that bullshit.

As soon as Taeyong led me out of the basement, he leaned in. His whisper tickled my sensitive skin as he ordered me to wait for him in my new car. With a slight nod of my head, I exited the mansion, awfully glad he let me go. Though I tried to forget it even happened, my mind was replaying all of the events from the last hour, making me sick.

The cold fresh breeze hit my face, making me shiver. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I made my way to the vehicle. Once inside, I turned on the music player, looking through for my therapy playlist.

The first song on the playlist was “Don’t Cha” by The Pussycat Dolls, and I nervously began tapping my fingers against the steering wheel in the rhythm. At some point, I unconsciously started singing my heart out, and it actually helped me calm down my nerves.

Unfortunately, the sensation was short-lived. As soon as Taeyong sat down in the passenger seat and closed the doors, I once again became a nervous wreck.

What did he want to discuss with me in private?

“Your opponents didn’t make it easy for you, did they?” Taeyong asked with a mischievous smirk upon his face after he saw the current state of the car.

“It’s just a couple of scratches; it’s no big deal,” I stated, trying to brush it off. Though it pained me, I knew Doyoung would gladly help me fix the vehicle in exchange for a fancy bottle of booze. (And some free ride coupons if he happened to be extra whiny.)

“So…” I cleared my throat, trying not to seem overly intimidated by his presence. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, avoiding his dominant gaze. Under the influence of Taeyong's penetrating eyes, I’d most likely agree to anything in a heartbeat, and that’s not what I wanted at the moment. I had to be assertive and stand my ground.

“First of all, where is the money you won tonight?” Taeyong inquired, and I tilted my head toward the glove compartment, where I had stuffed all the cash I had won in the race. With a playful smirk, Taeyong reached in, pulled out the bag, and looked inside.

“You made me really proud tonight,” he commented, staring at the money before he put his hand into the bag and threw a handful of cash on my thighs. “That’s the tip, spend it wisely,” Taeyong added, and I smiled sheepishly, having no idea what I could spend this money on.

“Thanks,” I answered out of courtesy.

“I know you must be exhausted, so I’ll be quick,” Taeyong started, and I smiled, glad he understood my state. I had survived a couple of terribly tiring days, and right now, I just wanted to return to my tiny apartment, crawl under the covers, and sleep to my heart’s content.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Next Saturday, I have a business to tend to, and I’ll be needing a driver,” Taeyong explained vaguely, and I nodded my head, making a mental note of it. “Normally, I’d ask Lucas, but we’re a bit understaffed right now, so he’s going to be pretty busy.”

If I wasn’t half-asleep by now, I would be outraged. Ever since I had stolen Taeyong’s vehicle, I put my blood, sweat, and tears into proving I could be a legit gang member. And now, they were looking for recruits, the nerve! Partially, I might’ve been an indirect reason they were understaffed at the moment, yet it still managed to anger me.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll do it,” I replied dismissively, not even bothering to ask for any additional information. The case seemed too easy; there must’ve been a catch, but at this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted this conversation to be over with. Taeyong wouldn’t assign me to this task if he didn’t believe I could pull through, so I naturally agreed, hoping I wouldn’t regret this negligence.

“Someone will text you more details sometime next week until then, get some rest, you look like you need lots of it,” Taeyong spoke teasingly as he once again eyed me from head to toe. I could only guess how awful I looked with the bruises, the eye bags, and an unimpressed frown on my face.

“Gee, thanks for that,” I jested, making Taeyong smirk in response.

“See you soon, doll,” having leaned toward me, he whispered before pressing a delicate kiss in the corner of my mouth, confusing the hell out of me.

What the hell was that?

***

Though at first, I was doubtful, I somehow managed to get better over the week. I still had a vivid picture in my mind of the crime scene unfolding in front of me, but it didn’t bother me as much as it had earlier. Also, I didn’t feel like throwing up out of stress when I thought of Taeyong. As time passed, all the intensity seemed to wear off, and I was glad because I wasn’t ready to take in any more stress.

Right now, I felt great.

Most of the bruises already healed, and I slept to my heart’s content and even went to the fitness club for some yoga classes. Last night, Doyoung and I had a sleepover at my place with classic 90’s movies, unhealthy snacks, and fruity face masks.

Life’s beautiful, I’d say.

Just as Taeyong had said, someone had texted me the details about the next gig. It was Lucas, and as much as I liked hearing from him, I’d much prefer a face-to-face encounter. He was hot as fuck, and though out of my league, I would love to appreciate his ethereal beauty in person instead of imagining him in yet another gorgeous outfit. I just couldn’t help myself; it was his fault he looked like his place was on the cover of Men’s Health.

His message was short, but it provided me with a lot of information, and in all honesty, I was glad he didn’t give me too many details. All I had to do was to escort Taeyong and his friend to a nightclub outside the city and drive them back to the mansion. The car would await me in Taeyong’s driveway, and I should arrive about half an hour before the departure. Oh, and of course, what the dress code was – nightlife extravaganza.

I had no idea what business they were to tend to, but I decided it was for the better. The less I knew about Taeyong's dirty dealings, the less trouble I was getting myself into. If I knew what they were about to do, I might’ve found myself in yet another one stress-heavy episode. It seemed like the only reasonable option to stay the hell away from any possible stress factors.

“How do I look?” I asked Doyoung as I stepped out of my bathroom, letting him check out the outfit. I was wearing a black two-piece, consisting of a cropped top with straps around the waist and a pair of high-waisted leather skinny pants. With ankle strap red high heels, a matching quilted purse, and sharp make-up, I felt sexy and empowered.

“You look like a badass CEO, is this the look you were going for?” Doyoung stated after carefully judging my outfit. Sighing, he put one leg over another. “I like it,” he smiled, giving me thumbs up. “Top it off with that leather jacket, and you’re good to go.”

“The black one or the red one?” I asked, looking at the jackets, wondering which would suit me better, ignoring ‘the really???’ look that Doyoung was giving me. “OK, never mind, sorry I asked,” I groaned, throwing the black jacket at Doyoung’s face, putting the red one over my shoulders.

“Mr. Bad Boy won’t be able to take his eyes off of you,” Doyoung remarked in a snarky manner, and I stuck my tongue out, trying to ignore the verbal jab. Very sophisticated conversation between two best friends, I had to admit.

“I won’t even reply to that,” I sighed and went to the mirror to check out if my make-up needed any retouch. Doyoung must’ve really thought I was trying to impress Taeyong with the outfit, and to be honest, it was the least of my worries. Though we barely spoke with each other, Taeyong didn’t seem to understand the meaning of personal space, so I doubted he cared what I was wearing. As long as I’d let him take it off, he would be satisfied.

Not that I thought about letting him do that…

I was a professional, and sleeping with my boss, or even thinking about it isn’t at the top of my priorities. I’m a skilled car racer and a thief, and that’s what I’m planning on focusing on.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back. Close the doors when you leave, okay?” I told Doyoung, and he smiled, lying on the couch, reaching for the TV remote.

“No worries, I’ll just watch the game, clean up the mess you made, and leave,” he said before he stuffed his mouth with a handful of potato chips. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

***

Punctually, I parked my cute Fiat on Taeyong’s driveway right next to a big ass black Hummer. Having got out of my tiny vehicle, I made my way around the monster truck, seeing Lucas in the driver seat, setting up the navigation system. I knocked on the window, and the man turned his head around in a second, sending me a playful smirk.

God, he’s ridiculously hot. My memory didn’t do him justice. With his hair swept back, in a loose red jacket and a low-cut black t-shirt, he looked mesmerizing. A minute later, he exited the vehicle, and I saw him in all his tall glory, and for a brief second, I forgot how to breathe.

It was the effect® Lucas had on regular people.

“The keys are in the ignition, the location already typed into the GPS system. Taeyong and the other guy should be here in a few,” Lucas said, and I nodded.

Who’s the other guy?

Not even Lucas knows his name?

Strange…

“Hello to you, too,” I spoke, smiling at him. Taeyong was nowhere to be seen, so I cleared my throat before firing a question, initiating small talk. “How is recruiting going?” I inquired, genuinely curious about the progress he must’ve made.

“Nothing much yet, but I’m full of hope,” Lucas answered honestly, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, you inspired me to broaden my horizons,” he added, and I cocked up my eyebrow, wanting him to continue. Did I inspire him? Wow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve done some impressive shit,” Lucas confirmed, and I blushed at the compliment. “I’ve figured we need more women in our field, and I’ve talked to two best female candidates I could find. Right now, we discuss terms of recruitment,” Lucas explained excitedly, and I was positively shocked to hear such news.

Did someone hit him in the head with the feminism manifesto, or what?

“I don’t know what to say…” I whispered, trying to wrap my head around the newest revelation. Having experienced the treatment I received from most of them, it was hard to believe it took them so little time to change their mindset. I mean… it was just Lucas for now, but the change was already visible. “I’m happy to hear that; I can’t wait to meet them,” I added, turning my head to the side upon seeing Taeyong and his friend.

“Meet who?” Taeyong asked in confusion as he didn’t know the full context of our conversation.

“We were just talking about new recruits. I fill you in as soon as I have everything confirmed,” Lucas spoke. Taeyong nodded his head in comprehension, not even half as interested as I was. “Have a safe trip. I’ll get going,” he excused himself before walking away to a white Lamborghini Huracan.

“Missed me, doll?” Taeyong asked with a suggestive smirk decorating his face, as he bit on his bottom lip, glancing at me from head to toe. Yikes! It was unprofessional, and I wanted to scold him for being such a caveman. However, on a second thought, I decided to straighten my back to assert my confidence. Taeyong just wanted to express his appreciation for my fantastic outfit. Even though he chose the creepiest way of doing it, I chose to ignore it with a subtle eye roll.

“Is he always this nasty with you?” The mysterious man asked me as he walked past Taeyong, stretching his hand, greeting me like a regular person. “Pardon him, I’ve told him many times to work on his manners, but it’s like talking to a wall,” he added, and I chuckled, respecting the man already. He was talking shit about Taeyong in his presence – it was admirable.

“Who’s nasty? Speak for yourself!” Taeyong yelled, but his shorter friend just brushed it off.

“I kind of got used to it,” I replied casually, trying to give him a neutral answer.

“I’m Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, but since no one can pronounce it right, everybody calls me Ten,” he introduced himself, and I replied with my name, hoping he would use it instead of yet another infantile nickname.

“Nice to meet you, Ten,” I answered, smiling at the man politely.

“Should we get going?” Having cleared his throat, Taeyong asked, urging us inside of the vehicle. Following Taeyong’s order, I smirked, thinking of his ridiculous behavior. It was the first time when I didn’t give him my full attention, and it was evident it bothered him.

It was new and refreshing, and it was kind of cute of him.

“Yeah, sure, get in, losers, we don’t have all night,” I added, growing a little bit impatient with their slow movements.

“You really have to stop calling me that,” Taeyong whispered in a low voice as he put his hand on my thigh and gave it a firm squeeze.

“And you really have to fasten your seatbelts, or we’re not going anywhere,” I teased with a big, artificial smile, scraping his hand off my thigh. “Those rules apply to you, too,” I added, looking into the rearview mirror, catching Ten sitting comfortably, ignoring seatbelts.

“Is she always like this?” Ten asked, yet obediently following my instructions.

“No. Usually, she’s way cooler,” Taeyong answered, pouting slightly.

***

A little over an hour later, I parked the Hummer in front of a night club. Apparently, all types of shady dealings were meant to be discussed over strong liquor and with a half-naked lady sitting on their laps.

“Good luck, boys,” having turned off the engine, I spoke, sounding awfully like a mom, dropping her kids at another soccer practice.

Annoyed, Taeyong smirked. “Oh no, you’re going with us,” he added, and I cursed under my breath, displeased that Taeyong managed to ruin my plans of staying behind and not getting involved in whatever business they were about to discuss. The less I knew, the better, and Taeyong was really making it difficult for me.

Trailing slowly behind them, I entered the club.

“Get anything you want. We’ll be back in a few,” Taeyong whispered into my ear as he slid his platinum credit card into my palm. “Don’t cause any trouble,” he added before they both walked away to the booth at the back of the establishment.

I still could see them, though they were outside my earshot. It couldn’t get any better. I wouldn’t have to worry about hearing anything that wasn’t meant for my ears. However, at the same time, I could appreciate their natural beauty, fashion sense, and confidence in their original habitat.

I was a designated driver tonight (duh), and it was more than irresponsible to buy myself an alcoholic drink – especially with my ridiculously low alcohol tolerance. Leaning over the counter, much to the bartender’s dismay, I ordered a virgin Mojito.

Having checked whether or not the bartender spat into my drink, I picked up the glass, wrapped my lips around the straw, and took a sip. Though it was delicious, I’d much prefer it to have some alcohol in it. Maybe next time, perhaps tomorrow on my day off, I told myself as I spun on the barstool to have a look at Taeyong and Ten.

They both looked gorgeous, though they didn’t fit the typical mobster description.

Taeyong had his now baby blue hair styled down, a white suit jacket, a baby blue T-shirt, and light pants that made him look like some lawyer on a business trip. Ten, on the other hand, with his messy parted bangs hairstyle, an olive bomber jacket, black hoodie, and a pair of black cargo pants, resembled a lost college student.

The men, who they were meeting, were a completely different story, though. All of them seemed like lethal mobsters with their short hair and all leather outfits. I knew for sure I wouldn’t like to stumble upon them in a dark alley. Without any doubt, they had guns on them, and I was fearful enough to turn my head around and return to my drink.

Not knowing how much time it would take them to discuss all terms of whatever agreement they wanted to sign on, I decided to text Doyoung to pass the time. Unfortunately, before I managed to pull out my phone, my drink got knocked over by a very drunk girl sitting on the barstool next to mine.

“Hey, watch it!” I shouted as I jumped off my stool, not wanting to get all wet. In a matter of a few seconds, the bartender rushed over, helping me wipe off the counter.

“I’m really sawwy,” she said in a drunken haze, and I rolled my eyes, not really wanting to start an argument with an intoxicated person. When drunk, I also tend to be more clumsy than usual, so I simply decided not to hold her accountable for such a minor mistake.

Having apologized for spilling my drink, she excused herself, leaving her date at the bar alone. A good-looking man ordered another round of cocktails for him and his date. I cocked my eyebrows at his behavior. She was already drunk; another drink wouldn’t make her any good.

In a minute, the bartender placed two cranberry vodkas on the counter, putting it on the man’s tab. At first, I wanted to mind my own business and not attract any unnecessary attention. However, when I noticed the man slipping something into the woman’s drink, I knew I needed to intervene. He wanted to hurt her, and I just couldn’t let that happen.

Sighing, I jumped off the barstool and marched to the bathroom, wanting to warn her. Thankfully, she was standing in front of the mirrors, washing her hands when I found her.

Casually, I stopped next to her and pulled out my lipstick to reapply it.

“Are you alright?” I asked her, watching her wobble in her ridiculously high stilettos. She was barely standing on her feet – she was in no condition to have yet another drink, let alone a drink spiked with some type of drug.

“I feel funny. I had one drink, yet I feel like I had five,” the woman commented, placing her purse next to the basin, searching for cosmetics to touch up her make-up. “It must be because I barely ate today, I was so stressed about this date, so I only had breakfast,” she added, but it didn’t calm me. If anything, it made me even more alert.

“Is it your first date with him?” I inquired, trying not to sound intrusive. She seemed a bit naïve, and I wanted to look out for her. If I could prevent her from getting hurt, I had to try.

“Yeah, he asked me out yesterday in a coffee shop next to my building. He’s so romantic,” the woman explained dreamily, and I refrained from groaning in distaste. What kind of dudes did she date in the past to think this guy was romantic?

That was all I needed to know to figure out that he just wanted to get laid and toss her aside. He just wanted to use her body without even earning her consent. No matter how good looking he was – it was unjustifiable. I couldn’t let her go to him and become a victim. I had to try and prevent her from getting hurt.

“Are you sure you want to go back to him in this state? If I were you, I’d reschedule,” I commented, trying to talk her out of continuing this date.

“What is your problem?” asked she, her tone laced with anger and irritation. “I’m on a date, and you keep ruining it. What’s your deal?”

Wow, that was rude.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She couldn’t be for real, right?

“Listen–” I started, trying to defend my case, but she, once again, interjected me.

“No, you listen! I’m on a date with his hot man. You may try your luck somewhere else. I can bet you’ll find someone willing to fuck you but buzz off from me, and my man,” she hissed, and I just blinked a couple times, trying to comprehend what just happened. Though she was annoying the hell out of me, I still had to help her. Perhaps she didn’t fully deserve my saving, but I had to try. Friends or enemies, she didn’t merit to be taken advantage of.

Trying to flee the scene, she grabbed her purse and turned around to storm out of the bathroom. Fortunately, I managed to wrap my hand around her wrist before she made her way to the doors.

“Get a grip, woman!” I shouted at her, hoping she would listen to my loud voice – especially when she didn’t seem to particularly enjoy my calm and worried tone. “He roofied your drink and wants to take advantage of you. You better get yourself a ride home and leave.”

She looked at me, and I looked at her, having an intense stare contest. She must’ve been weighing her options before she tore her arm from my grasp.

“I can take care of myself,” she added before leaving the bathroom.

I tried, I told myself, but it still made me uneasy. She didn’t listen to my warnings, and she was about to get hurt, and it made me feel remorseful. I didn’t do my best. I still could prevent her from getting assaulted.

Heaving a deep sigh, I left the bathroom, determined to stop the man from drugging her even if I had to swallow the poison myself.

They were sitting by the bar as earlier. She was laughing at his joke, and he had his hand on her thigh. They seemed comfortable, but I knew enough to realize it was superficial.

Slowly, I approached them, stumbling over my legs, pretending to be shitfaced drunk. Once the drink was within my reach, I fake-tripped, spilling the alcohol on the man’s laps.

“You bitch,” he yelled in absolute anger. Apparently, he didn’t like it when his plan fell through. “Look what you’ve done!” He jumped to his feet, trying to wipe off his jeans.

Unfortunately, his furious outburst brought lots of attention to us. Instinctively, I turned to look at Taeyong. He was staring at me, mouthing, get out.

It was my much-awaited cue, so I gave this gross man some half-ass apology and left the club without any second thoughts. I had enough of this drama; I’d rather wait for them in the car.

Patiently, I waited for Taeyong and Ten to return. Time flew by quickly as I browsed my social media feed, forwarding the funniest memes to Doyoung.

Maybe thirty minutes later, Taeyong knocked on the window, wanting me to open the trunk. Two huge men with heavy leather jackets and gold chains around their necks threw four enormous black bags into the trunk, shutting it close with a loud thud.

I had no idea what the cargo was, but it didn’t sit right with me. Whatever it was, it must’ve been illegal, and it made me jumpy.

“What’s in the bags?” I asked carelessly, regretting my questing the second it left my mouth.

“Do you really want to know?” Taeyong challenged, and I vigorously shook my head in firm denial. Chuckling, he added, “Just samples.”

“Right,” I answered, dismissing the topic. Quickly, I turned on the engine and drove away, wanting to get back to the mansion as fast as it was lawfully possible.

Unfortunately, not talking about the cargo didn’t make me stop thinking about what’s inside the bags. Taeyong’s business has many branches, varying in dozens of illegal activities. Regardless of what was sitting in the trunk, we would all go to prison if caught.

“What kind of trouble did you cause when I specifically requested you didn’t?” Taeyong asked somewhat throughout the ride. His hands were squeezed in fists, resting on his thighs as he waited for my answer.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I genuinely apologized before I began pleading my case. Hopefully, with proper justification for my actions, Taeyong would understand. He was a human, after all. “I just couldn’t stay idle and watch this nightmare unfold in front of me. I had to help this girl out, even though she didn’t seem to appreciate it."

“Jaehyun was right about you,” Taeyong whispered mysteriously, making me raise an eyebrow in confusion. What kind of prejudice Jaehyun held against me? “You’re way too nice for this job,” he added, and I took a deep sigh, expecting a much worse response.

Though it pained me, it was understandable that being good was a bad thing in this line of business. Typically, I’d be glad to hear such a compliment, but under these circumstances, it made me upset. I wasn’t a saint, but I had some sort of a moral backbone.

“I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way,” I trailed off, thinking of the best way to present my abilities in the most fitting way.

“It was admirable if you want some second-hand opinion,” Ten interjected, pretty amazed with my attitude. “You should’ve punched him in the face, though. I’d love to see that,” he added, and I giggled, picturing my fist colliding against his jaw.

That would be a very nice picture.

“Can you drop me off at the Moonlight club? I’d like to meet with a friend of mine if that’s not a problem?” Ten asked, and I hummed in agreement, punching the club location into a navigation system. It was on our way, so it really wasn’t a nuisance.

“Sure thing,” I added, returning my focus on driving. Unfortunately, as soon as I shifted my attention to the front of our lane, I saw a car overtaking the Hummer. A second later, it flashed red and blue lights right, mentioning for me to stop the vehicle on the side of the road.

The police cruiser.

FUCK.

It was impossible. After doing so much illegal stuff, it was ironic to get caught when properly driving. It was a bad sign, and in a matter of seconds, I turned into an anxious ball of stress.

What a lame way to the end of my career!

OK, you gotta keep calm. Normal women can bullshit their way out of getting a ticket, so you can do it, too! I tried to psych myself up, though it didn’t help much. My mouth was still dry, and my hands were all sweaty. They’re about to discover I’m hiding some illegal stuff in the trunk. I couldn’t go to prison – orange is definitely NOT the new black.

“You can do it, doll. Don’t lose your cool,” Taeyong whispered, giving me an encouraging squeeze on the knee. Admittedly, it didn’t work.

“Yeah, don’t even think of all the drugs we have the trunk stocked up with,” Ten added, and I angrily turned back to yell at him for giving me info that I did not want nor need.

“Why would you say that?!” I shouted, trying to collect my thoughts. Cool, cool, cool, cool. You got this. You’ve survived worse. “If we make out of this alive, I’m gonna kill you,” I warned Ten before I straightened my backs, rolling down the window for the policeman who approached the vehicle.

“Good evening, Mr. Officer,” I beamed innocently, trying to read the policeman’s surname off the uniform, yet in vain. “I didn’t go too fast, did I?” I asked, batting my eyelashes in a poor attempt at flirtation.

Yikes, so much cringe!

“Driving license and vehicle registration certificate,” said the police officer coldly, completely ignoring my pathetic wooing. Unwillingly, I handed him the documents, praying to all the gods for him not to investigate the trunk. “Please, step out of the vehicle,” he added, and I followed his orders, ready to cooperate if he was willing to overlook the car inspection.

Obediently, I entered the backseat of the police cruiser, awaiting the interrogation.

“I’m an experienced driver. Did I make a mistake?” I inquired, waiting for them to give me the reason for pulling me over. My driving skills are mastered to perfection. I was really interested in what lame-ass excuse they were about to conjure to give me a ticket to fund the city’s budget.

“It’s just a routine checkup,” one police officer spoke dismissively, checking my data in their database. “All cops were asked to do routine checkups. Apparently, tonight some gang was doing drug drop-off, yet we stopped dozens of suspicious cars, and nothing came out of it. It must’ve been a false lead.”

What the fuck?

How, on Earth, did the police find out about this? Even I, who was a part of the drop-off, didn’t know what was inside the bags until two minutes ago. Was there a mole in the organization? Or maybe the police sent an undercover agent?

Thoughts were running through my head at a ridiculous speed, my gears were shifting swiftly as I tried to make any connection. Unfortunately, I didn’t connect shit. One thing was sure, though. If, by any chance, they let me go without investigating the car, Taeyong wouldn’t be thrilled to hear the news.

“Really? Drugs? And here I thought I live in the safe neighborhood,” I commented, feigning my cluelessness. Surprise, surprise, it actually sounded natural. Almost as if I was born to be a benighted dumb-dumb. “You better catch those smugglers.”

“We’re doing our best, miss,” the other policeman chimed in, and I tried my best not to roll my eyes at his for this evident negligence. They had culprits right under their nose, and it seemed they did not suspect me.

How could a dumb chick like me be involved in such a shady operation, am I right?

As much as I felt the urge to prove them wrong, I decided not to. As tempting as it was, it was extremely unbeneficial. I just wanted to get the hell out of the cruiser, drop the guys at Taeyong’s mansion, get my paycheck, and go home.

“Where were you going at such a late hour, miss?” The policeman asked, handing me back my documents after not finding anything worth further investigation.

“My friends were at the bachelor party in the club outside the capital, and they got really drunk, so I drove all the way there to pick them up,” I explained, though I got a feeling they weren’t listening to what I was saying.

“Uh-huh,” one of them muttered, quickly writing a messy note of the routine checkup, handing me back my documents. “That would be all, thank you for your cooperation,” the cop added, and I politely smiled, bolting out of the cruiser.

Phew!

Having fastened my seatbelts, I drove away. I just wanted to get the hell away from them, hoping they wouldn’t change their mind and order a thorough vehicle inspection. Taeyong and Ten must’ve had a dozen questions; however, I just turned up the volume of the radio, ignoring their concerned glances.

“Get out,” I barked when I abruptly stopped by the Midnight club. Perhaps it was rude, but I didn’t care. I’ve had a very stressful night, and politeness wasn’t on my mind.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow; good luck with miss grumpy,” Ten spoke before he jumped out of the vehicle, almost as if he was afraid I was going to talk back to him.

“What’s with the attitude?” Taeyong casually asked, and I sighed, trying to calm myself down. “I get you’re stressed, but you shouldn’t take your annoyance on us. Besides, if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. I’m your boss, and Ten is my close associate.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized before I revealed what exactly happened in the police car. Truth to be told, Taeyong didn’t seem particularly surprised.

“That’s not the worst thing I’ve heard today,” Taeyong whispered, looking at my profile. “Jungwoo from Busan division called me today. Some of Yuta’s men crossed the border. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate our little prank,” he explained, and I grew speechless.

Karma was getting back at me.

Why do actions have consequences?

“That’s not good,” I answered, unable to form a coherent response. I was royally screwed, yet at the time, I was overwhelmed by the revelation.

Why couldn’t I just wait for Taeyong to put an ad on Craigslist, for fuck’s sake?

“Hey, look at me,” Taeyong ordered, and I obediently tore my eyes off the road to gaze into his eyes. “Don’t think too much about it; it’ll be fine,” Taeyong promised, yet his words didn’t make me feel assured. “You’re one of us; we’ll protect you.”

“You better,” I added, clutching my palms around the steering wheel in yet another stress-fuelled episode. There better be a professional health care program for Taeyong’s employees. Otherwise, I may need a therapist. Stress factors don’t stop coming, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry on much longer.

“Do you want to hang out?” Taeyong inquired, taking me by surprise. He, the mafia boss, wanted to spend some time with such a peasant like myself. That concept was wild, and it actually made me wonder. I couldn’t really say no. Some people would die to get a chance to wander around his big-ass mansion with Taeyong himself. “We can order some take out and just chill. What do you think?”

“I’d love that.”

***

Since the police knew the registration number, Taeyong ordered me to park the vehicle in a large garage under his majestic mansion. Having turned off the engine, we got out of the car, and I handed him the keys, lifting some heft off my shoulders. It was a nice car, but the memories it held were terrible. I’d rather forget that I even drove that thing.

“Give me a sec,” Taeyong said, taking a handful of samples, stuffing his pocket with them.

“What are these exactly?” Having creased my forehead in contemplation, I asked.

“These? Oh, it’s a new type of drug. It’s called the punch,” Taeyong explained, showing me a single dose of the drag. It was nicely wrapped like candy, and inside it looked like a mint. “It’s like LSD had a baby with shrooms,” he commented casually, winking at me. “And it tastes like bubblegum; you want to try some? The first batch is in the house.”

“Maybe later,” I answered dismissively, not really keen on having my first trip with Taeyong. But on the other hand, who was a better candidate to do drugs with? “I’d rather have some take out first if that’s not a problem,” I added, hoping he wouldn’t press me into doing anything out of my comfort zone. Not that I expected Taeyong to force me to do things against my will. I didn’t. After all, he was a really considerate man.

“Sure, what cuisine are you craving? I’m thinking… maybe something spicy. How about Mexican?” Taeyong proposed, and I vigorously nodded. Either he was my soulmate or really was able to read minds. “I’ll order something delicious.”

This time around, his mansion felt odd.

It was still majestic and glamorous, yet at the same, it was quiet. Back then, it was packed with Taeyong’s minions, but right now, they were in hiding, giving Taeyong his much-needed privacy. Following behind him, roaming around the spacious corridors felt like being guided through a museum during a private tour.

Once settled in the day room, Taeyong walked up to the bar, brought two glasses and a bottle of tequila, and set them on the coffee table.

“You want some? You look like you need a glass or two,” Taeyong offered upon seeing me all tensed up and anxious on the leather couch, nervously scanning the room.

“I’d rather hear some good news, but the alcohol will do,” I answered, reaching for the glass, downing it in one go, only to regret it a second later. “Pour me another one.”

“Take it easy,” Taeyong suggested, yet obediently filled my glass before turning on music, letting me know what type of songs he was into. Apparently, for late night’s chilling EDM hits were his to-go playlist.

With some liquid courage, it was easier to relax at Taeyong’s place. I took off my shoes and stretched on the sofa comfortably, all unpleasant and stressful occurrences slowly fading away. Unfortunately, these feelings were about to come back in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, the food was delivered, and it was absolutely mouthwatering. Fresh corn tortillas, spicy ground beef with a ridiculous amount of cheese made a perfect combination, tasting orgasmic. If I had less self-control, I’d moan at the foodporn laid out on the table for us to devour.

“So… how did the meeting go? Was it a success, or did I fuck it up with my shenanigans at the bar?” I inquired, narrowing my eyes, carefully watching his reaction.

If I could make out an emotion that his eyes were conveying, it was amusement.

“We will see,” Taeyong whispered, reaching into his pocket, playing with a single sample in his hands. “I only distribute the goodies. I gotta check first if this innovation is worth my time,” he added before popping the substance into his mouth like candy. “Is ‘no’ your definite answer?” Taeyong questioned, looking like a cute innocent hamster with the pill dissolving against the inside of his left cheek.

After a few tequila shots and delicious Mexican take out, I was much braver. However, at the same time, I became a way less assertive version of myself. Consenting to his kind proposition was too easy. Besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen? His mansion’s probably the safest place in the country.

“Fine, gimme,” I gave up, reaching out for the pill.

At first, nothing happened. A few minutes later, still nothing, and I even began to think Taeyong gave me a sample from a faulty batch. It was until it hit me good.

The couch melted like milk chocolate swallowing me in its soft waves before I crashed through the floor of nonexistent colors splashes.

#taeyong smut #nct smut #neosmutcollective #nct angst #taeyong angst #taeyong #lee taeyong #nct #get in loser #taeyong fanfic #nct fanfic #taeyong fanfiction #nct fanfiction

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

Tracing Time

Disclaimer that I am not a therapist nor bipolar but I have had a therapist so I’m hoping it’s not too awful of a depiction. Also want to add a minor content warning for the ending scene for homophobia, nothing explicit or even verbal, just a woman with an icky vibe.

Wednesday, 16:04

Song: Haux - Youth

Sander tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the fan in the corner. It drones in slow circles, doing little more than disturbing the air right in front of it. It still makes the air in the room chilly enough that Sander is glad he’s wearing a sweater, though.

Between it and the window is an ‘abstract’ painting of the brain. Abstract in that the supposed organ is actually scattered in pieces throughout the canvas, all in various states of destruction. One has trees growing out of it, for example. Another is on fire; it’s Sander’s favourite.

He’d stared at it with an absurd sort of fascination in his first session, almost two years ago now, and his therapist, Agathe, had simply smiled at him and asked if he liked art. It was a sneaky way in, but he supposed that was the point. These meetings have gotten fewer and farther apart over that time, now that he can supposedly manage himself to a high enough standard on his own. Well, not quite enough, he supposes, or he probably wouldn’t be here at all. He can practically hear Agathe’s rebuke that they are just ‘casual check-ins’, and Sander is free to go whenever he pleases.

At every one of those reminders, Sander debates doing exactly that—getting up and going. Instead, he usually ends up slumping sullenly for a few minutes before Agathe prods her way back in.

They haven’t been mandatory in a long time, these sessions, but now there’s just something...reassuring. There are still times he doesn’t bother making an appointment, but knowing he can, and knowing that someone with the right knowledge doesn’t see any reason to worry about him, leaves a pretty damn good sense of relief.

And he did have a bit of a blip, at the start of the year. A few days in which he had to be prodded and coerced into just taking a drink of water, and had spent the majority of in his room. It had overlapped the holidays, so he’d let Robbe come and cocoon himself with him for a good chunk of the time.

It hadn’t made him better. But it made him...safe, or something similar, and that was the most he could hope for.

It was the coming-out-of-nowhere aspect that had shaken him a bit. He’d felt better, just keeping up his sessions then, being sure that he was at least doing alright with his medication. It’s working okay, the sitting and talking, so he shows up and just lets Agathe keep making sure.

The door cracks open now and she slips back in, dropping into the couch across from Sander and shooting him her usual calm, too-happy smile through light lipstick. It brings out her dimples. She’s not yet marred by wrinkles, but there’s something soft and aging about her face, anyway. Maybe it’s the graying roots. “Sorry about that, I forget this thing way too often.” She holds up the clipboard she’d carried in with an exasperated sigh, murmuring under her breath as she flicks through it and gets settled.

It’s all painfully familiar. It makes Sander smile.

He does like her. He’s never bothered denying that.

“So, how are we today?” It’s the same way she always starts, though it’s usually accompanied by—ah, there we go—clasped hands and another smile.

“Good,” Sander says. It’s automatic, but he also means it. Today is fine. It’s good.

She raises her brow when he doesn’t offer anything else. “Alright, good. Belated birthday wishes are in order, I believe?”

“Yeah, thank you. Just yesterday.”

She nods, and Sander does not think about how that was dumb when she obviously already knows. But she just settles back and crosses her legs. “Did you do anything to celebrate?”

Sander’s lips finally stretch in a smile of his own. He thinks it’s probably a little dopey, a little lovestruck, and she probably knows exactly what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. “I had breakfast with my parents because Robbe took me out for dinner. Then he had a surprise party planned at our friends’ flat.”

“A party on a school night?” Agathe’s brows raise, and she shakes her head with a small laugh. “How do they deal with that today?”

“No clue,” Sander breathes out a huff of his own, trying not to feel overly amused by how Gilles had been in the class they shared with Sander earlier in the day. For once, they hadn’t said a word, just sat with their head down for the entire lecture, wincing every now and then when Sander laughed. He hadn’t even heard from any of the others, but Robbe had looked dead on his feet this morning, as well. He’d sent Sander a slightly sunnier selfie about half an hour ago, though, so he’s probably fine. “Not very well, I imagine.”

She tilts her head. “You seem well enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t drinking,” Sander shrugs.

At this, her serene little smile returns and her nod seems approving, and even though Sander hadn’t been looking for it, he grudgingly admits that it feels good. “I know that can be a difficult choice, and I’d rarely be able to make it myself,” she laughs again. “It’s great that you feel strong and comfortable enough in that group to do your own thing.”

Sander can’t help a little snort. “Are you kidding? It was one of them that had me drinking mocktails.”

“Really?” Agathe grins.

“Yeah, but then he got kinda drunk, and the last couple he made me were just disgusting because he thought these awful mixtures would be a really good idea.”

She laughs gently. “Well, it seems like it’s not the worst. ‘He’ isn’t Robbe?”

Sander shakes his head. “No, but one of his friends.”

“And what about Robbe, then? How is he?”

“Good.” A soft smile steals over his face. “The best, as always.”

“Treating you well.”

Sander’s smile widens, and he raises his brows without saying anything.

Agathe points at him. “Not what I meant, and not what I need to know.”

“I thought we can talk about whatever I want in here,” Sander says innocently.

“Alright, then,” she acquiesces. “Tell me all about it.”

Sander blanches. He thinks about it, opens his mouth, and then thinks about it some more. Closes his mouth again.

Her smile is downright devious. “That’s what I thought.”

He huffs. “It’s very healthy, just so you know.”

“I am sure.”

“Explorative. Always consenting, of course. Frequent.”

“All very normal and well for teenage boys,” she nods, and it would be completely serious if Sander couldn’t see her eyes twinkling. She pauses. “Although, I can’t call you that anymore. How does it feel to be twenty?”

Sander narrows his eyes. “Nice change of subject.”

“Oh, if you had more to say, please continue. Just a thought that occurred to me, I don’t mean to steer you, you know that.”

He does know that, and it makes him pause, because. How does it feel to be twenty? He realises he hasn’t thought about it. He realises that’s probably a good thing—that he didn’t get stuck on his birthday this year, that it was something he just enjoyed. Maybe it was simply going to sleep next to Robbe that helped, but no anxiety had taken over at the end of the day.

Even after his conversation with Jens. It’s not the most prominent part of the day of Sander’s mind even now. Instead he finds himself tucking his hand into his pocket and grasping Robbe’s key, running his thumb over the already familiar ridges.

He hadn’t even been worrying about his major fuck-up with his assignment. He’s still not.

He’s not really giving himself the chance.

Should he be?

“It feels the same as being nineteen,” he says finally. “I didn’t become a different human in a day, sadly.”

He can see her latching on. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“‘Sadly’?”

“It’s just...a joke.”

“Okay. But why do you think it’s funny?”

It annoys him, because she’s not judgmental. She’s neither amused nor disappointed. Just curious, earnest, all focused and attentive as she gazes calmly, patiently at Sander. Even his attempt at throwing her off, making her awkward, hadn’t shaken her. She remains unfazed, as always. It’s annoying.

“I don’t,” he admits, “I guess. I don’t know what I’d consider it.”

Agathe nods, softening in her understanding, and it makes something twist in his chest. “Are you not happy with the human you are, Sander?”

He gives her a bland look. When she keeps waiting, he shrugs, gesturing at the room.

“I know,” she says gently, “that of course, you feel you would be happier without your illness. But who you are now—what you study, what you’re passionate about, who you surround yourself with, how you live your life day to day. Do you wish all of that was different?”

Sander doesn’t have to think about it quite as much. “No. But I—“

He cuts himself off, hesitating. She raises her brows and nods, prompting him onwards but not pushing. If he really wants to wait her out, she’ll move on.

“I just wish that it was easier,” he says.

She tilts her head. “Easier how?”

“I messed up. At college. I completely missed an assignment because I mixed up the dates with another one.”

She winces in sympathy. “And what happened in that case? Does that mean that assignment is marked as a fail?”

“No,” Sander admits. “He gave me the time I thought I’d have to do it. Marked it down as an extension. It’s due on Friday now.”

“And is it going alright?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t struggling with it too much?”

“No.”

“Then it seems like a fairly simple mistake. Easy to make and also, thankfully, easy to fix for you. It’s not unusual. But do you see it as an effect or consequence of your illness? Is that why it bothers you?”

Sander is quiet.

She sets her clipboard aside and leans forward, clasping her hands again as she considers him. “You have to remember, Sander, that all humans are not without fault. That regardless of who we are or what we may have to deal with, we will inevitably make mistakes. Not every slip up is a reflection of you, or a sign of failure, of failing health. You’ve actually been doing very well for a long time, now. But this belief, or this worry, that it is taking a hold of you again can sometimes help it take on that direction. Do you know what I mean?”

He takes a moment to absorb the words before nodding, knowing that if he answers too quickly she won’t believe he’s listening. But he does know. He understands. He hates that she’s probably right.

“So in a situation like this,” she continues, “do you not think, that it is more beneficial for you to focus on correcting your mistake and the fact that you have that ability? Not only mentally, but overall. That your professor is so understanding must mean he thinks well of you.”

He shouldn’t ask. He does anyway, quietly. “You don’t think it’s just pity, or something?”

“No,” she huffs. “No, I do not. Did he give you the impression that that was why he was doing it?”

Sander rolls his shoulders, adjusting his position. “No.”

Her smile returns. “I think,” she says slowly, “that this all shows just how well you’re doing. That you can acknowledge your doubts are likely just that—doubts—and that you take responsibility when you mess up and try to rectify it. Do you not think those are all good things? Things just as healthy as your sex life?”

It shocks a laugh out of him, and he sees her eyes crinkle. “Maybe,” he allows. “But it really is very healthy. I don’t know if anything else should be forced to live up to the standard.”

She represses a smile. “I remember there was a time when you would never have even spoken about this in such a kind way.”

She’s right. It still freaks him out, sometimes, the hypersexuality that can be induced by his mania, and it even made him hold back from Robbe after his episode, at the beginning. The last thing he wanted was to freak Robbe out, or disgust him, or make him uncomfortable. Then Robbe had seemed downtrodden for about a week before hesitantly asking Sander if he’d done something wrong or if Sander wasn’t actually attracted to him, and Sander had corrected his doubts and behaviour fairly quickly, because how dare the most beautiful boy in the universe think that?

“How do you feel you’re doing, Sander?” Agathe asks. “Because although I can observe, only you can feel what you feel. If you are genuinely worried, we can talk about it.”

“No,” Sander admits, after a moment. “I think everything is okay, actually.” Which is the best it can ever be, really.

Now her smile is genuinely happy. “I think so, too. And I think, even if it comes about that it’s not, you have a better support than ever. Do you agree?”

That one’s easy. “Yes.”

“It’s important to remember,” she adds, “maybe more than anything else, that if a lapse or an episode or whatever does occur, it’s not the end of the world. It’s also not a reflection of you, or a failure. Bad days, bad weeks, that’s all a part of life, and something we know you’re more than capable of dealing with and getting past. I’ve watched you do it many times before now and it’s an admirable, wonderful thing.”

Sander doesn’t actually know what to say to that. He just swallows, and feels oddly emotional, and offers her a slight nod.

The rest of the session passes in a lighter atmosphere. She lets him ramble about his assignment to alleviate what stress he does feel over it, and they spend the leftover minutes discussing his party.

Sander considers talking to her about the other thing on his mind, but ultimately decides against it. She’s already taught him how to work through that, and he really doesn’t think it will help to be putting it back into open air. Instead he leaves with a fairly upbeat farewell, and heads in the opposite direction from home.

Robbe had texted him about where he was meeting with Yasmina for a study session, and it takes Sander less than ten minutes of walking to get to the small cafe from his appointment. He sees the two of them as soon as he enters, but neither of them notice him, so he moves to the counter to buy himself a coffee before making his way over.

He’s a couple of feet away when Yasmina catches sight of him and offers her bright smile, and then Robbe is looking over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Sander greets them both, grinning as he cups Robbe’s cheek and leans down to kiss the crown of his head. “I can see we’re very busy.”

Robbe has his hand wrapped around Sander’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away. He turns his head and presses a sweet kiss to Sander’s palm, nuzzling lightly against it. Sander lets his fingers slip over and tug gently on the boy’s earring before Robbe tangles their hands together and offers Sander his crinkly smile. “Hi.”

“Not anymore, I guess,” Yasmina says dryly, but she’s still grinning when Sander glances back at her.

He raises his hands; well, his free one. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hadn’t, really, he’d just wanted to be here when they were done to take Robbe home. He always likes being in the other boy’s company after a therapy session. Despite them not being quite so heavy at the moment, it’s always draining. Robbe is always able to replenish him with soft touches and soothing kisses, providing Sander with a silent, comforting company.

“Don’t be silly,” Robbe rebukes, predictably, swinging Sander’s hand idly now. “How are you?”

Sander squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m surprised you look so healthy, though.”

Robbe groans and buries his face against Sander’s arm. “Don’t. I’m suffering in silence.” He tilts his head ‘subtly’ at Yasmina.

Yasmina raises her brows at him, somehow managing to look wholly unimpressed and teasing all at once. “At least you can stave it off with sugar and coffee.”

Robbe has the sense to look sheepish, ducking his head in a nod. “You’re right, sorry, sorry.” He lets out a sigh. “You’re on too high of a level for me, Yasmina.”

“Queen shit,” Sander agrees, just to earn one of the girl’s unimpressed glances for himself. “Should I run now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just sit down and drink your coffee. And keep your hands to yourself, if you can manage it? I still need my study partner, thank you.”

Sander grins and obeys, swinging a seat from the next table around to join them, dropping into it happily. He doesn’t place it as close to Robbe’s as he’d like, but Robbe leans into him for a moment anyway before refocusing his attention on his friend.

For the first while, Sander is content to listen and sip his coffee, feeling tiredness begin to creep into his bones. He lets his head loll against his own shoulder, trailing his eyes over Robbe’s profile and drifting into a sort of daydream. He can see the boy’s lips moving, but he has no idea what either of them are saying. They only let out the occasional comment, trading questions and answers and sighs and mutters. Robbe’s eyes are still red and a little puffy, a sign of his lingering exhaustion. He rubs at them absently as he looks down at his book and lets out another sigh, and leaves an eyelash on his cheek.

Sander reaches out and gently swipes it away with his thumb, an entirely mindless action that has Robbe looking at him in surprise before breaking out into a smile. He catches Sander’s hand before Sander can withdraw it completely, laying it on the table next to him. Instead of holding it, Robbe runs his hand along Sander’s sleeve, rubbing the soft seam between his fingers as he continues his work.

For some reason, it makes Sander blush. He’s sure his smile is unbearably happy, and he flicks a glance at Yasmina just to make sure she doesn’t know, only to catch her eye. She’s already smiling at him, and she purses her lips and raises her brows, teasing. Sander pulls a face at her, and she simply shakes her head as her smile widens.

“Can you work on your assignment while you’re waiting for us?” Robbe questions suddenly, drawing Sander’s attention back with a tilt of his head.

Sander glances at his bag, which he’s carried with him all day since he had to go straight to his session from a class. He considers for a moment but ultimately shakes his head. With yesterday being an exception, he usually prefers working at night—and when it’s not cutting into time he could otherwise spend admiring Robbe. “I’ll work on it when I go home,” he promises. Then, because he can’t help himself, “You’re too distracting.”

Robbe’s grin is small, and exasperated, but he yearns towards Sander, leaning across the table. Sander meets him and presses a quick kiss to his lips, then his nose, his cheek, before resolutely sitting back and waving at the textbooks and notes strewn in front of them. Robbe’s grin turns into a pout for half a second before he squeezes Sander’s wrist and focuses again.

Sander sinks back with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of Robbe’s fingers brushing against his wrist and skimming his hand, but he doesn’t feel quite as settled. There’s a prickle skittering over his neck, and he looks to his side and finds a woman staring at him.

Her nose is screwed, and there’s a vague curl to her lip. The disgust in her expression only heightens as Sander meets her eye and she flicks her gaze down to where Robbe’s hand rests over his. Sander can only stare back, dumbfounded.

When she looks at his face again, he raises his brows, as utterly bored as he can manage, and it only takes a moment for her to look away and get out of her seat across the cafe.

Sander tenses as she gets closer, hand enclosing around Robbe’s entirely, but she merely offers him another look before leaving. He deflates, squeezing Robbe’s fingers. It’s only when Robbe squeezes back that he panics again and quickly looks at the boy. But Robbe is in the middle of asking Yasmina a question, neither of them having noticed a thing.

“I meant to wish you a happy birthday,” Yasmina says, breaking him out of the moment. His mind has fogged over, and it takes him a moment to process the words. By then, she’s already moving on. “How was the party, anyway?”

Robbe and Sander share a look, and Yasmina waits. “Jens hardly said a word to me the whole day,” Robbe tells Sander, but he seems more amused than upset, so Sander allows himself to laugh.

“You didn’t tell him we didn’t actually do anything?”

“I did!” Robbe raises his hands. “He didn’t believe me.”

“What, what did you do to Jens?” Yasmina asks, confused. Then, after a second, “You know what, no, I probably don’t want to know.”

She cringes, and Robbe apologises profusely as Sander bursts into laughter, the weird incident from moments ago already forgotten.

Totally forgotten.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time #had to have yasmina in here at some stage!

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Hoodie Thief

Pairing: Eijirou Kirishima x reader

Warnings: Fem reader, super fluffy and one of my favorites!

A/N: Is it clear to you guys now that I have a certain liking for this boy? I take no criticism. This is the oneshot that was too long for the hoodie headcanons I put out a few days ago, so here it is. I absolutely loved writing this and hope you love reading it!

Enjoy!

-Sugar

---------------------- ≪ °✾° ≫ ----------------------

You drained the last of your tea as you sat on the common room couch, a textbook abandoned at your side while you took a 'break' from studying to scroll aimlessly through your phone. You were nearly alone in the room, the only other student out at this time being Tokoyami. The two of you hadn't really spoken, the only acknowledgment of each other's presence being a subtle nod when you'd come in.

You were currently thumbing through Tumblr, half-heartedly hopping around on blogs looking for new writers to read from. Casually scanning through fics, you couldn't find anything that particularly caught your interest.

The lights of the common room had been dimmed for the night, stars just barely visible from the floor-to-ceiling windows set in the walls. You liked the sleepy feeling that pressed against the back of your eyes, your thoughts having slowed to a hazy stream after a long day of being active and awake. The darkness of the room wrapped around you like a blanket, comfortably enveloping you. You were truly a creature of the latest hours. The rest of your class was probably more or less asleep, but you had other plans, deciding to wait up for your boyfriend to return. It wasn't that late yet, maybe a little past eleven, but you were prepared to stay seated for another few hours.

Contrary to your resolve, a familiar set of footsteps made their way into the common room, and you glanced up to see your red-haired boyfriend. You broke into a grin. "Hey, Eiji. Back from your work study already?"

He caught sight of you on the couch and smiled back. "Yeah. Fatgum let us go early. There was some villain paperwork he had to do on a robbery we helped stop today and—wait a second. Is that my hoodie?"

You glanced down at the red fabric you were swaddled in. "Uhh . . . maybe?"

Tokoyami had looked up, silently observing your exchange from across the room with newfound interest.

"Dude," Kirishima said. "I've been looking everywhere for that for the last month."

"Oops."

"You said you hadn't seen it!"

You shrugged helplessly, flopping back against the couch in dismissal. Your fingers went back to their work on your phone—however, this time you were carrying out your premeditated plan in the case of you ever getting caught like this.

Kirishima smirked and put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight slightly as he held out his hand. "Give it back."

"Why?"

"Because it's mine."

Your eyes flicked back up to meet his. "Oh, ho ho, I don't think so."

Eijirou frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You see," you said, standing up. "In this relationship, there is no longer a 'mine' or 'yours'." A devilish smirk appeared on your face, pausing for a bit of effect. "There is now only 'ours'."

With that, you pressed play on your phone. The USSR anthem started blasting from your speaker as you dashed off, vaulting over the couch with Kirishima hot in pursuit.

(In case you’re interested)

You were a near-even match; your own speed aided by your months of training combined with Eijirou's leftover tiredness from the day kept the two of you sprinting around the empty first floor, trying to keep your giggles quiet for the benefit of those attempting to sleep upstairs and in the dorms around you.

Your song ended and you glanced down to start it again. In your moment of distraction, Eijirou took a final, valiant leap of faith and tackled you to the ground, pinning you to the floor under you.

"Noooo!" you cried out, the hand that was holding your phone dramatically going limp.

Eijirou shifted his weight so he could roll you over, giggles still bubbling up from your throat. "Now, about taking back what's mine—" His hands started to dip under your hoodie, purposely wriggling his fingers against your sides to make you squirm and giggle more. His hands hit bare skin, and he paused, confused, digits feeling around for some kind of undershirt or tank top.

A diabolical light stole your eyes once again, smirking at his discovery that you were just wearing the hoodie.

"Forcibly removing clothing from a lady?" you said in mock horror, smile still playing on your lips. "And out in public too? That's not very manly."

His mouth fell open at your accusation, wholly defeated by what you had said and done.

"Whatcha gonna do?" you continued to tease. "Can't take it away from me now~"

Eijirou hauled you onto his shoulder, getting up off the ground. "Sure about that, babe? You're coming with me."

He lugged you over to the elevator, still laughing as your legs flailed and your fists playfully pounded against his strong back. Kirishima grinned and waved at Tokoyami, who had been captively watching the whole affair from his vantage point on the couch. Eijirou pressed the button for the fourth floor, the doors closing you in together. He carried you straight to his room, kicking the door shut with his foot before finally tossing you onto his bed.

"Now, about me getting that hoodie back . . . ."

You stuck out your tongue, sitting up and crossing your legs over each other. "Come and get it," you taunted.

Kirishima surged forward, wrapping his arms securely around your waist as he brought you in for a kiss. You happily pushed back into him, folding your own arms around his neck. He rubbed your sides through the cloth of the hoodie, eventually slipping his hands underneath again to brush over your skin. You sighed into the kiss, letting his tongue dart into your mouth to meet with your own. He started to slowly lift the hem of the sweatshirt, the bottom of your sports bra peeking out to meet the cool air of his room. Finally, you groaned in defeat, slipping your arms from the sleeves and letting him pull away to slide it over your head.

He danced off a few steps backwards as you pouted on the edge of his bed, having difficulty in squishing down your smile. Kirishima triumphantly held up the article of clothing, sliding it onto his own body for safekeeping.

"Okay, okay, fine. You can have it back," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It was starting to not smell like you anymore, so I was considering returning it anyway."

"Well, little miss tsundere," Kirishima said, folding his own arms in mockery at your position. "You had it so long . . . ."

An idea struck him as his voice trailed off. He buried his nose into the collar, inhaling deeply. He could smell . . . you. It was wonderful. The perfect combination of your deodorant, perfume, sweat, and even some hints of your shampoo and conditioner. Eijirou closed his eyes for a second, relishing in the traces of yourself you had left behind.

"Uh, Earth to Kirishima," you said from the bed, awkwardly watching your boyfriend sniff his own hoodie.

He peeked out at you, wondering exactly what traces of him you had been able to smell the first day you had come into his room and stolen his hoodie.

"You are going to wash that, right?" you asked him, staring dubiously at his far too-pleased expression.

"Not until it stops smelling like you~" He sang the last part of his sentence, letting his sharp teeth flash over the collar of the hoodie in his smirk.

"Eww, I got that out of your hamper and wore it for a month." You wrinkled your nose.

"Too bad."

You rolled your eyes. "I'd offer you one of my hoodies, but I don't think you'd fit."

Kirishima shrugged, finally taking his face out of the front of the sweatshirt.

"Now how am I going to get back to my room?" You gestured down at yourself. You were glad at the rest of your choice of clothing for the day; a sports bra and high-waisted yoga pants. It was okay with you to wear that around your boyfriend, but being seen by one of your classmates in the hallway might be a little too much.

Kirishima sighed and went to his closet, pulling out one of his t-shirts. "Will this do it for you, Princess?"

You happily took it, slipping into the red material. To your delight, this one smelled like him just as much, but you opted to be more subtle than your boyfriend; deciding to wait until you got to the privacy of your room before taking a deep inhale of the clothing article. "Thanks, Eiji."

"No problem."

"How long do I get to keep it?"

He thought for a moment. "Can you please just give it back to me when I ask?"

"Will I get another one?"

Kirishima rolled his eyes. "You drive a hard bargain. You're lucky you look so dang cute in my clothes."

You giggled, finally taking your turn to pull the collar of his shirt over your nose, eyes twinkling over the fabric.

Eijirou stared at you, the intense feeling of how much he loved you suddenly crashing down on his chest. He walked back to his bed, wrapping his arms around you and laying the both of you down. "I have decided that we're going to cuddle now," he bluntly stated, nuzzling into your shoulder.

"Ooh, do I get a choice in this?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kirishima said, suddenly letting go of you and rolling over so his back was to you. "I forgot how much you hate cuddles. I'll just be over here—"

"NOOO!" You tackled him, peppering kisses all over his neck, fighting to find patches of exposed skin among the abundance of the fabric of his hoodie.

He laughed, giving in to your tugging hands and rolling onto his back. You happily kissed his cheeks and nuzzled his nose, hugging him from above.

"I was just kidding," he said. "You get all the cuddles you could ever want! I'd say you get all the cuddles you deserve, but then we'd be here forever, and I don't think that would be very productive. It would be nice though."

You snuggled into his chest, happy he was there, happy you could hold him and wrap your arms around him. "Yeah . . . ," you said. "I love you. Thanks for being my boulder."

"Thanks for being my pebble."

It should be illegal how soft Kiri was in that hoodie. The two of you spent the next hour just holding each other in bed, conversing and getting comfortable with each other. Kirishima was right. You'd gladly spend forever in his arms. You both began to drift off, sleep finally overtaking your heavy eyelids.

---------------------- ≪ °✾° ≫ ----------------------

A/N: I snatched some inspo for this from Yagami Yato’s ‘Manly Kisses’ video on YouTube, so if you’re interested, go check it out! This oneshot was so much fun to write, I couldn't handle it! I literally had to take a ton of breaks to just sit back in my desk chair and squee.

Make sure you're staying hydrated and active, kiddos! It's important!

Love you,

-Sugar

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @pyrofanatic @xoxopam4

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #eijirou kirishima bnha #kirishima fluff #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #reader insert #sugar fics

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sativaasiren · 4 years ago

Text

Kid

Relationship: Hawks x Reader

Genre: one shot, hurt/angst

Summary: A companion piece to “Tolerate It” from an alternate point of view. Hawks keeps secrets and lies from Reader while she slowly unravels their relationship. Based on the song “Kid” by the Pretenders (slowed version)

Notes: I wanted to flesh out the scenario I set in Tolerate it with a different point of view. Fic is best enjoyed while listening to “Kid” by the Pretenders (slow live version)

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*Kid, What changed your mood? You got all sad. So I feel sad too*

Takami Keigo was many things, but being unobservant wasn’t one of them. He could pinpoint the exact moment he felt (Y/N) pulling away from him. It was about a year into their relationship, he had been gone on a scouting mission with a few other heroes and was gone for almost 3 weeks. The mission required him to maintain a cover in public spaces, blending into his surroundings.

Hawks looked down at his phone absentmindedly. He had told (Y/N) not to worry but she did anyway. She was always so apt to forge her own path and make her own choices regardless of what he suggested, he loved that about her but they had fought the morning he left.

She had asked him when she could expect him home and what he might want for dinner when he got back but he was up to his ears and snapped at her, the probing questions hitting his patience just right. “How should I know what I would want weeks from now? I’m busy”

Keigo looked up from the paperwork to see her pained expression, and he had to hide how it crushed him inside.

“I understand. I’ll give you some space. I love you, Keigo, please stay safe”

(Y/N) backed away from the kitchen table and headed towards the bedroom.

“Love you too, kid. I’ll see ya later”. He got half of the sentence out before he heard her gently close the door. Keigo had pretended their entire relationship to not be as sharp with his hearing as he was his eyesight. He wanted to protect her and make her feel safe to do things behind closed doors without him listening in.

But he heard everything. He could hear the choked sob that came from deep inside her chest once she felt she was tucked away safely in their room, away from prying minds. Keigo looked back down at the papers scattered around and shoved them off the table.

Hawks was mad at himself. He could feel himself hurting you but was not fully able to stop himself. He wanted to be your protector but it was easier to cut himself off from someone like her, who loved him. Keigo never felt deserving of your love and was quick to show you, prove he was right.

Shaking his head, he returned to the present moment. His phone had been silent since he left, the fight between them laying thick in the air. Keigo found solace being stuck on a mission in a bar right now, and while he was techinically off the clock, he could drown his sorrows as much as he desired. Keigo flagged down the bartender and ordered another glass of Jack, settling into his bar stool.

Hawks had since lost count of the drinks he had. Somewhere between 2 and not enough to get him cut off, but the room seemed hazy and the edges of his vision were softer.

A woman had sat down in the seat next to him and he was completely oblivious to her presence until she tapped on his shoulder. “You’re far too gorgeous to be drinking here alone but that doesn’t seem to have stopped you. Can I buy your next round?”

She was pulling on his jacket collar gently and staring up at him from under her lashes, eyes green and piercing.

Hawks wanted to grab her hand and move it off of him, put an end to her flirtation, but he wasn’t feeling strong enough to resist. He was still pissed at himself, and it had migrated to being pissed at (Y/N). Keigo looked down at his phone and internally announced “If she doesn’t text me in the next 10 minutes, she probably wants me gone anyway.”

Keigo looked back at the woman. “Yeah, another jack and coke. Thanks”

She beamed back at him, hoping that his acceptance of a drink was the next step in this seamless dance they were doing together. Her goal was to go home with the handsome stranger, and she was determined to get her way.

The bartender made Keigo’s order and swapped out his empty glass for the new one. Hawks took the drink and smirked at the lady. “Thank you for the drink...”

“Mami”

“Mami. Mami. Pretty name, I think it suits you” Hawks punctuated his comment with a long sip of his drink, enjoying the way it scorched his insides on the way down.

“Thank you....”

“Kosuke. Name’s Kosuke”

“What are your plans for tonight, Kosuke?” Mami leaned back towards him and resumed fiddling with his collar and fur around the jacket.

Keigo looked down at his cell one last time. Her 10 minutes was up, and he was decided.

“Whatever you want them to be, gorgeous” Keigo sealed his fate and (Y/N) an unknowing participant in his game, was too late to change his mind.

When Hawks finally returned home 4 days later, he had changed. He had begun to dread walking through the front door where (Y/N) was probably waiting, eager to greet him and shower him with affection. It would take more than a small spat for her to break her pattern of love.

His stomach knotted itself while he slowly turned the handle. How long could he keep it a secret?

(Y/N) was standing 3 feet from the door, holding her hands together to calm her nerves. She was always afraid he would come home too broken for time to mend.

Keigo slowly walked through the door and he wished he was anywhere other than home.

“Keigo! I’m glad you came home safely!” She outreached her hands in excitement, reaching for him to come close.

Hawks looked at her for only a moment, making a poor attempt at eye contact. Something was wrong, he may be tired when he came home but this was the first time he was despondent.

“Sorry Kid, it was a long mission and I’d like to get some sleep. We’ll talk later”. Keigo shuffled past (Y/N) with his head hung low, refusing to allow her a look at his face. He shut the bedroom door behind him and Y/N was still standing in place, arms outstretched, processing what had even happened.

*I think I know. Some things you never outgrow. You think it's wrong. I can tell you do.*

Hawks had been home for a few days and had been no more forthcoming than he was when he got home. (Y/N) waited for him to open up about his time away but it never came. She would return home from work to the same empty shell of her boyfriend.

(Y/N) would clean to calm her anxiety, it helped her process her feelings while keeping her focused on a mundane task. Keigo was in the shower and she toiled away on the dishes when a chime sounded from the kitchen. (Y/N) turned the water off and headed towards the sound, assuming it was her phone but she was wrong. On the screen, the notification read:

“1 NEW TEXT MESSAGE: FROM MAMI”

(Y/N) fought the urge to snoop through his phone, but she felt her stomach sink and knew there were very few explanations for why another girl would be texting Keigo. (Y/N) locked the phone to dim the screen and resumed the dishes, stuck on an internal panic that she couldn’t stop. Who was Mami?

Keigo returned to the living room in only a towel, choosing to not acknowledge (Y/N) and heading directly for his phone. (Y/N) was standing over the sink, gripping the basis and trying to steel herself for what she was about to do.

“Who’s Mami?”

Hawks froze in his tracks, staring through your back. What did she say? “There’s no way she figured me out in 4 days. Not possible” he mulled to himself.

After an extended pause used to prep his trail of lies, he started to answer “Mami was another person I worked with on my mission. She was the eyes on the inside. Nothing to worry about”

(Y/N) turned around to face him, eyes growing reflective and watery. She refused to cry to him, reveal her jealousy and her insecurity but it was impossible to hold back everything she was feeling at the same time, one emotion had to leak through the cracks in her wall.

“Is that all?”

*How can I explain. When you don't want me to.*

Keigo nodded slowly. “I love you Kid. You don’t need to worry about me. It’s only ever been you”

(Y/N) grimaced and turned back towards the sink, choosing to believe Keigo over risking losing the one she loved. She kept quiet, softly scrubbing the plates in front of her.

The guilt sank deeper into his bones. He was too far in now, he could never go back. Was this the right choice? He loved her but Hawks knew that what they had came with a fast expiration date, it didn’t matter what they did, it would end.

*Kid, My only kid. You look so small. You've gone so quiet.*

The days felt longer when they didn’t speak to fill the silence. (Y/N) only spoke a fraction of the time she used to. Mostly her repetitive questions about dinner, when he was leaving, would they spend time together before he left. It was what wasn’t being said that sat in the air. If neither of them touched the subject, they could pretend it didn’t exist and they would have to shatter the illusion they were intent on living.

*I know you know what I'm about. I won't deny it.*

Months went on following the new norm. Hawks went away for weeks at a time, distance himself while he was gone, and returned home drunk when he finally decided to go home. (Y/N) was just as doting and loving as she always had been, she refused to give into the dark cloud that hovered in her head. It took all of her inner strength to not ask him where he was and who with upon his arrival. Why ask him if he was going to lie anyway? What good would it do?

Keigo had been playing charades his entire life, this was no different, but (Y/N) could throw a curveball into his web and tear a hole in it with a single question. The more he lied, the more she pieced together why. Some nights, it was too hard to lie to her. To give her the comfort she was so craving. After about 4 drinks, his softness rotted away and all that remained was his sandpaper exterior.

Hawks had come home late one night, a bit weak on his feet but still mobile. He was drunk, and only the door frame was holding him upright.

He stumbled his way to the kitchen table and dropped into the chair, groaning and nursing a headache.

(Y/N) stood in the hallway, watching him from afar. He caused quite a ruckus trying to come inside and it had interrupted her reading. She was worried, and she wanted to bring him a glass of water and some medicine. (Y/N) didn’t hesitate this time, she loved taking care of him, and it would take a lot more than deception to break her love for him.

She walked past him to the cabinet and took out a small glass. Filling it up at the sink, she set it down in front of him and went to the medicine cabinet to grab him something for his pain. (Y/N) returned and gently set the pills next to the glass.

Hawks reached over and grabbed them from the table, grazing his hand against hers. Something inside him snapped, she was warm and he had forgotten, and soon she will be gone. His eyes went dark and he smirked at the glass of water, reaching for it and popping the pills into his mouth.

“Thanks Kid.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Keigo shut his eyes and stopped breathing for a moment. He knew he was going to be backed in a corner but he couldn’t take any more time to process without making the situation worse.

“Yeah, what?”

“Do you even miss me when you’re gone doing God knows what?”. (Y/N)’s voice was cold and seeping with anger. She had surprised herself, not expecting for that choice of words and tones to leave the confines of her mind.

Keigo opened his mouth like he was laughing but no sound came out. He was pissed at and for no valid reasons. She was asking him something she earned the right to ask but he was mad she was doubting him. The hypocrisy of his thoughts didn’t go unnoticed but he started to speak before he was finished. Time’s up.

“Only sometimes”

(Y/N) flinched like she had been hit. She reached her fingers out towards him and crumpled them into her palms. She would not touch him this time.

She slowly retreated for the safety of the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She barely finished the task before gripping onto the counter and crumpling to the floor, sobbing into her elbow in a poor attempt to hide the sound. Her world was crumbling in around her, and she still loved him.

*But you forget. You don't understand. You've turned your head. You've dropped my hand.*

(Y/N) stopped asking questions about Keigo’s alter life outside of their shared apartment. The answers were killing her but she couldn’t let him go just yet. She would need time to brace herself, steel against the pain in her chest, and leave.

Hawks could tell he was going to lose (Y/N). She spent their time home together in silence, wanting. When he returned home, she only held his hand for a moment and then retreated to the kitchen, finishing dinner.

Keigo stopped sleeping. Who knew that this choice in the vats of many would be the one to kill him and keep him awake. (Y/N) was asleep soundly beside him, curled into a ball, and he watched her breathe. Hawks reached out a finger and gently brushed her arm, stroking in straight lines from shoulder to elbow. “If this was a different life, and I was a different man, we could have been perfect. But I can’t be who you need.” He whispered to himself, barely audible.

*All my sorrows. All my blues. All my sorrows.

Hawks kept drinking and every time he got drunk, he would black out and go home with someone. He had lost count of how many women or men it had been so far. Anything to numb how he felt inside. Keigo never thought he would be deserving of love and he was out to prove it.

(Y/N) had been packing in small amounts. Drawers that he never used, boxes from under their bed, things tucked in the back of the closet. She slowly packed pieces of her life away and traveled them to her new apartment. It wasn’t far from where you were and made it easy to smuggle out her belongings. (Y/N) wanted to leave but she needed time to do it.

Hawks noticed things going missing when the books on the shelves seemed fewer. Then he started pacing around the house while (Y/N) worked, searching for what was gone. After discovering that more of her things were gone than remained, it dawned on him where this was headed. She’s going to leave soon. I made her leave.

*Full of grace, you cover your face.*

Keigo returned home drunk once again but this time (Y/N) didn’t seem as cold as she had been. She was red in the face, flushed, and trembling slightly.

“Keigo, I made dinner if you’re hungry?”

Keigo looked over at her on the way to the couch, but it overwhelmed him. He needed to get the hell out of there fast.

“I’m only home for a few minutes before i’m going back out. I have plans”.

“Oh okay, I was hoping to spend time with you today. Maybe later then?” (Y/N)’s voice cracked when she got to later then, it was a piss poor attempt at courage but it was all she was capable of.

Keigo didn’t reply, just exhaled loudly. He was tired of playing games and lying to you but it had to be done. Hawks sat up when his phone started to buzz on the coffee table. He snagged it up and looked at the message lightning fast and made his way back to the front door.

You shakily reached out towards his back and retracted your hand before he saw. “I love you, Keigo. Please be safe”

Keigo slowly smiled at you and replied with his usual comment. “Love you too, kid. I’ll see ya later”

Keigo rushed out the door and into the alley near their house, hoping for privacy. Once he was midway through and in the darkest part of the alley, he punched the wall and threw his phone into the cement. I love her and I made her leave me. Hawks started to break down, holding his face in his hands and crying. “I wanted to love you but I was kidding myself. I don’t know how to be the man you need me to be.”. Keigo shook his head violently and jumped off for a flight to somewhere, anywhere but this neighborhood. It all reminded him of you.

*Kid. Precious kid. Your eyes are blue but you won't cry I know. Angry tears are too dear. You won't let them go.*

Keigo came home late that night, sneaking into his house quietly. He made his way to your bedroom and saw your sleeping form in bed. Hawks couldn’t bear sleeping next to you tonight when he was still raw from earlier. He slipped off his jacket and boots and curled up on the small loveseat you had by the window. It smelled like (Y/N) and lulled him to sleep.

Keigo woke up when he heard movement. He opened one eye to see the bed empty and the house dark. He closed his eye again and squeezed them shut. It’s today.

Time moved slow while he waited to hear the door open and shut, shutting you out of his life forever. His eyes closed, he pictured your face on your first flight with him, full of joy and excitement. Keigo saw that light drain out of you, and he was to blame. This would sit heavy on his soul for the rest of days.

He heard a soft squeak at the doorway and knew you were standing there.

“I love you, Keigo. Please be safe”. (Y/N) whispered.

Keigo listened for her receding footsteps and heard the click of the front door lock. He stared up at the ceiling, cursing himself.

“Love you too, Kid. I’ll see ya later”. Keigo whispered to the empty room, wide awake. She was gone, and he was alone.

#reader insert fanfiction #fanfiction #hawks hurt #hawks fanfic #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #hawks x reader

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fulokis · 4 years ago

Text

Wrote this little dadneto in the MCU thing, so have fun. ‘

____

Erik Leshner stood in the collapsed building, next to the bomb siting on the floor looking harmless. He could barely look at the destruction around him. He had left his children in their hands, two of the only people in the world who knew why he had to abandon the twins. Now they were gone, their bodies lie somewhere underneath the rubble their last breaths long gone from their lungs.

The songs of war had moved into the distance, leaving their path of destruction in their wake. A path that his children had been right in the middle of. Erik wanted to scream, to tear the broken building off of its foundations and throw it far away. But deep down he couldn't, he was still too numb from hearing about the tragedy. Not only that but he couldn't destroy the resting place of the Maximoffs no matter how hard he tried.

Irena and Oleg, Erik wasn't even sure how he had known them. Perhaps it was through Magda, or perhaps he pondered he had known one of their parents a long time ago. Either way he knew them and despite being so closed off, liked them. They liked him too, by some twisted logic they trusted him and adored him like family. So when he ended up at their door asking them to take the twins, the only reason they hesitated was to make sure Erik had been sure of the decision.

Erik had never been sure of the decision. Now standing here among the wreckage he felt even less sure, as if he had made the wrong one. One of thousands of wrong decisions that he had made in his life. One of many more yet to come. Still Erik couldn't help but wonder how any of this would have turned out had he decided to keep the twins with him. He told him self over and over again that the outcome would have been worse. He could have had an attachment to them, and then have them ripped away from him. Just like so many other people he had cared for throughout his life.

Erik turned to face the giant hole in the building. Snow and ash fell on his hair making it look much more gray than it was. The smell of the cold mixed with the smell of burning wood and plastics from the nearby rubble where buildings once stood. Erik couldn't help but turn again to take a look over the destroyed apartment, hoping to find the bodies to give them a proper burial. All he could see were the shattered remains of items that had belonged in the apartment. Most items held little to no significance, a broken TV playing some sort of sitcom, the couch where they had told the Maximoffs that they were expecting, the small guest bed strangely still intact.

Erik took a double take, the bed as he had remembered it was hardly steady. For it to survive the initial bomb blast was nothing short of a miracle. An extremely unlikely occurrence considering there was what appeared to be a defective bomb sitting right next to it. That's when he noticed the room itself was not nearly as damaged as it should be. One side had been obliterated, whilst the other remained almost perfectly intact. The other three small rooms of the apartment seemed to be gone themselves, with nothing but piles of concrete in their place.

Erik walked over slowly to the bed and closed his eyes in relief as he heard the squeak of a terrified child from under the bed. Erik chose a slab of concrete to sit down on, trying to make himself less intimidating to the child underneath the bed "Its okay I'm a friend." He said in broken Sokovian.

"You don't speak Sokovian that well." Came a young boy's voice from underneath the bed.

"No I don't. You however speak English quite well for someone your age."

"I'm not young your just old." The child said sticking his face out slightly eyeing Erik with curiosity.

"Peitro don't." A second child's voice came out from under the bed, much softer than the boy's.

"It's okay I don't bite." Erik said, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. They had both survived, and since they had survived one or both of them had manifested their powers.

"What are you doing here?" The boy asked still timid but not nearly as much as his sister.

"I was looking for survivors Peitro." Erik said.

"Hey how'd you know my name!" Peitro yelled.

"Your sister told me." Erik replied knowing he just lied to his kid.

"Oh." Peitro said, inching further out from under the bed, "You look funny, kinda like the people on the TV."

"Peitro!" The girl cried slapping him on the arm.

"Wanda what was that for?!"

"You don't know if we can trust him, besides that wasn't nice." Wanda said.

"You can trust me Wanda." Erik said, "I won't hurt you I promise."

A DVD case flew out from underneath the bed, clearly propelled by something other than a child's physical hand. Erik attempted to dodge the object but failed when it veered off what appeared to be its projected course, hitting him in the shoulder. Wanda peaked out a bit testing the water trying to see if Erik was telling the truth. "You promise?" She asked hesitantly.

"I promise." Erik said reaching a hand out. The girl slid from under the bed into the pale light of the street lamps reflecting off the snow. Erik had expected her to be covered in bruises and cuts, but all he could see was dirt and grime. "What day did this happen?" He asked softly his heart sinking as Wanda took his hand. She looked pale, and it was clear that she hadn't had any food or water in a day or two.

"Friday." She said a distant look in her eyes. Erik could feel his heart clench, last he had checked his watch it was one in the morning on Monday. These children— his children had been stuck up in the building for two full days. Sitting waiting for either the bomb, the exposure, or the lack of food and water to kill them. Erik silently cursed as a tear ran down his cheek. "Are you okay?" Wanda asked.

Erik took his free hand and wiped the tear away, "I'm okay." He said to her trying to reassure himself that he wasn't about to lose it and add to the chaos. "A little ash in my eye that's all."

"What's that?" Peitro asked pointing to the tattoo on Eriks wrist.

Erik looked down and slid his sleeve up a little more so that the twins could see. "I'm an orphan like you." He said quietly, "Some very bad people took my parents away from me. Then they gave me this tattoo and told me to work. There was a lot of killing, and a lot of families were torn apart."

"Are we gonna get torn apart?" Wanda asked.

"No." Erik said, "You two won't because I know you two will stick to each other like glue."

Wanda turned to face Peitro and the boy nodded. "Are you going to take us with you?"

Erik felt his heart sink. That was the exact question he was asking himself. "No, I can't. My work doesn't leave me much time for family."

"What do you do?" Peitro asked.

"Why are you here then?" Wanda asked.

"Slow down." Erik said aiming the comment towards his son than his daughter. "I work on top secret missions for the US government. Missions that don't allow me to have a family." Erik said knowing he was yet again lying to his children. "As to your question Wanda, I knew your parents."

"I would remember you." Wanda said.

"I knew your parents a long time ago, before you were born. I'm sure I knew them as very different people than you did. When I heard about what had happened I had to see. I'm glad the two of you are alive."

"Barely." Peitro said "I'm starving."

"How about this, I take you back to my hotel room and you can clean up and sleep? I'll take you two to the orphanage in a couple days." Erik said knowing it was a stretch. The truth was he needed to make himself scarce soon otherwise the authorities would find him, an occurrence that was sure to become nasty.

"No." Wanda said, "We go to the orphanage in the morning."

"I understand." Erik replied. He did understand, to the twins he was a stranger. A stranger looking to use them rather than it being out of the kindness of his heart. They were probably right, had they been any other kids he would have used them, or even disregarded them and left them to die.

"What now?" Wanda asked.

"Tell us a story!" Peitro said, running to where the bookshelf used to be at a slightly inhuman speed. "Aww they’re gone." He grumbled running back to his sister and Erik.

Erik smiled softly, Magic and superhuman speed, just what the situation would have needed. Magic was in the twins veins, and their mother was quite gifted with her magic. Speed on the other hand seemed to be a new addition to the mutant tree, but that didn't mean that it wasn't predictable. After all Peitro had seemed to be constantly moving around in the womb, and the one time Erik had called Irena, she told him they couldn't stop Peitro from running off.

"Do you have any stories?" Wanda asked looking at her father.

"Yes I do Wanda. Not in books though, stories in my head."

"Tell us one!" Peitro yelled.

"I know the perfect one." Erik said standing up and sitting on the guest bed back against the wall. He patted next to him and one twin sat on either side of him. "A long time ago there was this group of people..."

"Is there any action?!" Peitro asked.

"Why is it always fighting?" Wanda asked "Why can't you accept a peaceful story about people?"

"Shh, there's plenty of both." Erik consoled the twins before starting the story again. "This group of people were fighting for people like them, people who were different."

"Different how?" Wanda asked.

"These people had powers, abilities beyond your wildest imaginations. They fought so others like them and their children could live in a world that accepted them. Some of them looked different, and had strange appearances. Some of them looked like you or me, but had powerful abilities that one would never be able to guess."

"Like flight?" Peitro asked.

"Yes like flight." Erik confirmed the soft smile returning to his face, "They created silly little names for each other, each one embraced a part of who they are. They called themselves the X-men."

"Are the X-men real?" Wanda asked.

"Maybe they were. This was so long ago no one is quite sure. I doubt if they were real they are still around anymore." Erik said pausing to collect his thoughts. It had been so long ago on the beaches of Cuba where he had stood, in his mid twenties and full of rage and anger. That man that had stood there was gone, replaced with a much more dangerous combination of those primal emotions.

"Keep going?" The boy asked leaning in closer to Erik.

"Only if you don't interrupt any more." Erik teased.

"We won't we promise." Wanda said sending a glare towards her brother.

Erik continued to tell the twins the exploits of the X-men. How in the end they saved the world, and how they were held as heroes among the people they had fought so hard to gain acceptance from. How in the end they were forced to keep themselves a secret for fear that they would be hunted down despite their heroics. How even though heroes can do all the right things sometimes life makes them walk a different path.

Erik finished the story and looked down. Both twins were snoring softly, having fallen asleep likely for the first time in days. Erik couldn't keep in the tears, he could feel as they ran down his face. The cold making the trails of moisture they left behind burn on his skin.

He still remembered the last time he had held them like this. Three days after they were born Magda had come down with a fever. Three days after that she was dead, not even the hospital was sure what had happened. Erik still could feel as both newborns were in his arms fast asleep unbeknownst about their mother in pain and agony next to them. He could still feel the tears as he watched the doctors rush in to try and save her. The numbness when it was all over and when the sun rose. He still felt the pain, sometimes as if it were happening all over again.

That was the first time the twins had lost their parents. Erik knew he changed after that, he always knew he would. Now sitting here holding the twins he realized they never even knew that they had lost their parents before. For them this was the first time they had experienced this, pain that lasts for a life time. Erik had given them up so they wouldn't have to experience this in the event he got into some trouble he couldn't simply solve with magnetism. Ironically that didn't save them. The act meant to save them and let them be children had failed.

So what was stopping him from taking them home? Living a quiet life somewhere? Erik knew the answer, he was afraid. Afraid to loose again. He knew that if he knew them, and then lost them things would go bad very fast. He didn't want that, Magda, his mother, anyone who had loved him, didn't want that. The anger and rage he held would explode, and Erik knew that if he were to explode the world might not be around anymore.

Peitro stirred a bit, and Erik looked down to make sure he was still asleep. Both twins looked a lot like their mother. They had inherited the dark brown hair and the same shaped nose. Peitro's eyes were just like Magda's. Wandas eyes were like his own, as well as her personality. Erik feared for her, not about what had happened but rather what would happen and what events might set her down an even darker path than the one she walked.

Erik sighed, exhausted from finding his way to the small country. He had seen the news, the several city blocks leveled by bombs. Thousands dead by the estimates and thousands more injured. He had come as fast as he could, unfortunately he feared he was not fast enough.

He pulled both twins in closer to him, in the hopes that his body heat would be able to keep them alive for the next few hours. Neither one seemed to mind or maybe they were to tired to even care. For a second Erik could imagine that they were at the little home he and Magda had bought, sitting in the room with the skylight watching the stars. But they weren't and they never would. Erik placed a small kiss on the top of each twins head before drifting off to sleep himself.

Hours later he was woken by the flashlight of a Red Cross worker. Erik wasn't expecting them to have shown up, but it was for all the better considering the twins had to go back into normal society. Although most people would write the story of him floating the three of them in the air down to the ground as the overactive imagination of a child.

The volunteer that had climbed over the building started speaking Sokovian. Erik could barely understand them, and neither twin was up, "Ich spreche Deustch." Erik said without thinking.

"Um." The young woman said, "Do you speak English?"

Erik chuckled, "Yes I speak English."

"Are you hurt? Are either of your kids hurt?" She asked, slowly trying to remember the right sounds to say.

"No. The kids need food and water though." Erik said softly looking at the twins. They looked worse than they had previously, something Erik attributed to the lack of light at night.

"You are fine?" She asked confused.

"Yes, I'm a friend to their family." Erik said.

"You were not here when the bombs dropped then?"

"No." Erik said.

"Can you carry them?" The woman asked signaling some people at the bottom of the building.

"Yes." Erik said, "One at a time though." The woman nodded at him and Erik stood up sliding Peitro to lie on the bed while scooping Wanda in his arms. Erik nodded at the young woman and she helped direct him to the edge of the building where there was a makeshift rope ladder. Erik took hold of the ladder with one hand holding tight onto Wanda. Erik climbed down carefully trying to protect Wanda from the wind blowing snow and ash their way. Erik made it down and placed Wanda on a makeshift bed in the back of a pickup truck. Erik repeated the same thing with Peitro nearly falling a couple times due to the wind.

Erik placed Peitro next to his sister and looked at the two of them sleeping peacefully next to each other. He sighed knowing what had to come next. He didn't have the heart to wake them up, they needed their sleep. "Don't loose each other." He started to whisper to them "Don't let anyone push you down. Stand up for one another and stick together. The world is hard and cruel, having someone by your side will soften the blows. I wish I did. Don't forget who you are either, don't loose yourselves to the pain and rage. Just remember who you are and you'll be fine."

Erik stood up and looked at the young woman who had climbed down after him. "Can I trust you'll get them somewhere safe?"

"You are not taking them?" She asked confused.

"No." Erik felt his voice crack, "I can't." The woman nodded at him and the small band of volunteers packed up the area. Their sweep had yielded no one except the twins and there was no reason for them to stay in the area. Erik watched as they climbed in the back of the truck protecting his kids. He watched as the trails of exhaust disappeared off into the distance. That was it he knew, he was lucky to even get this chance. For the second time in his life Erik Lehnsherr had abandoned his children, and this time he was even less sure of his decision. But now it was over, he would never see them again, and he knew that was for the best.

#dadneto #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #erik lehnsherr #magneto #Scarlet Witch #quicksilver #fanfic #mcu #xmen #x-men

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

364 Days To Go - Director Keller x Reader (Captain Marvel)

Holiday Fic 4! 🎄🎄

GIF Credit: X

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: This Holiday season belongs to the less popular boys and honestly I’m all here for it! Keller was the last one I came up with and it was just because I put all my Christmas music on shuffle and I was like “whoooo... could I use this for?” And then thought hard on it and came up with a kinda cute Keller scenario. Also he deserves more love!!

Really, by the title alone, this should be the post Christmas fic, but, oh well!

Disclaimer: Captain Marvel Characters Not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine / usual stuff, different fic!

Premise: December 25th may almost be over, but you can both still have a little fun...

Words: 1431

Warnings: The setting is Christmas day, although Christmas is not mentioned by name / drinking / if you squint there is the tiniest of sexual references

____

Wrapping paper everywhere Stacked up dishes, but who cares They can wait until tomorrow now It's you and me, and this old couch

The Christmas tree in our living room Fills the room with pine perfume And colored lights dancing on the walls While Nat King Cole sings "Deck The Halls"

Thanks for my robe, no that's ok It looks better on you anyway What is it about this time of year That makes our troubles disappear 'Cause don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go

We can't avoid it No way around it Before too long we'll be Either back to work back to school Or just back to reality

Don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go Be here before you know it

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The house was filled with the sound of holiday music. Although, without putting a damper on things, the holiday was almost over. Well, the main part of it anyway. But neither of you were thinking about that. In fact the music was the only sound, as currently you were both nestled on the couch together, your head on Keller’s chest. There was plenty of reason to move, you supposed. Remnants of brightly coloured paper still littered the floor, a stack of dishes by the sink that - if you were really cognizant - you should probably get started on. But, there was always tomorrow… This was the very last day of the year you would ever have had your partner working on. Even if it wasn’t work work.

Besides, you were both currently stuck in a food coma, and snuggled on the couch was the only place to be; drifting in and out of sleep with the heat on high and his arms around you. You were surprised that he hadn’t even taken one glance at his pager today. You would understand for any other Agent (heck, you’d hurled yours across the room the second you’d got in last night, where it’d clattered against the wall. And even upon Keller’s insistence, you hadn’t gone to retrieve it yet - and, didn’t see him doing it for you), but not the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D… Keller constantly told you that, for him, there was always something going on. Which meant today should be no exception. He was doing this for you, you knew. But you were glad he was taking respite for once; he deserved it. You knew how important his position was, but Keller always worked so damn hard. You thought it was about time he got some recognition for that - even if it was in the form of a quiet moment on the couch with you. Running your fingers gently through his steel grey hair, Keller didn’t really stir; his grip on you loosened slightly, and that sleepy content hum made you do nothing but smile. You pressed a kiss gently to his forehead and cheek before you stole away from his arms. It was about time to get yourself back in your pyjamas you thought! Hurrying quietly from the room, you halted and turned back to his gifts. A little smirk formed on your face; on second thought… *** By the time you returned to him Keller was awake but still looked a little drowsy; head in his hand, propped up by his elbow on his knee, as he held open a book with his other hand. As you shuffled into the room he looked up and then immediately laughed. “Oh, I see you’re wasting no time stealing my clothes, huh?” To be honest the robe was almost a joke gift, you’d had it embroidered with ‘Director J. R. Keller’ across the left breast and then kidded with him that no one was going to be able to take the J off this. You brought your shoulders up as high as they could go and tucked yourself into it, “It’s very comfy, I gotta say.” Then made a motion to take it off, “Would you like it back?” “No… No…” He waved his free hand, “It looks good on you…” Keller continued to stare at you for a moment before smiling, “Go on, give us a twirl.” “Ah!” You gave him your very best and then posed, “What do you think?” “Yeah.” He almost said it flatly, “Gonna look so much better on you.” Before he placed the book down and opened his arms, “C’mon…”

You eagerly crossed the room, and back into Keller’s welcoming embrace. “I love you so much.” “I got the idea… yeah!” That only made you giggle again as he captured your lips with his own, rubbing his hands over your arms as if to warm you up. “PJs too? Man, I missed the memo…” Keller was still in a nice shirt and pants. A little more relaxed than his usual suit (and sleeves rolled up, as you would have requested; his forearms were something to behold), but no less easy on the eye. “Time to get comfortable.” “Just seems like a typical non-work day for you, then.” You gasped, pretending to get offended and smacked his arm, “Don’t say the ‘W’ word!” “Oh, geez, I should have guessed that was banned too.” “Are you trying to be humorous?” He quirked an eyebrow, amused, and you tried to hold your serious face for all of 3 seconds before you snorted, “Okay. You win this round, Mr. Keller!” He allowed you to steal a series of short kisses, before he settled you back on the couch alone; turning the music up a little, he poured you both a glass of mulled wine. Handing your glass over to you, Keller didn’t sit back down. You wondered if he was attempting to stretch his body out after the confines of the couch. “Hey, don’t get any of this over my robe now.” “Oh my god…” You shook your head at him, “Just tell me if you want me to take it off-!” He smirked through his sip, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You rolled your eyes, and for a minute it went quiet before you studied him a little closer. He wasn’t even really looking at you, more surveying the decor of the house and paying attention to the songs, but Keller still knew what you were doing; “What?” “Just making sure that pager of yours isn’t on you!” He scoffed, “So you can yell at me today of all days of the year?” He took another sip before he placed his glass down and held his hand out for you. You took a bigger gulp of wine than you thought was necessarily, and you watched his face try to remain stoic and not even a little disappointed in you for doing so, before you took the hand he offered and let him pull you off the couch. Keller spun you into his arms and held you close, letting you lay your hand flat against his before you laced your fingers together, and he swayed you gently to the music. “Oh? You want to dance with me when I’m not even dressed appropriately?” “I’ll forgive it.” He chuckled, but then took a more serious breath, “You know that I don’t care, right?” “I’m just teasing you-!” Although you couldn’t help but blush gently; you knew he would take you any way you wished to present to him. That was just the kind of man that he was. You weren’t sure that anyone in the world deserved him really, but you weren’t about to argue with the look of love on his face today. Instead you’d simply bask in it, honoured that Keller chose to give it to you. You continued to sway slowly to the music as song changed into song, changed into song… and both of you once again surveyed the room, and tried not to think of everything you’d have to do tomorrow. The darkness had drawn in, but there was still something magical about it today, instead of gloomy and depressing. You couldn’t help but grin as you looked back into his soft blue eyes, it might have almost been over, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still have childish excitement about next year. “Only 364 days to go!” Keller gave an encouraged nod of agreement, “And imagine what can happen in that time-!” Only he added a mysterious little wink, causing you to narrow your eyes; “OKAY what is going on at work!?” His look was of pure innocence, “Nothing! Well- No, maybe something, but I can promise I don’t know!” You tilted your head, “To be honest, I’m surprised. Your fingers must be itching to click that little button.” Keller shrugged, “100% honesty? I haven’t really thought about it.” And he really did mean it, although he laughed, “But I’m sure I’ll wake to a million messages tomorrow-!” “Any way I could persuade you to collect another million more?” “Not check tomorrow?” Keller paused your swaying for a second, sucking his breath in between his teeth and pretending to think hard on it, “Just try it…” “Mmm. Think I will.” You winked, before removing your hands from his and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull Keller into a deep kiss.

364 days to go, maybe… But if it was 364 days filled with kisses like this, you wouldn’t mind waiting one bit.

---

Thank you for reading! And as my last fic before Christmas, Happy Holidays!!! 🎁🎅🎄

#Director Keller #Keller #Director Keller x Reader #Keller x Reader #Agent!Reader #Agent!Reader series #Captain Marvel #Ben Mendelsohn #204 #Holiday Fic #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Every time I write for Keller and listen to his playlist I JUST wanna write for my space girl!#But can't do it! Just can't do it-!#In the words of Payne /I've tried... I have tried!/#If I could draw #that would be helpful because I'd love to /DRAW/ them together.#Anyways...#Look /the last of the real ones/ by Fall Out Boy for Keller/Maliyah though. HOLY. SHIT.

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