#you were desperate enough to go private and lie and have friends lie? why yes you might actually get a diagnosis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yourtamaki · 4 years ago

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history doesn’t repeat, it rhymes

sakusa x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, elements of depersonalization, non-explicit mentions of sex

dedicated to: @onyxoverride (thank you for beta reading) & @saintdabi

you can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection.

it wasn’t deliberate, the way you turned your back to the full length mirror in your closet every morning when you got dressed, how you usually dodged your reflection coming out of the shower like you did just now. at least, not at first. not until you realized how much better you felt now that you didn’t have to come face to face with a stranger everyday. that was the only word to describe whatever lived in the mirror. a stranger. any recognizable part of you had rotted away long ago. all that remained now was an empty husk with dead eyes and a selfish heart. the same selfish heart that set you on this path in the first place.

was it worth it? you wanted to ask your past self. was his love worth what you did to yourself?

the very first night you met sakusa set the tone for the rest of your relationship. you’re still not entirely sure why you accepted your roommate, hinata’s, invitation to his team’s party to celebrate their record win streak. it probably had something to do with the puppy dog eyes he threw you. regardless, you went, wearing an outfit you were losing confidence in by the second and leaning against a wall as far from the drunk crowd as you could get. you never liked parties like this. too many people, too loud. but for your best friend, you were willing to grit your teeth and bare it.

a part of you, larger than you would ever admit, wishes you never looked to your left that day. wishes that you never spotted the curly haired man looking so sullen despite half his face being covered with a mask, that you didn’t notice the way his eyes flickered from his empty red cup to where you knew the kitchen to be, how he wearily eyed the crowd of people that separated him from it.

“i was about to grab a drink. i can bring something back for you if you’d like?” the first thing you ever said to the love of your life was a lie. you were planning on staying tucked in your corner all night, safe from the dancing drunks who had no concept of personal space until hinata was ready to leave. and yet the words were almost ripped out of you the moment your eyes landed on him, a fierce need to help the man flaring up from nowhere. you could only assume he had separated himself from the party for the same reason you had and it pulled on your heartstrings. no one ever noticed when you needed help so why not extend that courtesy to him instead? he blinked at you as though he had to process your offer before he nodded.

“yes, please i’d appreciate it.” his voice was different than you expected it to be. slow and calm despite the way his fist clenched and unclenched. “just water. a closed bottle if you can find it.”

his brows furrowed for a moment when you held out your hand before letting out a quiet ah and handing you his empty cup. it was endearing how he placed it in your hand, balancing it carefully on your palm.

“be right back.” you shot him a smile and started to make your way across the floor, getting pushed and jostled the entire way there. you made quick work of tossing the garbage into the overflowing trash bag and dug out two water bottles from behind a rack of beer cans in the fridge. the trip back was no easier and you breathed a sigh of relief when you were once again in your small private bubble with the man. the discomfort you endured, the skin crawling sensation of all those bodies too close to you was worth the way his eyes lit up when he saw you’d returned.

he accepted the cool bottle with a murmured thanks, pulling his mask down and tucking it under his chin. handsome was your first thought and his name was your second. the two distinct moles on his brow should’ve given it away that you were talking to sakusa kiyoomi. you’d seen enough of hinata’s games, heard enough stories to put a name to the face. he held your stare as you placed him in your mind, taking a sip from the bottle as he did. an urge to say something, anything to keep those eyes on you bubbled up hot and fast and you said the first thing that came to mind.

“my roommate’s your teammate.”

“is he? which one?”

“hinata. shoyo.” you added as though there was another hinata on the msby roster.

“ah. my condolences.” the corner of his lips quirked up when you snorted. “i’ve seen how he leaves a locker room. i don’t want to imagine what his room looks like.”

“it’s not pretty, that’s for sure.” you said, leaning your shoulder against the wall and taking a moment to regard him. “can i ask why you’re here? shoyo told me you don’t like crowds so a party must be hard on you.”

“would you believe me if i said contractual obligations?”

“nope cause i helped shoyo go through his contract and i don’t remember ragers being a part of the deal.” a small burst of pride bloomed in your chest when he laughed, a quick huff from his nose and amused eyes as though he didn’t expect it.

“you got me.” you waited for him to explain and deflated a bit when he remained silent. that is, until you followed where his eyes had wandered. it was easy to spot hinata from across the party. he sat high above the rest of the crowd on bokuto’s shoulders, leaning back occasionally to test bokuto’s reaction time and giggling every time he was caught at the last moment. meian was trying in vain to pull the ginger down while atsumu seemed to be on facetime with someone recording the whole thing, his loud laughter ringing out clearly over the music.

“you’re here for them?” you said just as the realization dawned on you. sakusa twitched, so small you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been watching him so closely.

“spending time with your teammates promotes better gameplay on the court.”

“i’m sure it does. but wanting to hang out with your friends isn’t a crime.”

“we are hanging out. i’m here, aren’t i? if they wanted to talk to me, they know where to find me.” the bitterness in his tone wasn’t enough to mask the acceptance behind his words, of being resigned to his fate as the forgotten one.

“well, i found you.” he looked over at you, something unreadable swimming behind his eyes before they softened.

“yeah. you did. you know, you’ve talked a lot about shoyo but i don’t know anything about you. i don’t even know your name.” he said. heat raced to your cheeks, flustered that he seemed to be paying as much attention to you that you were to him.

“i didn’t even notice, sorry.” you said before offering your name. he repeated it back, once, twice, rolling it around on his tongue and you watched his mouth, mesmerized by how it curled around a word you’ve heard your whole life until it sounded new again. he spoke your name in a soft, hushed whisper and you wondered if his lips would feel just as soft. half-lidded, his gaze flickered downwards like he was wondering the same thing.

the rest of the night was a blur in your mind. all you could recall was that you chatted with sakusa until the others found you and you drove a passed-out hinata home with a new contact saved to your phone.

the reminiscing left you drained, clutching your phone in your hands, the screen frozen on that same contact as you collapsed into bed and yet you couldn’t stop the rest of the memories from flooding through your mind, the truth you’ve been holding off for too long. you’ve picked at a festering wound that was best left alone. if you didn’t think too hard about it, if you ignored how it grew and ate away at you, it wouldn’t hurt as much. right? but it was too late. you’ve pulled the string and now you’re left to deal with your own unraveling.

you scrolled through your texts for what feels like a lifetime, the entirety of your relationship flashing by and disappearing in an instant until you could scroll no higher. of course you sent the first text. a formal message that didn’t look anything like how you actually text with one too many exclamation points in your desperation to come across friendly.

your fingers moved across the screen and when your mind caught up, your thumb was hovering over the button to delete the entire conversation. you never wanted to see evidence of who you used to be ever again. you didn’t want to be reminded of the person you cut and broke and killed until they fit into sakusa’s neat life. but sentimentality stilled your hand, the phone dropping from your limp fingers and crashing to the floor. you didn’t bother reaching for it.

the accursed memories refuse to let you be, another bobbing up to the surface from the murky depths and pulling you under before you could stop it. one that showed what little agency you had in your own life.

it started the way it always did. you noticed him. noticed how tired he was every time you spoke. how you went from going out on dates to always staying in to maybe being lucky enough to say good night over the phone before he crashed for the day. and sure, you were lonely. so starved for him it ached. but that was overshadowed by your worry for him. you would lay awake wondering if he’d remember to eat that day, if he had the energy to clean his apartment and if he didn’t, how much was that adding to his stress?

so you swung by his place the next morning after he had left for practice, spent the day cleaning, restocked his fridge and were nearly done making dinner when he returned. his exhaustion was truly hammered home when he walked straight past the kitchen on autopilot before doubling back, tilting his head at you in confusion.

“what are you doing here, darling?”

“helping out.” you turned back to the stove and busied yourself with mindless stirring, afraid that you’d been too eager and overstepped. “you seemed pretty tired these days so i wanted to do something for you but you’re back earlier than i expected so i can just go if you want to be alone just let me-”

your rambling was cut off when a force barrelled into you and sakusa hugged you tight from behind, head buried in the crook of your shoulder. all at once, whatever anxiety had been growing fled you and you relaxed into his touch.

“thank you.” it wasn’t the words that made your heart leap to your throat. it was the sincerity, the slight crack at the end that told you he had more he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

you fell into a routine of going over to his apartment, looking after things, kissing him when he returned and staying over at night. at first, it was once a week. then over the weekend, then every other day.

“you should move in.” even though you half expected your relationship to take this next step, it still took you by surprise the casual way sakusa brought it up. you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to move in with him just yet. you built a home with hinata and that apartment meant everything to you, all your happiest memories were made there and oh no sakusa was still waiting for an answer.

“i should?”

“yeah.”

and that was the end of it. you were packed and out of hinata’s apartment (because it was his now. his and atsumu’s. not yours, it’ll never be yours again) by the end of the month. most of your things didn’t come with you but that was fine, right? so what if you still felt like a guest in your home even to this day with none of yourself being reflected in the apartment? you got to wake up to see the love of your life every day and that made everything worth it.

until you started waking up alone.

extra training, he said. the team drafted new players and he had to get used to their play style, he said. and you believed him, trusted that he’d be home with you if he could. so you took the crushing loneliness and swallowed it down like a bitter pill. you smiled wide when he came home late with only the moon to light your bedroom and let him use your body to rid the stress of the day.

the dead of night was the only time you’d have him all to yourself. you could be greedy for his attention when he was buried inside you. it was easy to pretend you clawed up and down his back because you were caught up in the moment and not because you were desperate to keep him close to you. easy to pretend the tears in your eyes were from pleasure and not from how much you missed his voice.

and when he was empty and spent, you would stroke his hair until he fell asleep and then, only then, would you whisper all the things you couldn’t tell him during the day. small, meaningless anecdotes that you knew would earn you a wry smile if he was awake to hear them, the one he used when he didn’t want to let on how close he was to laughing. the stolen moments were a salve on your fractured heart but it was never enough to heal it. in the end, when you were once again alone in your too-wide bed, it only served to remind you just how deep the cracks were.

maybe that’s where you went wrong. you gave away your heart to someone and got nothing in return, nothing to plug up the all-consuming void in your chest. there was nothing left of you. no, that wasn’t quite true. there was nothing good left of you. you gave him your best parts and all you had now was pure resentment that burned hot and fierce in your core, so acidic it ate everything in its path. it burned away the dredges of your soul until all you could do was allow it to climb up and scorch your throat in a silent scream.

another memory. it’s strange what your brain chose to latch onto as you spiralled. on the surface, you remember this to be a happier time. but as it overtook you, you’re reminded almost violently that the edges of this memory are stained with the early decay of your identity.

before the early mornings and late nights, before you got into the habit of staring at your ceiling and wondering how you got to that point, you and sakusa had a tradition. you’d both find something, a story, a movie, that you think the other doesn’t know and share it with them. that day sakusa came to you with the myth of orpheus and eurydice.

he told you the story of a man so in love with his wife he journeys to the underworld after she dies to find her, how hades tells him he can guide her to the land of the living but orpheus must trust that eurydice is following him. if he turns around, eurydice’s fate is sealed. sakusa explained how in every version of the myth, orpheus turned around at the very end out of an uncontrollable, unfiltered love for his wife. whether it was because he was excited to see the end of the tunnel and wanted to share his joy with her or because he feared she got lost, either one stems from the love he has for her. the love that sent him to find her is the same love that doomed her in the end. but the more sakusa spoke about orpheus, the more you wondered about the other protagonist of the story.

“why didn’t eurydice try to let orpheus know she was there? she could’ve held his hand or touched his back or something.” you asked. you were laying your head on sakusa’s chest, letting the low rumble wash over you as he read you the tale. the question had been bugging you as the story came to its conclusion though you couldn’t place your finger as to why.

“she was a spirit. she would pass right through him.”

“yeah but…” you searched for the words to explain your confusion. “she didn’t even try.”

“it wouldn’t have mattered either way.”

you opened your mouth to press the issue further, too stubborn to let it go just yet when you heard sakusa sigh out of his nose. it was enough for any question to die on your tongue and all that came out was a quiet, “i guess so.”

it was a nothing memory. an empty thing to remind you of better times that you’ve had no need to look back on. so why did that moment swirl around your head now, as you crumbled in your lowest moments? scattered pieces start to form together in the recesses of your mind but before you could call them forth to make a full image, the bedroom door swung open and sakusa walked in.

for once, you don’t slip on your well worn porcelain mask. you don’t school your expression and force it to mold into something that couldn’t quite be called happy. instead, you sat up straight in bed, held his gaze and did nothing to hide the maelstrom of hurt that raged inside you. a sick satisfaction shot through your veins when his steps faltered at the force of your stare.

“what’s wrong?” he asked.

what isn’t? you thought but instead said, “nothing. i was just thinking. about us.”

“oh.” his eyes are already sliding away from you, a quiet detachment in his voice that made you grind your teeth in frustration.

“remember that greek story you told me about?”

“mhmm.”

“tell me again why eurydice didn’t reach out.” there it is again. a short, sharp exhale from his nose. he opened his mouth but you spoke before he could. “humour me.”

“she was dead, darling. she couldn’t touch him, he couldn’t hear her so there was no point.”

“no point? there was no point in trying to tell orpheus that she was behind him? he climbed into the underworld for her and she couldn’t try?”

“could you--?” he cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s late. i’m exhausted and really not in the mood so can we go to bed?”

“doesn’t that sound familiar?” you continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “one person bending heaven and hell for the person they love while the other can’t even meet them halfway. remind you of anything?”

now you had his full attention. his brows scrunched together and you’re not sure if he’s trying to figure out the meaning behind your words or the reason for your hostile tone. you don’t feel like helping him out either and instead watched the gears turn in his head with something akin to glee. it’s his turn to be paranoid, to overthink, to pick apart every moment of your relationship and dissect it piece by rotted piece.

“please don’t be vague. if you’re upset with me, tell me.” it was the most emotion you’ve heard from him in so long, you were taken aback for a moment.

“i’m a bit past ‘upset’, omi.”

“i’m sorry.”

you scoffed. “you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

“you’re hurt and it’s my fault. that's enough for me to say sorry.”

“you don’t understand.” he crossed the room in three large strides, sitting on the edge of the bed to leave space between you.

“then help me understand.”

you floundered for the right words to explain the mountain of revelations you’ve uncovered and settled for, “how do i take my coffee, kiyoomi?”

he took your use of his full name in stride. “black. one sugar.”

“no that’s how you take your coffee. that’s the only way you ever make coffee. i had to learn to like it.”

“what, you’re mad i don’t know how you like your coffee?” you know he didn’t mean anything by it, that’s he's always been more blunt that he means to be but it doesn’t stop you from feeling patronized and the hurt loosened your tongue.

“it’s not about the coffee! it’s not about the fact that eurydice was a ghost. it’s the effort, omi. you haven’t put an ounce of effort into this relationship. i’m the one who has to bend. i’m the one that has to change, it’s never you.”

“i never asked you to.” the truth of the statement knocked the air out of your lungs. because that's the worst part, isn’t it? you have no one to blame your misery on but yourself.

“i don’t know how to love you without sacrificing pieces of myself. and i’m empty, kiyoomi, i've given you all of me. and it feels like you’ve given me nothing in return.”

his head was bowed while he listened but from how tight he laced his fingers together, you know he was fighting to stay calm. “you know i love you, right?”

“do you? do you love me or love that i’m convenient? love that i clean your place and make you food and have a hole you can--”

“stop.” you didn’t know it was possible for so much heartbreak to be packed into a single word. it sobered you of your venom and in its place, shame came rushing in.

“i’m sorry. i'm pissed at myself for letting it get this far and i’m taking it out on you. i don’t regret loving you. but it feels like that’s the only thing living inside me. like i’m not even a person anymore.”

“i should’ve noticed. it shouldn’t have taken you snapping for me to realize what was going on.”

“maybe.”

silence, suffocating silence, stretched and morphed time until it felt like you’ve aged a decade in a moment. and then sakusa spoke.

“you’ll help a stranger just because they look like they might need it and ask for nothing in return. you’ll make someone food just so you can be sure they ate that day. you’ll tell me about your day while i fall asleep and i don’t think i could sleep without hearing your voice. you’re kind and too selfless for your own good and the best person i’ve ever met. it kills me that i’ve been the cause of your pain.”

it was strange hearing those traits spun in a good light when you’ve thought of them negatively for so long. strange knowing where you saw faults he saw things worth admiring. “you hear me at night?”

“and you like focusing on minor details. yes, darling. every night.”

“oh.”

“i understand if you need… space, if you want to spend some time apart. but give me a chance. please. give me a chance to prove how important you are to me. i’m sorry that i’ve failed you. i’m sorry i've been taking you for granted. but that ends now. never again.

“and i can help you, too. i can remind you of all the parts you say you’ve lost. i’ll tell you all about the person i fell in love with everyday if you need it. i’d never run out of things to say. please. you found me once, let me return the favour and help you find yourself. if-if you’ll have me.”

his small speech wasn’t the reason tears stung the back of your eyes. as he finished speaking, sakusa reached out across the space between you and offered you his hand. a lifeline that you took, the lump in your throat to keeping everything you wanted to say stuck inside you. thankfully, you needed no words for sakusa to understand you. he brought your joined fingers to his lips and let out a shaky breath against them. the two of you stayed like that for a small eternity, drifted apart yet holding together with a bridge to link you. you’ve been fueled by resentment and anger for so long, you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to let them go. but you did know that you didn’t want to try without him by your side.

#sakusa x reader #sakusa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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Lying (Next) To You (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for violence + language Warnings: Blood-drinking/general vampiric shenanigans Summary: There is no goal other than escape. You want out of this castle, no matter what you have to do, no matter the consequences. At first, the solution seems to lie with one of the very women you want to get away from. But what happens when you find yourself genuinely caring for her? Length: 5,934 words

Merely surviving had never been your intention. From day one in this foul place, this unholy castle, you had strived to escape. No matter what, you refused to allow such dismal grounds to be your grave. But leaving wouldn’t be as simple as walking out an unlocked door. It required manipulation, agility, and the willingness to screw over anyone who got in your way. Even those who you would have once called friends, or the closest thing you had to that among the servants. Was that something you were willing to do? Absolutely, without a shred of doubt in your mind. Someday, somehow, regardless of what it took, you’d get out and never look back. For now, though, all you can do is scheme…

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Three targets, each incredibly difficult to get your hands on, each presenting their own unique challenges. Which would be easiest to charm? You were still debating that answer.

First was Bela: The eldest, most responsible, forced to be the “role model” for her sisters. A bookworm (a trait the two of you shared) who spent a fair amount of her freetime in the library. While not overtly cruel, she was still rather violent, especially in cases where she felt her family had been insulted. However, there were whispers that she had a secret weakness: Anxiety. None had caught her in the open throes of an attack and lived to tell the tale. But she had been overheard, more than once, quiet cries or shaking breaths. Trying to talk to her during one of these occasions could lead to gaining her affection- if you managed to do what no other had been capable of doing, that is.

Second was Daniela: The youngest, most excitable, eager to please and desperate to be pleased. Easily interacted with more maidens than either of her sisters, though not always in a good way. Getting her attention could mean getting pulled into her room in the middle of the night, for some “fun”, or it could mean getting drained of all of your blood. Sometimes she did one after the other. Like Bela, she was a bookworm, though she preferred romance novels as opposed to her older sister’s educational texts. As for her weakness? To you, Daniela seemed to be the definition of “undiagnosed ADHD”. Less exploitable for sympathy than her sister, but possibly useful in helping you trick her. At the end of the day, the largest concern with her was her inconsistent behavior, her tendency to flip moods at the drop of a hat- and a drop of the hat with her could feel a helluva lot like a drop of an axe (onto your neck).

Then came the third… the one you didn’t think was worth the risk, whatsoever: Cassandra. Middle child and acting just like it, she was hungry for her mother’s approval, attention, and respect most of all. Bloodthirsty as could be, with a mean streak eight kilometers wide, the truest monster you had ever met. Even her fondness for the arts manifested in malevolent ways. Supposedly, she painted in blood, and made sculptures from the bones of her victims, displayed proudly in her room as trophies. What could you possibly do to earn her affection? What could you ever be to her, other than a plaything or mid-afternoon snack?... Nothing, you assumed, and so you figured you might as well remove her from your list. Somehow you’d have to make do with one of her sisters. As for which one?... You decided to let fate decide, and go for whomever you found yourself with an opportunity to court.

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Free time was a rare commodity in Castle Dimitrescu. While every servant did technically get one day off every week, it wasn’t uncommon to end up helping with something unexpected, even if one tried to hide away in the private quarters. For you, it was an opportune time to try and get closer to your targets. So far three weeks had passed since your “decision” to focus on Bela and Daniela, without a single interaction with either of them. Still, hope held fast in your chest, as you made haste towards the library. On this free day you intended to read as much as possible. ‘Twas a two-pronged goal: First, you would increase your chances of running into one of your preferred employers. Secondly, you could possibly learn something through what content you consumed, perhaps to be utilized in later conversations.

Or such was the hope. In truth, you did not make it to the library, nor even anywhere close. A quarter of the way there you were interrupted by an ever-dreaded noise; buzzing echoed throughout the hallway, first far off, but getting closer with every second. There was a particular ferocity to the vibrations that you knew meant danger was approaching. According to the other maidens, this was a distinction that everyone learned over time, assuming that they survived long enough. The smart thing would have been to duck away into an adjacent room in the hopes that whatever sister it was would ignore you. But your endgame weighed heavy on your mind, then forced your feet to the floor. For better or worse, you would be in the woman’s path, ready for whatever she may ask of you.

“You-” a voice snarled, as a hooded figure phased out of the swarm and into your vision. Her head was held high, eyes narrowed as they stared down at you, a snarl twisting her lips. Of course it was her. Cassandra Dimitrescu. The one daughter you didn’t want to encounter. Inside, part of you writhes in self deprecation, feeling as if you should have known better. How often did the other two buzz about so angrily?... Well, certainly a fair bit, but nowhere near as much as Cassandra. Fuck, you think, I’m probably doomed. “I’m hungry. Come here real quick,” Cassandra demands, beckoning you towards her with a single finger. In another life you would have blushed bright red at the sight. A life where she wasn’t a vampiric monster, that is.

Nonetheless, you are quick to obey, masking your anxiety as best as you can. Doing so gets much harder once your gaze meets Cassandra’s, and you see her lick her lips before smirking at you. As soon as you’re within her reach, she’s surging forward, grabbing you by your shoulders, then pivoting, pressing you hard against the wall. You can’t help but gasp at the sudden movements, which only widens her grin. Before you know it she’s running her tongue along your neck. Once more you gasp, this time softer, hating the way your body urges you to lean into her touch. Why couldn’t she simply get straight to the worst of it? Instead she takes her sweet time, slipping a finger beneath the collar of your shirt, slowly, carefully tugging it to the side. When she finally bites, it is terribly sudden. The pleasure comes before the pain, stronger than you would have expected, eliciting a sharp inhale from you that sounds more satisfied than you had intended. Even as a rush of pain follows, you can’t help the red that tints your cheeks.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” Cassandra asks, after licking away at your blood for a few moments, pulling back but not releasing you. Something in her eyes makes you need to respond.

“Y-yes, more than I’d like to admit,” you mumble, barely able to make eye contact. But she seems pleased by this, gently cupping your chin while she looks you over.

“Well then, if you survive… I might just have to drink from you again,” she whispers, before diving right back in towards your neck. This time her touch is far, far softer than before. It feels more like she’s kissing you rather than drinking from you. A strange, irritatingly familiar feeling springs in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t help but make more of those noises she seemed to enjoy so much. Hell, your eyes drift closed as you take in the surprisingly welcome sensation. When they reopen, however, you give a yelp of surprise, spotting a very awkwardly waiting servant. They were blushing, clearly not having expected to come upon this particular sight. Cassandra perks up at your shock, turning to follow your gaze, then giving an uncharacteristically resigned groan. “Damn it, Ava, is it urgent?” She asks, to which the servant gives a silent shrug. “I’ll be done in a minute. Now, where were we?”

Once more she resumes feeding, casting aside all traces of sweetness, sucking on your wound with reckless abandon. Behind her, Ava gives you a thumbs up before turning away. As embarrassing as the moment felt, you were grateful to xer, glad that xe seemed to recognize your desire for privacy. More than that… if xe hadn’t come along, would Cassandra have remembered to stop before your bloodloss became fatal? There was no guarantee either way. Yet xer intervention felt like a godsend, and you made a mental note to thank xer later. Soon enough Cassandra removes herself from you, pausing only to cup your chin for a moment, meeting your gaze with a smirk. Then she was turning away without another word, following Ava to some unknown destination.

A deep breath, then another, more frantic, the familiar sense of panic growing on the edges of your mind. Now that the feeding was over, you were left trembling with all the fear you had been so adamant about not showing before. How close to death had you come? How close were you now? Only feeling slightly more faint than you had earlier, it felt safe enough to assume you would be fine, if only physically. Inside your mind you were struggling with racing thought after racing thought. How the hell am I supposed to do this with either Bela or Daniela? You think, trying to breathe past the lump in your throat. And why did I have to enjoy that so much? They’re nothing more than means to an end, monsters undeserving of my kindness, of my joy. Your only comfort was the knowledge that this may very well have been the opportunity you had been waiting for; but only if you could shift your aim.

—————————

The difference was subtle, almost microscopic, to the point where it took you a full week to notice. But once you had? Everything felt different. You couldn’t spend more than three seconds in the same room as Cassandra without her eyes following you, watching your every move, sending a rush of both fear and excitement down your spine. Meeting her gaze only made her give the tiniest fraction of a smile. As soon as something (or someone) else caught her attention, however, you were forgotten in the blink of an eye. Yet it was nerve wracking nonetheless. This was roughly what you had hoped for, but you had underestimated the mental toll it would take on you. There was no way to tell whether Cassandra wanted violence, something softer, or her usual brand- a cruel mixture of both. Every second spent in her presence was a roll of the dice, a flip of a coin, either one weighted to put the odds against you.

But you persisted. Escape was not a dream, nor a fantasy, nor some far off cryptid. It was inevitable. Again and again you would swallow your fear until you reached your long-sought destination. No matter the cost, you think, no matter the consequences. Over time, that cost, those consequences, would grow. For now, it was a slice of your sanity. Next? More blood, it seemed.

“Casserole wants you to stop by her art studio,” the note said, cursive hand-writing ever-so-fancy and ever-so-difficult to read. Clearly from Ava, the mildly mysterious (but incredibly helpful) castle servant known for never speaking a word. From what you had gathered, xe was a confidant of sorts for the Dimitrescu family, trusted far more than the average worker. Alas, xe was loyal to the center of xer being, and was rumored to be impeccable at preventing escape attempts before they had even started. If you wanted out of this damn place, you knew you’d have to be careful around xer. Hopefully xe won’t interrupt this time, you think, before tucking the note away in your pocket.

Cassandra’s infamous studio wasn’t terribly far from your quarters, thankfully, though you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to arrive at a specific time. What if she wasn’t expecting you until later? Worse, what if she had been expecting you an hour ago? It’s a dangerous thought, one that could easily spiral into something far more drastic, and you try to reassure yourself, reminding yourself that Ava would have mentioned a time if it was important. In the end, you still found your heart racing as you stood outside the room in question. Pausing to take a deep breath, you center yourself, before raising a hand to knock. To your surprise, you get an answer before your hand even gets close to the door.

“Come in already,” Cassandra chimes from inside. Unsure of what terrible fate you were about to meet, you entered the room, somewhat reluctantly. Despite the myriad of unsavory rumors regarding the studio, there were no immediate signs of brutality. At the worst, the space was fairly messy, though not due to any, ahem, “misplaced” body parts. No, just an overflowing garbage bin, a few unfinished projects placed haphazardly wherever they’d fit, shards of glass in one corner, and tile floor splattered with a Pollock-esque layer of paint. In one word? Chaotic. Such was the type of environment that seemed to suit Cassandra best, the sort in which you imagined she would thrive. But you didn’t have time to examine anything as closely as you would have liked to. “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

“No, Lady Cassandra,” you reply, hurriedly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Then you’re quickly crossing the room, to what looks like a cross between a storage cabinet and a paint mixing station. In Cassandra’s hands, however, you find something less welcoming than a paintbrush: A needle and an empty blood bag. Well, you think, I guess I know why I’m here. At least there’s only one bag, right? “What do you require of me, my Lady?” While the answer was fairly obvious, you didn’t know the specific steps necessary, and it never hurt to be as polite as possible with the Dimitrescu family.

“Just sit down, roll your sleeves up, look pretty, and stay still. Try not to make any noises this time- as cute as they were last time, I have a headache,” Cassandra explains, gesturing towards the room’s only chair. Ignoring the way your cheeks heated up, you did as she asked, trying to get relatively comfortable. It was somewhat difficult to relax, considering who you were with. “Calm down, pet, I’m only going to hurt you a little. That’s more than I can say for most people who end up here.” Why did she have to use a nickname for you? Weren’t you already flushed enough without her teasing you further? Though your flustering does turn to confusion after a moment, as you wonder how she knew how afraid you were. You were under the impression that you were hiding it fairly well. Noticing your reaction, Cassandra rolls her eyes, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat. Normally I’d find this… exciting. But my head hurts and I wanted to finish this damn painting yesterday. So take a deep breath, little pet, and let me take what I need from you.”

Of course she had to say it like that, and put herself so close to you. You’re pretty sure that your heart skips a few beats in response, though Cassandra doesn’t react beyond a hint of a smile, merely returning to her prep work. First step was cleaning your skin. Admittedly you hadn’t been sure if that step was necessary, seeing as the blood was (seemingly) for art as opposed to testing, but it didn’t exactly surprise you. Besides, there was a chance she’d drink the leftovers, right? Next she double-checked that the needle was properly connected to the blood bag, and that the latter was resting securely on a small stand. With that out of the way, it was time for her favorite part.

“Since your heartbeat has slowed down a little… I’ll let you whimper if you want to- but only once. Consider it a reward for good behavior,” Cassandra purrs with a familiar grin. One hand gently cups your chin, while her eyes look right in yours, just long enough to turn your cheeks bright red. The moment ends as quickly as it started. Before you know it she’s turned stoic again, feeling along your arm for a vein. This isn’t the first time you’ve had your blood drawn, but Cassandra takes no time at all to find the perfect spot, likely from a mix of practice and, well, her vampiric nature. It’s not long before she’s gently gripping your arm with one hand, briefly making eye contact before pushing the needle into your skin. Does it hurt? Hardly. Do you take a shaky inhale, hoping to please your employer, the closest to a whimper you were willing to give her? Oh, absolutely. And does she react? Oh, absolutely. Her eyes light up for a second as she bites her lower lip. There’s something else in her expression that you can’t quite read, however.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” You ask, smiling, voice soft in the hopes of not aggravating her headache. It’s a risk, and one that pays off more than you’d ever expect. Cassandra giggles a tad, eying you with the least mischievous smile you’ve ever seen from her. If not for the needle still in your arm, you might have found the moment charming, or even… romantic. But you pushed the thought away as soon as possible, reminding yourself of your one true goal: Escaping. This was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Even as Cassandra ever-so-gently removed the needle from your arm, even as she carefully placed a bandage over the entry-point, even as she gave you a nod of approval.

“This should last until the painting is done, at the very least. I might need you to make another ‘donation’ next week, though. Except, hmm… your blood is quite nice,” Cassandra says. Her tone is smooth, almost sultry, but her gaze is focused on her work as she starts mixing the blood with… something? You weren’t familiar with this particular artistic process, nor did you want to be. “Maybe I’ll set up a nice schedule for you. Once a month you can be my darling little muse, and once a month you can be a refreshing snack. I’ll even make sure that my sisters don’t do anything that might spoil our fun. Assuming you continue to prove entertaining, that is.” You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. In the end you settled for the former, chest thrumming with excitement as you felt yourself getting one step closer to your goal.

—————————

Three months pass by in an easy blur. Just as Cassandra had suggested, you find yourself in her company more often than before. Only twice a month does she take blood from you, for your own safety (which she pretends not to care about), but more and more you find her lounging around where you’re working, obviously by “pure coincidence”. Sometimes she even spoke to you! Teasing here and there, or asking you to do things that she normally did for herself, or scaring you just to hear you make one of your “lovely noises”. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether you were more surprised by how attached she had gotten to you, or by how quickly it had happened. Of course, you didn’t even know if she enjoyed your personality… or just your blood. Either way, you found yourself enjoying her presence more than you’d ever openly admit.

Eventually, when the benefits of your budding “friendship” became more clear, you started to enjoy it even more.

It was early in the morning, right when the castle residents tended to go to sleep, and when the night shift officially ended. Minutes prior you had been conversing quietly with Cassandra, dusting some shelves as you did. Now, with your duties done only slightly later than usual, you were making your way back to your quarters. Along the way you were caught off guard by the sound of distant crying. ‘Twas a sound you’d heard many times before, from many different maidens, but this time felt… different. An odd feeling of sympathy sparked in your chest, and you made the brash decision to approach the source of the noise. When you rounded that last corner, when you made eye contact with the trembling figure, you knew that your kindness could very well be the death of you. To think that you had once hoped for this encounter.

“Who’s there?” Bela Dimitrescu snarls through chattering teeth. She’s moving forward, phasing in and out of swarm mode, reaching a hand out to clutch at your throat. Well, you think, at least she’s stopped crying? More so out of being distracted, instead of feeling any comfort from your company. It’s not a terribly reassuring thought, but it’s soon replaced with a mental string of ???? as Bela pauses, grip loosening as she holds you up in the light. “You’re Cassandra’s new favorite. Damnit!” With that she drops you rather unceremoniously. Then she’s turning her back to you, sniffling before wiping the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or I won’t hesitate to string you up, no matter what my sister says. Now get lost.”

Except you can’t force yourself to move. There’s a small piece of you that remembers your original plan, another small part feels a twinge of sympathy, and a majority of your brain sees this as an opportunity. What was a little more risk?

“Would you like me to bring you some tea, Lady Bela?” You ask, attempting to keep your tone neutral, lest she think you were judging her. In response, she turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed, thinly veiled rage only outweighed by the remnants of her anxiety. Then she’s stalking forward with cautious, deliberate movements. For a moment she searches your eyes for any hints at your motive. Hoping to ease her worries, you elaborated on your offer, and the reasoning behind it. “I’ve read that holding something warm in your hands, like a mug of tea or coffee, relaxes the brain. I believe it had something to do with mimicking human touch?... Forgive me if I’m overstepping your boundaries, my Lady. I… I felt compelled to ask, to help in whatever way I can.”

“Oh?” Bela hums, the majority of the anger draining from her face. There’s a hint of genuine surprise behind her bright eyes. “Very well, if you say it might… help.” Before you can turn to leave, you hear her clear her throat, and say one last thing. “A little softer than I would have expected from a pet of Cassandra’s.” She certainly had a point. But you don’t bother responding, instead focusing on your self-given task. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you were really Cassandra’s “pet”, or if there was more to your dynamic. Why did you feel so weird about the idea of being a mere “distraction” to her?... Something to think about while you made that tea, you supposed.

—————————

When you assisted with serving lunch the next day, Bela refused to make eye contact, even as you set a plate in front of her, or when you refilled her wine glass. There was a stiffness in the room that you weren’t familiar with. For the most part, Cassandra is more welcoming, giving you a small nod when you meet her gaze. By the time the family is done eating and moves to leave, the sisters are grouping together to speak in hushed voices. While you clean up after them, you cannot help but wonder if they’re discussing the previous night, or if Bela was as adamant about keeping quiet as she had seemed. Regardless, you felt rather good about how the conversation had gone. Hopefully she’s feeling better, you think, surprising yourself. Not that it matters… unless she tells Cassandra, I suppose.

You don’t see her for the rest of the day. It’s a double-edged sword, in a way. On one hand, you find yourself missing her, unused to not interacting with her at all. On the other hand? All the sudden you’re realizing just how involved she’s become with you. Certainly that meant something? Progress towards your eventual goal of escaping? God, you sure hoped so. Thinking about the future, about your plans, lasts you the entire night, thoughts following you all the way into bed. Sleep feels a million years away, and you find yourself staring silently at the ceiling. Unmoving. Damn near unblinking. When there’s the sound of footsteps outside your room, you are more than welcome for the distraction.

“Wake up, little pet,” a voice calls, as your door opens, and someone quickly slips inside. Before you can even sit up, you feel them slide into the bed with you. “It’s too cold in my room. You’re much warmer, aren’t you?” Clearly your darling Cassandra come to entertain herself. Considering how late in the day it is, you feel like you should be upset, and yet you feel yourself daring to wrap your arms around her. For a moment she goes stiff, but she soon relaxes into your touch. “You’re getting so good at knowing what I want from you. Mmm, I think I’ve trained you well,” she teases, shifting onto her back so she can pull you onto her chest. Although you’ve been this close to her before, this is the first time you’ve realized just how cold her skin is. No wonder she wants to sleep with me, you think, blushing at your unintentional wording.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” you mumble, curling up against her nonetheless. She’s laughing then, without any hint of her usual malice, and you can’t help but laugh with her. When had the two of you gotten so warm with each other? Why did it feel so natural? There’s anxiety gnawing at the base of your skull, threatening to build up into a headache, tugging you away from the softness of the moment. If Cassandra notices, she’s quicker to act than you would have expected. It feels safer to believe that her next actions are a coincidence. Feels… better, when you remember that you are playing her for cheap, that any friendliness is a mockery made for the most bitter of betrayals to come.

“That’s why I’m here, dear. Now hush, I need some rest. With how comfortable you are… I may even let you sleep in,” she teases, before pressing the gentlest kiss to the top of your head. Your throat dries up in response, blush overtaking your cheeks, and you are left unable to speak. The thundering of your heart seems to somehow lull your would-be lover to sleep, while you find yourself growing to love the contrast her chill provides. Somehow, someway, you end up sleeping more soundly than you have in years.

—————————

Another month passes. No opportunities to escape, no grand moves to make in this 4D game of chess, no clever plans to entangle yourself in. Yet you find yourself content. Happy. The work keeps you as busy as ever, but Cassandra often steals you away for her own desires. When she goes to drink your blood, she does so gently, with many soft kisses leading into the big moment. Afterwards she cleans your wound herself, touches as light as a feather, eyes sparkling with unspoken affection. At night, you find her coming to you for warmth almost every day. At first she provides little more than teasing excuses. But in time, she becomes more open, even being so bold as to kiss you on the lips every time, greeting you with quiet “dear”s and “darling”s. It gets to the poin that you cannot sleep without her presence.

Day after day, you find it harder and harder to remember why you were doing this. Was it so bad to enjoy your time with her? Was it so bad to find yourself leaning into her touches, kissing her back, gleefully awaiting your nightly rendezvous with her? Sometimes the thoughts were overwhelming, guilt and shame alike dancing inside your chest. Those days were the hardest to get through. Somehow, again and again, you go to her for comfort. To the very source of your conflict. Every last feeling was driving you towards an inevitable point. A conclusion written in stone, one that had been decided from the very first time Cassandra dug her fangs into your neck.

—————————

Screaming. Horrible, horrible screaming, somehow more pained than that of any maiden you had ever heard, echoing throughout the castle halls, achingly familiar in tone. You had never heard her scream before, and yet you knew that the sound came from Cassandra. Before you can even begin to process your realization, you are thundering through the corridor, towards the noise that rattled your mind so desperately. How could anything possibly hurt her? How often had you seen her push her siblings around, each of them taking hits that could break bones as if they were light shoves? As if the punches tickled? Horror overtakes your thoughts, imagination far worse than reality had any right to be.

When you at last reach your lover, you are frozen in your tracks, eyes wide as can be. There she is, howling with both rage and pain as someone repeatedly slams the butt of a rifle into her head. Behind the fighting duo is a sight you never thought you’d see: An open door. Wide open, enticing, leading straight into the world you had sought to rejoin. You want to leave. God, you want to leave so bad. This is what you have been waiting for- Cassandra has not even seen you yet, too busy grappling with her attacker, movements too slow to be normal. What was wrong? Why were her limbs such a strange color? Was that… frost on her clothes? Or… crystal? Your gaze flickers back and forth between her and the exit, as time seems to pause, memories of the past few months racing through your mind. Goddamnit, you think, this is what I want, isn’t it? Consequences be damned, right? I said I wouldn’t stop for anything.

And so you move, automatically, on autopilot, unable to think about anything other than what you treasured most: Cassandra. One moment you’re standing still in the foyer, the next you’re grabbing a poker from the fireplace. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the movements come naturally, as you surge towards the scrambling pair. In one swift motion you drive the metal rod into the skull of the intruder, hating the sound, hating the splatter of blood against your clothes, hating the feeling of resistance followed by a terrible, terrible give. But the man slumps almost immediately, allowing your girlfriend to shove him off of herself. Still unable to think coherently, you’re throwing yourself into her arms.

“Holy shit, holy shit, oh my god, I- I, fuck. Are you…? Fucking tell me that you’re okay, please,” you ramble, holding the dangerously cold body of your girlfriend close to you, refusing to let go. She’s crying, clinging to you as desperately as you cling to her. But she’s responding in the affirmative. Over and over, saying she’s okay, telling you that it’s okay. Before you know it, she’s the one comforting you.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Okay? Look at me, take a deep breath. If anyone should be freaking out it’s me,” she says, pulling back enough to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s blood on her fingers, making your eyes go wide, but she quickly wipes it off with a scowl. Then she’s caressing your skin again, soft repeating motions perfect for calming you down. “That’s right, see? We’re fine. You’re a fucking badass, darling, and honestly? It’s very attractive.” Now you’re both giggling, you a bit more than her. Because of course she’s flirting right now. It’s an incredible softness. One that you, quite frankly, do not feel you deserve. At first it’s a tiny voice in the back of your head, but it soon grows until it strikes the smile from your lips. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, really,” you interject, as fast as you can, ignoring the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra isn’t convinced, however, and gives you a pleading look. Knowing that you cannot resist her, you close your eyes, sighing, then admit your wretched truth. “The door. Cassandra, the door’s open. I… I came down the hallway and I saw the two of you and I saw the fucking door and I… I hesitated. I hesitated.” There’s a mighty tremble to your voice, teeth and lips shaking. In the moment, you cannot bring yourself to meet her gaze, eyes instead glued to the bloodstained floor. It’s so quiet that you swear you can hear your tears hitting the tile. The air around you is filled with a looming heartache, a shadow over the two of you, hungry for your tears. But the rage you anticipate from Cassandra never comes.

For fuck’s sake, she pulls you closer. She takes you in her arms, making you rest your head against her chest, one hand gently rubbing circles into your back. Shock makes you unable to do anything other than linger limply in her grip. Thankfully, she has more than enough words for the both of you.

“Of course you did. All you ever wanted was to escape, right? And all I ever wanted was to see how much fun I could get out of you before you betrayed us,” she admits, coolly, as if the words didn’t break both of your hearts. At first, you merely start crying harder, realizing that she had seen through you this whole time. Realizing that all of her softness had just been sharpness covered in sheep’s clothing. Except she’s not done talking. “Now look at us. Couple of idiots who caught feelings. So shut up, because we’re in this mess together, now, and I don’t intend to let you go, understood? You-” she pulls back, looking you right in the eyes- “are mine. Besides… you just killed for me. I think that more than makes up for any hesitance, yeah?” Before you know it you’re kissing her. You’re pressing yourself to her, smiling through your tears, forced to pause to laugh at yourself. How ridiculous had this whole affair been? How had you convinced yourself, for so long, that escape was all you had cared about?...

All this time you thought you wanted out. But at the end of the day… you just wanted to go home. How could you have guessed that you would have found a new home, here, in someone’s arms? Despite the surprise of it all… you couldn’t be happier.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #the soft to your sharp

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realcube · 4 years ago

Text

haikyuu!! boys’ reactions to you speaking 💗 uwu💗

characters: tsukishima, ushijima, yaku, kenma & iwazumi

thank you anon for this cute request 💕 idk what i just wrote but i had fun 👍

IWAIZUMI & KENMA’S ARE AGED UP! MUTURE THEMES - MINORS DNI

tw// fluff, swearing, uwu language, cwinge

kenma’s hcs tw// sexual themes, implied switch!reader, phone sex(?), mentions of a blowjob, mentions of punishment

iwaizumi’s hcs tw// breeding kink, fem!reader, orgasm denial

Kei Tsukishima

you realised he didn’t like it so you did it just to annoy him LMFAO

he was scrolling through tiktok and a girl popped up on his fyp talking like that, so he snarled and immediately flicked it away, muttering something along the lines of ‘why do people speak like that? do they think it’s cute? ‘cause it’s really not; it’s just embarrassing.’

so you wasted no time in responding, ‘sowwy? what was that?’

HELL 👏 FIRE

his blood literally ran cold, he was aware that you liked taking the piss but he didn’t expect you to do it to this extent

‘what did you just say?’ he murmured, silently praying that he had just misheard you

you rolled your eyes before scoffing ‘nothing.’ you deepened your voice, just playing around at this point tbh

tsukishima hummed in agreement, deciding not to inquire further as he figured that he must’ve heard the echo of the girl’s voice in his head rather than yours

so he was just about go back to scrolling until he heard you coo in a high-pitched from behind him, ‘tsukishima is a lil’ bitch.’

‘(Y/N), FUCKING STOP!’ he let a throaty scream at you

‘you’re so boring, tsukki-’ you spoke, quickly cutting yourself off so you could switch to your uwu voice, ‘or should I say; bowing.’

you said, hopeful that your voice would make it clearing that you meant ‘boring’ rather than the act of playing an instrument with a bow

‘go to hell.’ he grumbled, trying his best to tune you out by pulling his headphones over his ears

‘babe~’ you purred, shuffling over to him and peppering kisses along the nape of his neck as you were feeling extra evil today, ‘wuv you~’

‘jail.’ tsukishima simply stated as he switched over to Spotify so he could blare some Mother Mother to drown out the sound of your voice

the worst part was that he couldn’t even tell if he liked it or not PFFT

like it was cute but the fact you weaponised it against him annoyed him

but you were also giving him kithes so he couldn’t exactly complain 💞

Morisuke Yaku

ok don’t even lie yaku does a variant of the uwu voice whenever he’s trying to insult kuroo IUGBEIGVA

it’s something like ‘aww, kuwoo, does your lil’ undewdeveloped bwain not undewstand algebwa?’ but in a mocking way yk?

so when a he watches a lil’ tabby cat approach you on the street, then you busted out the uwu voice that he had never heard before- he was taken aback

at first he was like ‘woah why are you making fun of that cat?’ bc he always associated that voice with ridicule LMFAO

but when he processed all the nice things you were saying he realised that you were being nice lol

so then he was like ‘awwww 🥺 (y/n) + cat = SO FKN CUTE!! 💕💗💖’ *click click* and he just starts taking photos

he probably puts them on his private story with the caption ‘their an angel 😍’

(then kuroo probably replies with ‘they’re*’) (don’t ask why yaku put him on his private story ✋)

anyway, he’s probably so fond of the voice too like ofc he thinks it’s cute

bc it’s a lil’ kitten and you’re talking to it in a high-pitched voice as if it can understand you SO FKN CUTE

he’s not too effected by it tho- it’s mostly how well you get on with the cat that he really admires

then he couched down beside you to talk to the cat too and y’all had a whole conversation with it in uwu

‘aww, look! are you hungwy, baby?’ you asked the cat as it licked the back of it’s paw

‘i think, it is!’ yaku continued, aware that if anybody from school caught him doing this, he’d pass away on the spot but what can he say? he’s soft for you (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

‘i have some blueberries in my bag, you can have some if you say please.’ he told the cat

you were both met by the cat’s blank - but adorable - stare, accompanied by silence until the kitten let out a faint, ‘mew’

‘AWWWWWW!!! 💞💕💖🥺👏 ’ you both squealed in unison, impressed by the kitten’s response

‘it understands us!’ you gasped while applauding the cat for it’s excellent communication skills

‘the voice must work!’ yaku concluded as he scrambled to throw his bag off his back and rummage through it in search of the tub of blueberries

you nodded, watching in awe as yaku pulled out the tub to carefully pick out the plumpest berries and feed them to the cat

yaku noticed your expression out of the corner of his eye and chuckled, ‘what?’

‘you’re so cute.’ you snickered, lighting bopping his nose with your index finger as he continued to allow the cat to feed out of the palm of his hand

a furious blush immediately covered his cheeks as he hastily turned his head away to hide it - in a typical anime fashion, ‘be quiet.’

Kenma Kuzome

it’s a sex thing-- it’s 100% a sex thing

a kink perhaps?

ngl he loves it when you do the voice in bed

like don’t ask why it turns him on so much

he’s weak for you whenever you do the voice tbh

BUT it’s only hot when you do it

when any other person does it - especially if it’s over text - he literally gags 🤢🤢🤢

when a streamer he watches does the voice, he’s just thinks ‘ew ✋ that isn’t cute. pls stop.’

but when you do it- boner alert pfft

especially when you moan in that voice yES HE LOVES THAT

you just execute it in a way these other bitches just can’t, okay? 💅 IUERBGFERIBG

he doesn’t mind putting the voice on sometimes if you like it when he does it but he’s really embarrassed by it 🙈

he’ll try to say something in the voice while you’re rearranging his guts for a change and you’re praising him like 👏👏👏 ‘awh, precious kenma bb.i love that voice on you, i might just let you cum early--’

and he’s fucking groaning from pain, pleasure and humiliation

‘never again.’ was the single coherent thought he could form

you’re only giving like 20% of the time but if you happen to giving on a day that you’re feeling especially evil, you might make him do the voice in exchange for orgasm privileges

but he gets you back for it though

you’d call him, whining and pleading for him to help you with the throbbing between your legs or at the very least, give you permission to touch yourself

but considering that the day prior, you had tortured his ass to the point were he was now struggling to sit down, ofc he was just like ‘no ❤’ when you ask for his assistance

even after your continuous begging, he didn’t budge

‘don’t you dare put your hands on yourself until i get home. i’m leaving right now so i should be back in half an hour but if you keep pestering me like a little bitch, then i’ll be sure to go extra slow on the highway.’

although, for kenma ‘extra slow’ is probably the speed limit lmao

(istg he drives like he’s in mario kart)

however, half an hour was just too long 😩 i mean, you had probably been on call with him for 5 minutes already and it took you 20 minutes to get him to pick up the phone so by now, you were clearly on the brink of madness

‘kitten~’ you whined, desperately trying to think of a way to convince kenma to aid you

then you remembered; his weak spot

‘pwease, baby?’ you softened and raised the pitch of your voice

kenma perked up as he realised what you were trying to do, the tips of his ears burning, ‘don’t bother to try that with me, (y/--’

‘i’ll suck you off when you come back.’ you promised, keeping the voice on, the aching getting worse and worse by the second

kenma was now partially able to relate to your circumstance as he began to feel a straining of his own, between his legs at your cutesy tone along with the image of the last time you blew him tormenting his mind

‘whatever. but only use your hands. i can tell when you use a toy so don’t even try; or else i’ll dick you down ‘til the sun rises- okay bye.’

atm the moment, that hardly sounded like a punishment but then you reflected back on how you’d be crying for a mercy after the fourth round with kenma so- yeah

anyway, moral of the story, if you perform the voice well enough, it’s basically kenma’s weakness so use it wisely

Hajime Iwaizumi

you first did the voice in front of him while you had a friend’s baby in your arms and you were trying to communicate with it

it kinda looked like

you: hewwo babyy~ who’s the most precious thing? you are!

the baby: 🤠

the parent: 🙂

iwa: 😶

iwa ON THE INSIDE: breeding kink go brrrr 😩 i want to put a baby in her so bad- she’ll scream my name in that fucking voice tonight

and he was right

cut to him pounding you while demanding that you say his name in ✨the voice✨ or else you won’t be allowed to cum

ofc you had too much pride for that so you just let him dick you down and cum whether he likes it or not but he could tell that was the plan you had in mind so he suddenly pulled out just as you were about to reach your high

he looked at you with a mean scowl, ‘fucking say it or i’ll stop right now.’

if he were to stop, it would kinda be a punishment for him too but he didn’t care- anything to see his lovely gf suffer tbh 😇

also he could get off to you fingering yourself, struggling to orgasm- he’s done it before and he’ll gladly do it again if you don’t say his damn name

‘iwa..’ you groaned, gripping at the sheets as you anticipated him sliding his cock back into you

‘in the voice.’ iwaizumi reiterated, delivering a hard smack to the side of your thigh out of annoyance

you hissed at the sharp impact , gulping to lubricate your dry throat before choking out in your best imitation of the voice he desired, ‘iwa~’

he was only half-satisfied with what you uttered but i mean, it got the job done

his dick was throbbing, practically begging for the comfort of your warm cunt once again so he hastily slipped back in, letting out a low groan as he did so

so he’d continue hammer you from behind, probably muttering incoherent things about your babies and your voice while doing so but you chose to pay little attention to it as you couldn’t help but focus on your own intense pleasure

once he finally climaxed, he did it inside you which you wasn’t surprising as y’all had already established that you love being being filled up and he loves filling you up 💕

but then he insisted that y’all go for another few rounds to increase the chance of pregnancy

like- sir-

you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were on birth control

bc surely......he would’ve known

but he didn’t

you eventually told him that you had no interest in coming off birth control and he wasn’t mad LMAO he didn’t even want a baby tbh he was just caught up in the moment

yeah no but if you do the voice again, the cycle will continue

Wakatoshi Ushijima

you were both hanging out in your bedroom, doing your own things, and you were sending your friend a (video) snap so you ironically used the uwu voice

ofc this caught his attention so he shifted his gaze off of his revision sheets and onto you, shooting you a weird look

you couldn’t help but snicker, turning to him and continuing with your little impression, ‘can i hewp you?’ you tried to ask in all seriousness but you couldn’t suppress the smile that was tugging on the corners of your lip

were you a little high? yes

ushijima just blinked rapidly, wondering why you sound like a cuter version of mickey mouse all of a sudden

was it a trend?

or maybe it was for one of those ‘tiktoks’?

either way, ushijima couldn’t help what he said next

‘no. i’m fiwne.’

IUERSBGTOHAROHSGBGFRO

HE SAID IT LIKE ‘fi - whine’ THO

you passed away 💀⚰

‘TOSHI!!!’ you screamed, feeling your soul leave your body

ushijima gasped, thinking that you had just been possessed or sumn, ‘hm?’

once he realised that you were in fact sane, he figured that your reaction must have something to do with his response

‘did i say something wrong?’ his lips curling into the tiniest of smiles, simply because you looked so joyous so ofc he was he was happy seeing you happy

‘nope! please say it again, toshi! i’m beggin’ ya’

‘no.’

although he loved hearing you laugh more than anything, the man had his limits

ngl he doesn’t mind when you do it - it just doesn’t especially effect him, that’s all

you could just randomly start talking like that during a conversation and he’ll just go from 😐 to 😐

but he gets butterflies when you call him ‘baby’ which is something you usually pickup whenever you put on the voice lol <3

pls call him ‘baby’ or ‘babe’ more he just wants to feel cared for and loved for a change instead of always having to constantly put on a front of ‘big, stoic man with no feeling that you can push around to your hearts content’ around literally everyone. sometimes he just wants to come home and feel like he can actually express himself and be soft without getting ridiculed

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stardusttkachuk · 5 years ago

Text

Breaking Rules

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff

Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex, swearing

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: The rules are no pogue on pogue mackin’. You and JJ sneak away from John B’s party and find yourself in the old Volkswagen, breaking that rule.

You slide the door to the van open, quickly climbing inside with JJ right behind you. JJ can’t keep his hands off of you; they’re on your lower back as he all but shoves you inside. They find their way to your thigh before he’s even gotten the door closed and then they’re on your cheeks and in your hair as he kisses you.

He tastes a little bit like weed, but mostly of mint. Spearmint to be exact, a taste you’ve gotten used to when kissing his lips. Five and a half months ago the kisses were short and sweet and not much to savor, but now every chance you had it was hot makeouts that lead to more.

Nobody could know though. There was a strict rule of no pogue on pogue macking, one that everyone had agreed to follow when the rules first came about. So for the last five months, you and JJ had been sneaking around. You shared kisses behind your friends back and snuck off together whenever you had the chance. Tonight was no different. The party that John B was hosting at his place was the perfect opportunity for a getaway. The old Volkswagen was questionable as the most private spot, but it was far enough away from the house, and offered shelter and warmth. And who was going to come looking in the van? John B wasn’t going anywhere, and from past experience you knew Pope and Kiara would be spending the night too. The van was all yours for the evening.

JJ grabs a blanket from the front seat and spreads it out on the floor of the back. It isn't much more comfortable but at least it’s softer and warmer than the hardwood that covered the back of the Volkswagen.

JJ sits on the blanket with his back against the bench seat and pulls you into his lap. Your knees are on either side of his legs and you’ve got his face in your hands as your makeout session continues. JJ slips his hands under your shirt, cupping around your breasts. He’s got you moaning at his touch already.

He pulls away from the kiss just enough to rid you of your shirt and bra, tossing them to the side. You follow suit and pull his over his head, throwing it somewhere behind you, long forgotten as his lips are on yours again.

JJ unbuttons your shorts, slipping his hand down the front of them and into your panties. His fingers glide over your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bud. You moan which makes JJ attach his lips to yours to quiet you down.

“We’re gonna get caught,” he whispers.

“Well if you’d stop fucking teasing me,” you start, only for JJ to lie you down on your back and kiss you again.

Your shorts and panties join your shirt somewhere in the old van as JJ pulls them off. His fingers return to your clit and move down until his middle finger is teasing your entrance. It isn’t long before he’s got two fingers inside you, crooking them against your g-spot and watching you writhe beneath him.

JJ loves foreplay. He’ll prolong sex as long as possible, always wanting to see how many times he can get you to fall apart. He’s good at it too. He knows exactly where to touch you and which spots have you moaning and begging for more. He knows how to make you cum before he’s even entered you, and he loves making you cum.

“JJ,” you moan, hand gripping onto his bicep. You’re already close, and the sounds you’re making are keeping JJ going, faster now, letting you chase your release.

His fingers are soaked when he pulls them out. He hungrily sucks them into his mouth, licking them clean. He does it every time, practically fawning over the way you taste. If you had more time, you’d happily let him eat you out, but you know the rest of the pogues will realize your guys’ absence and come looking for you soon.

JJ’s cock is hard and tenting the board shorts he’s wearing. You slip them down just past his hips, watching his member spring up, precum leaking out of the tip. He sits down again with his back against the bench seat and pulls you onto his lap. He lowers you onto his cock, biting his lip to silence the moans he desperately wants to let out.

The new position felt amazing. A lot of the time you’ve settled for standard missionary, or JJ lying down and you on top. Sometimes you’d have a quickie in the shower, pressed up against the tile wall. But sitting on his lap like this was new. It felt closer than you just riding him. You were literally face to face, chest to chest, and it allowed a new, much deeper angle. It was harder to keep quiet.

You took the lead and slowly lifted yourself up before sinking back down on him. His head tipped back, hands finding your waist as he aided in the lifting and dropping. You took the opportunity to nip at his neck, carelessly sucking a mark into his skin, right under his jaw where you knew he loved it the most. The others would point it out later and would congratulate him on getting some, then ask who it was. You took pride in knowing it was all your doing.

JJ was a mess of moans. His fingers were digging half moon shapes into the skin on your hips. Your name would fall from his lips every time you changed speed or rocked against him in a new way. The best part of it was how close you were. He didn’t need to be loud - although he wasn’t exactly quiet - you could hear each whispered plea, feel his hot breath against your skin as it picked up from your activities. There was sweat dripping off of each of you, but neither of you cared, far too lost in the moment with each other.

You were so close to cumming again and you knew by the sound of JJ’s voice that he was too. Your movements became sloppy. JJ tried to make it consistent, bouncing you faster on his cock, making you drop down harder, even lifting his own hips up, chasing after his orgasm.

“Fuck,” JJ cursed, forehead pressed against yours. He kissed your lips, drowning out the sounds of you both tipping over the edge. It was the first time you had ever come at the same time, and damn did it feel amazing. You were on cloud nine until you heard the familiar voices nearing the van.

“JJ! Y/N!” Pope called.

You scrambled off of JJ’s lap, searching around desperately for your shorts. JJ pulled up his bottoms, quickly resituating himself against the bench seat. He grabbed a pre rolled joint that was stuffed under one of the bags in the back, lighting it quickly and placing it between his lips.

You had managed to throw on your shorts and JJ’s shirt in the dark, sitting across from him and leaning against the backs of the front seats. “Gimme a hit,” you say, reaching out for the joint.

“No. Get your own!” JJ retorts.

“I hear them!” It’s Kie’s voice this time, and then it’s the sound of footsteps approaching the beaten up Volks.

She slides open the side door, the back suddenly illuminating with the interior light. “Where have you guys been?”

“Out here. Hot boxing the van,” JJ answers smoothly.

Kiara’s eyes dart towards you. “Why are you wearing JJ’s shirt?”

“I spilled beer all over mine,” you lie, holding up your own shirt that’s bunched up in your hands. “So, JJ lent me his.”

“John B’s freaking out looking for you guys,” Pope pipes up.

“Why?”

“Someone said there was a car accident like 10 miles away. He couldn’t find you guys anywhere and neither of you were answering your phones,” Pope explains.

“Shit. Mine’s on silent,” you say.

“I never even heard mine ring,” JJ adds.

“You are pretty faded. Maybe you shouldn’t be smoking that one,” you tease, grabbing the joint from his fingers. After a quick puff yourself you extinguish the end of it, still saving plenty for another time.

“Hey!” JJ yells. “First you’re gonna take my shirt and now my weed?”

“Yes. Now let’s go, so John B stops freaking out.”

You climb out of the back of the van with JJ right behind you. Pope stops JJ though, as you and Kiara walk in front of them and back up to the chateau.

“Nice hickey, J,” you hear him say.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Kie must notice the red tint to them because her jaw drops. “You are not screwing JJ,” she says through gritted teeth. “And in the back of the van too!?”

You put a finger to your lips, shushing her. “I will tell you everything if you just promise not to tell anyone else.”

“You broke pogue rules,” she whispers.

You glance back at JJ, who is flaunting the hickey to Pope who is completely oblivious to the fact that you gave it to him. “We’ve been breaking them for almost six months now.”

“And how long are you planning on keeping this a secret?”

JJ’s eyes catch yours and he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. “As long as we can.”

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years ago

Text

romeo must die

this one-shot is based on the song Romeo Must Die by Gabrielle Aplin, I highly recommend listening to it! shout out to @eugeniaslongsword for introducing me to it :) i even borrowed some lyrics from it haha. it is also inspired by the entire playlist I made, "being treated badly by someone doesn't make you love them more"

content warnings: past toxic/unhealthy relationship, the uncomfy 6-year age gap between Alastair and Charles

Masterlist | Read on AO3

"Alastair, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Alastair looked up from what he was working on. He was in the library of the Institute, along with Cordelia, Thomas, James, Matthew, and Christopher. They were searching for any clue as to how Lucie had done what she’d done or what Tatiana and Belial were planning. Alastair wasn't entirely sure how he got roped into the ordeal, but it seemed as though Thomas suggested him as an extra set of eyes, and Cordelia latched onto the idea.

"No," he said curtly, returning to his reading.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm quite busy at the moment." Alastair spoke under his breath, not wanting to draw the others' attention. How many times had Charles barked the same words at him, swatting him away, hacking away at paperwork or planning his next step in his career? The words sat bittersweet in his chest.

"Surely you could spare a few moments."

"I certainly could. But I do not wish to." Charles had a way of getting into his head and twisting his words and his feelings. It was not an experience he wished to revisit. It was better here, with an audience. It had also been easier in the infirmary, knowing that he held all of the power. His father had made him feel the same way, he thought bitterly. He understood now that what he'd done at school was not only to protect himself from the bullies. He wanted to reclaim the power stolen from him by his father; he wanted for once in his life to hold power himself. He hadn't yet come to the realization that holding that kind of power did nothing but harm. It was of no use, anyways, because it didn't matter how much he perfected his tongue and his wit on the other students at the Academy, he was never able to use it when it counted. Not with Elias, and not with Charles.

"It's fine if you need to take a few minutes, Alastair,” Cordelia said gently. All of the eyes in the room had come to rest on the two of them. Now he wished he’d spoken louder.

“It’s alright, Charles was just leaving.”

He had hoped that Charles would give up and leave knowing that everyone was watching him, but he was determined. He grabbed Alastair’s arm. “It’ll just be-”

Alastair stood, but pulled his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

In a flicker, Alastair saw it: the anxiety began to set in. Charles began to realize that he would not be able to play his usual tricks. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I believe I was quite clear when I told you I don’t wish to speak with you. You’re the one who can’t let this go.”

“Must you act so childish?”

He rolled his eyes. “Must you always call me childish for thinking for myself instead of catering to your every whim?”

“I don’t understand. You said we were fine.”

Alastair sighed. Perhaps for a moment, he thought that was true. For just a second, he thought there was a world where he and Charles could be friends. But Alastair had decided that he would no longer call people who hurt him his friends. “Yes, well, I lied. I wanted to let you down gently, but it’s clear to me now that it must be spelled out for you. How shall I put this? You and I are past our dancing days, Charles.”

“But-” He stammered, searching for words. “What happened with Grace Blackthorn wasn’t my fault.”

“Maybe not. But what of Miss Bridgestock? Am I to pretend that what happened with Miss Blackthorn was not the same as what happened two years earlier?”

“You told me many times that you took no issue with that, that you understood.”

“I understood what you told me, which we both know was never the full truth. I was a sixteen year old desperate for your affections, and the fact that you truly believe I never had any issue with your arrangement is proof that you never genuinely cared about me or listened to my thoughts. I told you in the infirmary that this wasn’t your fault because I thought it’d ease the pain, but I lied. And I don’t have time to sit here and watch you cry over it.”

Alastair wished that watching Charles become flustered would have been more enjoyable. Instead, all he wanted was for this to end. “You- you’re different than when we met. You’ve changed. You’re cruel and callous, I don’t understand how I could not see how heartless you were until now. You are everything that everyone claims you to be. How am I to even know what the truth is when it comes from your lips?”

There was a time when those words would have cut deeply into him, eating at his every insecurity, but Charles mistakenly assumed that Alastair was the same person he was last July, with the same insecurities. “When we met, I was fourteen years old. I’ve grown up, and it is time for you to do the same. It’s been six months, Charles. You need to stop writing me. If that makes me heartless, I don’t care. And if you wish to know the truth, the truth is that the moment you leave here, if I never see your face again, it still will not be long enough.”

Charles stared at him for a long while, unable to find a proper retort. In the end, it was Matthew who stepped in. “Charles, I believe it’s time for you to go.”

He obliged, finally turning to leave the library. As he began to walk away, however, Alastair knew that he was not finished. His heart beat a little bit faster at the thought of such a confession, and faster again when he realized who would hear it, but there was no piece of parting with Charles that he wished to regret.

“Wait,” he said. Charles froze and turned to look at him. “I know it’s unlikely that you have it in the cold depths of your soul to care, but let the record show that I would have given you everything. I would have given you my life, all of the love and trust that I had to give, and then I would have given more. And you gave me nothing. So the next time you’re pondering my heartlessness, you ought to wonder what that means for you.”

Finally satisfied, Alastair did not wait for Charles to turn and leave again to return to his seat and pick his reading back up. He waited for a moment, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him. He stood once more, opening his mouth to speak, but the words were caught in his throat. Instead, he walked out of the library in silence.

Finding the nearest balcony, he attempted to steady his breath.

“Are you alright?” He heard from behind him. Thomas. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shook his head. “I just needed some air.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Alastair sighed. He backed up against the window and slid down to the floor of the balcony. “I know- I know that everyone sort of knew already, but… by the Angel, I feel so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Thomas told him, sitting down beside him.

“You were right, of course you were. I was so… taken with him, back in Paris. I couldn’t see him for what he was. I was so naive, so foolish. I just- After everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been through, how did I not realize-”

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s knee. “You wanted to see the best in him. After everything you’d seen and been through, you wanted to believe that there were still good and honest people in the world. And there are. I’m sorry that he was not one of them, but that does not make you foolish or pathetic. It makes you… kind.”

“I bet you’d never imagined describing me as such before.”

“It seems you’re full of surprises,” Thomas teased. “But that’s not true. I always saw the kindness in you, even back at school, when you did everything to keep it hidden.”

“As you can see, my ‘kindness’ has never gotten me very far.”

“You were out of practice. Following me on my reckless nighttime patrols, that was kind. More than kind. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, for risking your life to protect mine.”

“I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“And yet I owe you mine nonetheless.”

“I can’t go back in there, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tolerate you and your friends hating me just fine. But if any of your friends give me even an ounce of pity- well, we’ll see just where the limits of my kindness lie, won’t we?”

Thomas stood up, offering Alastair his hand. “Pity comes from those who cannot even begin to understand what you’ve experienced. For what it’s worth, I don’t think my friends will pity you. But if they do, you can ignore them. For Lucie.”

Alastair sighed and allowed Thomas to pull him to his feet. “Fine. Let’s get back to reading.”

“Speaking of reading, do you have the entirety of Shakespeare’s canon memorized, or only the lines you believe may pop up in conversation?”

“Excuse me?”

“‘For you and I are past our dancing days,’ it’s Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it? It’s the only one of his works that I got through.”

Alastair froze. “You haven’t read Hamlet?”

“I tried.”

“Othello? King Lear? Macbeth? Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He shook his head.

“That’s impossible. And James is friends with you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wait until my sister finds out you haven’t read Hamlet,” he warned, starting towards the library with urgency in his step.

“Wait, don’t- I just don’t like Shakespeare! What’s so wrong with that?” Thomas’ attempts at reasoning were futile, however, a welcome distraction from all of their recent sorrows finally taking hold.

Thanks for reading!! This was self indulgent af lol. I'm not to sure whether some people only wanted to be tagged in my social media AU, so if that's the case I'm sorry & please tell me!: @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @thecodexsays @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @icouldnotask @shadowhunting-hooligans @melanielocke @clarys-heosphoros @kiwichaeng @lightwoodsimp @thecrimsonsorceresss @theenchanteddreamer @adams-left-hand @yozinha-z @ipromiseiwillwrite @skirtsandsweaters @goodoldfashionednerd

#alastair carstairs #charles fairchild #if you're a charles apologist just block me #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #cw toxic relationship #coi spoilers #fanfiction #fanfic

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sockablock · 4 years ago

Text

(TW for panic attacks and discussions about trauma)

— — —

The thing is, Beau's friends are shit fighters.

To be clear—she's not saying that they're bad at fighting, gods know Veth's a force of nature with her crossbow and all of the spell-slingers can kill with a word—it's just that when it comes to fighting, actual fighting, that down-and-dirty fist-on-flesh shit, her friends suck. Most of 'em just run, or they’d sweet-talk a surrender, or go back to slinging spells.

Beau would never admit she misses the Soul, but at least those people knew how to block. At least Dairon would make her work for it, wouldn't tell her to please, gods, Beau, stop punching me, I give!

Fjord's better these days, but not good enough.

Which is why, on their third morning back in Nicodranas, when Beau opens the door to see Yasha looking restless, she knows exactly what's up.

"Should I get my staff?"

Yasha shrugs. She usually does.

"I'll grab it. Down in five."

Beau considers grabbing some toast too, but she remembers how antsy Yasha seemed and figures she should try to avoid puking in Marion’s yard.

Yasha is stretching when she gets there. The gate swings behind her with a gentle clunk, and she kicks her shoes off, curls her toes in the grass. The sun is barely broken above rooftops and towers, and the first chime of church bells ring out overhead.

Beau yawns a little, but it’s just for flavor. Mind games. She’s not actually sleepy.

“We do not have to—”

She quickly waves her hand. “It’ll wake me up. You know, get the blood pumping.”

Yasha smiles a little at that. It’s always such a small one, but it’s getting to be familiar.

“I got up early. I couldn’t sleep. Er...sorry.”

Beau doubles her effort to be dismissive. “Don’t apologize to me, Yasha. C’mon. You think I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to?”

This seems to be a winning argument. Yasha nods, like she can’t imagine Beau doing anything she doesn’t want.

Maybe it’s the crisp ocean breeze, maybe it’s the way they circle each other in the yard. Maybe it’s the fresh brush of gauze on her fists.

Beau wants to win.

She dives in, pulls low, uses her quick movement to catch Yasha off-guard and get in as closely as she can. Yasha’s tall, broad, strong as an ox, and even holding back, she could wind Beau with a punch. She presses even closer, limiting Yasha’s motions, sweeps out a leg and cuts up when Yasha moves. The two of them duck and weave and push, neither allowing the other an inch, fists flying, blows being blocked and sweat beginning to pour down their backs. Beau lands a hit that leaves Yasha grunting, then stumbles when a wild haymaker knocks her back. It’s clear that Yasha was never taught any form, just scraped it all together by surviving on the moors and her chaotic movement, high endurance, and reckless confidence just make her deadlier.

Beau tries to close in again, but a lucky kick forces her a pace too far. Her knuckles are bruising in that numb, seething way, and so she darts to the side, grabs her staff, vaults up and then arcs her foot to Yasha’s face—

The dance starts again, this time hardwood hitting forearms and on anyone else, Beau might even feel guilty about it. But Yasha barely seems to register the thwack, her teeth bared in a sideways grin, her eyes hard and excited and alive. Beau’s probably wearing the same expression. She hears herself laughing, and knows that she is. Up-swing, down-swing, slide left, throw a punch, block one, dart back, duck and then—

Yasha’s fist catches her right in the gut, sends Beau lurching flat into the dirt. She chokes her own breath, coughs up dust, barely gets an elbow up with Yasha leaning over her, blotting out the sun, raising Beau’s staff for a finishing strike—

Halts.

It’s like watching a tower fall. Yasha staggers back. She drops the staff. She lifts her hands and stares at her palms and Beau hears a mangled breath. Her knees give. She collapses on herself.

Beau scrambles up, aching limbs forgotten.

“Yasha?” she says. “Yasha? Are you—is—what’s wrong?”

Yasha sucks in more air, but that just seems to make things worse. Her shoulders tremble and her lungs sound ragged.

“Aw, shit,” says Beau, “I mean—fuck—uh—”

She half-runs, half-crawls, ‘til she’s at Yasha’s side. She wants to put her hand on Yasha’s arm, thinks better of it, panics a little more. She wishes she were Jester. She wishes she were Cad. They’d know what to do, they’d be better at this than her, anyone, hell, Marius would be better at this than her—

But it’s her, and everyone’s still in the house, so she shakes her head and stamps the fear down.

“Yasha, I...aw, fuck, I’m—I’m here, it’s okay, nothing’s wrong—” clearly something is wrong, idiot, “—I mean, um, you’re safe here, okay? It’ll be alright. I’m here, and I’ll stay if that’s what you want, okay? I won’t go anywhere, if you don’t want. Uh...can you shake your head if you want me to go? Is that...possible, can you—”

A frantic shake.

“Oh good, okay, thank fuck, then I’m here. I’m right here, Yash. I’m not going anywhere.” She tries to pitch her voice calm, takes deep, long breaths, and continues to murmur as reassuringly as she can until after...seconds? Minutes? Yasha’s trembling slows.

There’s a pause. Yasha inhales and lets it go. It’s shaky, but apparently good enough because finally, eventually, she turns and looks back at Beau.

“I’m...okay. I am okay.”

Beau sinks back into the grass. Then she lies down. “Oh, cool. I’m, uh, glad.”

“I’m so—”

She holds up a hand. “Nope. C’mon.” She pats the ground beside her.

“Er...what?”

She pats it again, emphatic. “Lie down. C’mon. I think we’ve earned a break.”

She stares up at the sky while Yasha shifts around, and eventually there’s a gentle thud as she lies down. Seagulls cry in the distance and clouds drift slowly past their heads.

Beau swears, but mentally. A private thing.

“So, uh...do we...want to talk about it, or...?”

Yasha is quiet for a moment. That’s not surprising. Then:

“It...reminded me of when I killed you.”

“What? Oh—”

“Almost killed you,” Yasha amended. “Both times.”

“Right,” says Beau. “That’s...right.”

She thinks about saying—almost. You only almost killed me, so really it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. And you kill people all the time anyway, right?

She blinks. “Wait, you kill people all the time, Yasha. Is it always that bad? Shit, does it always...does it always make you feel like this? Only...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you...break like that...”

She regrets the words immediately. Stupid, Beau, that’s a stupid thing to say.

But Yasha answers the question earnestly. “It’s usually different,” she says to the sky. “It usually...doesn’t matter. Er...no, not that it doesn’t matter, it just...”

“Doesn’t matter,” Beau sighs. “No, I...sort of get it. Man, that might be fucked up. Of us.”

Yasha shrugs, which rustles the grass. “It’s how it has always been for me. That is just what life is like.”

“I’m sure Jester would disagree.”

“Jester is...nice. I am not. I...have hurt a lot of people. And not just people who were fighting me, or trying to hurt me, but people who were innocent, who did not need not to be hurt, people who care about me, and, and people who I...”

She trails off. Beau can’t see her face, but right now, selfishly, she is glad for it. She feels anger bubbling up in her stomach.

“You were being controlled,” she says fiercely. “You didn’t do it. Someone made you do it.”

“But...part of that...part of it was still me. Since...since you all freed me, I...I remember parts of it. I remember doing it. Those were my hands.”

Beau can practically hear Yasha’s fist tighten. She definitely feels it when Yasha hits the ground.

“If I was better, or if I was stronger, if I had broken free faster, none of that would have happened, I could have stopped him sooner—”

This time, Beau doesn’t hold back. They’re lying down, so it’s incredibly awkward, but the first thing she can think of is to grab Yasha’s hand.

She sits up, and waves it over Yasha’s face.

“But you didn’t,” she says, then falters, then wants to smack herself. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is...” Then she stops. “No, you know what? Fuck it. You didn’t break out faster. And that’s because it was a miracle you managed it in the first place. Yasha, you were being controlled by a devil. You were being controlled by the Chained Oblivion. The fact that you were even a person the first time we met—and you were a person, you were funny, you charged me money to, to, well, you charged me five gold, remember that?”

Yasha blinks. Her wrist is slack in Beau’s grip.

“I...do, yes, I remember that.”

“Right. The fact that you were a person then meant that they couldn’t keep their claws in you. Because you were strong. You were better. Better than everything they tried to make you. You kept breaking free.”

Yasha does not try to squirm away, only stays there.

“But...I needed help every time that I did escape. I never managed it on my own. First it was...it was Kord, and then you all—”

“Of course!” Beau throws her other arm into the air. “Who the fuck could do it on their own?! All that means is that when you had a chance, the second you had a chance, you were outta there. In your heart, you knew what was right. You knew it, and held onto it, even when I’m sure it would’ve been so easy to stay there, to stay in that hell and just go through the motions and lose yourself in...in grief, and loss and...and all that. But you didn’t. And now look at you.”

She cracks a goofy smile, all desperation to make what she’s trying to say heard.

“You’re an angel, Yasha. Remember?”

Yasha slowly sits up too. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, black turning white, with little blades of grass.

Beau is made painfully aware of the fact that she’s still holding Yasha’s hand. She lets go. Then she swears again, and hopes that Yasha doesn’t think it’s because of anything s—

“I am, aren’t I?”

Her gaze shoots up and Yasha's wearing a goofy smile too. Small, a bit nervous, but real and warm.

It’s getting to be familiar.

Beau snorts. She snorts so loud that it might dislodge something in her chest. She hits Yasha gently on the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t, uh, don’t let it go to your head.”

She can see Yasha nodding in the corner of her eye.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Then, after a brief battle over whether or not to bring it up, “I don’t...I don’t...for the record, I’m not mad about you stabbing me. Or whatever.”

Yasha looks stricken, and Beau regrets it instantly. “Shit, should I not have reminded you of—”

“No,” Yasha sighs, and her face softens. “No. I am...glad that you are not mad at me.”

“Should we, like...go to a cleric about this?” Beau asks. “Is this going to be something that happens in, like...fights? Because if it does, it might put you in danger. Also, it’s...it probably sucks for you. Right?”

Fjord would probably have something to say about the way she’s handling this conversation. He’s not here now.

“I...don’t know,” Yasha says eventually. “It hasn’t happened before. It was only...just now. And...just with you. It...hurting you reminded me of being controlled. It...brought me back to all the times that my mind was not my own.”

“I’m sorry,” Beau says, because she’s not sure what else to say.

“No,” says Yasha. Beau looks up, surprised by the weight in her words. “If I am not allowed to be sorry to you, you cannot be sorry to me.”

“Ah,” says Beau. She feels a grin pulling. “In that case...I’m not sorry.”

Yasha nods, like this is sacred, and Beau can’t help but snort again.

“C’mon,” she says. “We can...work this shit out later. Or start to. With a cleric if you want, or not, if you don’t. But I just got my ass kicked, and I’m thirsty. What do you say to some drinks? I think there’s juice. Do you like juice?”

She stands up, and sticks out a hand.

Yasha takes it.

“Okay. I like juice.”

— — —

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sturchling · 4 years ago

Text

How MDC Actually Started

Got this idea from a post from @flufflepuffle296

It was so awesome, I had to write it out! Hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Ever wonder how MDC was formed? This is the story of its formation, and why Marinette started the brand.

Nino had been miserable for several days now. He and Alya had just broken up. He had realized that Lila was lying about everything and tried to warn Alya. After all, Alya had been posting Lila’s lies on her blog without fact-checking. That could ruin Alya’s credibility and really damage her chances of becoming a journalist. He had pulled Alya aside after school one day to warn her privately. “Alya, you need to hear this. Lila has been lying to you; to all of us. You should pull down those interviews with her from your blog, they could hurt your reputation.” Alya got an irritated look on her face, “Nino, did Marinette get to you? Lila wouldn’t lie to us; we are all friends. How could you accuse Lila without any proof?” Nino, admittedly, got a little defensive at this comment, “What do you mean what proof do I have? What proof do you have that she is telling the truth? Proof is a two-way street, and you are a journalist. Where are your sources?” To say the conversation devolved from there would be an understatement. It ended with the young couple breaking up and more than a few tears being shed on both sides.

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

For the next several days after the confrontation, Nino was miserable. He was taking the break up pretty hard. Eventually, his friends got tired of seeing him mope. Adrien, and Marinette invite him to a music festival that weekend, hoping it might get Nino out of his funk. They knew he had really wanted to go to this festival, and that he was a fan of several of the artists that were playing there. But when they got there, while Nino was enjoying himself, he couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel. Marinette was having a hard time hiding her crush, and Adrien was still being dense, but it felt like Nino had crashed a date. So, he made an excuse to the two and wondered off on his own. It was then that he met Emilia. They were both listening to the same person’s set and just started talking. The end of the festival felt like it came too quickly, but soon it was the end of the day and everyone had to leave. Nino and Emilia ended up exchanging phone numbers and promising to talk soon. Nino left the festival a lot happier than when he arrived.

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

Over the next several days, Nino’s mood continued to improve. He was constantly smiling and seemed to be much happier. He and Emilia had been texting everyday since the festival and had grown quite close. They were constantly texting, and anytime his phone went off with another text notification, his smile grew wider. This did not escape the class’ notice and they started hounding him for details. “Who is she?” “Where did you meet?” “What is she like?” Nino was very tight lipped about the whole thing. He did tell them that her name was Emilia and that she was very kind and really like music too. The class kept pestering him until one day he told them, “Since you dudes keep bugging me, me and Emilia are going on our first date.” Most of the class, except for Alya and Lila, got really excited hearing that. Alya was unhappy that her ex already had a new date, and Lila was ‘supporting her bestie’. The class pressed Nino for details and he revealed, “We are going to that little café near the Louvre at 3pm next Saturday.” The class was very happy for Nino and kept talking with him for the rest of the day.

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

Adrien and Marinette were very excited for their friend. They also wanted to make sure that the date goes smoothly. They thought the best way to know how the date goes, is to be there themselves. They spent the rest of the week coming up with their plan. When Saturday came, Adrien and Marinette arrived at the café about ten minutes after Nino or Emilia sat down, and slipped into booth so that Nino had his back to them. They were far enough away that they hoped the couple wouldn’t notice them, but close enough that they could still hear what they were saying. What Adrien and Marinette hadn’t anticipated was the arrival of Luka. Luka walked into the café and immediately noticed Marinette and Adrien trying to be discrete. He walked over to their booth, and Marinette immediately dragged him down into the booth. She quietly explained the situation to Luka, and he decided to stay for the rest of the date as well.

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

That Monday, Nino came into the school and walked right up to Marinette and Adrien, who were talking with Luka in the courtyard. “Dudes! The date went great! We had such a fun time and we have a lot in common! We even decided to go on another date on Saturday. While Nino continues going on about his date, the three friends exchange eye contact. A silent pact was made right there, to continue their spying on Nino’s dates. So, the small group of three kept spying on Nino and Emilia during their dates.

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

Eventually, someone became suspicious of their activities. But it wasn’t Nino or Emilia. It was Chloe. Chloe had noticed that Adrien kept disappearing every Saturday. She had no idea where he would be every single Saturday. They didn’t have school, there was no fencing on the weekends, and he didn’t have Chinese lessons on the weekend either. It couldn’t be photo shoots this often either. So, one Friday, Chloe stopped Adrien on his way to class and demanded to know what was going on. When Adrien filled her in on their weekly stalking of Nino and his girlfriend, Chloe was very interested and wanted to join the little group. And so, the group of spies now had their fourth member. The small group continued to stalk Nino and Emilia on all their dates. The group felt a little guilty about being so invasive, but this was incredibly entertaining. They were just happy they hadn’t been caught yet, because that would be embarrassing.

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

Then, one weekend, Emilia arrived at the usual café before Nino. She had noticed that the same group had always been at the café for every single date she and Nino had been on. She had also noticed how much this group was desperate not to be seen by either of them. She approached them and asked, “What is going on? You guys are always here during our dates. What are you guys up to?” Que the group beginning to panic that they had been caught. They hadn’t thought up an excuse in case this happened and now they were regretting it. In her panic, Marinette managed to blurt out, “We’re starting a fashion business!” Emilia looked at them skeptically, “Really?” It was too late to stop now, so Marinette continued with the story, “Yes! I am the head designer, Chloe and Luka are the models and Adrien is going to do the PR!” Emilia didn’t look convinced at all.

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

Emilia hadn’t bought their story about the fashion business. But she didn’t think they meant any harm, so she would just let it go. She turned to leave, only to stop as Nino arrived and walked over to Emilia and the small group. He seemed confused when he saw his friends, which he was. “Hi dudes. What are you all talking about?” Before the small group could answer, Emilia jumps in saying, “Oh, these guys are starting a fashion business.” Nino is a little surprised by that, but just says, “Cool. Can’t wait to see what you dudes come up with!” With that he takes Emilia by the hand and heads to their usual table.

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

Now the small group was really panicking. They didn’t have many options right now. The first option is that they continue the lie and try to hide their real intentions. The second option is to admit to the spying and tell Nino what they had really been doing. Neither option sounded very appealing. But then, Chloe interjected, “Well, why not make the lie come true. We could actually start a fashion brand. Then we aren’t lying to Nino, and most importantly, he will never find out we were stalking him. Marinette could finally launch her fashion brand. We would all get some work experience, and if all goes well, we might even get some money out of the deal. If Marinette’s brand actually takes off, we could make a lot of money.” The group seemed very apprehensive about it, Marinette especially. But with a little more convincing from Chloe, the rest of the group agreed to give it a try. Marinette spoke up, “Wait, what should we call the brand?” Chloe just rolled her eyes, “That is obvious, we can use your initials. Way easier to make logos from initials.” Adrien says, “Yeah, that is a good idea Chloe. Her initials would be perfect. The brand can be called MDC.” Slowly, the other members of the group started to grin. Marinette looks at everyone and says, “So, everyone ready to launch MDC?”

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

After that, MDC took off pretty quickly. With the daughter of the mayor of Paris and Adrien Agreste backing the brand, how could it not do well? It wasn’t until a few years later, that Nino found out how all of this had happened. It was during an interview with the small team that this whole story came out. After Marinette finished telling the long story, Chloe summed it up, “Essentially, this whole thing started because we were spying on a friend of ours’ on his date and his girlfriend cornered us one day. It made us all panic and then Marinette just blurted out that we were starting a fashion brand. So, we actually started one to keep Nino from finding out.” Nino and Emilia were sitting at Nino’s place watching the interview and they were shocked. This is the first they had heard about any of this. The couple got a good laugh out of the story. To think that MDC, a now major fashion brand, never would have been made if Emilia hadn’t cornered Marinette and made her panic. So, that is the story of the formation of MDC. It wasn’t a revenge plot or anything dramatic. It was simply the result of Marinette panicking. It was without a doubt the best result of any of Marinette’s panicked moments.

1K notes · View notes

hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

reassurance

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ after a heated argument on a case, the reader gets fatally injured in the field. spencer battles with the fact that he never got to apologise.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ major character death, depression, refusing to eat.

word count ↠ 4.2k

“Maybe I’ll see you in another life, if this one wasn’t enough.” — Florence + the Machine

Spencer and Y/N rarely fought.

Of course they bickered from time to time about silly things that wouldn’t matter ten minutes later, but they rarely had a full-on argument. Screaming matches where they tried to wound one another with bitter words they didn’t really mean. They’d only ever fought like that once or twice, but ultimately they’d end with heartfelt apologies and kisses as they forgave one another and grew from their mistakes.

This particular argument however, was easily the worst they’d ever had.

It was the first big fight they’d had since they’d gotten married four months prior.

You know what they say about marriage; the first year is the hardest.

“I just don’t understand why we have to talk about this right now.” Spencer scowled as he walked into the empty room, his wife following hot on his heels.

Themselves and the team were had been sent to North Carolina on a triple homicide case in Charlotte. They’d been there for two days, and the newlyweds had carried an awkward tension with them ever since the case started. The couple had gotten into the start of an argument before they’d had to leave for the jet, which left what they new would be a bad fight brewing between them. Neither of them wanted to start the inevitable fight they knew they were going to have to have at some point. Y/N wanted to remain professional, to keep her emotions in check until her and Spencer got home and could fight talk everything out. She was succeeding, until she saw how snappy and cold Spencer was acting with her during the case, cutting her off mid-sentence and dropping sassy, unnecessary comments whenever she spoke. That only fuelled Y/N’s fire further. So when she managed to catch him alone she decided they had to have it out, even if it was in the middle of the case.

She closed the door to the room behind her as she watched Spencer busy himself with the three case files of the murder victims before him. She turned to him, her arms crossing in front of her. “Because I wanted to wait to have this fight until after the case finished, but you started up with the snappy attitude for no reason!”

“I’m busy, Y/N. Not right now.” He uttered, brushing her off. Again.

“Yes, right now. Every time I bring up the topic you shut me down and I’m tired of it! We have to talk about this, Spence. I’ve let you brush me off too many times now.” Her voice had lowered, she wasn’t shouting anymore but she was still stern.

Spencer scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous. I don’t brush you off.”

“You do! That’s exactly what you did before we left for the jet the other morning. Anytime I bring up starting a family you don’t want to hear about it. It’s a conversation we need to have.” She groaned. It was true, anytime since they’d gotten married that Y/N mentioned the idea of starting a family, Spencer blew her off. He’d completely shut down the conversation, refusing to speak about it with her. Y/N was growing frustrated. She didn’t want them to start immediately trying for a baby or anything, she just wanted to discuss her future with her husband, and he acted like she’d asked him to commit murder with her.

“Nope, we don’t need to have that conversation right now.” He murmured, his back still turned to her as his fingers scanned over the pages of writing in front of him.

“Do you not want kids with me, is that it?” She winced, the thought hurting her.

“Not if you’re gonna act like this.” He responded and it made her breath hitch. She knew he was pissed but surely he didn’t mean that?

“Spencer- I-I love you, I want to have kids with you. We don’t have to start trying yet, not for a long while but I just need to know that it’s in the cards for us.” She swallowed, walking closer to him, hoping he’d turn to face her.

“Maybe if you didn’t jump down my throat about all the time I’d be more willing to talk!” He spat, finally turning to face her.

“Are you seriously trying to pin this all on me? I just need some comfort. You do eventually want a family, right?” Her voice got even quieter, her tone pleading and her eyes glassy.

“God Y/N why are you in such a rush? We only just got married!” He yelled, exasperated as he threw his arms out in exaggeration. “I just need some time to think, okay?”

“How much time? A month? Two?” She challenged.

“That’s not a lot of time, Y/N.” He ran his hands through his hair frustratedly.

“I can’t wait around for years only for you to decide you don’t want kids, Spence. That’s not fair on me, I’d have to start over-”

Spencer frowned, interrupting her. “Wait- start over? You mean with someone else?” For the first time in the argument his harsh exterior softened, worry seeping into his honey coloured iris’.

Y/N was silent, her gaze lowering to the floor as tears began to tremble down her cheeks.

Spencer scoffed and shook his head. “This is stupid.” He muttered under his breath, as though Y/N couldn’t hear it clear as day.

She let out a small sob when she opened her mouth to speak. “All I’m asking for is some reassurance. I’m your wife, Spencer! Why can’t you just give me that?”

“I don’t want kids, okay?! is that what you want to hear? Can we drop this now?” He exclaimed, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth but at this time his anger outweighed his regret.

Y/N recoiled, her eyes casting down to look at the floor as her sight blurred, hot tears rolling down her pink cheeks.

Just then three knocks sounded on the door, a sheepish looking JJ opened it, poking her head in. “Uh- sorry to interrupt. Garcia found us a possible address, Hotch wants you two to go and check it out.”

Y/N sniffed and wiped the tears away from under her eyes. She grabbed her FBI jacket that hung on the back of one of the chairs before turning toward JJ. “No. I’d rather go with Morgan.” She muttered before walking out the door without a second glance at her husband.

“Y/N wait-” He tried calling out but she was already gone. He sighed, running his hands over his face.

“What was that about?” JJ asked quietly, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing.” He tried to lie but JJ gave him a look, one that said don’t bullshit me. “We had a fight, it was a pretty bad one. I said some things I didn’t mean.”

JJ placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. When her and Morgan get back you can tell her you’re sorry. You’ll work it out, you love one another too much not to.”

Spencer nodded, glancing down to the thin gold band that sat on his ring finger. His mind drifted back to their wedding day, the happiest day of his life. He remembered how she’d taken his breath away when he saw her coming down the aisle, wearing a dress so beautiful and so her that it brought tears to his eyes.

She was ethereal.

and she was his.

It brought a small smile to his lips. JJ was right. As soon as she got back they’d finish up this case and then he’d spend all the time he had to making it up to her. He thanked JJ before they headed to join the others in the other room. The team, minus Y/N and Morgan, were gathered around overlooking their profile and all the details of the case, looking for anything they might of missed.

Hotch’s phone rang out and he answered, all of the team looking his way, hoping whoever was on the other end of the line would give them the information they needed to crack the case wide open. Spencer wasn’t concerned until he saw the shift in Hotch’s face, from his usual stern look to one of worry and concern.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked as soon as Hotch hung up the phone.

“That was Morgan calling from the hospital. He and Y/L/N found the unsub at the address. He had a gun, with which he shot Y/L/N twice with before he fled.”

JJ let out a gasp. “She’s okay though, right? I mean she would’ve been wearing her vest.”

Hotch spared a glance at Spencer who looked at him with eyes so wide it hurt him. He slowly shook his head. “One bullet hit the vest, the other hit her side. She’s in emergency surgery now.”

Spencer was up from his seat within seconds, rushing out of the building towards the SUV’s, the rest of the team following quickly.

Spencer rushed through the white hospital hallways with a heavy weight in his heart that he’d never felt before. He dashed around the corner, his eyes landing on Morgan in the waiting room, who sat with his head in his hands.

“Morgan? Where is she? She okay, right?” He begged his best friend to tell him something, anything good.

Morgan just shook his head. “I’m sorry kid, I don’t know anything. She’s still in surgery.”

Spencer felt sick.

They waited for hours without news, him worriedly pacing the waiting room. He was going through every possible outcome in his head, thinking of the worst case scenarios, making himself physically sick with worry.

Any time a member of the team attempted to talk to him, he snapped at them, telling them to leave him alone. He knew they were just trying to help, but he could apologise for that later. The only think that mattered at that moment was his wife. Eventually he’d worn himself out, his mind and body overwhelmed with all the emotions and visions of worst case scenarios. It took JJ grabbing his wrist and taking him to another private room for him to finally accept her help. He broke down as soon as she wrapped her arms around him, trying desperately to soothe the sobs coming from his mouth.

He pulled back, sucking in deep breaths as he attempted to calm himself down. “When we were fighting earlier I told her I didn’t want kids with her, but it’s not true- God JJ, having s family with her is all I think about.” He wept. “I’m just so scared that I’ll pass down some of my undesirable genes, I don’t want my kids to have to suffer.”

JJ just gave him a sad look, unsure what to say.

“What if I never get the chance to tell her I lied? I love her so much JJ- I-I can’t lose her. I want to have a family so badly with her, she means everything to me.” He crumpled into one of the chairs in the room as JJ watched helplessly.

After regaining his breath and wiping his eyes, the two rejoined the group in the waiting room. The team sent him sympathetic glances but Spencer didn’t acknowledge them.

It was around 4am that an exhausted looking doctor walked into the waiting room. Immediately Spencer was on his feet, pleading in his head that the doctor will tell him that she was fine, that his wife was awake and alive and was waiting to see him. She was strong, a fighter. She was going to be fine.

and then everything came crashing down.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Reid.”

His knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, heartbreaking sobs leaving his mouth as the doctor left the room, closing the door behind him.

Spencer could hear the other teams whimpers but he blocked them out.

He couldn’t feel anything but the sharp stabbing pain in his chest that made his whole body throb with a pain so unimaginable he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

He barely registered how Derek’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him to his feet as his friend cried into his shoulder.

“I didn’t tell her I loved her before she left.” He bawled, and the sight broke the teams hearts.

“She knew, Reid. She knew.” Derek tried to soothe him but it was a fruitless attempt, as his heart-wrenching cries only intensified.

Two weeks later and the pain was still as fresh as it had been that day. Spencer’s body ached all over, his heart felt heavy in his chest.

He’d slept on the couch for weeks, refusing to sleep in their bed without her.

It felt wrong.

After shutting everyone out for two weeks and barely eating, showering or sleeping, he finally allowed JJ into his apartment. They didn’t speak, but he would sit on his sofa, staring blankly at the wall while JJ tried to get him to eat and encouraged him to shower. He wouldn’t respond, no matter how much his stomach rumbled with hunger, he wouldn’t eat. JJ tried her best, and she knew he was grateful, but he was so deep in his heartache and depression that he couldn’t do anything. She would tidy up sometimes and did laundry for him, encouraging him to change out of the same clothes he’d worn for weeks.

He heard JJ humming to herself quietly as she walked through the living room toward the kitchen, laundry basket in her hands. He normally wouldn’t have paid notice, but an item of clothing on top of the pile caught his eye. It was a bright mustard yellow cardigan.

Specifically, it was Y/N’s mustard yellow cardigan.

Spencer recalled how she loved the bright colour, having many items in her wardrobe of similar colour. She insisted it was for her ‘autumn style’, whatever that meant. Whenever she told him that he’d simply smile at her, his eyes so full of love and happiness. She would always grin back at him in response.

What he’d give to see that smile again.

“Wait.” He called out, his voice thick and raspy after weeks of not using it. “You can’t wash that.”

JJ looked over in surprise. He hadn’t spoken to her at all any of the other times she’d been over to help him.

Spencer got up and walked over, taking the cardigan from the top of JJ’s pile. He brought the item up to his face, inhaling deeply, a sob getting caught in his throat at the realisation that it still smelled like her, the scent of her perfume clinging to the fabric.

JJ’s eyes widened with the realisation that the cardigan belonged to Y/N. She’d just picked it up from where it had been on the floor in the bedroom, figuring it belonged to Spencer. She was about to apologise profusely for touching it when he spoke again.

“I miss her so much, JJ.” He cried, his voice cracking as she placed the basket down on the floor.

“Can I hug you?” She asked, unsure if he wanted to be touched at that moment.

He nodded, and was filled with a sort of relief when JJ’s arms wrapped around him. It was the first human contact he’d had in weeks. He welcomed the warmth. (He’d felt so cold lately.)

Later that night he’d sobbed himself into an uneasy sleep, clutching the cardigan to his chest, inhaling the scent of her perfume as if he could convince himself that she was still there.

When he woke the next day he saw the sunlight peeking in through the curtains that he hadn’t opened in weeks. He blinked, and noticed how his fists still clutched handfuls of the yellow cardigan. His memory flashed, and he recalled how she looked in the mornings- like a goddess. He could almost hear her melodic laugh, as though she were right next to him. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d wake up and it’d be real, that she’d be next to him and everything would be okay. This horrific nightmare would be just that- a bad dream, after which she’d soothe him with hushed reassurances and soft kisses to his forehead.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying that when he opened them she’d be there in his arms, where she was meant to be.

He opened his eyes slowly, only to be met with what he feared, an empty space beside him.

Spencer really thought he couldn’t cry anymore, that he was all out of tears, but as he felt the familiar feeling rise in his chest, his breaths picked as a small sob broke from his lips.

He didn’t leave the sofa that day.

He was sat with his back against one of his walls, his knees pulled up to his chest. His phone buzzed from the table across the room. The team called and texted him regularly, but he never responded. Though no one called him more than Derek Morgan, worried sick for his closest friend.

Spencer waited for the buzzing to stop, the familiar tone ringing out that signalled he’s been left a voicemail. Something inside him possessed him to stand up, grabbing his phone and tapping the buttons to hear the voicemail.

“Hey Reid. Its Morgan, I-uh.” His voice cracked. Morgan was never a particularly emotional man, but he still remembered that day Y/N died clearly, and was consumed by guilt. He blamed himself, Spencer could hear it in his voice.

Morgan swore under his breath as he placed his hands against her side, desperately trying to slow the blood pouring from the wound.

“Morgan.” She grunted. “The unsub- you have to go after him.” She clenched her teeth together at the searing pain in her side, a burning feeling like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“No, Y/N. I won’t leave you here. Not only are you Spencer’s wife but you are my friend and I’m gonna stay with you, okay?” He promised, meeting her tear filled eyes as she nodded. “The ambulance is gonna be here any second, just gotta hold on for me yeah?”

Y/N nodded and fought desperately to keep herself awake but could feel herself slipping away with every second that passed. She shook her head from side to side, hopelessly trying to force herself to stay awake, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“Y/N? Y/N! Come on, baby. You gotta stay awake. What about Spencer, hm? Talk to me about him.” Morgan was just trying to get her talking in hopes that she’d stay awake long enough for the ambulance to arrive.

“He said he doesn’t want kids with me.” She mumbled, giving a weak smile. “We- We argued about it earlier, but I’m not mad at him. Morgan, he has to know I forgive him-” She coughed, blood spilling from her lips as she winced. She looked up at Morgan. “Y-You have to tell him. Tell him that i-it’s okay. Tell him I love him, that I-” She let out another cry in agony as he pushed harder down on her wound.

“Listen, listen. You hear the sirens? They’re close. You just gotta stay awake for a little while longer. Then you can tell pretty boy all of this yourself, okay?” Derek looked around as he heard the sound getting closer, relief breaking out across his face when the ambulance rounded the corner, coming into view. He looked down to Y/N to reassure her, but noticed how her body had gone limp beneath him. “Y/N?” His eyes were wide as he moved a hand to shake her shoulder, getting no response. “Y/N please-”

“I just need you to know, if you’re listening, how sorry I am. Y/N she- she told me, before the ambulance came-” Derek paused and Spencer’s breath hitched. “She wanted me to tell you she loved you. That she forgave you.” Derek cleared his throat, evidently trying to keep up his ‘tough guy’ act for the sake of his friend. “I just- needed you to know that. Call me when you’re ready.” The loud beep sounded out after the message finished and Spencer just stood, frozen.

His wife’s last words were that she loved him, that she forgave him.

It didn’t make him feel any better.

JJ was washing up plates in his kitchen after pretty much forcing him to eat some soup. He only had about four spoonful’s, which was disappointing but it was progress, and she figured it was better than nothing.

It had been a month since Y/N died, and nothing was getting better for Spencer. Everyday felt worse and worse, the pain never got lighter like people said it would, it never got any easier to deal with.

He sat on the sofa with a book perched on his lap, though he made no attempt to read it. He’d loved to read before, but now he couldn’t look at any of his books without thinking of how he used to read them to Y/N when she couldn’t sleep. He found that everywhere he looked in the home, he was reminded of her.

After drying the plate and putting it away, JJ turned to look at her friend who sat staring at the wall blankly.

She spoke although she knew she likely wouldn’t receive a response, she didn’t mind. He needed human interaction of some sort. “I’ve been talking to the others and- we think maybe it would be useful for you to speak to someone. Anyone, Spence. You can’t keep living like this. It’s killing you.” She murmured, her voice pleading. He shifted his gaze to look at her, but said nothing. “If you don’t want to talk to someone, how about you try writing letters? It’s something they had me do when Roslyn died. I used to burn them afterwards too, I found it therapeutic. It helped, even if just a little bit.” She tried, hoping he’d at least consider the idea.

After JJ left Spencer thought about what she’d said. At first he’d thought it was a stupid idea, pathetic, really. Writing letters weren’t going to bring his wife back.

but then again, nothing would.

He found himself sat at his desk, pen and paper in front of him. It took him hours to figure out what he wanted to say. At first he couldn’t even decide how to address the letter, was just her name good enough? He wrote and rewrote the letter a hundred times, trying to get everything right. Eventually he realised that there was no way to get it ‘right’, he just had to write how he felt.

‘Y/N,

JJ reckons that this will help aid my grief, and I can see how much my state is scaring her, so I figured I’d give this a shot.

Its been two months since you left.

Since you left the world, since you left me.

I know it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not for anything. I blame myself more than anyone else. If I’d just told you the truth rather than trying to be difficult, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe if I had just given you the reassurance you were looking for, It would’ve been me who’d come with you to the address.

I would’ve protected you.

Because that was my job, you know. To protect you. And I failed.

I miss you.

I miss how we’d stay up watching crappy reality TV shows on nights where neither of us could sleep after a case. I miss the nights you’d let me read to you, your head on my lap as you slowly drifted to sleep. I miss making breakfast with you early on a Sunday morning, on the rare occasion we got the weekend to ourselves without any interruptions from work. I miss dancing with you in our living room to whatever music you played. I never cared what song it was, only that it was you that I was dancing with.

You were my favourite song.

I hope you know how sorry I am.

I’m sorry that I’ll never get to tell you how I lied to you that day in the police station. That I’ve never regretted any words more than I do those ones. I wish I could tell you how badly I want a family with you. How nothing would make me happier than seeing little versions of ourselves that we created, that we could raise together.

I don’t think the stabbing pain I feel in my chest when I think of you will ever cease. I’ll carry the guilt of my words for the rest of my life.

Penelope says it will get better someday. But I can’t imagine a day where I wake up without you and don’t feel empty.

I love you. So much.

Forever yours,

Spencer. ‘

He clicked his lighter three times before the flame appeared. Taking a deep breath, he hovered it to the edge of the letter, watching it catch alight and begin to burn. As he watched the flames flicker in front of him, he wondered if he’d ever know peace.

If he’d ever be able to breathe again without her by his side.

He’d have to learn to live without her.

An impossible task.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds

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bbangsoonie · 4 years ago

Text

find me in your memory

member: sangyeon genre: angst word count: 10,200 synopsis: when you return to korea in hopes of recovering your lost memories, one of your new housemates seems oddly familiar. warning(s): inaccurate depiction of amnesia

Prologue:

You had locked yourself in a bathroom stall to run away from everyone’s obvious trying-not-to-stare glances. Your hand clenched around your phone as you stared at the top trending news article. Your father had officially announced his plans to advance his political career and alongside his name were the names of the rest of your family. Your mother, a renown actress. Your brother, a retired swimmer and a rising musician. And you, a rookie model who already walked in various fashion shows.

You were annoyed that your father chose today of all days to release the news. Today was White Day, meaning that boys were throwing you sweets left and right. You hated the extra attention and hated that you had to maintain elegance through it all. It was already bad enough that tonight was some fancy party your father arranged for the purpose of publicity and networking. You would be hiding under a mask all day and night now.

You sighed at the sound of the bell ringing to notify the students that lunch time was over. You dragged yourself out of the bathroom and braced yourself before you returned to your classroom.

People had already whispered about you in the hallways but your classroom erupted into full blown gossip. You heard guys discussing the news and girls expressing their jealousy.

“I guess the princess might actually become a princess now.” one girl said rather loudly. “Look at her. Pretending not to hear all of us. She must think we’re too lowly to even converse with.”

Her friend’s eyes widened at her bold outburst and tried to shush her.

“What? I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.” the girl freed herself from her friend’s grasp and blatantly stood in front of your desk. “Tell me, Y/n, am I wrong?”

You looked up to meet her eyes with a neutral expression. You wanted nothing more than to grab the opportunity to pick a fight with her. But you knew you would face repercussions with your parents so all you could do was force a small smile.

Before the girl could say something more, your homeroom teacher entered the room. Everyone quickly dispersed and found their seats.

“Y/n? Your father’s secretary is here to pick you up. You’ll be leaving school early today.” he said.

The statement prompted more hushed whispers as your classmates speculated the reason why you were being pulled out of class. Without a word, you grabbed your backpack and left. The secretary led you out of the building and into a black car.

You pulled out your phone and earbuds to accompany you for the ride. Closing your eyes, you rested your head on the window and increased the volume of your music. Your brother had sent you the guide for the song he was working on and asked for your opinion. You had grumpily agreed, slightly irked that he only contacted you for things like this.

You hated Younghoon for leaving you alone in this family. He was your father’s pride and joy when he was a national athlete. Granted, he was miserable his whole life pursuing swimming when all he wanted to do was sing. But still, you never expected him to suddenly retire and switch careers without confronting your parents. He simply packed up and left. Without a warning or explanation, he just moved out. By himself. Without you.

Now, all the burden of maintaining the family’s image was on you. You had been pushed into the modeling industry so your father could have a pretty face to marry off later on. However, with Younghoon leaving the sports scene, your father was furious that your entire family were all entertainers without higher aspirations. It was too late for you to learn a sport so now you were to get accepted into Seoul University’s business school. Your father insisted on having at least one socially respectable child.

Your brother spent the last couple of years cutting contact with the family. He refused to attend events or partake in promotional photoshoots. The only time you could ever see him was when he came to take the annual family portrait. That was the only duty he would now fulfill as the eldest son of the Kim family.

You hated him but you also couldn’t despise him. If your affection for him were to turn sour, you’d truly be alone in this world. Yet you were still upset every time your calls went to his voicemail and he replied with a text hours later to apologize. You knew he was busy making up for lost time but it still hurt that he was able to enjoy his freedom while you remained suffocated.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.” the secretary spoke.

You opened your eyes and saw that the car pulled up in front of a beauty salon. You sighed, realizing you would have to get your hair and makeup done. So you went, sitting in front of a mirror for hours as people hovered around you to make you presentable for the reporters that would welcome you with endless camera flashes. By the time they finished, you were given a white silky dress to wear. It was as if your parents wanted to send you off to get married right away.

Keeping your complaints to yourself, you got dressed and were rushed to the party. Your parents were already inside, meaning you had to face the cameras alone. Reporters shouted questions at you; the topics ranged from your outfit to your father’s political plans to your brother’s absence. Ignoring them all, you put on your capitalistic smile and posed. You then bid them goodbye and entered the venue.

It was packed with politicians and businessmen. You walked around, looking for the protagonist of this event. Your father had organized tonight under the guise of celebrating your mother’s upcoming film but the true celebration was the release of today’s news. He was here to garner support for his political campaign and he sure had a flamboyant way of doing it.

“My daughter!” you heard your mother’s voice call out.

You turned around and saw your mother beckoning you over. You put on another smile as you approached your parents. Your father pulled you in for a light hug and introduced you to the man in front of him.

“Y/n, this is Assemblyman Lee. We’ve grown quite close this past year. Assemblyman Lee, this is the daughter I’ve been bragging to you about. She’s even prettier in person, right?” he let out a hearty laugh.

You respectfully bowed and personally introduced yourself to the assemblyman.

“Yes, she is very beautiful indeed.” Assemblyman Lee agreed, joining his laughter. He then presented the tall male next to him. “This is my son, Juyeon. I believe he is the same age as you, Y/n.”

“He plays basketball and even modeled for Seoul Fashion Week.” your father mentioned. “Perhaps you’ve seen or heard of him before?”

“I think we may have passed by each other once or twice that day.” you smiled. To be honest, it was your first time meeting him.

“Assemblyman Lee and I get along like family and we were talking about becoming an actual family once you graduate college.” your father beamed.

Those words made your stomach drop. You knew you’d never get to choose your own partner but now that it was actually happening, you froze. Reality suddenly hit you like a truck. You were never going to have control over anything in your life. You were nothing but a pawn in your father’s journey to the Blue House.

You looked over at Juyeon who looked just as uncomfortable as you. This was the man who you were probably going to spend the rest of your life with and you had no idea what he was like. For all you knew, he could end up hating your guts. You felt panic taking over and excused yourself for an urgent visit to the bathroom.

Your vision was blurred as you quickly exited the ballroom and desperately searched for a private room. All you could think about was your brother.

Younghoon.

You needed him. His name was the only thing your brain could think of. You needed him to tell you that everything would be okay. That he would come save you. You knew it would be a lie but you needed to hear it anyway.

Once you found an unlocked storage room, your knees buckled and you fell to the floor. With trembling hands, you dialed your brother’s number and waited for him to pick up. You called him five times but only heard the line ring. Fighting back tears, you cursed him in your head.

You spent the next half hour trying to calm yourself down. Squatting down, you rocked back and forth with your hands covering your ears to block out the noise outside. Your hyperventilation was slowing and you weren’t struck by the fear of dying anymore. By the time you settled down, you felt numb.

With a solemn expression, you stepped out of the storage room. Avoiding the crowd, you wandered around until you found a back exit. Before you opened the door, however, you realized how much you’d stand out in your current attire. You called for the secretary and asked for one of your spare school uniforms. You changed into the blouse and skirt but left out the tie and jacket. Not having sneakers to change into, you kept your heels on.

You insisted that he return to the party and not follow you. You promised you’d be home by evening and shooed him away.

Now that you were finally free, you didn’t know where to go. School was already dismissed but the sun had yet to set. Without any plans, you just started walking. As you kept walking, you found yourself in front of your school.

You laughed in disbelief. Apparently this was the only place other than home that you knew. Finding yourself pathetic, you continued to walk up the path to the building.

The soccer team was still on the field practicing. You sat on a bench, watching them run and kick the ball around. You didn’t know a thing about the sport but found it oddly soothing to mindlessly stare.

After a while, you got tired of it and got up. You let your feet decide where to go next and ended up on the rooftop. The sky was now a golden color. You didn’t remember when you last saw such a view.

At that moment, your phone rang. It was Younghoon finally returning your missed calls. You stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up or not. By his second call, you decided to answer.

“Y/n! Is something wrong? Are you okay?” he asked as soon as you clicked “accept”.

You honestly didn’t know how to reply to his question. Looking back, you wondered if you had ever been “okay” in your life. Was this living or was this just enduring?

“I’m so sorry I missed your calls. I was at the recording studio.” he apologized. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” you lied. “I just missed you. A lot.”

You heard him let out a sigh of relief. Then his guilty voice.

“I miss you too.” he paused. “Listen, I’m extremely sorry for leaving you to deal with Father. I just… I couldn’t handle it anymore. I felt like I was gonna go insane. I could put up with everything but his demand to quit music. That was the last straw. It was the only bit of freedom I ever enjoyed and I couldn’t have that taken away from me as well.”

“But what about my freedom?” you wanted to ask.

“I know I’m a terrible brother. And an even worse son.” he admitted.

Not wanting him to feel sorry, you muttered a soft “whatever”.

“Once I finish recording this song, I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to sneak you out for a sibling date.” he said.

This was the seventh time he made this promise. Either he was always too busy or you could never escape the tight schedule set for you. But like the six other times before, you pretended to believe it.

The call ended soon after and you were left alone in silence. The tranquility on the roof contrasted the storm inside your head. You had spent your entire life striving to achieve your parents’ impossible standards. You were never enough. Never smart enough. Never pretty enough. Never social enough.

Everyone at school saw you as little miss perfect. It brought you both unwanted attention and hatred. People saw you as unapproachable and snobby. Some even expressed their disgust at how fake you seemed. At the same time, there were those who wanted to use you and your connections. There was always someone who wanted something from you.

You felt trapped.

The edge of the roof seemed to call and entice you. As if in a trance, you walked over to the wall and climbed on top of it. You sat on the ledge and took in a deep breath. You stared at the sight in front of you. Most of the soccer team had left school grounds by now. You only heard scattered voices here and there. It was probably the remaining students hollering at each other across the field.

The rest of the world seemed so peaceful. It felt like you were the only one unable to escape chaos. You swung your legs, enjoying the evening breeze. You didn’t want to ever leave this spot.

Your phone vibrated, notifying you of a new message.

“You’ll be meeting Juyeon this weekend. I expect it to go better than tonight.” it read.

Your grip on the device tightened. Without giving you a break, another message from your father arrived.

“Also, your exam scores came out. Your ranking dropped to fourth place. We’ll talk at home.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to pull your hair out and cry. Instead, you stood up and glared at the phone in your hand. Your hand was now trembling because of how tightly you were holding it.

By now, emotions were beyond you. Feeling pity for yourself was nothing but a waste of time. It didn’t fix things and it surely didn’t make you feel any better. You were just tired of it all.

Allowing yourself one last angry outburst, you threw your phone down. You didn’t watch it fall from the roof and hit the ground. It instantly broke on contact. Unbeknownst to you, the fall startled a male student passing by.

“What the heck?” Sangyeon exclaimed out loud. He had stuck around after school to watch Sunwoo’s soccer practice. They were about to head out for dinner when he remembered that he left his wallet in his locker. He had sent his friend ahead first as he ran back inside to grab it.

He took a closer look at what almost hit his head and was puzzled to see a phone. Looking for the lunatic who nearly killed him, he lifted his head to see where it came from. After his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, he gasped when he saw you standing on the ledge of the rooftop. Getting a bad feeling, he found himself running up the steps. The whole time, “please don’t die” raced through his head.

By the time he made it up to the roof, he was sweaty and out of breath. He wanted to collapse in exhaustion but his eyes widened as you began to inch towards the edge. His body reacted before his mind and he ran to pull you off.

The sudden grip on your wrist spun you around and you fell in what felt like slow motion. You landed on the boy’s chest that was breathing hard. You could hear his heart pump like crazy and his eyes were still closed in fright.

Realizing what just happened, you quickly got off him and dusted yourself off.

“What was that for?” you asked in a hostile tone.

Finally catching his breath, he opened his eyes and jumped up. His eyes almost bulged when he recognized your face.

“Are you crazy?” he yelled, pretending not to know who you were.

“You’re the crazy one butting into other people’s business.” you frowned.

For someone who was about to jump off a building, you looked eerily calm. Sangyeon searched for any signs of distress in your eyes but could only spot annoyance. Still, his gut told him that something was wrong. The empty look on your face scared him.

“Well while we’re in the middle of crazy anyway, why don’t you tell me what pushed you this far?” he bravely inquired. “Bottling everything inside alone will only make things worse. It’s better to just spill everything to a complete stranger you won’t ever see again.”

It was out of character for him to be so nosy but he strangely felt a strong desire to help you. As for you, you normally would have walked away from this situation minutes ago. Yet you still stood in front of this odd boy who demanded to be your impromptu diary.

He intrigued you. He was knocking at the stone wall you put up years ago. He seemed so bright and innocent. It bothered you.

Despite your irritation, something about his eyes made yours water. The way his eyes softened as he looked at you made you feel vulnerable. It seemed as if he could read you like an open book. It brought a wave of emotions you had suppressed for so long.

He stepped closer and offered you a comforting pat on the shoulder. The second his hand made contact, your tears finally escaped and ran down your face. You hadn’t felt the warmth of another human since you last saw your brother. The sudden consolation broke you. Then, like the domino effect, your sobs turned into bawling as your facade crumbled at last.

Sangyeon was shocked to say the least. He never would have thought the Y/n would be crying in his arms. In fact, he never expected to ever cross paths with you. He had only ever heard of you through other students’ gossip. They painted you out to be cold-hearted but the sight in front of him said otherwise.

Hesitantly, he pulled you in for a hug. Recalling how his mom used to comfort him, he tried to soothe you by slowly patting your back. The two of you stayed like that until your cries eventually faded out. Embarrassment belatedly hit you and awkward silence hung in the air. You felt like you owed him an explanation but you couldn’t even pinpoint the exact reason for your actions.

“Thank you.” you muttered softly while sniffling.

Sangyeon smiled in response and rummaged through his pocket to find something. He pulled out a lollipop and handed it to you.

“Even being sad takes energy. You should recharge your blood sugar.” he said as he placed it in your own pocket when you didn’t move to accept it. “Let it all out from time to time. It’s not healthy to always keep negativity inside you.”

You dwelled on his words for a moment. No one had ever told you that before. Everyone was always telling you to tolerate things. You weren’t allowed to disagree with your parents. You had to accept and deal with Younghoon’s departure without expressing how upset you were. You were expected to quietly receive criticism and never retaliate. You figured it was only a matter of time before the pressure eventually set off the bomb inside you. Like today.

Up until now, you thought the only solution for the explosion would be to just end it all. It never occurred to you that you could begin to disobey everything you were taught.

“Thank you.” you repeated. With that, you got up to leave.

“W-Wait!” he called out, causing you to pause. “Where are you going?”

“To eat dinner. You said it takes energy to be sad, right?” you smiled.

Sangyeon didn’t expect to see you again the next day. Cramming last minute for a test, he opted to skip lunch and study at the library instead. After he settled down, he looked up to see across the table. He had to fight the urge to gape.

Feeling someone’s gaze on you, you lifted your head to see the boy in front of you. Recognizing his face, you quickly shut your book closed and got up to leave. He was left flabbergasted at your blatant avoidance of him.

Meanwhile, you were cursing in your head. You chastised yourself for not realizing that he also went to your school. Stupidly, you hadn’t made the connection the day before on the rooftop. Of course he was only there at that hour because he was a student there. Now you were extremely humiliated. And afraid that rumors would spread.

“Hey, wait up!” he called out as he chased after you, earning him a stern glare from the librarian. You didn’t listen and only quickened your pace.

Unfortunately for you, his long legs easily caught up with you. He gently grabbed your wrist to stop you from running away. You scowled when you realized he wouldn’t just ignore you.

“Why are you pretending that you don’t know me?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know who you are,” you deadpanned. Your words rendered him speechless and after a few seconds of silence, you turned around to leave.

“Well, my name is Sangyeon,” he persisted, pointing at his name tag.

He spent the next couple of weeks following you around. At first, you found him annoying. He reminded you of your lowest point in life. But slowly, he wormed his way into your heart and established a place for himself there.

He would greet you each morning with a cheeky smile and a carton of banana milk. To be honest, you didn’t even like banana milk. Yet, you found yourself looking forward to it every day.

Eventually, you two formed an unbreakable bond. He was your only friend and all your free time was spent with him. Every time you felt suffocated by your parents, you reached out to Sangyeon for comfort. You never disclosed anything to him but his presence alone cheered you up. He made you focus on him and forget about everything else. You should’ve known that it was inevitable for you to fall for him.

He was that upperclassman that all the younger female students fawned over. You hated to admit it but you were also among the many who thought he was charming. You felt a pang of jealousy whenever you saw other girls swoon over him as he passed by.

Gradually, your personality began to shift into becoming more lively. You were grateful to have him show you the little things in life. You grew to like yourself and the world a little more.

Present:

You stared at the house in front of you. Twelve years ago, you left this house and town to attend school in Seoul. Seven years ago, you left Korea to move to California. Now, you were back as an adult. It felt strange.

Feeling the winter breeze chill your bones, you shuddered at the cold temperature and hurried inside. You were surprised at how neat the place was; you assumed that someone had been sent to save you from the hassle of cleaning.

Trudging up the stairs, you struggled with your large suitcase. You found your old childhood bedroom and roughly unpacked. Having only less than twelve hours until your new housemates moved in, you felt rushed to get the house ready to meet them. You decided to just wash up and sleep tonight and wake up early in the morning to go grocery shopping.

So you slipped into unconsciousness and spent a relatively quiet night. It wasn’t until morning that you were awoken by a dream. It was the same dream that haunted you for the past seven years. Ever since the accident, the same recurring scene appeared to you in your sleep. To be honest, the exact events were fuzzy but it always left you with the same nostalgic and longing feelings. It bothered you how uneasy it made you feel.

You groaned, noting that your alarm clock hadn’t even rung yet. With a loud sigh, you got up and got dressed. With over a decade between your last visit and the present, you relied on the GPS to navigate your way around the unfamiliar neighborhood.

As you walked around the quiet streets, you took the time to enjoy the scenery. You came back to this town to escape the city life but appreciated that it wasn’t entirely in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily, there was a supermarket nearby. There, you picked out a bunch of ingredients you figured would be used often. You didn’t cook much but wanted to change that.

The trip took longer than expected and you picked up your speed to make it back home before your housemates arrived. You let out a breath of relief when you returned and saw that no one was stuck outside waiting. Humming to a song you didn’t remember the title of, your steps were light as you put away the groceries. When you finished, you took a proper look at the house and were displeased at how bare it was. You made a mental note to buy decorations later to fill your new place with signs of human habitation.

At that moment, the bell rang. Suddenly feeling a bit nervous, you ran to the door. When you opened it, you were greeted by four males who seemed surprised at your appearance.

“Hello! Are you the tenants moving in today?” you asked.

“Yes, I believe we spoke with your… brother? On the phone,” one answered.

“It was probably my father’s secretary that you’ve been in contact with,” you said as you opened the door wider to let them inside. “Please, come in.”

They followed you into the house and dragged their luggage behind them. Once they were all inside, you extended your hand towards them.

“My name is Y/n and I will be the one living here with you all,” you introduced.

“My name is Jacob! I hope we get along well,” the one who first spoke grinned as he shook your hand.

You went down the line, greeting and shaking hands with Changmin and Jaehyun. By the time you got to the last person, however, your hand was left hanging. He stared at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

“I’m Sangyeon. Lee Sangyeon,” he finally said, taking your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sangyeon,” you smiled.

You offered them a tour of the house and showed them their respective rooms. While they unpacked, you offered to order food. It was approaching noon and you still hadn’t eaten breakfast. They declined at first but gave in when you insisted on treating them.

By the time the food was delivered, the five of you gathered in the kitchen. You were pouring water for everyone and Jacob began to take out the bowls.

“Jajangmyun is fitting for today, right?” you commented on the Korean tradition of eating Chinese food on moving days.

After everyone was seated, you gestured for them to dig in and began eating. You let out a sigh of happiness at the taste you had missed in the United States. Korean food there just wasn’t the same as Korean food back at home.

“So, Y/n, how did you end up in this town?” Sangyeon asked. Something about his eyes felt intimate yet you still couldn’t pinpoint the reason why.

“I actually just arrived in Korea last night,” you chuckled. “I’ve been living abroad for a while.”

“Abroad? Really?” Jacob perked. “I used to live overseas as well! Toronto, to be exact.”

“I stayed in California for the most part,” you clarified.

“Oh really? California? Los Angeles?” Changmin asked in English. You giggled at his slight accent, finding it cute.

“Yes, I lived in L.A. for 7 years,” you said in English, laughing when Jaehyun’s eyes widened at your pronunciation.

While the four of you chatted, Sangyeon stayed quiet. He watched as Jaehyun asked you about life in America and Changmin told you about the time he visited New York City. He felt a twinge of jealousy when Jacob conversed with you in English.

“It’s definitely Y/n. It has to be. She looks exactly like her and has the same name. But why is she acting like she doesn’t know me? There’s no way she doesn’t remember me,” Sangyeon thought.

The next morning, you woke up early again due to jet lag. Throwing a robe over your pajamas, you headed downstairs to start making breakfast. You rummaged through the fridge, pondering on what to cook. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice someone else enter the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said, startling you.

With a slight jump, you turned around to see Sangyeon. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and exchanged greetings with him. He spotted the gleam of a necklace hidden under your robe and furrowed his brows.

“That’s the necklace I got her. It’s Y/n for sure,” he thought.

Again, you felt his piercing gaze on you. Still unable to understand why he kept staring at you, you awkwardly turned back around. Sangyeon walked towards the kettle to make himself a cup of tea, still conscious of your presence. With that, he went back up to his room, leaving you alone once again.

Eyeing the bag of sliced bread, you decided to just settle for toast. After the simple meal, you went back to your room to get ready. It was the weekend and you planned on shopping for little trinkets to furnish the house with.

When you came back, you found your new cohabitants watching TV in the living room. You politely refused their help with the bags, setting them down on the table. You pulled out a few small photo frames and held them out to show them.

“Aren’t these adorable?” you beamed. “I was thinking of decorating the place with photos. You know, to add some warmth and humanity. Feel free to take a couple and add your own pictures.”

You placed a handful of the frames in front of them, encouraging them to take some. After excusing yourself for a second, you quickly ran up to your room to grab the printed photos on your desk. When you rejoined the group in the living room, you began to insert them into the picture frames.

“Is this from your high school entrance day?” Jaehyun asked, holding a photograph up.

“Yup,” you nodded. “To be honest, though, I don’t really remember much from high school.”

Changmin, finding a photo of you in front of the Hollywood sign, asked if it was taken during your college years.

“Ah, yes that’s when I first began my life in America. I was both anxious and eager to leave Korea behind,” you said, unaware of Sangyeon's wince at your words.

“Oh… Would it be okay for me to ask why?” Jacob asked.

“Of course. It’s all in the past,” you laughed. “I had some bad memories in Seoul and left abruptly at the end of my last year of high school. That was when I moved to L.A. to start anew.”

Sangyeon recalled the day you disappeared. He had texted you, asking to meet at the playground. After finding out about a misunderstanding you had, he wanted to resolve it as soon as possible. He waited there for hours but you never showed. You missed school for a week before your teacher suddenly announced that you would not be returning.

And that was the end of his friendship with you. You left without a warning or farewell. Now, you stood in front of him again. After seven years, he was reunited with you as an adult. He was both excited and confused. When he first saw you at the door, he wanted to blurt your name out and catch up on all the missed time. But when you introduced yourself to him as if it was your first meeting, he found himself doing the same.

At every encounter, you acted as if he was a stranger. At first, he thought you forgot about him and it hurt. But now, he supposed that you just wanted to forget about him. When you mentioned that you had bad memories of Seoul and that you were glad to start fresh in Los Angeles, he realized that he was nothing but a painful past to you.

So he put on a poker face and went along with your little act. For a month, he kept his distance from you and made sure to stay within the strict boundaries of a landlord and a tenant. While his friends grew close to you, he remained reserved.

“Why are you so cold to Y/n?” Changmin once asked him. Sangyeon never answered the question and continued to keep his facade up.

Meanwhile, you were clueless as to why Sangyeon was so standoffish. You had asked his friends, who were a lot more pleasant, if he was normally inhospitable to new people. At their unnatural attempts to change the subject, you figured it was just you that he disliked.

Still, Sangyeon couldn’t hide his innate desire to take care of you in his own ways. Every time your favorite snack ran low in the pantry, he would stack up on it next time he went to the mart. Knowing you hated the cold, he would make sure to keep the house temperature high—even when Jaehyun went to lower it, complaining that he was hot. When you fell asleep on the couch, he would cover you with the blanket you kicked to the floor.

The boy in front of you was extremely close as he reached behind your shoulders to put the necklace on for you. You held your breath and felt your heart race.

“There,” he grinned proudly. “How pretty.”

“Me or the necklace?” you asked, half joking and half serious. He shrugged, prompting you to playfully punch his arm.

“Now you’re forever indebted to me, Y/n. That’s a one of a kind necklace you can’t find anywhere else. Be honored I made it for you,” he declared. You rolled your eyes at his arrogance but still smiled nonetheless.

“Since I gave you this, you can’t ever forget me, okay?” he made you promise.

Your eyes opened, waking you up from your dream. Finding it odd how vivid it was, you frowned and sat up. You wondered if it was a part of your missing memory.

The view outside your window revealed a white wonderland, reminding you that the weather forecast predicted a snowstorm today. You groaned, remembering that today was also the day that you would be alone with Sangyeon. Jacob was on a business trip whereas Changmin and Jaehyun went to their hometowns to visit their parents.

“The snow just has to lock us inside this house today of all days,” you mumbled as you snuggled back into your blanket.

You closed your eyes, wanting to sleep a little more. After half an hour of trying to fall back asleep, you gave up with an exasperated sigh. You changed into a sweatshirt and went downstairs to make yourself some hot chocolate.

To your surprise, Sangyeon was already in the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate. You both froze, not knowing how to interact without at least one of the other three guys.

“Here, you can have this one. I’ll make myself another one,” he finally spoke, handing you the cup topped with marshmallows.

You muttered a word of thanks as you wrapped your hands around the warm drink. Looking at the window, you saw that the snow was piling up a lot already. In an attempt to break through the walls Sangyeon had built around you, you mustered up the courage to ask if he wanted to watch a movie together. Taken aback, he nodded before he even fully processed your question.

That’s how the two of you ended up on the coach with a randomly chosen film playing on the TV screen. The movie was better than you thought it’d be. The subtle love line brought a comedic relief in such an action-packed plot. You enjoyed it until the main character ended up with amnesia; it made you uncomfortable as it reminded you of your own accident. Noticing that you weren’t focusing on the movie anymore, Sangyeon paused it and asked if you wanted to stop watching.

Not wanting to ruin the mood, you shook your head. He stared at you for a bit before turning it off. Although you were relieved, you felt bad because he seemed to be enjoying the film.

Trying to make up for it, you offered to make lunch. At his reluctance, you insisted since you both had to eat and delivery would take a long time. He followed you into the kitchen, watching as you surfed the internet for recipes.

You managed to keep the conversation flowing as you cooked. You asked about his job and he asked about your experience as a college student in another country. You were happy that he was finally opening up to you. By the end of the meal, you felt comfortable enough to share a little more about yourself.

“To be honest, I was very hesitant about coming back to Korea. When I left seven years ago, I left behind a lot,” you began.

“Yeah, you left me behind,” Sangyeon wanted to say. Instead, he kept his thoughts to himself.

“I mentioned before that I don’t remember much of my high school years. The only memories I have of back then are whatever my parents told me. Which isn’t much. They were always too busy to know what went on in my life,” you stated.

Trying to piece the information together, he carefully asked what you meant by that.

“I got into a car accident seven years ago,” you sheepishly revealed, making his eyes widen. “Apparently I was in a coma for about a week. When I woke up, I was told that I was suffering from amnesia. I was hospitalized for another few weeks to recover and then sent to California to be with my cousin, Eric. There, I went through physical therapy and attended university. I was hoping to leave behind my trauma in Korea.”

“O-Oh, I didn’t know you went through all that,” he stammered, embarrassed.

“I feel like there’s a part of my life that I’m missing and I hate it,” you confessed. “I get these dreams sometimes and I think it might be my missing memories but I’m not too sure.”

The two of you fell into silence. Sangyeon despised himself for not knowing what happened. He had been too busy pitying himself to stop and think from your perspective. He didn’t deserve to have you remember him. He figured it was best that you forgot him. There was no point in disclosing everything now anyway.

After that day, you thought you had gotten closer to Sangyeon. Contrary to your expectations, however, you grew even more distant. At first, you thought you were overthinking. But as the week went on, it became obvious that he was indeed avoiding you.

Eventually, Jacob confronted him about it. He trapped his best friend and demanded an explanation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sangyeon lied with a straight face. Sighing, Jacob let it go. He knew that he couldn’t force anything out of him.

Despite Sangyeon’s efforts to keep away from you, he still continued to quietly do little things for you. Luckily for him, you didn’t notice. You didn’t think twice about the pot of coffee that was always prepared every morning or your shoes that were neatly put away after you left them scattered at the entrance.

You didn’t know why you felt so disappointed. You didn’t realize that you had grown attached to him as time passed by. Something about him felt familiar and comfortable. Yet, at the same time, he felt like a challenge. He was aloof but occasionally had moments that showed his soft side. He intrigued you.

“Y/n, you can’t keep associating yourself with that boy. Imagine how shocked we were when we heard those rumors about you two dating! You know your father has plans for you and Juyeon,” your mother chided.

“It’s the 21st century! I am not getting into an arranged marriage. Especially not just for the sake of father’s political ambitions,” you yelled.

A slap was delivered to your face. The sound was loud and you felt your cheek throb in pain. Bewildered, you glared at the woman in front of you. Deeming your action as disrespectful, your mother slapped you once again.

“You don’t even deserve to be called a mother,” you spat.

With that, you stormed out of the house. The boy your mother demanded you to stay away from wasn’t even your boyfriend. You had hoped that he would be one day but that hope dissipated when you saw another girl in his arms earlier that day. Tears blinded your vision as you fumbled for your phone. You called Eric, praying that he would pick up despite the time difference. To your relief, he did and his voice caused you to sob.

“Y/n? Y/n, what’s wrong?” Eric asked, concerned.

You barely managed to tell him what was going on in between your cries. He tried to calm you down but it was futile. You weren’t listening. You were too busy running away. Too busy to notice the car that was speeding towards you.

You woke up gasping for air. Your heart was beating fast as you checked your surroundings. Once you realized that you were in your room and not on the streets, you relaxed.

“Was that just a dream? Or a flashback?” you murmured. You brushed it off, blaming your return to Korea for these weird dreams.

Eric was landing in Korea today and you were thrilled. You missed him greatly and couldn’t wait to see him again. You glanced at the clock to check the time. You had to leave soon to greet him at the airport. Quickly getting dressed, you hummed in excitement.

On your way down, you heard the doorbell ring. You cocked your head, wondering if one of the guys had invited a guest. You shouted out that you’d get the door and ran to open it.

“Surprise!” Eric yelled, holding a bouquet of flowers.

It took you a moment to process the scene in front of you. You blinked a few times before you squealed and jumped into his arms. He laughed, dropping the flowers to hold onto you. The noise brought your housemates downstairs with curiosity. You quickly introduced everyone to each other and pulled your cousin inside once they finished exchanging greetings.

“I thought your plane was landing in an hour!” you exclaimed.

“I told you the wrong time so I could come surprise you instead,” he winked.

You didn’t notice Eric staring Sangyeon down but Sangyeon definitely did. He tried to ignore it, assuming that your cousin just wasn’t happy with the fact that you were living with four males.

You spent the rest of the day catching up with Eric and exploring your neighborhood together. You showed him your favorite cafe and feasted on the waffles there. He filled you in on how his parents—your aunt and uncle—were doing. They drilled him to make sure he told you how much they missed you, making you giggle. As proof of his completed mission, he took a selfie with you to send to them.

“I miss them too,” you pouted. “I better video call them soon. It’s hard trying to match the time zone and their work schedule.”

“Or,” he dragged out the word expectantly. “You could just move back to L.A.”

“Eric, you know why I came back. And what it took for me to do so.”

“I know, I know. But I honestly don’t know how I feel about you trying to retrieve your memory. Maybe some things are better left forgotten?”

“For the past seven years, something in the corner of my brain has been irking me. I know I’m forgetting something important. I feel it.”

He sighed and put his hands up as a sign of defeat.

“Just remember that if you don’t find what you’re looking for or if you aren’t happy with what you find, you can always go back to join me in L.A.” he said softly.

It was a hard secret to keep from you for almost a decade. In exchange for calling off your arranged marriage, your parents made him promise to never tell you about what happened the day of the accident. You moving to Los Angeles was the solution your parents came up with to keep you away from that past.

Seeing Sangyeon at your house gave him a bad feeling. He didn’t know what he told you and was scared that it was only a matter of time before your memories returned after seeing him so often.

Before Eric left for Seoul, he pulled Sangyeon aside to give him a warning.

“I don’t know why you’re lingering around my cousin but I know who you are,” Eric glared. “I obviously don’t know the whole story of what happened back when you two were in high school but I don’t quite like you. If you’re simply here for a place to live, keep it that way. Don’t put anything in Y/n’s head. She doesn’t need to remember what you did to her.”

“What I did to her?” Sangyeon repeated, confused. “But I didn’t- wait, are you talking about-”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Eric interrupted. “You led her on and then hugged another girl right in front of her.”

“The girl she saw me with wasn’t my girlfriend. She suddenly came up to me and confessed. That hug was initiated by her and was one sided. I found out about that misunderstanding and was trying to clear it up the day she disappeared.”

“Does it matter anymore after all these years?” Eric sighed. “Listen, you have no idea what Y/n went through back then and what was sacrificed to let her live the way she wanted to.”

“If there’s something you want to tell me, don’t beat around the bush,” Sangyeon frowned. Eric let out an exasperated sigh, conflicted. He wasn’t sure if it was his place to reveal details to him but he felt that it was necessary.

“That day. Y/n’s parents found out about how you two had a thing. There were rumors going around and it reached their ears. I don’t know if Y/n ever told you but they already had a guy in mind for her. Some stupid politics shit. Obviously, she said that was ridiculous but what power does a teenager have over their parents? She was fighting so hard for you but it was all in vain. You broke her heart.”

Sangyeon’s face crumbled at his words. You had never told him about the struggles you had in your home but he should have caught on from the day he first met you.

“That accident took away her memory. For better or for worse. She forgot all about the guy her parents pushed her towards and she forgot about the pain you caused her. And to be quite frank, I want it to stay that way. She came back to Korea to recover her memories but she deserves peace and happiness. She doesn’t need any more dramatic twists in her life. If you still truly care for her, you would agree,” your cousin said before he left.

A figure stood in front of you. You couldn’t see the face but there was a sense of familiarity. It was the same boy from your previous dreams.

“How could you not remember me, Y/n?” he asked.

You wanted to hold his hand and try to recall who he was. You wanted to hug him and tell him that you didn’t intentionally forget him. But your body would not move according to your will.

You awoke to a pounding head and sore throat. Feeling your nose run, you reached out for a tissue. You moaned in pain, realizing you had a bodyache as well. You couldn’t bear to get up and pulled the blanket closer to your body to keep warm. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to fall back asleep.

Downstairs, the guys were eating lunch together. Jaehyun looked at his watch and verbally noted that you still hadn’t woken up.

“Do you think we should wake her up to eat?” Changmin asked, to which Jacob shook his head, saying that they should leave you to rest.

“I wonder if she’s sick? I heard her coughing in the middle of the night when I got up to go to the bathroom,” Jaehyun said.

On the outside, Sangyeon pretended not to care. On the inside, however, he was extremely worried. You always got sick at least twice each winter. After quickly finishing his meal, he grabbed his coat and headed out to the pharmacy. He asked for any and every medicine to help with colds and kept the bag in his pocket when he came back.

He stopped in front of your door with his hand hovering mid-knock. He decided against knocking and left the bag of medicines hanging on your handle.

When evening came around, Jacob went up to your room with a bowl of porridge. Seeing the bag still on the door, he knocked and entered with it.

“So you are sick,” he commented when he saw your disheveled image.

“Jacob, you are an angel,” you gasped at the sight of the food.

“Actually, the medicine isn’t from me. I think that might have been Jaehyun. It was left on your door handle,” he said as he set the tray down on your desk.

You thanked him for the porridge and made a mental note to thank Jaehyun later. Too tired to do anything else, you took the medicine and fell into another deep sleep.

The next day, you felt better enough to get out of bed. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, you trudged downstairs. You saw Jaehyun in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee and said good morning.

“Oh! I didn’t get the chance to tell you yesterday but thanks for the medicine,” you smiled.

“Huh? What medicine?” he tilted his head in confusion.

“You weren’t the one who left medicine for me outside my door?” you blinked. He shook his head and you assumed that it had been Changmin.

However, when you asked Changmin about it, he was clueless as well. It left you with only one other possibility and your heart skipped a beat at the thought. Wanting to express your gratitude, you went out and bought ingredients to make him some kimbap. You spent the rest of the morning working hard in the kitchen, persevering through multiple mistakes.

You groaned the third time the kimbap popped while you tried to roll it. You considered giving up for a brief moment but shook your head. With a determined sigh, you pulled out another sheet of dried seaweed and began your fourth attempt.

Finally, you managed to decently succeed. You grinned in triumph at your slightly deformed roll. After cleaning up the mess you made, you looked out the window to see Sangyeon reading in the yard with a beanie on and a scarf wrapped around his neck. Hoping to keep him warm, you poured a cup of hot coffee and walked towards him with the food nicely plated.

“Hey Sangyeon,” you said as you held out the plate. “I made you some kimbap for you to munch on as you read.”

“No thanks,” he said coldly. You blinked, not expecting such an answer.

“O-Oh… do you not like kimbap?” you awkwardly laughed. “Here, have some coffee then.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to mind me,” he closed his book and stood up to leave. You frowned at his rudeness, ticked off.

“You could at least take the coffee if you don’t want the food,” you said, making him pause. “Or at the very least politely decline considering the effort I put in.”

“I never asked you to put in any effort towards me.”

You scoffed and put the cup and plate down to fold your arms. His harsh words were so different from his kind actions. It constantly felt like he was trying so hard to push you out and you didn’t understand why.

“Then what’s with the medicine you left for me yesterday?” you confronted him. He froze, not knowing how he got caught. He then noticed that you came outside with no outerwear, making him sigh. Trying to avoid an argument, he silently took his scarf off and put it on you before turning around to leave.

“What the hell, Lee Sangyeon?” you blurted. You placed yourself in front of him to stop him from leaving.

“What is with you? Literally one day you’re taking care of me behind my back and the next you’re avoiding me like the plague. Is this your tsundere concept or what?” you huffed.

You waited for him to say something back but he kept his lips pursed. Exasperated, you ripped the scarf off and stormed back inside.

Sangyeon cursed at himself in his mind. He could’ve handled that a lot better. Sighing, he bent down to pick up the scarf thrown on the ground. At a closer glance, he saw your necklace buried in the fabric. He held it up and stared at the jewelry in his palm. With a conflicted expression, his grip tightened around it, enclosing it in his fist.

You decided that you were over Sangyeon once and for all. You didn’t care how tired he came home looking every night or if was eating properly. You officially gave up on getting closer to him. If he wanted to push you away with his stupid tsundere ways, then that was his problem and not yours.

Grumbling, you climbed into bed to comfort yourself by watching Netflix. You very much rather preferred having your mind occupied with fictional characters than your own issues.

By the time evening rolled around, you grabbed your clothes and headed to the bathroom to shower. Your hands reached up to your neck to take your necklace off but were met with bare skin. Your eyes widened as you looked in the mirror, realizing that the necklace was gone.

You didn’t remember when or where you got it but you always had a feeling that it was important to you. You felt anxious without it.

You rushed to the kitchen to find it. Changmin was staring at you, perplexed, as you crawled across the floor to check every nook and cranny.

“Are you looking for something?” he asked.

“My necklace,” you tensed. “I can’t find it anywhere. Have you seen it here?”

He shook his head as he apologized, saying he hadn’t. Fretting, you checked the living room hoping it was hidden somewhere on the couch. When it still didn’t turn up, you ran outside to check the yard.

At that moment, Jacob and Sangyeon came down and saw Changmin looking out the window. Curious to see what he was watching, they followed his gaze to see you examining the grass.

“What’s Y/n doing?” Jacob asked.

“I think she lost her necklace,” Changmin answered as he took another bite of his apple. “It must be really important to her. She’s been searching for a while now.”

“I hope she finds it soon. It’s cold out at night,” Jacob said with a concerned look on his face.

Sangyeon stiffened, feeling the necklace in his pocket. He brushed it off, thinking you would give up soon. After pouring himself a cup of tea, he returned to his room. The sky rumbled, warning of incoming rain.

“I’m sure she’ll come back in now,” he mumbled.

Half an hour passed as Sangyeon continued reading his book. It was now pouring outside and the raindrops tapped violently against the windows. He reached out for his tea, only to notice be met with an empty cup. He placed the book down and went to the kitchen for a refill.

He was shocked to see you still in the yard, crouched down with a flashlight. Anger bubbled up inside him and he found himself grabbing an umbrella and joining you outside. Holding your wrist, he lifted you up to face him. The rain ceaselessly attacked the umbrella over your heads and his heart broke at the sight of you. You were drenched and your hair stuck to the sides of your face.

“Let go of me. I need to find something,” you freed yourself from his grasp and went back to shifting through the grass.

“It’s late and it’s raining. You can look for it later,” he said as he pulled you back up.

“No, I have to find it now,” you insisted.

“Y/n, you’re sick!” he exploded. “What’s more important than your health right now?”

“My necklace!” you yelled back. “I can’t remember who gave it to me but I know it was a gift. I can’t lose it. I just know that it’s from someone important. It’s the missing memory I came back to Korea to find!”

His chest clenched as your tears blended in with the rain. He never thought that the necklace would mean so much to you. Hesitantly, he pulled it out from his pocket and handed it to you.

“I’m the one who gave it to you, Y/n,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Seven years ago, I was the one who made this necklace and gave it to you. This isn’t what I meant when I said that you were indebted to me.”

Puzzled, you stared at the chain hanging from your clasp. You were beyond confused. If you had known Sangyeon, why did he never act like it? Then, the pieces started to come together and his behavior started to make sense. Those eyes that seemed to recognize you from day one. The endless supply of the snacks you never expressed your love for in front of the guys. The dreams that you suddenly understood now.

“You knew who I was the entire time… and you didn’t say anything?” your voice cracked. “You knew I was out here looking for the necklace that you had and you still didn’t say anything?”

“I-”

“Forget it,” you cut him off. You shoved the umbrella away from you and slowly walked towards the house.

“Now you’re forever indebted to me, Y/n. That’s a one of a kind necklace you can’t find anywhere else. Be honored I made it for you.”

You winced at the sudden flashback.

“Y/n, you can’t keep associating yourself with that boy.”

You shook your head as if the memories would shake out of your mind.

“You don’t even deserve to be called a mother.”

You stumbled, causing you to flinch. Sangyeon ran to hold onto you and caught you just in time before your knees went weak. You felt your lungs tighten as the world spun around you and his voice became muffled. Then, everything went black.

“We gave her a fever reducer so her temperature should be coming down soon,” the doctor said as he looked through your patient chart. “She can be discharged once she wakes up and finishes the IV treatment. As long as she rests well at home, she’ll be okay.”

Sangyeon profusely thanked the doctor before he felt to continue his rounds. Sitting down next to you, he sighed. This wasn’t what he intended at all. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy. Back then and even now, his priority had always been you. Even if it meant giving up his own desires. Even if it meant giving you up.

It was taking longer than expected for you to awaken. Sangyeon began to worry but the nurses assured him that there was no problem. He restlessly paced around your bed, praying that you were okay.

When you finally came to, it took you a moment to register your surroundings. In what felt like a long sleep, all of your lost memories came flooding back. Still overwhelmed by the sudden anamnesis, you grasped for the only thing that brought you a sense of familiarity and comfort—Sangyeon’s hand.

“Don’t leave me,” you croaked.

“I won’t. I promise I won’t let you go again,” he whispered, holding your hand tighter.

225 notes · View notes

aliwritesfic · 4 years ago

Text

Night Shift Part 3 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Yours and Frankie’s weekends take very different turns

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Emotionally abusive relationship, very brief mention of drug use, drinking, T*m D*vis makes an appearance

Part 1 Part 4

Frankie slept better that week than he had in months. Every night was long, uninterrupted, mercifully dreamless sleep. The diner had done exactly what he had hoped. When he awoke that Saturday afternoon, he felt better than he had in ages. He hummed while he rummaged through the refrigerator, grabbing out some leftover padthai and throwing it in the microwave.

Each night that week, a routine between you and him had formed. You’d work, barely exchanging words until the dinner rush was completed, then you’d make him a coffee and he’d make you something to eat. You’d requested something different each night, and each night you’d spoken to him a little more. Some nights you were in a better mood than others, but he quickly realised it wasn’t personal against him.

He found he was a little disappointed when he woke up that afternoon and remembered that it was his day off. If he was being honest with himself, he’d grown to enjoy your company. Something about you intrigued him, made him want to get to know you more.

Frankie spent getting stuff together for poker night with the boys. It was his turn to host, so all he had to do was make sure that his dining room table was clear and his portable speaker was charged.

While he got ready, his mind kept wandering back to you.

He thought of the way you had a different smile for certain customers. The truly genuine one was reserved for only a select few of your favourites. He felt himself hoping that one day you’d give him one of those smiles, instead of the one that didn’t really reach your eyes and disappeared quickly.

He thought of how when the diner was quiet, you’d lean against the counter and sip your coffee, your gaze firmly out the window.

He thought of how when your shift ended and you checked your phone, your face would change for just a fraction of a second before you’d say goodbye and rush out the door.

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought, do I have a crush?

Frankie hadn’t had a crush since high school, when he had finally had the guts to ask out Portia Inglewood. That relationship had lasted until he left the military, and brought all the emotional baggage with him.

A loud banging on the door knocked him out of his thoughts.

“Cat!” Benny didn’t wait for Frankie to open the door. “We’re here, and we have beer!”

“You know where it goes,” Frankie called back.

Santi grinned at his best friend and handed him a beer. “How’s the new job?”

“It’s exactly what I need right now,” Frankie told him. Santi nodded in understanding. They all had their own ways of dealing with what they carried. “Plus, the extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

Frankie didn’t want money - he had plenty from when he’d do private jobs with Santi. If he ever became desperate, he knew he could just join Santi on his next job.

“Well, extra cash or not, I’ll always be the hottest person you’ve ever worked with,” Santi winked, making Frankie roll his eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, man.” Frankie laughed.

The night progressed in a haze of pizza and beer and poker. Will lost money to Tom, and Tom promptly lost it all to Benny. Santi told the group about the new girl he was seeing, some French expat over stateside for a few months. Benny double checked everyone was coming to the fight next weekend. Tom revealed that he and the girls were moving to Ohio to be closer to Molly’s parents. The boys promptly began planning a going away party, which would basically just be another poker night but with more beer and possibly a cake.

Any worries Frankie held seemed to melt away on nights like these. At one point, he briefly wondered what you were doing and if you were thinking of him too. Yep. Definitely a crush.

~*~

You didn’t like Kurt’s friends. Unfortunately, you were stuck spending your Saturday night with them crowded in your apartment, loud and disrespectful as hell. It didn’t matter to them that you’d asked time and time again could they please go outside to smoke, could they please put their beer bottles in the recycling bin, could they please not use your nice plates to do coke on.

If your grandfather could have seen you now, he would’ve called you a push-over. You hated that you had become this person - afraid to stick up for yourself in your own home. Hell, you didn’t even know at what point you’d become this person. It just seemed to happen over the five years you’d been dating Kurt.

You had lost yourself in trying to be what he wanted.

With a sigh, you sealed yourself away in the bedroom with a bag of Doritos and your phone, wishing you could call your grandfather. You still had his number in your phone. Occasionally, you’d look at it, the numbers seared into your brain.

Instead of calling the now disconnected number, you settled for messaging Sara. She was one of your only remaining friends from high school, and knew as much about your feelings as you were willing to let on. The thing was, you knew what she would say if you told her how you felt every single day. How lost, how hopeless you felt. She’d tell you to leave, forget Kurt and all the years with him, but to you it wasn’t that simple.

Part of you still loved him, despite everything, and that part remained hopeful that you and Kurt could fix the fractures in your relationship. Plus, a voice in the back of your head told you he was right when he said he was the only one who could ever love you.

Being alone, unloved, was one of your deepest fears.

This was one of the nights you actually missed being at the diner. You missed the lemon scented countertops, the radio that seemed to be permanently set on the oldies station, hell, you even missed Frankie and his amazing food. He’d been working with you less than a week but he had already wedged himself into your stomach. But, it was just two more nights until you were back there. It struck you that this was the opposite of how most people thought. No one you knew actually wished to go back to work.

It was almost dawn when you were woken out of your half sleep by Kurt stumbling into the room.

“Baby,” he slurred, crawling into bed beside you. “Baby, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumbled, moving over so he could fit in the bed easier. He reeked of sweat and booze.

“I’m sorry,” he planted a sloppy kiss on your neck. “I really try to be good.”

“I know,” you ran your fingers over his head. He liked his hair cropped short, in an almost military like style. “I try too.”

“Can we go back to how we were?” Kurt continued kissing you, his hands moving drunkenly over your body. You bit back a sigh, knowing where this was heading.

You decided it would be easier to let him do what he needed, despite how badly you wanted to sleep. The only saving grace was you knew Kurt would only last a couple of minutes before it would be over.

~*~

“So, what’s the new guy like?” Manny asked. You were seated outside, at one of his favourite cafes. The sun shone down warmly on you both, brightening your mood.

“I like him, I think,” you said. “He’s nice, quiet.”

“And pretty cute, right?” Manny wriggled his eyebrows.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lied. Of course you had noticed. It was impossible not to notice.

“Don’t feed me bullshit, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Ugh, fine. He’s good looking. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s the thing lover, it only means something if you want it to.” Manny took a conspiratorial sip of his drink. “And I didn’t get a gay vibe from him.”

“Oh good, because the only thing holding me back from jumping his bones in the kitchen is that I didn’t know his sexual preference.” You rolled your eyes, deciding to quickly change the subject. “Anyway, how’s the new job?”

“I’m loving it!” Manny lit up. “Everyone says teenagers are the worst group to teach, but it’s like they forget middle school exists.”

You smiled at Manny’s happiness. It thrilled you to see someone you considered your best friend so happy. If anyone deserves the whole world, you thought, it’s him. But he wasn’t going to let you change the subject that easily.

“You know, maybe you could invite Frankie to one of our lunches,” Manny said slyly. “It could be a night crew thing.”

“That would mean inviting the weekenders,” you reminded him. Manny held a grudge against the weekend crew, but you could never figure out why.

“No, weeknight crew only. Come on, lover, it could be fun! Plus, I want to get to know my replacement a bit better. Make sure I’m not handing the spatula to someone I don’t approve of.” Manny pouted and switched on his puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll ask,” you conceded, “but don’t be surprised if he says no. The man probably has a life.”

“It can’t hurt to ask though, and I will bother you about it until you have an answer.”

“What are you planning?” You knew that look all too well.

“Just on making a new friend,” Manny said innocently. “Lover, you can never have enough friends.”

At that moment your phone buzzed with a text from Kurt.

Where r u?????

You grimaced and sent a quick reply, hoping it wouldn’t lead to what it usually did.

At lunch with Manny from work. I’ll be home in a couple hours, do you want anything?

“Why don’t you just break up with him?” Manny asked, watching you carefully.

Is he the gay 1?

Yes, you met him and his husband last year.

“It’s complicated,” you said. You didn’t have anywhere to go. You were terrified of being alone. Part of you still felt like you could salvage what you had. The one and only time you had tried to break up with him, he had threatened to kill himself if you left.

“You deserve better than that,” Manny said. You remained silent, not sure if he was right. “You’ve been unhappy for ages now.”

“I’m happy!” You protested.

“No you aren’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re miserable with that douche bag, even James agrees.”

“I haven’t seen James in months! How the hell would he know!” You were getting defensive, but you still managed to keep your voice lowered.

“Lover, I talk that man's ear off every chance I get. Because I love him. Because he likes to hear me talk about my day and the people important to me.”

“I’m important to you?”

Manny rolled his eyes and threw his napkin at you. “Of course you are, you’re a sister to me. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“What subject!” You scoffed.

“The subject of you for some reason wanting to stay in a relationship with a man who makes you miserable,” Manny’s voice softened and he gently held one of your hands. The gesture almost made you tear up with its gentleness. You merely shrugged.

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Manny nodded. “Just please think about it, for real. I couldn’t sleep at night if I never said anything to you about it.”

The walk home was slow, you took your time to sort out your scrambling thoughts. Manny had offered to drive you, but it was a nice day, and you wanted to enjoy the sunshine. You pushed the issue of Kurt to the side, knowing either way the outcome would be the same unless you magically grew a spine and a few extra zeros in your bank account.

Instead, you thought about Frankie and how best to ask him to Sunday lunch. Honestly, if there was going to be a night shift tradition, it just felt downright rude to not at least extend an invite. And if Frankie said yes, well, that was even better. It was like Manny said - an opportunity to make a new friend. Just a friend.

So why did your stomach flip at the thought?

Tagging @hnt-escape if you’d also like to be tagged just let me know <3

#the night shift #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #slowburn #diner romance #friends to lovers

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