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stephstars08 · 1 year

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Still Alive ~ Chapter Two

Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Parent Issues, Some Angst but more Fluff, and Anxiety, and Mention of Nightmare. (Sorry if I forgot any)

Word Count: 2,263

Author’s Note: Hello, before I say anything I just want to say thank you so much to all of you for showing so much love on the first chapter of this book and thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me seeing so many people showing support for my writing! This chapter has a lot of Ethan in it so enjoy!! I hope you all like this chapter! Next chapter will be posted on Monday instead of Sunday since Sunday is Mother’s Day!🩵

Y/N was sitting in her media art class taking notes for her next project for the class. She was taking notes on the theme of her next art project. Y/N is majoring in art and mixed media since her favorite thing to do ever since she was a child was to draw. Sometimes when she would get upset, she would lock herself in her room and just draw anything. Anytime she gets stressed or anxious about something she would color in one of her hundred of color books that she owns.

Y/N didn’t get into sculpting till she hit her junior year of high school. Most of her artwork is a sculpture made of clay since that’s her favorite form of art and also her strongest form as well.

When the bell rang, signaling that class was over Y/N finished writing her last sentence and started to log out of her laptop shutting it down. “Have a nice day everyone!” The professor called out to everyone. “Ms. Riley, may I speak to you really quick?” Y/N heard the professor call out to her. Y/N let out a sigh as she put her notebook and laptop in her book bag. She wrapped the straps of her book bag onto her shoulders and walked to her professor.

“What’s up? Is something wrong?” Y/N asked her professor sounding a bit nervous. “Yes, you know about the art exhibit next month, right?” The professor said, which earned a nod of the head from Y/N. “I haven’t gotten your prompt on what you are making for the show.” The professor said to her. “Sorry, If I’m being completely honest, I have had so much going on and I just haven’t been thinking about what to make.” Y/N said being completely honest but not going into much detail.

Of course, she isn’t going to tell her professor about the shit that is going on with her mom and the fucking nightmares about her killing the bitch that killed her father. That’s all she thinks about.

“I’m sorry to hear that but Ms. Riley you are the only student in all my classes that hasn’t submitted anything. Half of the class is almost done.” The professor told her. “Okay um I promise I’ll give you some kind of idea by next week.” Y/N promised hoping her professor will ease the stern look she is getting. “Okay, I better have it before next weekend.” The professor told her in a strict tone. “Yes, I promise.” Y/N said again which earned a nod from the professor giving her permission to leave. After saying a quick goodbye Y/N walked out of the classroom.

As she walked down the hallway, she kept thinking about what the fuck she could make. She knew she wanted to make a sculpture, but she had no idea what she wanted to sculpt. She knew it was going to be a long week.

~~~~~~~~~~

After Y/N’s last class of the day she decided to sit in the park under a tree and sketch some ideas for her project in her sketch book but of course, everything she had sketched so far was shit. Y/N stopped to see what she had drawn on the paper so far. “This looks like shit!” She hissed ripping the piece of paper out and crumbled it up. She tossed the paper into her growing pile of crumbled pieces of paper. She had to have at least ten in the pile. “What the fuck am I going to do!” She groaned in frustration.

If she doesn’t have some kind of art in the show, she can end up failing the class. Y/N knew she needed a break, so she sat her book and pencil down beside her on the grass. She let out a sigh as she ran both of her hands through her hair. “Why is this so hard?” She whispered to herself. She’s never been out of inspiration like this. When she put her hands down, she heard a vibrating sound.

When she looked at her phone that was lying on her book bag, she was getting a phone call. When she picked up her phone, she saw the called ID said unknown. She couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Her parents and Sidney always warned her about unknown callers because of Ghostface. She was just about to answer the call till someone said her name, which spooked her, but she relaxed when she saw it was just Ethan. Y/N quickly hit the decline button and put her phone back down onto her bag. “Who was calling you?” Ethan asked her in a curious tone. “Oh, um it was my mom.” Y/N answered with a lie. “I’m guessing she’s trying to talk to you again?” Ethan said as he leaned his shoulder on the tree.

Ethan is the one that knows the most about the shit she goes through with her mom. When Y/N first met Ethan the thing they bonded together the most was the situation with their parents. Ethan lost his mom about five years ago, so he knows how it feels to lose a parent. Ethan has only confessed to her that he has issues with his father so right when he turned eighteen, he cut off all contact. He didn’t go into much detail which Y/N didn’t mind or pry at him to tell her more. He told her that she’s the only one that knows. He doesn’t like talking about it which of course, Y/N relates to. So, does Sam but Ethan is closer to Y/N than Sam.

“She wanted to know if we could do something tonight, but I told her that I already have plans.” Y/N told him. “So, you are coming to the Halloween party tonight.” Ethan said with a smile as he took off his bag and sat down next to her. Y/N’s heart fluttered when he smiled at her. That damn smile gets her every damn time. His smile was her favorite thing about him. “Yeah, Mindy and Anika talked me into going.” Y/N said as she fiddled with her fingers. She hates how nervous she gets when she’s around him. They have known each other for six months and see each other every single day. When will the nervousness finally go away?

“Chad talked me into going.” Ethan told her. “He said he’s going to get me to hook up with a girl.” He added which did make Y/N’s heart hurt a little bit. Of course, Chad has no clue that she has something for his curly-haired roommate. Chad can be really oblivious which to be honest what boy isn’t. Sometimes Y/N thinks that Ethan feels the same way about her but that voice in the back of her head tells her otherwise.

“What costume are you wearing?” Ethan asked her in a curious tone. “Costume?” Y/N asked him as she looked at him with a confused look. “It’s a costume party.” Ethan told her. “Seriously! It would’ve been nice if Mindy or Anika told me.” Y/N said with frustration in her tone. But then again it is Halloween so she shouldn’t be that shocked but of course she still thinks they should’ve given her a heads up about it. “I guess I’ll have to pull something out of my ass.” she added with another sigh.

This day is just full of surprises.

“I’m sure whatever you wear will be better than my costume.” Ethan said as he looked down at the grass. “Why? What are you going as?” Y/N asked him in a curious tone. “Well, Chad decided to tell me that I needed a costume for the party last night, so I stayed up all night last night making something out of cardboard and a lot of tape.” Ethan answered still not looking at her gaze. “Can I see it?” Y/N asked him which made him look back up at her. “It looks stupid.” Ethan told her. “I bet it doesn’t.” she said with soft eyes trying to reassure him. Ethan just shook his head no. “Please Ethan! I can’t wait until the party.” Y/N said in a pleading tone giving him the puppy dog eyes which always work on him. “Okay, fine.” Ethan said in defeat. “Let’s go to my apartment.” Ethan added as he stood up from the ground. “Yes!” Y/N said as she started to put all her stuff into her bookbag.

She also put the pile of crumbled up pieces of paper in her bag as well. She got on her knees so she could put her phone in her back pocket. When she looked back up at him, he had his hand out towards her to take. She smiled as she put her hand in his. Right when their hands met, they both felt sparks shoot up their bodies. Ethan helped her up from the grass. “Thanks.” She said with a warm smile on her face. “You’re welcome.” He said, returning the smile. Y/N had to let go of his hand to pick up her bag and wrap it around her back.

When she let go of his hand the spark, she felt quickly went away which made her sad. It’s cheesy but when she’s around Ethan she feels things that she has never felt before. Yes, she has had a couple of boyfriends in high school but none of those boys made her feel the things she feels about Ethan.

As they walked to the apartment, they would make small talk but when it was silent it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable. When they walked down the sidewalk with a lot of people her hand would brush against his which would make the butterflies in her stomach go into a complete frenzy. Y/N followed him inside a familiar apartment building and up the steps. Ethan led her all the way to third floor and to the door of his and Chad’s apartment. Y/N watched him take his keys out from the front pocket of his jeans. He unlocked the door and opened the door. He let her go in first like he always does. He followed right behind her and shut the door.

“Where is it?” Y/N asked him in a curious tone as she took off her bag and tossed it onto the couch. “It’s in my room.” Ethan answered her dropping his book bag down onto the floor. “Please promise me that you won’t laugh at it.” Ethan said to her with pleading eyes. “I promise.” Y/N said reassuring him. “Okay, I’ll go get it.” Ethan said and walked to his bedroom.

Y/N sat down on the couch next to her bag and took out her phone to send a text to Mindy about not telling her that she needed to wear a costume to the party. After she hit the send button Ethan came back into the room holding a cardboard vest in one hand and a cardboard helmet in the other. Both items were covered in a lot of tape. “Wow, that looks um great.” Y/N told him with a small smile. She didn’t really know what to say. It wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t great. “Y/N, I know that you’re lying.” Ethan said with a stern look in his brown eyes. “No, I’m not.” Y/N said as she stood up.

“I just um, what is it supposed to be?” she asked as she walked closer to him. “A knight.” Ethan answered looking at the helmet then back at her. “Right a knight!” Y/N said with a snap of her fingers. “That’s what I thought it was.” She added but again he saw right through her lie. “Yeah, right.” Ethan hissed, tossing the trashy costume on the chair behind him. “Ethan, no I think it’s cool.” Y/N said trying to convince him that it's not a horrible costume. “Y/N, I know that you are just trying to make me feel better for making such a shitty costume.” Ethan told her with frustration in his tone. “It’s not a shitty costume.” She told him. “When you wear that tonight, those girls are going to be all over you.” she added, looking up into his big brown eyes. “Really?” He asked looking in her Y/E/C.

As they stared deep into each other’s eyes they started to lean in but before their lips could touch the front door swung open. “Hey- woah.” Chad said as he walked into the apartment. “What’s going on in here?” Chad asked as his lips curved into a smirk. “Nothing!” Y/N said quickly taking a step back from Ethan who was just staring down at the floor. Y/N and Ethan’s cheeks were as red as an apple. “Yeah, I was just showing Y/N my costume for tonight.” Ethan said, trying to hide the nervousness in his tone but it didn’t work. “Yeah, okay.” Chad said knowing something was about to happen between the two of them.

“Anyways.” Y/N said as she turned around to grab her bag off the couch. “I got to get back to my apartment, so I’ll see you two at the party.” Y/N said putting one of the straps on her shoulder. “See ya.” Ethan said looking at her with a smile that just melted her heart. Y/N shot him a smile back and walked out of the apartment.

She knew that Chad was going to tell Mindy about what he just walked into. If Chad didn’t know about her crush on Ethan, he definitely knows now. She’s going to hear about this all-fucking night!

*Tags*

@sweetirilly @aqellano @igotmajordaddyissues @athenalive @hotweeb @ghostlyboiii

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ginga-snappd-offical · 11 months

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please gush about your passions and pastimes!!! I would love to hear about them

Fat load under cut

Text to speech because there is a dog that is very not happy with the fireworks right now, so there will be no correct grammar. This will be all stream of consciousness you asked for this it’s here it is currently almost midnight, and I just got off of a very hard shift at work so I can’t promise that anything I’m about to say it’s gonna make sense, but you want me to talk about my passions so we’re going to talk about my passions and my past times when I have them sometimes I don’t have them because I have a full-time job and I like to do a lot of things and give myself projects that take up all of my time and leave nothing behind ha ha so the first thing that comes to mind is just general interests so like outside of illustration and drawing write him I said Bubba, Papa Papa ha ha ha ha I really like swimming usually in the lakes because chlorine is bad on my skin. This is too much information but we already did that thing with the peanut butter cup and I feel like eventually that’s going to become like a part of my legacy someday hopefully not but also, I’m gonna own up to the shit that I say anyways back to the lakes I also really enjoyed sand sculpting when I was younger, but I haven’t done it in a long time and since I live near freshwater rather than the coast, we don’t have great sand for like gold thing you know not gold thing sculpting there we go that’s the correct word anyways there is a dog currently sitting on my neck and trying to choke me to death because she is triggered by the Fourth of July fireworks as most dogs are but I love her. She is also one of my passions because she is a cutie patootie and she has these a big old ice, no big old eyes yes, big old eyes. She is licking me everywhere all over my face all over my hands because she is stressed and that is how she expresses her stress and her sister Ruby. The chunky Yorky Yorky is sleeping completely unbothered the reason she is unbothered is because I raised Ruby from a puppy, and when she was just a puppy, I would intentionally play heavy metal around her and really loud music because I had a feeling it would help her when things like this would happen and I was correct, but panda this little scrum Kali of a dog is very very sensitive to new stimuli because she is a rescue. Technically she was rehomed and now we have her so she is three years old and she has lake in her old house. She was kept in a kennel most of the time because it was a breeding house, but it wasn’t very humane so she had never seen snow. She never been outside. She had only gone potty on puppy pads, so it took about a year and a half to train her to pee outside Winter was a very unique experience for her that stressed her out and I think fireworks will always be a trigger for her because she was not raised in a heavy stimuli household like she was, but she wasn’t. She was raised on around a lot of dogs, but she wasn’t taught how to interact with them. She wasn’t socialized with them. She was just caged up. It was really not good so she’s my passion now it’s just making helping her learn how to interact with other animals without having a meltdown and teaching her how to take care of her self a little bit like self, soothing if that makes sense so that when she’s stressed, she’ll be OK when we’re not home, and that was hard because I don’t really know how to teach a dog how to self sooth but she seems to be doing OK now she’s calm down she’s not licking me as much. I turned on the air conditioner so that there’s noise so that seems to be helping her it’s not completely blocking out the fireworks but it’s doing decent, so yeah she’s OK. She’s OK other passions, I was really into like studying genetics when I was in high school like learning how genotypes and phenotypes worked and mostly my curiosity about it just seven from growing up with a mental illness and wanting to figure out how the fuck that Happened and it like in that class actually helped me with excepting myself. I’ve reached the text limit whoops

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earthboundvalkyrie · 1 year

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Under Purple Clouds

New Post has been published on https://www.ebvs.blog/2023/03/09/under-purple-clouds/

Under Purple Clouds

Chapter One of “Walking Through the Past”

One of the sites I write at, Vocal.media, is running a contest in which you write the first chapter of a hypothetical magical realism book, starting with an assigned sentence. Below is my entry. It’s not a long read, maybe 5 minutes.

I’m not expecting to win the contest or anything as this is my first real try at writing fiction, but I would appreciate any comments or guidance in case I decide to try writing more.

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. It was a stunning sight, on par with seeing the Aurora Borealis in person, and evey month, hundreds of people came to Elk Grove just to witness it. Initially, some townspeople wanted it fixed, but no one could figure out how. Then many started to find the display quite beautiful, and when it became a tourist attraction, everyone agreed to leave it alone.

There was an old high school tradition that each year, students would create some kind of a sky-show to celebrate graduation. Most classes went for animated writing, virtual fireworks or something to that effect – a display that could be seen from the ground – but one year, the students decided to try transforming the sky itself. The effect was only supposed to last for one hour that night, but it returned again the next night, and the next, and so on for the last 10 years.

Still, it generally made Janessa smile. The colours were beautifully harmonized, and the movement of the clouds was fluid and graceful. Tonight, however, she was finding it hard to smile. She snuffed out her cigarette in an old flower pot, pulled her cardigan a bit tighter around her and went back inside to a waiting N’Davi.

“Honey,” he started, quietly, “I know its hard on you, but we’re just not getting anywhere on this case.” His soft blue eyes pleaded with her. “Since we lost Brett, we haven’t…”

“I know,” she interrupted. “You haven’t been able to find another past reader.” She sighed and sat down next to him on the couch, it’s burgundy leather creaking with the movement. N’Davi put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“We even brought in a spirit speaker, hon, but the spirit couldn’t help us. He hadn’t seen his killer, so he couldn’t give us any clues.”

Janessa took out another cigarette, created a small flame in her hand to light it and took a long drag. “You know I’ll do it,” she sighed. “I’m not going to let a killer get off just because it’s hard to watch a murder. I just would like…” she paused to take another puff. D’Navi nodded to her, encouraging her to finish her thought. “I’d just like to feel like I had the option of saying ‘no’… that… I don’t know, I just…”

“You just wish it wasn’t always you, right?” he asked, pulling her over closer and kissing her gently on the temple. He brushed her long blonde hair back from her face.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Look, it’s late now, can we do it in the morning?” Janessa looked at her husband. You’d never know he was a cop, she thought. His blue eyes were kind, his broad smile gentle. Even his hair had a soft look to it, numerous black strands creating a frame around his face, the rest somehow managing to look casually windblown and perfectly sculpted at the same time.

“Of course we can. I’ll just call the boss and let him know we’ll be there in the morning, ok?”

She squeezed his hand as he stood up, then pulled him toward her for a quick kiss. “Yeah, ok.”

She wandered into the bedroom and snuggled down into their large soft bed. A few minutes later, she felt her husband join her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close as the skies faded back to black.

It felt too early for the alarm to be ringing when Janessa woke the next morning, but it was the usual 7:00 am. She nudged N’Davi a couple of times before he began to stir. How he could sleep through the alarm she had no idea, but he managed to do it regularly. Wrapping her robe around her she headed out to the kitchen for a quick breakfast of Greek yogurt and orange juice. She chuckled as N’Davi stumbled out from the bedroom, his robe inside out and his hair pointing in every direction. She quickly poured him a cup of coffee, touselled his hair a bit, and headed back to the master bathroom for a shower before getting dressed.

She adjusted the temperature on the shower just the way she liked it, then paused for a moment. She was rewarded with a sharp cry and several curse words from her husband as he discovered yet again that fresh brewed coffee was hot. Knowing he wouldn’t fall back asleep now, she quickly ran her hand through the water adding a light jasmine fragerance to it, then stepped inside. The scent would linger on her skin for several hours, and she hoped it would help keep her calm as she prepared for the past reading she’d be doing that morning.

They finished dressing and headed out to their car. The drive to the Elk Grove police station was peaceful as they drove down the tree-lined streets of their post-WWII subdivision with it’s little, boxy houses before reaching the towns main thoroughfare. The station quickly came into view and they pulled into the parking lot. Entering the station, Janessa was overwhelmed by the sight of all the bodies in blue hustling from desks to file cabinets to computers and back, and the smell of stale coffee and the sweat of hard work. Elk Grove was a mid-sized, middle-class suburb, so there wasn’t a lot of serious crime, but the work of vandals, petty burglars, overheated rednecks brawling at the bars and reckless joyriders still added up.

“Chief!” N’Davi called out, waving his boss over.

“What’s up, Richards” the keys at his waist jangled as his shoes tapped out a staccato rhythm. He turned to Janessa “Good morning, Ma’am!”

She smiled as N’Davi answered “I brought Janessa along to see if she can help us get any more information from the crime scene on the Taylor murder.”

“Ah! Good idea!” the chief replied “Let me know what you find… ” his eye caught a motion from the back of the room and he held up his index finger to let someone know he’d be a moment. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve been needing to speak to Garfield.” He nodded to both N’Davi and Janessa, then took off.

N’Davi turned to his wife “Well, dear, shall we get this over with?”

She nodded. N’Davi made his way over to the key holder, grabbed the key for his patrol car and led her back outside. They got in the car and headed for the exit, As N’Davi checked to make sure the road was clear before pulling into the street. As he began his turn, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Cresting the top of the hill near the driveway was a black SUV that had been blocked from view, and it was coming at them extrordinarily fast. N’Davi tried to pull back into the parking lot, but he was too late. He and Janessa barely had time to hear, more than feel, the initial crunch as the SUV plowed into their side, before everything went black.

#Fiction

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honeiiworks · 2 years

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💖Meet The Blogger!💖

Name : CharlieBeau 🍄🍄🍄

Nickname : BijouBee 🐝🐝🐝

Gender : Non-binary 🌸🌸🌸

Pronouns : They/Them 🐸🐸🐸

Sexuality : Polyamorous Omnisexual 🌼🌼🌼

Nationality : United States of America 🫠🫠🫠

Height : 5ft 7in 🌲🌲🌲

Birthday : November 18th 🌈🌈🌈

#16 Personalities : INFJ-T

Zodiac :

• Sagittarius Rising 🌅🌅🌅

• Sun in Scorpio’s 12th House

• Moon in Virgo’s 10th House 🌃🌃🌃

Age : 19

Hobbies :

• Drawing 🎨🎨🎨

• Photography 📸📸📸

• Cleaning/Organizing

• Writing Stories ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

• Fashion Design

• Witchcraft 🎱🎱🎱

• Journaling 📓📓📓

• Playing Video-games 🕹🕹🕹

• Collecting Trinkets & Stuffies

• Watching TikToks/YouTube Videos 📱📱📱

• Reading/Listening to Audio Books 🎧🎧🎧

Hobbies I’m Learning :

• Candle Making

• Soap Making 🧼🧼🧼

• Resin Crafts

• Gardening 🪴🪴🪴

• Pottery

• Clay Sculpting

• Embroidery

• Thrifting

• Cross-stitching 🌟🌟🌟

• Creating Clothing

• Doll-Making

• Interior Design

• Makeup Design & Drag Performing 💄💄💄

• Miniature-Making W/ Popsicles 🧸🧸🧸

Personal Aesthetics :

• WitchCore

• CryptidCore

• GoblinCore

• Vulture Culture

• DreamCore

• Comfy/Cozy

• Coffee House/Café

• Lo-fi

• E-Girl

• E-Boy

• Plant Parent

• Boho Gothic

• KidCore

• Clowncore

Favorite Food(s) : Sushi, Ramen, Saltwater Taffy, Ice-cream Sundaes, Loaded Baked Potatoes, Mushroom Ravioli, Chocolate-chip Pancakes, Vermont Mac’n’Cheese, Jimmy John’s Beach Club Sandwiches, and there’s a ton more too but I won’t bore you with it!

Favorite Drink(s) : Monster Energy Drinks, Redbull Energy Drinks, Fruity Smoothies, Dessert Frappuccinos,

Peach/Strawberry Milkshakes, Carbonated and flavored waters, Hot Ginger Peach Tea, Hot Black Tea w/ Honey——really anything with lot of caffeine that wakes me up or calms me down throughout my day. ( I’m so open to trying out other teas and dessert coffees too! )

Fun Facts About Me :

• I have multiple mental conditions that have been properly diagnosed by a psychologist, and I’m currently struggling with diagnosing autism and another thing too that I won’t get into, due to it being too personal.

• I have a little sister who has autism and she is the best sibling I could ever ask for! She just became a freshman in high-school and I’m so proud of her. ( I will be mentioning her a lot ‘cause she’s into a lot of fandoms that I’m not into, or haven’t gotten into personally, and she makes a lot of cool suggestions for my artwork and stuff——only fair she get’s credit for the idea.

• I have been drawing since I was three years old, and the idea of being an artist has been with me for all of my life as a career and more.

• I have graduated high-school and am currently doing a gap-year before I start an online community college or just an art school of sorts, not too sure yet.

• I’m trying to create an Etsy shop and actually keep up with it, but I’ve been struggling with it——I’m not sure if I’m gonna post that related stuff on this blog or make a new one entirely that’s dedicated to my artwork. ( Literally any kind of advice with this stuff is greatly appreciated. )

• I’m also a lowkey furry and monster-lover so if y’all wanna talk about that stuff on here, be more than welcome——I don’t make a huge thing of it though ‘cause I don’t wanna make people uncomfortable.

• I never had a pet in my life but I’m hoping to get some whenever I move out of my parents’ home, especially a python, a set of rats, or a cat ‘cause they’re all very quiet and typically sweet/independent. ( I never could have them due to my mom being allergic to dog/cat dandruff and my dad not liking any of the pets I picked out. )

• I like to believe that I fall into the area of a hedge witch when it comes to participating in witchcraft, but it could turn into something else later on into my practice.

• Feel free to call me out on anything that sounds like I’m trying to appropriate or assimilate myself into someone else’s culture, I’m white as hell and if something’s not my place——then it’s not my place. ( I’m trying to educate myself as much as I can but there are things I can still be very naïve and ignorant due to my own upbringing. )

Fandoms I’m Into(?) : I say this with a question mark ‘cause I do love these shows, comics, and/or video-games but I don’t really interact with the community itself, I just like the artwork or the theories posted and continue on my way. I’m totally cool to talk about each of these fandoms though, they just aren’t a fixation of mine anymore like they were in the past. ( I’m a solid believer in separating the artist from their work when the artist has deemed themselves to be an ass, saying that now. )

Videogames :

• Animal Crossing—New Horizons

• Minecraft

• Minecraft Dungeons

• Unpacking

• Sims 4

• Slime Rancher

• Genshin Impact

• Dream Daddy!

• OBEY ME! Otome

• Five Nights At Freddy’s

• Night In The Woods

• Cookie Kingdom

Animes/Manga :

• Beastars

• Black Butler

• Sailor Moon

• Cowboy Bebop

• One Punch Man

• Little Witch Academia

• Interspecies Reviewers

• Is It Wrong To Try To Pick Up A Girl In A Dungeon?

• Ouran Highschool Host Club

• Devil Is A Part-Timer!

• Puella Magi—Madoka Magica

• Wakfu

• Inuyasha

• Ramna 1/2

• BOFURI

• Osomatsu-San

• No Game No Life!

TV Shows :

• Supernatural

• Doctor Who

• The Great British Baking Show

• Friends

• Farscape

• The Adams Family

• Queer Eye

• The Office

• Crazy Delicious

• The World’s Most Amazing Vacation Rentals

• Amazing Interiors

• Next In Fashion

• Dark Tourist

• Glow Up — The Next Makeup Star

• Lucifer

• Dream Home Makeover

• Anne With An ‘E’

• The Dark Crystal : Age of Resistance

• The Good Place

• Tiny House Nation

• How To Build A Sex Room

Cartoons :

• Amphibia

• Avatar

• Bee and Puppycat

• Voltron

• Invader Zim

• Total Drama Island

• The Legend of Korra

• Steven Universe

• Star VS The Forces Of Evil

• Gravity Falls

• The Amazing World Of Gumball

• Adventure Time

• Regular Show

• We Bare Bears

• Hazbin Hotel

• Helluva Boss

• Over The Garden Wall

• Dead End

Webtoons/Comics :

• Suitor Armor

• Boyfriends

• High Class Homos

• The Princess’ Jewels

• ClawShot!

• Brimstone And Roses

• Mage & Demon Queen

• Everything Is Fine

• Love Me To Death

#all about me #zodiac #16 personalities #safe place #artist on tumblr #witch community #lgbtqiia+#aestheitcs #cartoons #anime #video games #hobbies #furry #monster lover

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

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Spousal Privilege {Henry McHenry x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I deleted the original request accidentally, but essentially, it was the prompt written below, but instead of getting married for tax benefits, you get married because he needs you to help keep him out of jail/the courtroom for Ann’s murder.

**just because I write it doesn’t mean I condone it. writing a fictional piece and condoning are two very different things. this is fanFICTION.**

original prompt (from @dailyau): “we got married for tax benefits, but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. However, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.” (slightly modified) prompt: “we got married for [the benefit of spousal privilege], but but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. however, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.”

warnings: angst & smut. not-so-mutual feelings. non-con elements (but they’re not unwelcomed). taking advantage of someone else’s feelings for you to benefit sexually. masturbation. (kind of) mutual masturbation.

tw’s: consumption/use of alcohol (briefly mentioned). !!non-con somnophilia. !!non-con voyerism.

word count: 2.4k

“Spousal Privilege”: if you’re married, your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you in a court of law.

my taglist peeps (slashed through means that the username didn’t tag): @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“It’s just one weekend, Henry. One weekend. We have to at least pretend to be married.”

He sighs, reclining on the large lounger on the back deck, rolling an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Y/N...you know that I can’t come with you. I’ve got a show this weekend; I can’t just skip my own show to be your plus-one at a wedding.”

It feels like you’re the only one actually trying to appear as a couple, since your union is a sham. You made the grave mistake of visiting the McHenry residence on the night of Ann’s murder, finding a blood-spattered and disheveled Henry with his hand on the butchers knife impaling her chest.

And then, a few weeks later, your friendship became a marriage. You knew Henry was a good guy, and you’ve been friends with him a very long time, so...you helped him out by becoming the second Mrs. McHenry in order to protect him in case of a criminal trial. Spousal privilege is a powerful weapon in the judicial system, one that Henry successfully secured.

Almost a year has passed since that fateful night, and the police investigation has all but stopped due to lack of evidence. The only living people who know what happened are you and him.

The worst part of it, though? You’ve fallen for him, hard. Sure, he’s been your friend since high school, but you never thought of him as partner material before. But, now that you live with him and spend lots of time together, you realize that he’s an amazing guy that you really feel connected to.

Unfortunately, he’s not in love with you, and probably never will be. But, you soldier on, putting your feelings on the backburner for the sake of the false union.

Henry sticks the cigarette between his teeth, the familiar flick of the lighter slicing the tension between you. He takes a long drag, exhaling loudly.

“Fine. But at least I’m actually trying to make this whole arrangement seem real. At this point, I’m the only one trying at all.” You huff, shaking your head as you walk back into the house.

You arrive at the large rented house for the bridal party, greeted by several of your closest friends as you walk through the door. Immediately, they ask about Henry, and you tell them that he won’t be joining you this weekend, that he has a show that he just can’t miss.

They’re understanding, of course, knowing of Henry’s blossoming career as a comedian. You spend the rest of the afternoon catching up with your friends, who seemed to be acting a bit strangely. They’re looking towards the lobby religiously, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

Probably just one of their boyfriends or husbands, you think, dismissing it with little thought as the waiter comes over with a tray of cocktails.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally head back up to your room, eyelids heavy as you fumble with the key and open the door. You’re startled when you see a large shadowy figure sitting on the queen bed.

You quickly flip the lights on to reveal the mysterious figure’s identity.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

He stands, grabbing a small bouquet of flowers before bringing them over to you.

“I’m sorry for being so unreasonable about this trip, Y/N. You’re right, I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to spend ‘couple’ time with you lately. And I know how important this trip is, so...I postponed my show to next weekend in order to be here with you.”

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face at this genuinely kind gesture that he’s done for you. You take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“Wow, this is...thank you, Henry.” You meet his eyes. “I mean it, thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re here.”

His cheeks are dusted pink as he looks down at the carpeted floor, running a hand through his hair. “It’ll be nice to spend some time together, I think. We’ve been a bit disconnected lately, off doing our own stuff without really connecting all that often.”

You nod in agreement, filling one of the hotel glasses with lukewarm water for the flowers. You set them on the desk, then look over at the bed.

Bed, not beds.

“I...I can ask for a different room. She just put us in here because she knows we’re married...”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. We’ll make do.”

You’re a bit surprised by his mellow, chilled reaction to the situation. You thought surely he’d want to change rooms, since the two of you have never shared a bed before.

Really, at home, you’re just roommates; each having your own separate living spaces. But of course, your friend Jen doesn’t know of the...unique aspects of your outwardly loving union, like the fact that it’s not genuine.

Both of you quietly unpack your things into the shared dresser. You keep your pajamas out and after you place your emptied duffle in the closet, you shed your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your undergarments.

When you turn around to grab your pajamas, you catch Henry looking at you, a fact that brings a sheepish warmth to your cheeks. He was shirtless, standing in only his black jeans, which has you quite flustered. Henry’s very much in shape, you’re painfully aware of that in the moment, and you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his chiseled abdomen.

His eyes quickly dart away from you, as yours do from him, and his cheeks turn pink. He continues folding his clothes, putting them in the top two drawers of the dresser. You bite your lip as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The mirror blurs with steam from the hot water as it emerges from the shower head. You’re quick to peel the panties from your hips and the bra from your chest, tossing both on the tiled floor before stepping under the steaming stream.

You groan softly as the hot water massages your tired muscles. The ache between your thighs is anything but soothed by the water, though, and your mind is playing the sight of Henry’s sculpted body on a loop, only intensifying your arousal.

It’s gotten to the point where the need for a bit of relief is inevitable, despite your efforts to prevent it.

Your hand trails down and dips between your legs, fingertips sliding around your slickened folds, attempting to locate the special bundle of nerves nestled beneath.

Breath hitching, you sigh softly as you begin rubbing it in small, lazy circles. Small gasps and moans escape your lips as the flames of your arousal are flamed with each swipe of your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, Henry has abandoned his putting-away efforts in favor of standing outside the bathroom door. He’s heard a few soft, muffled noises coming from the room, so he decided to approach and make sure that nothing’s wrong.

His length twitches to life beneath his jeans as he realizes what exactly it is those noises mean, what you're likely doing in there. He wonders, as he reaches down to cup his swelling arousal, if this was brought on by the sight of his naked torso.

You exhale shakily, lining up and pushing two fingers into your wet heat, biting your lip to try and suppress the gasp that escapes your throat.

Henry grunts softly upon hearing this slip-up, shaky hands fiddling with his belt buckle, then with the button and zipper on his pants. He pulls his cock out in a rushed manner, ear pressing against the door while his hand starts to move up and down his shaft.

He hears something come from behind the door, but it’s too muffled by the wood that he can’t make out exactly what you said, which is probably a good thing.

“F-Fuck...Henry.” You breathe quietly, moving your digits in and out of your entrance swiftly, curling them up sporadically in order to tease your g-spot. “Shit.”

A low growl slips out as his length hardens further with his hand’s movements, slit starting to drool semi-transparent beads of liquid. He slicks them down his shaft, allowing his calloused palm to glide easier.

Your release quickly builds up inside you, hips jerking and twitching instinctively each time your fingers stimulate the special spot on your inner walls. It’s not long before you’re cumming all over your fingers with a series of soft moans and whines.

These small noises meet his ears and, within a minute, Henry reaches his own climax. He covers his mouth, a long groan muffled by the skin of his palm as ropes of seed spill out all over his palm and some onto the doorframe.

He rushes to wipe the evidence of his release from the scene, scrambling to grab his dirty t-shirt in order to do so. He hears you stepping out of the shower and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, running over to sit on his bed.

You emerge from the bathroom a minute or so later with only a towel on. He avoids eye contact, gathering his own clothes and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

You’re already tucked into bed and reading when Henry comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, ruffling his hair with the towel once more time before hanging it back up on the bathroom hook.

After finishing a chapter, you tuck your bookmark back between the pages before setting it down on your bedside table, turning the lamp off. You doze off soon after.

Henry waits patiently, very patiently, until he’s absolutely sure you’re fast asleep. His cock twitches and stirs in his boxers as he thinks about his plan of attack, how he’ll do this without waking you.

He knows this is wrong, but he just can’t help himself; it’s been too long and his hand simply isn’t doing this trick anymore. And you are his wife, after all.

His fingers reach under the covers, experimentally dragging his hand up your exposed thigh. You don’t seem to really mind, but an innocent-enough thigh touch and his cock inside you are two very different things.

So, he figures that he should probably try his fingers first. At least that’d be easier to explain in the event that you wake up and find him knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Sure, he thinks you’re physically attractive, objectively, but he doesn’t have any more than sexual feelings for you. You’re his best friend and he wants to keep it that way.

But...all that can wait until tomorrow. For now, he needs this from you; he desperately needs this.

You’re laying on your front, so he’s careful as he mounts you from behind, gently encouraging your legs apart with his knee. Once you’re spread apart enough, he slips his hand down to cup your crotch, biting his lip when he feels the natural heat already present.

He smirks, slipping his fingers between your pussy lips, searching for the spot that’ll get you nice and wet for him. Your hips naturally surge upwards when he finds it, a small grunt escaping your lips, but you remain asleep.

A breath of relief slips through the gaps of his perfectly crooked teeth as he continues rubbing you. It’s not long before you become slick, providing the natural lubricant for his fingers to glide easier.

His fingers begin to tease your puckered entrance, and he slowly slides one of the thick digits in, groaning under his breath as you clench so tightly around him.

“Little slut. Wants it even in her sleep.” He muses with a devious smirk, beginning to move his finger in and out with great care and caution.

You moan softly, subconsciously spreading your legs wider for him. He shudders with arousal at this simple movement, palming his hardened cock over the thin material of his boxers while a second finger joins the first inside of you.

He’s so hard, he almost can’t see straight, absolutely loving the way you react to his touch. You’re fast asleep, unaware of his touch; and yet, you’re still soaked and squirming for him. There’s something so deliciously wrong about this that makes him throb.

Soon, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He pulls his cock from beneath the airy fabric, stroking himself as he allows his hand to run over your backside. His jaw clenches, suppressing the moans that so desperately want to come out.

Finally, the moment of truth. Will you wake up when he slides in?

The buzz, the adrenaline rush he’s getting from this is practically unmatched by anything in his day-to-day life. Not even his shows, his performances bring him this much of a rush.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, biting down on his lip hard as a soft groan slips out. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot, so perfect.

You moan loudly, body and hips wriggling as your insides adjust to his length and thickness. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stay still, to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion. He wants nothing more than to pound you into the mattress and cum deep inside you, but he can’t do either of those things.

His hips roll softly, gently, cock dragging against your walls at an almost painfully slow pace. Your walls clench so tightly around him and he has to white-knuckle the headboard in order to keep himself centered and restrained.

You’re stirring a bit, but you’re still asleep, and Henry feels his climax already starting to build. Normally he’d be ashamed of this fact, but it’s probably best if he doesn’t drag this out.

The little noises escaping your lips only spur Henry on, each of your little grunts, groans, whimpers and moans are like music to his ears.

With only a few more thrusts, combined with the sight of your ass jiggling each time his skin collides with yours, Henry’s cumming. He pulls out in the knick of time, shooting his seed all over your little pajama shorts, secretly hoping his cum stains them.

He strokes himself through orgasm, riding out his high to its fullest before re-adjusting your shorts and tucking himself back into his boxers, laying down next to you.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he catches his breath, flipping over and sitting to grab the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, heading out to the small balcony.

Plumes of gray smoke linger in the still summer night as Henry looks out onto the lake, admiring the soft moonlight reflecting off the bouncing water. He comes back in after a few minutes and climbs back into bed, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe being married to you wasn’t so bad, after all.

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qslovebot · 3 years

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Heroes: Spencer Reid

Request: cooould i request a spencer reid x reader where the reader and Spencer are on a car ride? it could be that they are on a case and they have to drive (maybe the jet is broken? or something idk) and it's sunset, they spill feelings and so much fluff? 'With Heroes by David Bowie'

rb: @ellyhotchner

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of Spencer's gunshot wound, kissing, fluff.

Spencer Reid chuckled as he crutched toward the SUV parked in the lot. He was a little too fast on crutches for a man who had been shot in the leg. It was a little while since he'd been let back to work and he stupidly lied about being allowed to travel so now, the way for lesser trouble was to have him drive back with another agent and Hotch assigned the dreadful task to you. "Could I at least drive?"

You shook your head as you caught up, "Flex your foot, Reid." He paused, putting his foot out and flexing it. With an immediate intake of breath and wince of pain, you shook your head again. "I will drive."

"Fine," he sighed, tossing you the keys. He paused again sheepishly at his door. "W-would you mind helping me into the car?"

"Yeah, of course, I'm sorry-" you pressed the unlock button and walked to the other side of the car with haste, taking Spencer's crutches and standing still so he could use your arm to stabilize him as he climbed in.

His thin fingers lingered on your upper arm for a second and he blinked a few times before looking up at you through his hair. "Can I choose the music?" He asked it as if it was the most serious question in the world. But he knew what was coming,

"Hell no!" You bat his hands away and darted to the other side whilst Spencer tried to beat you to the radio. He was already in the car, so of course, he beat you to it, but you jumped into the driver's seat and bat his hands away again. "Damn it, Spencer. I won't sit through another four-hour drive of nothing but Simon and Garfunkel!"

"I don't want Simon and Garfunkel!" He protested, his eyes wide. You couldn't stare him down without your heart racing, so you waved your hand in dismissal, starting the car as he fidgeted with the sound system.

Pulling out of the dank, dark of the precinct parking lot, both of you had to shield your eyes from the sun. Staying inside an interrogation room all day, you two were hardly aware it was even day. You checked the car's clock- it was nearing six o'clock.

Late spring, the days were getting longer. Shielding your eyes with the visor, you pulled onto the road. Spencer clicked a button and music began to play. You looked at him, mock-anger in your eyes and hit him in the shoulder, "This is Simon and Garfunkel!"

"Be nice, I was shot!" His voice climbed in pitch. Your hand shot forward and Spencer was faster, so he caught your hand before you could even touch the radio. His hand was cold as ice and his palms were soft. Spencer wouldn't hurt you, so the most he could do would be to stop you from acting. Your heart skipped a beat and the car swerved the slightest bit. His voice was higher now, "Eyes on the road!"

He was lucky he was so gorgeous, it saved him from a lot, but you'd never tell him that. He'd probably use it to his advantage and you had never been good with romantic feelings, so it was best you treated him with... friendly hatred. There was a thin line between working well together and working too well together so you used your friendly hatred to try and hide from the team... maybe a little... well, they're all profilers- it was for peace of mind.

So you let him have his Simon and Garfunkel, but only until you made it to the highway and you moved fast enough to get to the radio.

"-Playing you the top 80s hits all day, every day," the radioman said before the song kicked in. You laughed at Spencer who looked like he just entered hell.

"We grew up in the 80s, don't tell me you don't like 80s music!" You gasped, turning your head back to the road. "Spencer..."

"Actually, studies say the music you listened to in high school is the music you're supposed to like for the rest of your life, meaning for us two, the mid to late nineties."

You nodded, then glanced over again, "But didn't you graduate high school at twelve, boy genius? That would be... 1993?" You recounted his years at school and then your own shortened experiences.

Spencer shook his head, "It's-it's the time period of a typical person's high school years. From when we were... uh- fourteen to about seventeen for us, even with accelerated minds. I listened to Simon and Garfunkel and you were... stuck in the 80s?"

"Probably," you laughed, turning up the music as you continued down the freeway. The sun continued to shine, going from soft natural light and eventually sliding into a deeper shade of orange.

It had already been an hour and a half on the road and you had your hand out the SUV window while the sweet wind blew the left edge of your hair in boundless spirals. Spencer had just finished a long, educational rant about the production of record disks, which you already knew about, but listened anyway. You loved how excited he got to tell you things, his hands flailing about, gesturing to demonstrate ideas and thoughts.

Looking over, he seemed to enjoy feeling the air on his skin and wind in his hair. So you decided to drive onto one of the side roads, surrounded by dusty hills and rising dunes for twenty minutes more, letting him relax without worrying about his head being taken off by a semi. He deserved it, after all, he risked things to come out here.

It was finally your turn to put on the radio and you caught the radioman doing his little talking blurb, this time discussing the topic of summer cottages before the song kicked in.

Heroes by David Bowie. You gasped, "Oh my god, I haven't heard this in ages!" Spencer looked over and smiled a little, ruffling his hair. You didn't notice that smile of his, you were busy going absolutely ballistic over this song that meant so much to you. The song always made you feel oddly limitless and free. You didn't regard his constant admiration for you in the moments when you weren't looking.

You had turned up the music and let your hand out the window do the dancing you couldn't in the car. This song was powerful, beautiful, and your focus was balanced between music and road, not on Spencer, who seemed to be sinking into the beauty of the song as well as the beauty of you.

He always admired your liveliness. You brought out the less analytical, fun, youthful side to him and he really did need that sometimes. Watching you drive, hair blowing, he remembered the lyrics to the song. They may have been locked up in his mind somewhere, but he knew them and watching you enjoy the music so freely, he tapped the window's edge and mumbled along.

You didn't really care about much in those moments, because when you looked over and saw Spencer knew the lyrics, something about that made your heart flutter. The music, the lighting, him. You.

The view out the window was magnificent. Red sand, a dipping ravine and you were overtop of it all. Everything about these moments continued to get better, so you decided to pull over. Just for a minute.

"What are you-" Spencer started, but looking out the window he saw just what you did. You put the car into park, but kept it on, turning up the radio and hopping out. Spencer was able to get out of the car himself and crutched over to where you stood against the SUV door.

♬ We could be heroes, just for one day ♬

Oh, it was so gorgeous you could stay here forever and not need anything else, ever. That was until you turned to Spencer, admiring how he looked on this abandoned roadway, standing in the golden light, shadows cast perfectly over his face. You smiled up at him, time seemingly slowing for all of this to happen. It was an odd notion that the world continued to move when it was just you, him, and David Bowie blasting loudly on the radio.

He was thinking the same thing as he watched the way you shut your eyes for a moment, taking it all in. You didn't want to shut your eyes in fear maybe all of this would disappear. The dream-like lighting and Spencer, looking as if he was sculpted by the most talented artists, just seemed too perfect to really exist there with you.

But you needed to pull it together just for a moment, just to make it seem like you were still there with him, because if you stared too long, maybe you would accidentally fall into said dream.

"Not many views like these in Quantico," you turned to face him and he looked down at you before turning to face you as well. His hands were on his crutches but they looked like they begged to be in his pockets so he could rock on his heels. "It's so beautiful."

"You'r-" he coughed and cleared his throat, brows furrowing as his head turned back to off the ravine. Was he about to- no, you were kidding yourself? There was no way, it was the Bowie. "It is beautiful. E-especially with the lighting."

You nodded, "Mhm. I didn't know you knew any Bowie."

"It was actually Bowie's 12th studio album, released on October 14th, 1977, the only album in the Berlin Trilogy that was actually recorded in Berlin. I... read and listened." He scrunched his nose, probably afraid you wouldn't like him ranting, but you always listened.

You cringed, "I may have already known that."

"Oh, sorr-" he cut himself off when you smiled at him. There was something about this song that made him want to tell you everything he'd ever thought about you from the moment you'd met. Something about the lighting that made you so much more enticing and entirely beautiful. Of course, he already thought you were the most gorgeous person in the world, but right now, you were glowing.

And you were thinking the exact same thing. He was standing less than two feet from you, looking down at you. Tall, beautiful, glowing. He was silent, as were you, but Bowie sang loudly to cover the sound of both of your beating hearts. Your smile faded, but it showed in your eyes.

Spencer looked at his feet while the song took over and he tucked your hair behind your ear without hesitating. You bit the inside of your cheek as he reverted back to where he stood, his straight-lipped smile kind and genuine. His eyelashes fluttered from your eyes to your lips and he was standing there. The feelings were unspoken, but all the same, mutually understood.

So you went to kiss him. It was all you could do and it was all he was wanting, but there was a shooting pain that shot up his leg like fire as he took the step forward, pulled by your hand on his shirt.

"Shit! Ow- my... hm... my leg-" He hissed in pain and you immediately let go. So much for that buildup. You would have kicked yourself mentally if it didn't already look like Spencer had been kicked by ten muscular men on leg day.

You covered your mouth with one hand and gripped his elbow with the other, "Spencer, I am so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking- all of it completely slipped my mind and I am... God, I'm so sorry, can I help?" You launched into random rambling, your heart racing.

Spencer reached up to your shoulder for stability and his head bowed to rest on your other shoulder for a half-second. You let him stabilize himself because he was in pain, but that wasn't his intent. Not a tick more later, his hand moved an inch up higher on your shoulder, then moved to the place between neck and shoulder. His hand continued travelling upward until it was on your cheek.

Taking you much by surprise, as you thought you caused him more pain than he was really in, he pressed his lips to yours as the last chorus hit. He finished what you had failed to properly start and there was no longer any more shame in that mess. His right crutch clattered to the ground and he didn't seem to care at all. His hands held your face firmly as your hand went right back to clutching his shirt, keeping him close as you kissed him back with the same passion.

Golden light, David Bowie, a gorgeous view, an abandoned road, and each other. You may have pinched yourself to check if maybe this was a dream, but it wasn't. Spencer wouldn't stop laughing when the kiss ended- that breathy, happy laugh you always admired. You weren't sure why until he held out his wrist to show you that he had pinched himself as well and you both burst out laughing a little harder than you should have. If this was how the world ended, you would end it in the best possible way, entirely content. But this was far from the end of anything, in fact, it was only the beginning of a whole lot of BAU teasing once they got a hold of the happenings of this road trip.

You gave Spencer a knowing look, scrunching your nose and he was thinking the same thing again.

"Maybe we'll lie to them for a bit?" You suggested, cringing again with a slight smile.

He nodded comprehensively, fighting a returning smile. "Keep this as far from Derek Morgan's hands as possible." He tucked your hair behind your ear again and finally grinned at you before picking up his crutch and letting you help him back into the SUV.

He got to the radio before you did and you gasped in near disbelief. "Spencer, no Simon and Garfunkel!"

Request Here

Tags: @mercy-burning, @laurakirsten0502, @softhairedhotch

141 notes · View notes

ghost-party · 3 years

Note

hi! i love your writing and would like to request season 4 reiner & fake dating w/ a female reader, if that’s ok. 🥺👉👈 maybe porco’s her ex & she wants to make him jealous?? thanks!

Thank you so much, anon! ❤️ I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this request, which is probably why this oneshot ended up being 2.8K... 😂

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, physical affection, bed-sharing, mention of depression and parental neglect, slight angst, brief recollection of coercive behavior (not Reiner) A/N: This story takes place in a modern AU.

And thank you to @clovertitan, @wasabito, @bricktheprettiestsiren, @darkcloakedinfinitevoid, and @bundleofyarrow for encouraging this. I love you all! 🤗

• • •

Reiner + Fake Dating

Every summer, you and your high school friends spend a weekend at a cabin on the lake close to where you grew up. With all of you now living in different cities, it’s an opportunity to get together, catch up, and relax. You’ve always looked forward to it... until now.

“Is it too late to say I can’t go?” You’re sitting on the couch with Reiner, trying to ignore your suitcase, already packed and sitting beside the front door.

“Yes,” he replies, draining the last of his beer. “Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

“Porco’s going to be there. With his new girlfriend. You know he’s going to be a little shit about it.”

You’re not sure if you can handle teasing jabs from your ex-boyfriend and watching him shove his tongue down a stranger’s throat. It’s not because you still have feelings for him. That ship sailed months ago. The idea of it just feels somewhat nauseating.

Reiner frowns. “Yeah, I know. But I’ll be there with you. Just do what I do and ignore him.”

It might be the alcohol, or something in his words, that inspires the idea. But regardless, you turn and look at him. “This is crazy, but... what if you... pretend to be my boyfriend?” When Reiner’s eyes widen, you quickly assure him, “Just for the weekend! I know, it’s stupid, I know. But I...”

“You want to make him jealous?”

“Maybe? Or prove that I’m not still single and pathetic, almost a year after breaking up...” You groan and flop back onto the pillows. “I’m horrible, aren’t I?”

“You’re not pathetic, and you’re not horrible.” He hesitates. “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“It’s definitely not,” you admit. “Pieck would probably believe it. She’s been wanting us to date for years now. Same with Bert and Annie.” You miss the slight flush in Reiner’s cheeks as he stands, heading to the kitchen for another drink.

“Zeke would know,” he counters. “He’s like a human lie detector.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’d say anything.” You sit up and lean over the back of the couch, resting your head on your arms. “If you really don’t want to, it’s okay. But it might be fun.”

You watch as Reiner walks back in, seeming deep in thought. He’s been your closest friend for as long as you can remember. But some small part of you is curious to know what it might be like, to be something more than that, even just for a few days...

He sits down beside you, and you give him a pleading look. “One weekend. I promise. Then everyone will go home, and things will go back to normal.”

Reiner sighs but then offers you a half-smile. “Alright, you win. One weekend. Let’s do it.”

• • •

When you and Reiner arrive at the lake the next morning, you enter what you call “Couple Mode.” But you very quickly come to a startling realization: Even as your fake boyfriend, he’s acting pretty much the same as he always has.

He rubs your shoulders when you grumble about the long drive, carries your luggage without asking, and holds the cabin door open for you, placing a hand at the small of your back when he joins you inside.

Pieck immediately notices your increased closeness and smiles warmly, asking how you’ve both been — and how long “this” has been going on. Bertholdt seems excited, in his own quiet way, and even Annie eyes the two of you, her lips curled up at the corners.

As Reiner suspected, Zeke seems to know better, shooting you a smirk as he walks past, carrying bottles of whiskey and vodka to the kitchen.

And then there’s Porco, sprawled on the sofa with his new girlfriend, staring at you so hard, you’re surprised his gaze hasn’t punched a hole straight through you.

You’re distracted when Zeke walks back in and says, “Your room’s at the end of the hall upstairs.”

“Our room? One room?” You blink at him. Neither you nor Reiner had told any of them ahead of time that you were now a couple. There should have been enough rooms for both of you to have one to yourselves.

“Eren and his friends decided to tag along, do some hiking, boring teenager shit.” Zeke grins. “What’s the problem? Don’t want to share a bed with your boyfriend?”

Before you can respond, Reiner interjects. “Sounds great. Come on, Y/N.” You trail behind him up the stairs, mouthing “I hate you” at Zeke as you walk past. He merely winks.

“He did that on purpose,” you hiss, walking down the hall. “If things were different, he probably would’ve had me share a room with Pieck.”

“You still can, if you want.”

Reiner sounds strangely distant, and you notice his grip tighten on the handles of your bags.

“No,” you say, touching his shoulder gently. “It’ll be like our sleepovers when we were kids. Remember?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah... Just like that...”

• • •

The rest of the day passes quickly. Zeke rents a pontoon boat at the nearby docks, and you all pile onto it, carrying beach towels, a radio, snacks, and several coolers full of water and contraband booze poured into plastic juice bottles.

After cruising around the lake, you pick a spot to stop for a while. Porco makes a show of stripping off his shirt and then tossing his shrieking, bikini-clad girlfriend into the water. The way he shoots you a look over his shoulder — somehow both cocky and pouting — causes Reiner’s arm to tighten around your waist.

Bertholdt and Annie join them, keeping their distance from the excited splashing, and Pieck lies on one of the padded benches, stretched out in the sun like a lazy cat. Zeke reclines at the wheel, a worn-out paperback held open in one hand.

And you and Reiner sit together at the front of the boat, gazing out at the lake. He seems more relaxed now, leaning back, his face tipped up towards the sky. He’s wearing dark green swim trunks and an unbuttoned shirt, revealing lean, sculpted muscles.

Sometimes you think he hasn’t changed all that much since high school. But looking at him now, you know he has. He’s taller, his softer edges more finely honed, and he always has a bit of scruff on his cheeks, unlike the clean-shaven boy you remember.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he turns to you and smiles. “You okay? Want to get in the water?”

“Not really.” You snuggle into the warmth of his shoulder, seeking out that slip of bare skin between his collar and neck. “I’m fine right here.”

He kisses the top of your head, the softest brush of lips against hair. “Me, too.”

It’s been less than a day, and already, the lines between you are starting to blur. Maybe it’s because it all feels so familiar. There’s very little exaggeration in his actions, his boyfriend persona almost entirely overlapping with the real Reiner Braun. It’s unexpected and terrifying and exciting all at once, and you have to remind yourself that this isn’t real. One weekend. I promise.

• • •

That evening, you step away from the bonfire, where Pieck is reminiscing about a senior prank gone horribly wrong — something involving spray paint, super glue, and Principal Magath’s portrait that hung in the school library. Closing the patio door behind you, you quietly pad through the living room, heading for the kitchen. But then you hear two voices.

You peer around the corner to find Reiner and Porco standing in front of the fridge. It’s clear that this isn’t a pleasant conversation, but before you can do anything, Reiner says, “You’re here with someone else, Pock. Why do you even care?”

Porco bristles at the nickname. “Because of course it’s you. I always knew it would be, what with the sappy way you look at her.”

Reiner ignores his taunt. “If I remember correctly, you broke up with her. She’s free to date whoever she wants.”

“Yeah, well...” Porco scoffs. You can tell from his posture, and the way he jabs a finger into Reiner’s chest, that he’s drunk. “If you want my sloppy seconds, she’s all yours, buddy.”

It happens so fast, you have to stifle a gasp. One minute, Reiner’s standing there, and the next, he has Porco shoved against the wall. His face is contorted with anger as he warns, voice low, “Watch your fucking mouth.”

Porco blinks up at him, mouth agape. When Reiner pulls back, he stumbles out of his reach, running a shaky hand through his hair. Without a word, he turns on his heel, headed straight toward you. But you manage to duck into the nearby bathroom just in time, watching as he walks past. He looks upset, dazed, and more than a little embarrassed. You hear the patio door open and close, and then Reiner, someplace close by, heaves a sigh. “Shit...”

He exits the cabin a few minutes later, and you lean against the bathroom wall, trying to process what the hell just happened.

• • •

It’s two in the morning by the time you brush your teeth and change into pajamas. When you walk into your shared bedroom, you find Reiner, wearing boxers and an old football t-shirt, retrieving some blankets from the tiny closet.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll sleep on the floor. You take the bed.”

“Reiner, no.” You reach out and still his hands. “We can both sleep in the bed. It’s fine. It’ll be warmer, too.”

He gives you a strange look, seeming almost nervous. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “With you? Never. Besides, is it really that different from when we fall asleep on your couch while watching a movie?”

His laugh sounds strained. “I guess not...”

But when you’re both lying beneath the covers, you realize it is different — especially when it’s a twin-sized bed rather than a large, comfy sectional.

Reiner is lying on his side, as close to the edge as possible. It’s almost comical, watching him try to find a position that accommodates his large frame and still gives you space.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, half-sitting up. “I’ll —”

“No, stop.” You reach out and grab his shoulder. It’s warm and firm beneath your hand, and you feel a jolt of something in the pit of your stomach. “Just... come over here.”

You pat the bed next to you, and he lies down, posture still stiff. With a huff, you grab his arm and pull it around you, hesitating once to ask, “Is this okay?” He nods, and you tug him closer, until his chest is pressed against your back.

“Now I don’t have to worry about you falling out of bed and cracking your skull open,” you mutter, trying to ignore the heat spreading across your face.

When he chuckles, you can feel it, and the sensation is both comforting and thrilling. “Like I said, just like a sleepover...” you say. At this point, you’re mostly trying to convince yourself.

“We’re not kids anymore,” Reiner replies softly, making your insides feel as if they’re doing a somersault.

You lightly kick back against his leg. “I know that. This does feel... different.”

He hums, and his head inches forward, tucking yours beneath his chin.

His steady breathing begins to lull you to sleep. He’s big and warm and safe, and he feels like home, more than anything or anyone ever has. The realization is fuzzy amidst your growing exhaustion, but it fills you with a peculiar kind of joy.

You almost miss his words as you drift off. They’re quiet and soft, like an exhale of breath.

“I love you.”

• • •

When you wake up the next morning, you’re alone. You push away your disappointment and get dressed, following the smell of pancakes downstairs to the kitchen. Bertholdt turns from the stove, and you can’t help but smile, noticing the “Hot Stuff Coming Through” apron he’s wearing.

“Pancakes?” he asks, and you nod. As you busy yourself with pouring a cup of coffee, Annie comes up beside you, leaning in to murmur, “Porco and Hanna left an hour ago.”

“What?” You look up at her, surprised. “They’re not coming back?”

“He said she had a work thing that came up.” Annie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I think he and Reiner got into it last night, and he was feeling weird about it.”

“You know how he gets,” Bertholdt says, holding up a bag of chocolate chips. You nod, and he sprinkles some into the batter. “He’d rather run away than apologize.”

You nod absently, sipping your coffee. When you sit down at the dining room table a few minutes later, Zeke nods at you over his book, Pieck waves cheerfully, and Reiner looks up at you, concern etched across his face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You sit down beside him and poke at your food. “Annie told me Porco left.”

“Oh... Yeah, he did.”

You’re quiet all the way through breakfast, listening to the others talk about going kayaking or playing beach volleyball. When the time comes to clean up, you offer to handle the dishes, and Reiner silently joins you, washing while you dry.

You’re sure there’s a better way to bring it up, but you’re so preoccupied, those three little words running on repeat through your head, that you simply blurt out, “Did you mean it?”

Reiner glances at you, his brow furrowed. “What?”

Your grip on the mug you’re drying tightens. “What you said last night.”

Instantly, his expression shifts to one of shock. He nearly drops the sponge in his hand and stammers, “Uh, I... I thought you were asleep...”

“Is that why you said it?”

He stares at you for a long moment. “Yeah... It sort of... slipped out. After yesterday. Being so close to you, it felt...” A dark flush colors his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because you didn’t want something real.” He grabs a nearby towel and dries his hands, leaning against the sink. “But I did — I do. It’s why I tried to say no, at first, to doing this. I didn’t think I’d be able to fake what’s already real for me, and then just... pretend like it never happened. I have a hard time saying no to you, though, so...”

You set the mug down and realize you’re trembling, your heart beating a mile a minute. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs, and the sadness in his face pierces right through you. “I thought you deserved someone better than me.”

You know he’s talking about his struggles with depression and self-confidence, the lingering pain of his childhood, growing up with a mother who never made him feel like he was enough and a father who never wanted him.

Without thinking, you reach up, hands gently cradling his face. “Hey... Look at me.” He does, and you murmur, “There’s no one better than you.”

Your thumb strokes along his cheek, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. It’s so sweet and endearing — so perfectly him.

Even in high school, beneath his wise-cracking, popular jock façade, he was soft and kind. He was the one who cried with you when your grandmother died, never letting go of your hand throughout the whole funeral. He was the one who made mix CDs of songs you both loved and belted in the car on the way home from movie nights at Bertholdt’s house. He was the one who punched your prom date when he tried to force you into the backseat of his car, knocking out two of his teeth. He was the one who wrote you notes in college, tucking them into your jacket pocket or bag whenever you met up for coffee at the campus library.

He’s always been there for you — always. The realization feels stupidly simple and long overdue. How could what you feel for him, what you’ve felt for him since high school, be anything other than love?

“You’re more than enough. And I don’t want to pretend.” He opens his eyes, and you smile up at him. “Say it again?”

His arms slide around you, pulling you close. “Say what?” he asks quietly, kissing your forehead. “You’ll have to be more specific...”

You rest your hands on his chest, tracing the faint letters on his t-shirt. “Mm... I think it went a little something like this.” Standing on your tiptoes, you angle your lips toward his ear, brushing against his stubble. “I love you.”

He squeezes you so tight, you gasp, and as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

#200 followers event #attack on titan #aot #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader

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whereisten · 4 years

Text

I Think We’re Alone Now

A Jaemin fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Your Spring Break plans change at the last minute when the campus heartthrob asks you to join him and the popular kids to your nemesis’ cabin.

Pairing: college student! Jaemin x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, mystery, suspense, horror, crime

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: Bullying, body image mention, gore, violence, death

(A/N): SHOUTOUT TO MY GIRL KRYS FOR THIS DELICIOUS MOODBOARD. SHE IS AN AMAZING ARTISTE. I AM IN AWE. I hope my story does this moodboard justice and I hope you guys enjoy! Thank you for the support!

___

Spring Break was imminent for the kids of Guang University. It was your freshman year and your friends all had different plans. You planned to stay home and get a head start on your homework and catch up on all of your favorite Korean dramas.

You headed out of the school with Haechan, your best friend. He had plans to go visit his family in South Korea for a couple of days. You were bummed that your closest friend wouldn’t be in town for the break.

“You sure you don’t want to come to Seoul with me? We might bump into Ji Chang Wook. You never know.” Ji Chang Wook was your celebrity crush.

You balanced your giant biology textbook while you tried to find your phone. “That’s tempting but I have a big exam right after break and I’ve been behind for weeks...So now I have to cram.”

Haechan sighed. “Y/n, you need to give yourself some down time.”

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Haechan sighed. “You haven’t come out to any parties in the past two months.”

You sighed. “Well...”

Haechan whined. “You’re supposed to be my party buddy...”

“Well, party buddy, then explain Daniela, Hazel, and Ally,” you said, calling out your best friend for not being so lonely at these parties after all.

“I-“ Haechan started.

Before Haechan could explain, a group of girls you’d tried so hard to avoid walked by and “accidentally” bumped into you, making you drop your book to the ground.

The girl who bumped into you turned and laughed. “I’m SO sorry. Maybe if you didn’t take up so much space, it wouldn’t have happened.”

The other girls laughed as they began to saunter off.

You groaned. You thought bullies retired once they graduated from high school when reality finally gave them a slap to the face.

Well, unfortunately for you, the mean girls from your old high school were smart enough to get into your dream school so you now occasionally saw them. And worse, shared a biology lab with them. The head of the pack, Heather, always had it out for you for always beating her for the best grade in class. You’d get a 94 and she’d get a 93. You were just happy to get an A and she was furious she wasn’t number 1. You guessed it had to do with her superiority complex and how she had to please her wealthy parents.

Haechan yelled, “Heather, what the hell-“

Heather started, “What? It’s a simple observation.”

Well, not everyone could be a size 0 like Heather. You knew that you had a healthy body shape. Sure, you know you could use improvements but you were human. No one was perfect. Nothing Heather could say could make you think she was right. She was just a hater.

“Have a nice break, Heather. Maybe your dad will finally come home,” you said as you grabbed Haechan’s hand and walked off.

“Hey! y/n, get back here!” Heather demanded. Her dad and her mom were separated for a while now and he was never home to spend time with his precious daughter.

Heather’s bark had always been bigger than her bite. So you didn’t let her words get to you. Not anymore.

___

Haechan went home while you waited to call an Uber to take you to the record store across town. You may as well go out and do one fun thing before you hunkered down at home for the break.

That was when you heard someone sobbing hard. And you couldn’t help but find the source.

The boy sat down on a bench by the bus stop. It was the campus heartthrob, Na Jaemin. You’d shared a couple of lectures with him this year. He was very sweet, always had something to compliment you on. Your hair, your lipstick, your outfit.

Well, then he would proceed to ask for help with assignments but you appreciated getting paid with flattery.

You frowned. “A-are you okay?” You started. “Do you need help?”

Jaemin looked up as tears ran down his beautifully sculpted face. His eyes widened at the sight of you. He wiped his tears away with his jacket sleeve. He shook his head. “Y/n! Hey, I’m…okay…I just-“

You sat down beside him and pulled an unopened bottle of water out of your backpack. You handed it to him. “Here.”

He looked down at it and asked, “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” he said, managing a half-smile.

He drank from it as you waited.

He exhaled in satisfaction. “Thank you, y/n. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like this. School and work have been so stressful…I just needed to let it all out.”

You hesitated before you put a hand on his back. You moved it gently against his muscular upper back. “I’m sorry…Do you…wanna talk about it?”

Jaemin froze and debated telling you. “I got fired from my job…” He admitted.

You removed your hand from his back. “Jaemin, that’s terrible…I’m so sorry…What happened?”

He shook his head. “The boss was kinda harsh. I couldn’t take it. I slipped up once and I got the ax.”

You tried to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jaemin.”

Jaemin managed a smile for you. “Thank you, y/n. You’re always sweet. Always good. I’m glad you’re here with me.” He placed a hand over yours.

This may or may not have made you want to scream with excitement. But your better judgment told you to contain yourself because Jaemin was upset.

Your little moment was interrupted by Heather and her cohorts.

Heather stood in front of Jaemin, noticing his red eyes “Oh, Nana, what’s wrong?”

Jaemin didn’t look all that thrilled to see Heather either. “It’s nothing…Don’t worry about it.”

“Because if y/n is bothering you, she should leave. Isn’t that right, y/n?” Heather turned to you with her hands on her hips.

You were about to snap when Jaemin beat you to it. “Actually, Heather, she’s not. So what can I do for you so you can leave faster?”

Heather looked at her group in shock. Her minions all let out audible gasps and whispers. “Jaemin...”

“I’m waiting,” Jaemin said, a new commanding tone overtaking him.

“We wanted to know if you’re coming to my cabin this weekend.” She tried to come off flirtatious but after his rebuff, she was confused.

“Maybe,” Jaemin replied, “If y/n comes.”

“What?” You and Heather exclaimed.

“I’ll go if y/n goes,” Jaemin said resolutely.

You started, “Jaemin, I-”

Jaemin interrupted. “I need this, y/n. A time to get away. And if you come, I would love it…” He said softly, almost intimately…Like no one else was around.

You’d had a crush on Jaemin since the first day of Intro to Theater. Jaemin was a tremendous actor. He was an excellent Demetrius to your Helena in your act for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Jaemin was always so nice. You thought the most he would do for you is give you a dollar for the vending machine. And that would’ve made your heart soar to the moon.

It was odd that you were considering going somewhere to hang out with Heather and her friends...But you did want to get to know Jaemin more.

What about your homework?

Well, it could wait.

And what about Heather?

Well, pissing off Heather was a hobby of yours.

One of Heather’s friends coughed. And Heather rolled her eyes. “Fine. Meet at my house at 7 AM tomorrow.”

___

Your older sister Sophie drove you to Heather’s. “Why are you going to Lucifer's spawn’s cabin?”

You sighed. “Because a cute boy asked me to.”

Sophie put the car in park right in front of Heather’s mansion. She looked at you in disbelief and fascination. “A boy?”

You said, “He wanted me to come.”

Sophie laughed. “Well, y/n, he must be very cute if you’re willing to hang out with Her Royal Darkness.”

“Like her ego, I’m sure the cabin is big enough so I don’t have to see her.”

You were both so distracted that you didn’t notice Jaemin knock on your passenger side window. He smiled brightly. Wow, he looked incredible for someone who woke up and texted you good morning at 5:30 AM.

“Wow,” your sister said, in shock from Jaemin’s beauty. She rolled down your window.

“Ready to go, y/n?” Jaemin asked. You saw the expectant look in his eyes. He was radiant and much more relaxed. You were so happy to see him. He seemed to feel a lot better.

“Jaemin, this is my older sister, Sophie,” you said, “Sophie, this is my friend Jaemin.”

They shook hands and Sophie muttered, “You better tell me everything when you get back. And that I am the maid of honor at your wedding.”

“Bye, Sophie! We’ll go on our run together when I come back on Sunday, okay?” You said louder to deflect from what Jaemin could’ve overheard. You and Sophie ran together every weekend for stress relief and bonding time. You got out of the car and hoped Jaemin hadn’t heard anything.

Jaemin offered to give you a ride on his Jeep Explorer to Heather’s cabin, much to Heather’s disappointment. Heather’s friends were riding with her.

You and Jaemin had fun on the road for two hours, just the two of you. You enjoyed some old school Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and Britney Spears. You snagged the CDs from your sister’s collection.

“Every little thing I do never seems enough for you!” You and Jaemin sang.

You too had gotten off the route to get snacks at a convenience store and because Jaemin needed to fill up his tank. He insisted you put your wallet away. He bought all of your favorite junk food essentials: M&Ms, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Coke, Orange Fanta. This boy knew his way into your heart.

“So, y/n, what’s your end goal in life?” He asked as he continued the route to Heather’s cabin. “You strike me as an aspiring pediatrician...Saving the children!”

You laughed at his enthusiasm. “I’d like to be a physical therapist. My parents got into a car accident when I was nine...My mom was fine but my dad broke his right leg and right arm. He needed to get physical therapy in order to walk properly again...I went with him to almost all of his appointments. I have a lot of respect for physical therapists after how much they helped him…”

“I’m glad your dad recovered,” Jaemin said as he gave you a quick smile before gluing his eyes back onto the road.

“Me, too...But...my end goal in life? Honestly, I just want my own space to dance around in...With no shame.”

Jaemin chuckled. “No shame, huh? Does that mean you’re a terrible dancer?”

You smacked him. “No. Well, I’m sure there are worse dancers.”

He laughed harder. “Okay...I believe you.”

You laughed. “What about you, Jaemin? What’s your end goal?”

He sighed. “Start up my own content-creating company...I’m into traveling and uncovering hidden gems. Be the next big thing after Buzzfeed Unsolved.”

“Those are some pretty big shoes to fill…” You started.

Jaemin sounded unsure. “Yeah…”

You smiled, “I know you can do it. You’ve got a subscriber in me.”

Jaemin faked a tear. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

You both laughed again as you reached for the M&Ms and your hands touched. You quickly pulled away, embarrassed. But Jaemin smiled to himself.

Jaemin said, “But as cheesy as it sounds...I want to get married, get a big house, and fill it with twelve children.”

You coughed. “Twelve? Are you and your future wife thinking of splitting the pregnancies up?”

Jaemin laughed. “Okay, maybe not twelve...But a family of my own is my dream. My parents split up when I was five so...I’ve split my time between two homes and it was an awkward feeling, especially after both of my parents remarried.”

“Oh…” You said. You couldn’t exactly sympathize with him because your parents were happily married so you didn’t want to say anything that could rub him the wrong way. That was the last thing you wanted.

“I want to be with that one person...For the rest of my life...When I meet her, I’ll know.” He said, giving you a meaningful look.

You had no idea how to process that so you took a sip of your blue raspberry ICEE and held it in the air, awkwardly. “Here’s to you finding your soulmate someday.”

He chuckled. “Thank you.”

___

You arrived at Heather’s summer home...Well, she called it a cabin. But it was actually a mansion by the beach. It was gorgeous. Something straight out of a movie. It looked like it could be its own hotel resort. You realized that there was a good chance you’d have your own room.

“This house is huge!” You exclaimed.

Jaemin looked along with you as he handed you your bag. “What a shame. I was hoping we would room together.” He said softly into your ear.

You turned to him in shock and he shot you his infamous flirty grin. This boy had you thinking he liked you and he’d better stop before you tried to kiss him.

Heather handed everyone keys to their bedrooms. “If any of you lose this copy, I can’t help you.” She made sure to say that as she handed you your keys.

You went up the stairs of the beach house and chose the last room on the left. You were unlocking the door to your room when someone from behind you tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’re y/n, right?” You recognized Yangyang from your mandatory PE class. You both took Intermediate Swimming, a class where as long as you flailed in the water and passed the easy quizzes, you’d be guaranteed an A.

You nodded. “And you’re…”

He said, “I’m Yangyang. It’s so nice to see you here!”

“You, too,” you said, averting your eyes once again. Yangyang was pretty attractive and you hoped he didn’t remember you and your Sailor Moon one piece. You always tried to be one of the first in the water and the last to leave when it came to your swimming class.

Even though Heather’s comments were nothing to you, it didn’t mean you were completely immune to the hurt it caused.

“You were in Coach Emerson’s swim class, right? You had the iconic Sailor Moon swimsuit.”

And there went the rest of your hopes and dreams. “Y-yeah…”

He laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. I had Dragon Ball Z swim trunks.”

“Really?” You said.

Yangyang pretended to be hurt and winced. “I thought you’d be the one to notice.”

“Well...I’m not exactly looking at anyone’s...body…” You said, cringing at your words.

He laughed. “Fair point. I just liked the pattern. Your favorite character is Sailor Mars, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah. She’s the best.”

“I’m more of a Sailor Venus guy, myself,” he replied.

“Good taste. But all of the Sailor Scouts are queens,” you started.

“No question,” Yangyang said. “Hey, do you-” His phone started to ring. “Sorry, y/n...I gotta take this.”

You waved goodbye to him and entered your spacious bedroom. As much as Heather despised you and you despised her, her family had excellent taste in real estate. The queen-sized bed was plush like a cloud straight from heaven. You pulled the window up to feel the ocean breeze. It was paradise.

You heard a knock at your door an hour later. It was Jaemin.

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asked.

“Sure!” You said, having already changed into a sundress.

Jaemin thought you looked stunning. Well, you always did. He was so happy to be here with you. Otherwise, he may not have gone on this trip.

Jaemin led you to the beach where you let your toes touch the water. He teased you by splashing you. And you splashed him back until you both were soaked.

You both laughed so hard that you toppled over each other, you on top of Jaemin. You both stared at each other for a long time. Jaemin closed his eyes, his long eyelashes caressing his cheeks. He waited for you to kiss him.

You moved closer and your lips met his. His lips tasted salty thanks to you and your merciless splashing. But the kiss was everything. It was fireworks at the end of a perfect night. It was hot chocolate on a warm winter night. It was like an angel held you and you snuggled against his wings. The kiss was perfect.

You two let go and Jaemin bit his lip. “So.”

You stood there, frozen. “So…”

“So...we did that.”

You nodded. “Indeed we did.”

“Thoughts?” He looked at you with his big brown eyes.

You cleared your throat. “Well...I certainly wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

Jaemin’s big gorgeous goofy smile came back full force at hearing you. He cupped your face in his hands and was about to kiss you again.

“Guys!” Naeun called out to you. “Have you seen Yangyang?”

You and Jaemin pulled yourselves apart. You answered, “Last time I saw him was when he went to his room. Is everything okay?”

“He wasn’t answering his phone...And I found it in his room.” She held up his phone that had a Dragon Ball Z pop socket on the back of it.

You frowned. “That’s weird.”

Jaemin offered. “Maybe he went for a walk. Got some fresh air?”

“Maybe…” Naeun thought and you nodded. “If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him and that I’m pissed.”

“Okay,” you said.

Naeun stomped away, frustrated.

“Now where were-” you started.

Jaemin already pulled you in for another kiss. He pinned you down against the shoreline and trailed your neck with his kisses.

You breathed heavily as you held him tightly.

He looked at you, as if asking you something.

You gave him a look. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to…” His eyes moved down to his pelvic region where his member was protruding through the fabric of his trunks.

Your eyes widened at how big he was. And your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you realized what he was asking. “Oh…”

Jaemin waited for you patiently.

Things were moving too fast. You were more than happy to kiss Jaemin all night but you really weren’t ready to have sex. Not tonight, anyway.

You already knew the answer. “I’m sorry Jaemin. I do like you but...I’m...not ready. I should go…” You got up but Jaemin stopped you. It was like a romantic Korean drama scene, except instead of your wrist ...He grabbed your ankle.

“It’s okay...You don’t have to go. Please don’t go…” He begged as he made a puppy dog pout.

You laughed, relieved. “Okay okay...You can stop making that face.”

Jaemin pouted his lips even more. “What face?”

You rolled your eyes and splashed him. You and Jaemin spent a couple of hours on the beach, kissing and talking. You wrapped up and he walked you to your bedroom.

___

You woke up early the next morning to hear screaming and crying. You got out of bed and ran out the door.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, finding Naeun devastated on the floor. Heather sat down with her on the ground and consoled her.

“Yangyang…” She said between sobs. “He’s gone!”

Renjun looked grave as he handed you his phone. “We all got these messages. Did you, y/n?”

You looked at what was on Renjun’s phone screen and there was a video of Yangyang, bound up and gagged. Tears streamed down his eyes. He mumbled loudly for help.

Tears fell out of your eyes. “What the hell is this?”

You couldn’t believe it. You’d just had a whole conversation with him yesterday. He was friendly and funny…

And now he was like this.

Jaemin replied, “Someone’s idea of a sick joke...I don’t recommend looking at the rest of the story, y/n…”

You ignored him and kept watching. The next video pointed to a wall and you could hear Yangyang clearly now...He was yelling. “No! Who are you? Why are you doing this? Stop! Nooooooo!” The video cut off after that. The last picture was of Yangyang with his throat slit with text that read: “Wonder who will be next...It’s anyone’s guess, really. 🧐 #springbreak2020”

You ran into the bathroom and threw up. The rest of the group followed you into the bathroom. “Well, y/n?” Tzuyu started.

“Well, what?” You asked.

“Show us your phone,” Tzuyu demanded.

“Why?” You asked.

Jaemin intervened, “Why are you guys ganging up on her?”

“We’ve checked everyone’s phones...Now we want to see y/n’s,” Tzuyu said, a vindictive look in her eyes.

“Fine,” you said. You pulled it out of your pocket and you were shocked to find the messages on your phone.

“Someone sent them to her, too. She’s as innocent as the rest of us,” Renjun said.

Tzuyu frowned. “Okay…”

She seemed disappointed that you weren’t the culprit. You wondered why Tzuyu hated you. She was merely one of Heather’s followers so you guessed she would hate anyone Heather hated no matter what.

Still, this didn’t alleviate any of your worries. Someone kidnapped and murdered Yangyang overnight. And whoever that was remained close by.

And they weren’t finished.

Unfortunately for all of you, your cell reception was weak so you couldn’t contact the police. You were on the verge of a panic attack.

Renjun decided, “We should try going to the next town to get reception.”

Tzuyu started, “You are not leaving me here.”

“Fine, we’ll go together.” He said as they both walked off and borrowed Heather’s car.

___

You sat in the living room, scared to be in your room all alone. Hell, you didn’t mind being with Heather and Naeun. Jaemin was making lunch in the kitchen for you guys.

It had been a few hours since Renjun and Tzuyu left. Now you were all getting worried. The next town wasn’t that far off, according to Heather. So something was up.

And you wondered if it had been a good idea for them to leave. Maybe they had been just as much in danger as the rest of you. Whoever the killer was...He had resources to be anywhere at any time. It gave you shivers.

“Y/n, can you get Naeun a glass of water?” Heather asked you.

You nodded and met Jaemin in the kitchen. You asked him once again, “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”

Jaemin shook his head. “I’ve got this.” He said as he finished making lasagna.

You got a glass of water for Naeun. “Jaemin, I’m scared,” you said.

Jaemin looked rattled up, too, but he seemed to be holding it together for the rest of you. And it meant a lot to you.

The four of you sat down to eat quietly. Naeun barely took a bite of her lasagna.

Not too long after, she started wheezing. Hives broke out onto her skin. “Epi...Pen...Heather.”

Heather jumped out of her seat. “I’ll go get it!”

“Oh God,” you panicked. “You need air! Let’s go outside, Naeun.”

You and Jaemin helped her out to the front door so she can breathe better. You were praying Heather found her EpiPen soon.

Heather returned, upset, “Are you sure it’s in your purse? I couldn’t find it.”

Naeun nodded. “Yes…”

When you realized Naeun’s EpiPen was missing, you ran up to your room and grabbed yours. “I brought mine!”

“Hurry up!” Heather said.

You ran back down and Naeun was able to get the injection she needed to recover from her reaction.

Heather took Naeun up to her room to recover.

“I wonder what Naeun was allergic to…” You said to Jaemin.

Jaemin frowned. “I don’t know...I had no idea she had severe allergies. Maybe it was in one of the ingredients but I’m not sure which one…God, I feel terrible.” He put his face in his hands.

“Hey, it’s okay...It was an accident...She’ll be okay,” you said as you hugged him.

“It was a good thing you had your EpiPen, y/n...You’re amazing…”

“Or I just have severe allergies, too,” you said.

He laughed awkwardly. “Right…”

Even more hours passed. Renjun and Tzuyu haven’t returned. Everyone was antsy.

You and Jaemin were going to go out and look for them but you were shocked to find his tires had been slit recently.

This wasn’t a coincidence. The killer was watching your every move. You wondered if he had gotten to Renjun and Tzuyu. Your throat dried up at just thinking that.

You and Heather grabbed weapons from her father’s shed, which included gardening shears and hunting rifles.

Heather taught you how to handle the rifle. You both went back into the house with your weapons in tow. You all made sure to shut all of the windows and close all of the doors. You scoured the entire property. No one can come in. And no could come out. You hoped there wasn’t some random secret entrance to this house that rich people always seemed to have in the movies. You all reluctantly headed to bed.

You sat up on the edge of your bed. You were comfortable in a concert tee and some shorts. You wanted to wear something that would be easy to run in. Just in case the killer would come for you next.

Jaemin was at your door. “Hey…Heather and Naeun both fell asleep.”

“How can they be asleep...I can’t sleep knowing that that bastard is out there…” You said.

Jaemin walked into the room. “Can I sit with you?”

You nodded. “Jaemin, what are we going to do...We can’t just stay here. We're sitting ducks. Renjun and Tzuyu are just gone...And we don’t know when or even if they're coming back…”

Jaemin rubbed your back in small circles. His touch was distracting. Kissing Jaemin would be a great distraction.

Making love to him would be even better.

That would be ridiculous. The last thing you wanted to do was have sex when a murderer was afoot. That would be a total cliche.

Jaemin replied. “I’m sorry, y/n...I think our best bet is to wait it out until morning and go to the next town on foot.”

You nodded. “Yeah...Maybe daytime will be safer.”

Jaemin nodded. “Why don’t you go to sleep and I’ll take the first shift?”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah, I’m wired. I had three cups of coffee in the past hour. You need to rest, y/n.” Jaemin said as he pulled the covers over you. “I’ll come back to wake you. I’ll be on guard.” He grabbed one of the hunting rifles he left outside the door.

“Thank you,” you said as you shut your eyes. Sleep quickly took over.

___

You were quickly shaken awake. “Y/n get the fuck up!” Heather hissed.

“Heather?” You exclaimed.

She shushed you. “Shut up. You need to come with me right now.”

“What’s wrong?” You whispered.

Heather made sure your door was locked before she returned back to you. “Naeun is dead.”

You looked carefully at Heather and had seen that she’d been crying. “What?” You asked. “That’s impossible.”

“We shouldn’t have left her alone. She said she was fine. She seemed fine. I went to check on her and...she wasn’t breathing. And...I think she was smothered, y/n.”

“Wait...Are you saying…”

“The killer is Jaemin,” Heather said.

“What? Why would you say that?” You shook your head.

“Think about it, y/n. None of us has good reception here so how is that we got those texts about Yangyang? The killer had to be in close proximity to us. Tzuyu and Renjun left in my car, which he probably messed with so they got into an accident...And...I don’t even want to say what could’ve happened...Whatever Jaemin put in the lasagna almost killed Naeun. Then, her EpiPen fucking disappeared. And then, conveniently right after, his tires were slit. And now, since he couldn’t finish the job the first time, he smothered Naeun to death.”

“Heather...Jaemin wouldn’t…” You started.

“I know...I had my doubts, too, but...he gave me some calming tea before I went to sleep...When it cooled down, I tested it...It’s been drugged.”

Your heart sank. “How do you know?”

“My dad’s company is working with the nail polish that can track date rape drugs. My painted nail changed color when I tested it out. Jaemin tried to drug me, y/n…” She showed you her neon green polish and the one fingernail that turned black.

You covered your hand over your mouth.

“I had a feeling he would come check up on me so I tossed some of the tea down the drain and pretended I was asleep. He came back to check that I was asleep, y/n...That’s just creepy. Why the hell would he need to drug me?”

Not knowing how to answer, you started, “Heather...Maybe…”

Jaemin surprised you both by breaking the wood of the door down with an ax. He made a big enough hole to unlock the door from the inside.

You and Heather yelled. Jaemin heard everything.

Jaemin started. “Heather, why are you up? I thought I was going to take care of you tomorrow in my grand finale…”

“Shit,” Heather said as she got closer to you.

“Jaemin? What grand finale?” You demanded. “What is going on?”

Jaemin smiled wide at you. “Sweetheart, I thought I told you to sleep.”

The look in Jaemin’s eyes became cold...Calculating.

“y/n...It’s no accident that I asked for you to come on this trip…” Jaemin said as he pulled a knife out of his pocket and twirled it around his hand. “I thought you’d partake in the festivities…”

“What festivities?” Heather demanded. “Why the fuck did you try to drug me? Why did you kill Naeun? What the hell did she do to you?”

Jaemin tsked as he met Heather’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t I kill Naeun? Why wouldn’t I kill them all? Think about it, you ungrateful little brat.”

You found yourself moving closer to Heather then for she was your only living ally. Albeit the biggest bitch in the land.

Jaemin killed everyone.

Jaemin was the killer.

Heather shook her head. “Jaemin, stay the fuck away from us. I swear to God. Or I’ll-”

Jaemin chuckled. “You’ll what? Call Daddy? Call Mommy? They’re both abroad, never giving a second thought about their spoiled daughter...Those two think you couldn’t be safer and more comfortable…It’s ridiculous...A girl who has everything...Takes it upon herself to put others down...You’ve put y/n down for years...You’ve never let go your childish and petty hatred for her...And for what reason?”

Heather’s resolve faded when she realized what you had.

“Jaemin…” You started.

“Y/n, did you not realize that each person on this trip has fucked with you one way or another?” He asked.

Well, the girls were bitches, yes, but…

“Naeun was the one who spread that rumor about you getting your breast implants...Tzuyu was the one who nearly ran you over in the student parking lot...Renjun body shamed you in the boys’ locker room...And Yangyang told us all that he wanted to take your virginity this weekend…”

“Jaemin!” Heather exclaimed.

“You should’ve been careful with who you added in your group chat full of morons, Heather....Ah, and Heather, dear...you’re the ringleader in all of this...You goaded Naeun and Tzuyu to do these things to y/n. You’ve set out to put y/n down for a long time now. You even went along with Renjun and Yangyang’s comments about y/n’s body...Fuck you, by the way, she’s perfect in every way...And I should’ve made them all go through slower...more painful deaths for all of the things you said about her...”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You had no idea that even boys were targeting you...First off, you literally just breathed. The girls were childish and petty but…

“Jaemin,” you said.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Jaemin asked with a kinder smile to you.

“What they all did to me was wrong...But you didn’t have to…”

Jaemin’s eyes widened. “Kill them? Well, it wasn’t up to you...All of these people are worthless scum that won’t amount to much, honestly….So was it really a waste?”

Heather surprised you by pulling a handgun out of her pocket. She shot Jaemin in the chest. “y/n, let’s go!” She pulled you out of the bed and you both ran for your lives.

“Agh!” Jaemin groaned as he fell to the ground.

You both ran down the stairs. Heather unlocked the front door, knowing the house was no longer safe.

You both ran down the steps of the entrance. You had to pull Heather with you because she ran too slow for you. Then, you heard a gunshot.” Heather fell down. She’d been shot in the foot. “Fuck!” She yelled.

You turned to see Jaemin at the entrance with a hunting rifle. “Bulletproof vest, baby!”

You yelled as you tried to help Heather up.

Jaemin asked, genuinely confused. “Y/n, why are you running? This has nothing to do with you.”

You gaped. “Are you kidding me? Apparently, this has everything to do with me…Jaemin put the gun down! Please stop!”

Jaemin shook his head. “Out of the question, sweetheart. You’d be smart to leave Heather to me.”

Heather began to cry. “No…”

You wrapped Heather’s arm around you and both walked off. Heather winced with pain but she could manage as you kept running. Jaemin was getting closer and closer. He waited, then.

You and Heather were confused. Why did he stop running?

You and Heather both walked over a bear traps you both hadn’t seen.

You yelped in pain and Heather cried out, “Son of a bitch!”

It hurt for both of you to move an inch. You both cried.

Jaemin made his way over, using a flashlight. He sighed. “Y/n, you should’ve stopped running. Now you’ve your beautiful ankle...Well, it’s no big deal...I can disinfect it and patch it up nicely for you...After I’m done with Heather.”

“Jaemin, no, please stop. You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do this. That’s enough!” You pleaded.

At the sound of your last two words, Jaemin froze. The words brought him back to when he was a kid and he would pummel other children for bullying his younger siblings. His parents would beg him to stop. It was too bad that their words didn’t stick. And your words were no different.

Jaemin sighed. “I’m sorry, y/n…” He whacked the back of his gun over your head so you blacked out.

___

Heather had also been knocked out. She awoke to being tied up and sitting in the hot tub beside the Olympic sized swimming pool in the backyard. She noted that bricks were tied around her ankles. As she tried to pull herself up, it was impossible for her to get out.

Jaemin smiled wickedly as he wielded the thermostat. “You’ve always prided yourself on being the hottest girl at our college...Why don’t we put that to the test?”

“Jaemin, please stop! I am so sorry!” She cried. “Please don’t do this! I messed up! I...I’ve always been jealous of y/n! Because she was the one who had everything. The perfect family. The perfect grades. The perfect body. Everything about her is so damn effortless that I hated it.” She hoped that pouring her soul out to him might make him change his mind.

“Oh, boohoo…” Jaemin said as he increased the heat.

Heather grew uncomfortable. “Jaemin...Stop...Please...It’s too hot…”

Jaemin sighed. “Goodbye Heather…”

___

You slowly woke up seated on the passenger side of Jaemin’s Jeep. Your eyes quickly opened when you realized that. You jerked awake and found Jaemin in the driver’s seat, calm and composed. “I think we’re alone now...”

You backed up against your window. “Jaemin! Where is Heather?”

“Oh, she’s tied up at the moment...In the hot tub...She is indeed the hottest girl from our college now…” Jaemin said, a chuckle escaping his lips at his pun.

You were about to be sick. You pulled the window and vomited. You tried moving by the gash from the bear trap made you wince and groan in pain.

“Oh, y/n...I didn’t mean for you to get hurt...You couldn’t help it, though. Wanting to help that brat till the end...Because you see the good in people...You are simply too pure.”

“Jaemin...Where are we going?”

“To the next town...Where we will report a murderer that broke into Heather’s summer home…”

You looked at him in disbelief. Surely, he wouldn't turn himself in.

“The murderer is at large and we narrowly escaped, y/n...I got you out of the bear trap and we were able to get away in my car…”

You shook your head. “Jaemin, no...They’ll never believe you...”

Jaemin shocked you by breaking down the same way he had the day before you left for the trip. “Officers, please h-help us. Our friends are gone!”

You looked at him in disbelief. Did he fake crying before?

Well, you did think he was a tremendous actor. You just didn’t know how right you were.

“Jaemin, this is wrong…” You started.

He sighed. “Y/n...you worry too much...Now your life will be brighter...It’ll be perfect now. Perfect for the perfect girl…”

You contemplated how the hell you could get away from Jaemin. Your options were limited as he’d taken your phone. You couldn’t exactly run that far but you could find a way to slow him down. You noticed Heather’s car off the side of the road. It’d rammed into a tree. Jaemin must have tampered with Heather’s car, you realized. He did admit to having a hand in their disappearance, after all.

You thought fast and with all of your strength you moved over to Jaemin’s side and turned the wheel so the car collided into the trees.

The impact was intense but you’d dodged most of the impact. Jaemin laid next to you, unconscious and bleeding.

You limped out of the car and checked Heather’s car. As you feared, Renjun and Tzuyu died from the impact. It was a gruesome sight. They dealt with blunt trauma. Their heads were draining blood. You nearly puked again.

Before you broke down in tears, you thought fast and remembered Renjun and Tzuyu smoked. You rummaged through the glove compartment for a weapon or a phone...You came up short with Renjun’s lighter. Tzuyu’s phone had some battery left. The reception was low so you had to find a way to get to the next town to get reception.

So now what the hell were you going to do, you weren’t going to light a car up on fire...And burn the evidence that was once Tzuyu and Renjun.

You noticed the gas leak that came from under the car. You got under the hood of Heather’s car and found the gasoline tank leaking. You grabbed an empty Starbucks cup from the front seat and let the gasoline slip in.

___

You ran, not getting very far when Jaemin called out to you. He was able to walk normally and he was quickly catching up to you.

“Y/n! Sweetheart! Where are you going? Without me...” Jaemin called out.

You turned quickly and found he walked over to you with an ax.

“Fuck off, Jaemin!” You said, realizing he was just as capable of killing you.

“Sweetheart, let’s just talk about this...I did this all for you...Because I love you...I want to make you happy. I want to marry you. Have twelve children...Ah, yes, you said twelve may be excessive...How does eleven kids sound?”

You rolled your eyes. He was fucking insane. You decided to provoke him. “What makes you think I would marry a deranged killer?”

Jaemin’s face was unreadable then. You hid the cup of gasoline away in your sweater. Pretending you've injured your arm so Jaemin wouldn’t be the wiser.

“Y/n, please…”

You entertained him by turning around.

“What, Jaemin? How could you possibly convince me that anything you did was okay?”

“If you let me try…” Jaemin started. He got closer to you.

You waited for him to get closer and quickly doused him with the gasoline.

Jaemin coughed as some of the gasoline got in his mouth. “y/n, what are you-”

“Goodbye, Jaemin.” You ignited Renjun’s lighter and tossed it at him.

Jaemin clothes caught on fire. He yelled in agony as you watched him struggle. He threw the axe at you but he missed. You cried as you went back to Jaemin’s car and started up the ignition. Thank goodness, it still worked.

Jaemin immediately removed his clothes to remove himself from most of the flames and patted himself down. He immediately charged at you as you backed the car up from the tree.

You didn’t think twice as you ran him over. Checking the rearview mirror and seeing the job hadn’t been completed, you reversed the car and ran him over again.

You waited ten minutes to see that Jaemin was dead. You got out of the car and kicked his body to check for any movement. You got his heavy, lifeless body into the car with you. You checked his pulse again. He was dead. You checked multiple times because once again, you weren’t about to become a movie cliche.

You made it to the next town and reported Jaemin’s murders and how you killed him in self-defense. You explained your weekend of terror and you were at the station all week for questioning. Your family joined you and consoled you as you told them all you knew.

The police scoured the mansion. They found Yangyang’s body in the pool house, beaten to a bloody pulp. They found Naeun’s body in her bed, like she’d been in perpetual slumber. They found Heather’s body in the hot tub, wrinkled and burnt. They found Heather’s car where Tzuyu and Renjun’s bodies remained.

Jaemin told you the truth. He worked part-time at hardware store. He had been fired that day for snapping at one of the customer’s who was berating his wife. Before Jaemin left, he stole an ax. He really did get the ax, like he’d told you.

It turned out Jaemin tampered with the reception at Heather’s house and because her house was already remote...Jaemin was able to use that to his advantage. He used the last of the reception before he cut it off to send the texts about Yangyang from a burner phone, which was uncovered in his Jeep. Yangyang’s phone was unlocked and the police uncovered his messages that were supposedly from his dealer, who he scheduled to meet with the night he disappeared. It turned out Jaemin hacked into the dealer’s phone to get Yangyang right where he wanted him. Jaemin did indeed tamper with the wires of Heather’s car so Tzuyu and Renjun’s fates were sealed. The leftover lasagna Jaemin had prepared was analyzed and there were traces of crushed peanuts in the lasagna. Naeun had a severe peanut allergy. Naeun’s EpiPen was found with Jaemin’s other belongings. When you’d saved Naeun with your EpiPen, Jaemin took it upon himself to smother Naeun with a pillow in her sleep. Jaemin had planted bear traps around the front lawn, which was how he caught you and Heather. Heather died from heat exhaustion in the hot tub as she was tied up and restrained with bricks tied around her ankles. Jaemin had done all of this with gloved hands so no trace of his DNA could be found at the crime scenes. If it hadn’t been for the evidence he’d hidden in his car, then the case would’ve been more difficult to resolve.

Jaemin’s body was recovered at the crime scene. Thankfully, he was not a movie cliche where he up and left and awaited his next victim. He was dead to the world and most importantly, dead to you.

[Fin]

482 notes · View notes

sukiglycerin · 4 years

Text

starless fairy tales || keigo takami, katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: keigo takami (hawks) x reader x katsuki bakugou (gender neutral!)

* genre: it’s a sandwich: angst on the top, fluff in the middle, and angst at the end :) not fantasy DLKFSF IM SORRY

* words: 5.2k, somehow

* warnings: angsty, reader is wary of hawks at first, tokyo skytree!! so don’t read if you’re terribly afraid of heights, a reference to blood for a small metaphor, a reference to the league of villains ;P, cliffhanger ending that i’m not sure i’ll resolve

* original request from @bien-sur: hey, saw you wanted requests and I read through some of your work, really loved the Hawks one shot!! i’m a sucker for enemies who make out. i’m feeling angsty so uh maybe, if you want, a bakugo one-shot where he kind of uh cheats on the reader...? or maybe just hurts her feelings very badly? maybe the reader feels numb for a while but is comforted by Keigo, and the reader realizes they deserve better? so sorry if this is out of your comfort zone or it’s dark content(?) anyways I like your writing so i’ll read a few more of your works before going to bed :)) thank you, i appreciate u taking the time to do requests regardless of whether you do mine :)

* a/n: ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS SUPERIOR!! i was so excited to write an enemies piece with hawks. this showcases the soft, kind side of hawks so i hope you enjoy it !! thank you sooo much for being so kind in your request! this request is completely fine. i added much more plot than i’d expected, and learned sooo much about tokyo skytree. i couldn’t do infidelity because it hurts me too much and i love bakugou too much. i tried to keep the angst.,., but happy birb..,., this might become a multi-chap fic, as i do have a plot jumbled in my head because of the cliffhanger, and i’d like to develop more aspects of your request! for now, it’s up to your interpretation! biggest thing i got out of this: i now really, really want to go to tokyo skytree.

* synopsis: you had a fairy tale love with bakugou until your prince became the villain for vague reasons. in a moment of serendipity, you find a new prince, hawks, who just might take you high enough to reach the stars you’d so longed for. sometimes your dreams are only a train ride and a couple elevator trips away.

love was like a fairy tale. at least, that’s what you’d believed. love, with its ornate leather cover and soft golden embellishments. the pages would be worn but so cherished; the black ink printed in a pretty font, telling of charming words and whispered promises under the shining moonlight and twinkling stars. it was supposed to be your security, a castle hidden in the lush forest away from the horrors of the world. your castle would hold you and bakugou for an eternity, kept away in the pages of a pretty love story.

alas, even the strongest of castles fall, and the most beautiful of forests mangle. yours just happened to be a bit quicker. contrary to the illusion bakugou had painted in your fairy tale, your castle was not of stone nor brick nor iron. it was not of anything but sand, waiting for its turn to be washed away by the sea. your castle slipped through your fingers; the once elaborate stronghold now swept into the depths of the cerulean sea. what had once been painted seashells of wondrous hues and crystals that illuminated the night were now pebbles and corroded versions of things that had once been. it had slipped through your fingers so easily without a passing thought; now here you were, in your deserted kingdom, playing the fool.

like the sand past your fingers, love had once come easy for you and bakugou. it was always there, drifting in the air as you walked or swirling above your heads while you bickered. love was supposed to be easy, like how your hand just fit in bakugou's as if sculpted after many lives with him. love was supposed to be easy, like how bakugou aced his tests in school and nonchalantly taught you math so you wouldn't have to attend cram school. love was supposed to be easy, like how it had been for forever with bakugou. but your fairy tale was now coming to a close, velvet curtains falling and pages turning to dust.

you wondered if there were any fairy tales on the shelves of books bakugou had. contrary to popular belief at ua, bakugou was an avid reader. it was clear by the shelves that lined the wall in his dorm and the stacks of unread books on his nightstand. you never touched them, though bakugou had said you were free to pick them up whenever you wanted. the only time you’d touched a book from his bookshelf was when he pushed a book of yosano akiko’s to you.

the colored spines of the books on his shelf in your shared apartment all blurred like paint on a palette as you stared at them, bakugou’s voice becoming a fading afterthought.

“y/n? y/n, please…” the voice which had so held you in its tight warmth went cold and unfamiliar. a light flickered out in your castle, and so started the crumbling.

“say…” you started, your throat clogged with disbelief, “it again.”

“please, don’t make me…” his voice trailed off. you could feel his deep scarlet eyes trained on you. “i just…. i’m not in love with you anymore, y/n.” his voice cracked. “you’ve got to understand. please.”

your hand trembled in your lap, your vision shifting out of focus like a faulty camera.

“i tried to feel something, i really did. but…. i can’t.”

“how- how long?” your voice shook.

he paused. “a month… or two, by now?” he reached out to take your hand in his, but it no longer felt right. it was as if his hand was no longer yours to hold. you tensed, moving your hand away.

a light went out in his eyes as he understood and receded his hand. a tower fell in your castle.

“okay,” you said, turning away from him. tears dripped down your face silently and you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve. you stood up from the couch. “i’ll get my things,” you hollowly said, walking toward your shared room with him.

“you don’t need to,” bakugou said. the voice emitted from his throat was no longer his, but the shadow of a stranger’s. “not this fast, at least. don’t force yourself.”

“what makes you say that?” you snapped a bit too harshly. “sorry,” you added quietly.

packing your things was a numbing process. you left the photos of him and you on his nightstand, on top of his pile of unread books. you shoved it all in a backpack you had lying around; your clothes, your phone, your books. you took one last glance around the room and left. bakugou was still sitting on the couch wordlessly, not bothering to say farewell to you as you opened the door and walked out. not that you would’ve responded anyway.

you realized you may have made a miscalculation as you stood cluelessly in the lobby of the apartment building. you had nowhere to go. you fumbled with your phone in your backpack and pulled up your contacts. you knew of no one in your contacts who’d let you stay; they were either on vacation or far away. in truth, bakugou was your closest friend since childhood. he was your map, your guide, your destination; where were you without him?

the wind brushed your cheek as you stood outside the entrance, watching cars pass. the world felt so big compared to the mere side character of you, who buildings loomed over like menacing shadows. it was a somewhat comforting moment, being an alone speck in the grand scheme of things. like this, it was for only a moment you’d forgotten why you were out here in the first place. you’d forgotten the warm feeling that once nestled itself in your heart, instead enraptured by the freeing breeze that rustled in it.

red. then a breeze. that’s all you saw, eyes widening and stepping back. a man no older than you stood in front of you, hands in his pockets. vermillion wings protruded from somewhere on his back, arcing slightly over the man.

“heyyy….” he said lazily, shadows falling on his face. you started walking backward, hands discreetly feeling for the door behind you. “wait! i’m a pro-hero, i swear! i’m hawks, look it up!” he lifted his hands up in surrender, backing away from you.

“who…. what do you want?” you asked cautiously, hand on the doorknob behind you.

he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “i, uh…. got lost…. tokyo’s such a big place, y’know?”

“where are you from?” you couldn’t really discern anything of an accent on him, other than a slightly rougher tone of speaking.

“kyushu, fukuoka…” he gestured vaguely. that explained the slight accent. “i’m in tokyo for a bit of work. business trip, y’know how it goes. haven’t visited tokyo in a while, honestly. what’s a good place for a bite? a bird is starving.”

“uh… there’s a place down the street to the right…” off the top of your head, you pointed out a cafe you and bakugou had frequented.

“it doesn’t have chicken wings, does it?” hawks asked.

“chicken…?” you looked from him to his wings. “no, sorry.”

“don’t sweat it! ‘s fine. hey, i might as well treat you for wasting your time. where’re you heading off to? i could pay for a cab, if you gotta go.”

“ah, thank you....” you said bashfully. “i’m not really in a rush anywhere.”

“really?” he looked excited, innocently so, almost like a puppy. “can i treat you to something?”

“uh… sure,” you replied, strengthening your grip on your backpack. “sure.”

“great! off we go, m’liege!” he pointed toward the cafe and started marching. he was a sight to behold on the street, red wings standing out a mile away. you followed somewhat reluctantly, grabbing your phone to google exactly who the pro-hero “hawks” was. the name sounded vaguely familiar, but you weren’t one who knew their heroes. yeah, it was definitely him; what was your luck, meeting such a famous pro-hero on the street after being dumped by the love of your life?

he hummed a tuneless melody, turning to the cafe. he held the doorknob waiting for you, opening the door for you first. the homey cafe was decently packed for lunchtime, the quiet chatter of people filling the atmosphere. the scene reminded you of so many other times you'd gone here with bakugou; it gave you chills as you stood next to hawks.

"hey," hawks said quietly. "you okay? you seem tense."

you gulped and shook your head. "nah, i'm fine. just thinking about what to eat," you lied.

he nodded, seeming to buy into the lie. stepping toward the menu, he said, "the toasted sandwiches look good."

"uh huh," you agreed absentmindedly. your attention was on the bout of people who'd turned to look at hawks, some snapping pictures on their phones. he did stand out pretty well with his wings.

"'scuse me-!" a little girl, no more than 6 or 7, approached the hero. she had a distinctive accent; it was slightly hard to understand her. "can i 'ave a photo with ya?" her eyes got all round. "yer my big brother's favorite hero!"

"'course, darlin'," hawks smiled. his voice somewhat mimicked hers, his dialect becoming apparent.

once he'd taken a photo with her, more and more people started following suit, crowding him. you stood awkwardly to the side. some people didn't even know who he was, from what you could tell. you debated ordering a latte and leaving, but decided it'd be unfair to hawks. he was kind to everyone he interacted with, unlike most celebrities who just wanted fame and disregarded others.

after some time, the crowd finally dispersed, leaving you and hawks together.

he glanced at his watch. “ah, sorry, that took a while…” he apologized. “do you have somewhere to be? i must’ve held you up…”

“nah, don’t worry about it.” you waved him off. “i, uh, actually… was just dumped by my boyfriend…” you nervously shuffled your feet. “i don’t really have a place to stay at the moment… so i’m free the entire day, i guess.” you laughed nervously.

he blinked at you, bird-like eyes wide. “you must be starving.”

you felt your face warm and you laughed - this time, a real, genuine laugh that was a missed sensation against your tongue. “yeah. yeah, i am.”

“hey, dove.” his voice suddenly got close to you, gentler. “you’re crying.”

“oh…?” you felt your cheek with the pad of your thumb. “sorry. i have tissues in my backpack, hang on…” you unzipped the front pocket and started to rummage blindly through your belongings, groping for something vaguely feeling like a packet of tissues.

“here,” he said, handing you a tissue. you turned to him gratefully, accepting the tissue and wiping your face.

“it’s just… weird,” you said after a pause. “he’s been there all my life - my ex, i mean.” ex. such a strange name for the man you so adored; ex, crossing off the relationship you thought you’d built with him.

hawks nodded, guiding you to a booth in the cafe.

you continued, “sorry. you probably didn’t want to hear this today… you’re busy with your hero duties and whatnot.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it, feather,” he reassured you. “he didn’t kick you out, did he?”

“oh, no,” you clarified quickly. “i… left,” you said, abashed. “i shouldn’t’ve been so sudden, but… it was an instinct thing.”

“why’d he do it so suddenly?” hawks asked. “you didn’t see it coming, right?”

“no, i didn’t… but maybe i should’ve…” you think about the part couple months with bakugou. nothing seemed different - you’d gone on dates like normal and spent time together like a couple that loved each other. his interest in you never faltered and nor did the sparkle in his eyes dull; what had happened? what had gone so wrong?

you realize the silence that’s fallen between you and hawks. the hero was looking at the menu behind you intently.

“ham and cheese…” he muttered to himself. “no, teriyaki… so yummy… with coffee…” he suddenly seemed aware of your eyes staring at him. “oh, what did you want to eat?”

“i’ll probably have the teriyaki,” you said. it was your go-to sandwich choice at the cafe. you reached for your backpack to retrieve your wallet, but hawks stopped you.

“let me,” he said. “i already caused you so much inconvenience.”

“ah, okay…” you said meekly. “thank you.”

he shrugged. “what wouldja like to drink?”

“uh… orange juice,” you said.

“alright!” he saluted you. “your wish is my command.” he got up to order, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. the cashier was particularly animated talking to him, initiating a conversation about aerodynamics with the pro-hero from what you could hear.

he returned with the sandwiches (made at the fastest time you swore you’d seen them prepare food) and set yours in front of you.

“let’s dig in!” hawks said, biting into his sandwich. you agreed, taking a bite of yours as well.

“what’s your name, by the way?” he said in between bites. “i don’t think i ever asked.”

“y/n,” you said.

“pretty,” he commented. “i’m hawks.”

“i know,” you blurted. “i googled it.”

“you did?” his pupils widened. “what’d it say??”

“uhh…” you pulled out your phone, finding the tab you used to google hawks. you turned your screen to him.

he studied the screen. “not fond of that angle,” he mused to himself. “so, why’d your boyfriend dump you?”

you were taken aback by his candor. “he… said he didn’t love me anymore,” you admitted.

“all of a sudden? out of the blue?”

you shook your head. “he said he’d tried to endure it for a while.”

“how long?”

“a month or two,” you sighed, thinking about the sight of him sitting dejectedly on the couch this morning.

“he didn’t say anything before that?” hawks gasped. “the nerve. how long have you been together?”

“four… or five years now?” you’d been dating him since your days at ua, even when most high school romances - between childhood friends, no less - were especially rocky. he was your promised forever.

“and he gives up after two months?” hawks set his sandwich down. “wow. some boyfriend.”

“i think there was something more to it,” you said thoughtfully. “we’ve known each other for a long…”

“you still love him, don’t you?”

“i mean… yeah….” you hadn’t given it much thought; bakugou was a habit your heart couldn’t stop thinking about. it was like depriving your heart of oxygen: foreign and wrong. “i do.”

“i’m sorry, dove,” he said.

“your sandwich will get cold,” you said in an attempt to divert the conversation topic.

“you’re right.” he picked up his sandwich and started eating again, eyes still on you. “this place has good food.”

you hummed in agreement, distracted by the cars going by outside the window.

“where will you stay?” he asked, halfway done with his sandwich.

hawks voiced the concern plaguing your subconscious from the moment you stepped out of bakugou’s apartment building. it was definitely not the most thoroughly well-thought out plan, and you didn’t want to come back knocking on his door in the night. besides, you weren’t sure if you could stand being there again, in the presence of a liar and someone who felt so foreign to you. you wondered how much you truly didn’t know about bakugou; were there any other lies he’d blossomed behind your back?

you knew you might be able to stay at a hotel for a couple nights, but not for long. going back to bakugou’s place… as much as you so dreaded the mere thought, you knew it might be your absolute last resort.

“i’m not sure,” you finally replied truthfully. hawks appeared to have come to a conclusion of sorts.

“tell ya what,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “explore tokyo with me.” he took a bite of his sandwich. continuing, he said, “‘s not often the commission puts me in the big city. i’m off today, so…”

the offer was somewhat bizarre, but what did you have to lose? you agreed, under the terms you wouldn’t be out too late. as you walked out the door, you greeted the cool outside breeze with the hope this would help you put the past behind you.

walking through tokyo with a pro-hero proved harder than it sounded. for one, people kept approaching hawks; after all, he was like a walking light-up sign that said “LOOK AT ME!” with the size and color of his wings. after every time a fan asked hawks for an autograph, he sheepishly apologized to you, and offered two autographs to you. you always laughed and declined; the trip was a reward in itself, you supposed. each acquaintance made you appreciate all the responsibilities of a pro-hero. he was charming, though. he really was, so you didn’t mind.

“skytree! let’s go there!” was the first thing hawks had said walking out of the cafe. you’d been to the skytree a couple of times in your childhood, and it was a nice memory; the tall building stretching, touching the tip of the sky. your parents had told you that stardust flecked the very top of the skytree, for it was so tall. you’d never actually reached the highest floor; it felt like a distant fantasy, as you’d always get tired before reaching the top or circumstance would interfere.

it was a five minute walk to the nearest station, and it’d be another forty or so to skytree. hawks didn’t seem to mind, though, happily promenading down the street like a kid in a candy shop. he pointed excitedly to random buildings that you hadn’t given a second thought about and rambled about the facts he knew about skytree with an accent tingeing his words more than usual. he reminded you very much so of a child going on a field trip, and his giddiness only boosted yours.

“we’re here!” his eyes glistened with anticipation when you reached the station. you’d visited the station dozens of times, but looked at it with a new light when you realized how excited hawks was. “i’ll pay; i dragged you here,” he said immediately when you started to pay for tickets.

“really, i can’t-” you started, but he cut you off.

“let me. it’s my off day! please.” he took the two tickets he paid for. “here.”

“i don’t really have a choice, do i?”

“nope!” he was already walking away, smiling back at you and waving his ticket.

“hey- wait!” you started running after him. “wrong way!”

forty minutes later, two transfers, and one circle around the station in pursuit of skytree, you stood at the entrance of the tokyo skytree. hawks’ mouth watered at the sight of the line of restaurants in the breezeway you’d passed prior, and you had to stop him from ordering the seasonal special from mcdonald’s before turning to skytree.

“but you just ate!” you exclaimed as he stared longingly at the ice cream being advertised on a poster.

he pouted. “but i’m hungry…”

you took his hand (which momentarily shocked him) and guided him to the entrance. it was a bit crowded, but not overtly so. hawks was looking everywhere once you’d entered; darting from here to there, sometimes carrying small souvenirs or drinks when returning to you. you were out of energy by the time you’d reached floor 340, though hawks told you there were only 29 floors total and the name was referencing the height. it certainly didn’t feel like an exaggeration, your feet dragging on the ground as you stepped out of the oddly fast elevator.

you begged hawks to let you rest at the cafe you saw. the cafe felt like a little oasis of tranquility, uncrowded on contrary to the other floors. it was relaxing as you stared outside the window and up at the sky. it brought you to your parents words of stars and magic, though something as modern as the skytree must be strange to intermingle with magic. in the moment you were suspended; the still sky surrounding you and the ever-moving cars below. you swore you could just reach the clouds in front of you and float, so serenely in an eternal bubble of quietude to yourself. everything else was forgotten in that moment; things were the way they always were. it was always you, in the end.

after leaving the cafe, you watched people stand on glass flooring overlooking everything below. some jumped on the glass, while some frightenedly stuck a foot on the glass and jumped back.

“quite the view, huh?” hawks mumbled with a mouth stuffed full with chocolate cake. “i usually have to fly so far to get this view.”

you nodded. “it’s amazing...”

“so… where d’you wanna go after this?” he asked you.

“actually…” your thoughts went back to the stories your parents told you. “can we go up to floor 455?”

he showed a hint of surprise on his face. “really? i know we bought the tickets to do it, but if you’re tired, we can just go down.”

“no…” you cleared your throat. “it’s been something i really wanted to do.”

he took this answer and smiled, grasping your hand. “let’s walk into the sky!”

the train ride back did not go as smoothly as you hoped. the adrenaline of being 450 meters in the air had worn itself out, and the pitting realization that bakugou was no longer yours dawned on you. the sapphire sky in your fairy tale story seemed so far now, stars shattering and crumbling. you reached for a piece of a star, but each piece dissolved above your head, light that would never reach you.

“feather,” hawks said quietly. the intense look in his eyes looked like he was building up to something important.

“yeah?” you asked. you fixated on him.

“do you want… a badtz-maru eraser?”

you stared at the spiky-haired penguin in the palm of hawks’ hand.

“sure…?” you said. hawks happily plopped the eraser into your hand.

“feather,” he said again in the same tone. “you should visit bakugou, you know. tonight, to make things straight with him.”

that was what he was building up to. bakugou. you hadn’t dwelled much on the thought of the man; the skytree filling most of your thoughts for the day. but it was still light out.

“i know,” you replied softly, looking down at your fingers. these were the hands that held your heart as you gave it to bakugou, the hands that bakugou held tenderly for so many days and nights. they were the same hands that held your heart now, returned by bakugou shattered and clinking to the ground. the rest of the train ride was silent.

you could now hear your thoughts echoing around the train compartment, deflecting off walls and still making their way to your heart. you wondered what words were left unsaid by bakugou, painful truths untold hidden in the recesses of his heart. you wondered if he remembered how he’d first nervously asked you on a date in high school, words rough but fingers softly fidgeting with each other. it was in may, near the end of the day. he shoved a small box of chocolates towards you, muttering something about “weird hair” making him do it. he’d aggressively stuttered his way through a confession, barely making eye contact with you. the memory brought a fluttering to your heart, but with it came a sore pain for the first time. you wondered if he felt the same or if he was just numb, like how he now felt about you. what did it feel like to fall out of love?

you wondered if he remembered the many times he’d walked you home (only for your sake, of course, not anything else). you wondered if he remembered how fondly he looked at you then. his heart was on his sleeve during those times, the perpetual blush on his cheeks disclosing his very vulnerable feelings towards you.

even on the most draining of days, bakugou would always be there for you. even if his eyelids were closing upon their own accord and legs were sore from a day’s work, he made it a point to be there for you. while children might��ve had their security blankets, you had bakugou. your heart dropped realizing those days of coming home to bakugou were gone.

what had happened? now, you were alone on a train that felt so cold and without the love that had so warmed your heart. why had things ended up like this? why did you numb bakugou’s feelings so? the wave was slow at first, but once it had reached the shore, your tears fell hot and unyielding as you toppled off the edge of being okay.

hawks was by your side wordlessly, a wing around you and leaning you close to him. the feathers were soft. you cried unabashedly in his embrace, sniffling as he soothed you. you tried to say thank you, but all that came out was another sob.

your feet, on instinct, took you to bakugou's apartment without any problem. it could’ve been any other day; you, coming back to the apartment after running errands. it was your hand that hesitated as it hovered an inch away from the wood of the door, the only sign that something had changed. you liked to pretend it hadn’t. you wished that when you’d open the door, you’d hear a light chatter from the tv and a familiar voice saying, “welcome home, idiot.” you wished that the air that enveloped you as soon as you opened the door was that of liveliness and comfort, of warm orange and yellow hues. you wished that the atmosphere didn’t feel so dead, dull, and musty; you wish it hadn’t drowned in shades of blue and gray. you wished you didn’t have the key to the apartment still.

you wished that bakugou would say something, anything, rather than sit on the couch with his head bowed. you wished that you didn’t miss him so much and that you had him, all at the same time. you wished you turned back as soon as you heard the knob click and pushed open the door; you wished not to see all that you had in what was once your apartment.

you wished you didn’t revel in his presence next to you on the couch. you wished you didn’t almost lean into his touch because he was your home, and you wished your eyes didn’t well up the way they had. you wished to have sat in that silence for a while then up and gone; you wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“hey, idiot,” was a cracky and raspy thing coming out of his mouth, words familiar but so foreign at the same time.

“hey,” was what you whispered back, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“where’d you go?” but it wasn’t a question, just a fragile plea devoid of hope.

“skytree,” and you felt you’d break the mood.

“did you reach the top?” his response surprised and killed you at the same time.

“yeah,” you said quietly. “i did.”

“alone?”

“i could never alone.”

“who…?”

“met a pro-hero by chance.”

“your true hero, huh?” it was a bitter tone, venom biting you.

“no,” and your heart sunk because it was the truth.

he scoffed. getting up from the couch, he said, “you forgot something.”

your eyes followed him as he disappeared into your once shared room. he returned quite fast, as if you’d left it on the dresser, carrying a decorated shoebox. you’d almost forgotten about it entirely, eyes wide as nostalgia hit you.

it was a memory box you’d made the last year of high school. it was supposed to be for school memories, but it really just became a box of mementos of bakugou. you could barely see the contents inside, too busy trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. you thumbed through photos and polaroids of you and him, some with his friends and some with yours. oh, what you’d give to have those times back. though it was all blurred, you could feel the moments so vividly: feel the cool summer breeze and hear the sound of people conversing with each other at a festival; hear mina’s excited ramblings and bakugou’s grumbling at the supermarket; smell caramel and vanilla at a movie night, pressed against bakugou’s body warmth. you dropped the photos back into the box and picked up a scorched pencil. a pressed rose. a neatly folded sheet of notes you’d sent back and forth with bakugou during class.

and then it was all gone, shutting the box.

“keep it.” you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips, but you wouldn’t take them back. you handed him the box, staring at the floor and wiping your wet eyes. the memories were no longer yours to keep.

bakugou was silent, taking the box and leaving to his room to put it away.

“is that all?” you tried to make your voice sound strong, impatient. like you had better places to be without him. you hoped he couldn’t tell how it was more of a beg to stay.

“yeah.” cold. emotionless.

you stood for another second, looking around. everything seemed different, as if the glass which surrounded your universe had shattered. “bye, katsuki.”

“bye.”

your footsteps were light, but each step felt weighed by metal weights. you wished he stopped you from leaving. you wished you looked back at him. you wished you weren’t crying.

you shut the door quietly, weakly, behind you. it all came out in the hallway, tears and desperate sobs. you prayed he couldn’t hear you; but you knew, even if he did, he wouldn’t care anymore. he was numbed, no longer the firework you’d known.

“hawks,” it came as a quiet plea as you felt for your phone and dialed his number. he gave it to you right before you walked into bakugou’s apartment.

“please pick up, please pick up,” you muttered, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they came.

“hey, birdie? are you okay?”

“hawks,” you sobbed. “hawks, no, i’m not.”

“hey, are you still at the apartment building? i’ll be right there, chickadee, alright?”

you nodded, sniffed, then said meekly, “yeah.”

“stay on the line. talk to me, birdie.” his voice was soothing.

“hawks, it hurts, everything.” you felt as though you were pouring out your heart, spilling scarlet on the carpet. “hawks.” tears dropped onto the carpet. “hawks.” your knees almost gave in.

“what floor are you on, dove?”

“third,” you hiccupped.

“i’m right there, feather.” you saw hawks emerge from the stairwell. his hair looked windblown. he looked relieved to see you at first, then his face fell to that of sympathy. “oh, birdie,” he said softly, running up to you. “i’m here now.’

you weren’t aware bakugou was listening to you cry on the other side of the door as you sobbed into someone else’s shoulder, not his. with dark eyes and trembling hands he couldn’t calm, he dialed a number on his phone.

“well, tomura? i did it.”

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #hawks fluff #bnha fluff #hawks imagines #hawks scenarios #keigo takami fluff #keigo takami imagines #keigo takami scenarios #katsuki bakugou #keigo takami #luna's writing

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aobajohxsai · 4 years

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(Fem!Reader HC) May I request for Oikawa, Iwa, Daichi, Tsukki and Yams's girlfriends feeling insecure because the boys are surrounded by taller and slimmer (she's short and chubby) girls so she grows distant with them and starts to avoid them like the plague. How they find out, approach and reassure/comfort the girl will be up to you~ 💖 I understand if you dw to write this. ^-^ It's just, I've struggled with my looks for years and it's just ☹☹☹ Sending love and hugs 🥰 - 🍡 anon

has it been six months since i last posted sth here

yes.

Love, I’m so sorry everything took so long!! Your wonderful messages never failed to brighten up my day and I just think you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met! I may not show it, via my blatant avoidance of this blog, but you’re amazing and I appreciate every message, thank you!!

Without further ado, I hope this was worth the wait (probably not, I haven’t written in half a year, but I tried my best) <3

Also, I didn’t do Daichi, Tsukki and Yams, as I went wayyy overboard with the headcanons (it’s 600+words each), but feel free to request them again in a separate ask, love :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oikawa and Iwaizumi comforting their insecure girlfriend (Plus-sized!Reader)

Warnings: Some self-loathing, but it turns fluffy afterwards

You tried to even your breathing, (e/c) eyes glued to the horde of fangirls almost jumping on your boyfriend. Your hot, talented, brilliant, athletic boyfriend - Who, to your dismay, seemed adamant to keep flirting back.

Normally, you weren’t a jealous person - It’s a given when it comes to dating someone such as “The Great King”. That day, however, the green monster seemed to be rearing its ugly head, pushed upwards by all your deep-rooted insecurities. The girls he was surrounded with were stunning - Long, slim legs, the oversized sweater of the Seijoh uniform actually being oversized on them, the way they seemed to look so much better by your lovely boyfriend’s side than you.

“Y’know he’s only doing that to ensure Seijoh’s popularity or whatever bullshit he keeps spewing about it, right?”, a deep voice spoke from behind you, effectively startling you. How Iwaizumi could read you so well, that would always surprise you, but you supposed it came with years upon years of having to read his seemingly unreadable best friend. You tried to will away the tears that had formed in your eyes, letting out a small giggle at Hajime’s characteristic profanity.

“Oi, Shittykawa! Get your ass over here and greet your girlfriend!”, he yelled, effectively grabbing the attention of the entire fan-club and the man to whom it was dedicated. You felt a deep flush rising on your cheeks at the attention, prepared to listen to a quick dismissal from your boyfriend, but were instead met with a surprisingly feminine squeal.

Oikawa seemed to all but pounce on you, taking you into a tight hug and spinning you around a little. Placing you back down, his whiskey eyes seemed to have a gleam to them, effectively having lit up the second he’d seen you.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, before pouting exaggeratedly.

“Why didn’t you say anything, love? I kept waiting and waiting and my beautiful girlfriend just wouldn’t show up!”

That’s when the previously-forgotten dread made its appearance again. He hadn’t even noticed you in the sea of pretty girls. But that’s alright - You should have seen it coming, ever since you started dating the most popular guy in your high-school. Just fake it ‘til you make it, c’mon, he made a joke, laugh, Y/N, dammit-

A bitter laugh left your lips, so aggressive it even startled Oikawa.

“It’s quite alright, wouldn’t have expected you to, surrounded by all these pretty girls and all.” Another aggravated laugh left your lips, as you tried to sell it as a good-natured joke, but it was obvious that your boyfriend had definitely read through it. His expression seemed to darken, brows furrowing, before he quickly fell back into his well-rehearsed role, letting out an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh, but you’re the prettiest one out of all of them! I’d never miss your gorgeous face!” He smirked, before squishing your cheeks lightly, eyes widening in a playful expression. “Actually”, he motioned towards the girls still watching you guys oh God- before promptly placing a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his side protectively.

“Hey, everyone, look at my beautiful, lovely, gorgeous, girlfriend! Isn’t she the prettiest?”

The girls seemed to be whispering amongst themselves, confused expressions adorning their faces, before nodding shyly. You couldn’t have cared less, though - In the arms of the boy you loved, you were sure you’d never feel insecure ever again.

Having your boyfriend be the ace of a popular volleyball team was proving to be an incredible experience, as you had the opportunity to witness not only the developing friendships on the team, but also the colossal amount of hard work that went into the winning streak they had been on for the past few matches.

You couldn’t be more proud - wearing Iwaizumi’s jersey in the stands, your voice louder than anyone else’s - Everything was going well, except for one little, tiny thing.

For once, along with the relentless Oikawa Tooru fanclub, a small group of girls had seemed to form around Iwaizumi, the only thing you could overhear being something about his “hands that were totally made for choking”.

The bigger issue? They were all perfect. In their tiny, stupid skirts and their cute shirts and their sharp jawlines and sculpted faces and - Well, you had curves where others didn’t and you weren’t particularly proud of your body. Your thighs seemed larger than usual and you almost gasped at the sudden wave of despair washing over you. Why would he date you when he could easily have them?

You weren’t a masochist in any sense - However, you found yourself unable to turn off your eavesdropping, only hearing more and more things that would make you spiral into self-loathing. You felt overwhelmed, so you quickly grabbed your bag and hurried out of the room, finding a bench to sit on and simply breathe.

Not long afterwards, however, you heard lots of squeals - presumably from Iwa and Oikawa’s fanclub - and prepared yourself for what you’d have to witness.

To your surprise, however, as soon as the doors of the court opened, you could only see a tuft of black hair aggressively elbowing everyone in the crowd, dropping a nonchalant “sorry” here and there, before finally running straight into your arms.

He breathed in your perfume, still hugging you tightly, before letting go and grinning widely towards you.

Before he could speak, however, he found himself being interrupted by some loud squeals. Looking at you, he rolled his eyes playfully before shouting:

“Trashikawa, grab your stupid fanclub and get out of here, I can’t talk to (Y/N) properly!”

To your surprise, the setter’s face twisted into that annoying, cocky smirk of his, before he coyly replied:

“Iwa-chan, maybe you should grab a hold of your fanclub! We’re well-behaved here, aren’t we?”, he smiled dazzlingly towards the nearest girl and you swore you saw her faint.

Upon glancing at your boyfriend, however, you quickly noticed his agape mouth, the surprised look quickly being overtaken by a frown, a hand grazing the back of his neck.

“Uh, thank you, ladies, I appreciate it, but I really wanted to talk to my girlfriend, so would you mind leaving us alone?”

He was being so genuine, you felt a pang of jealousy in your chest - It’s alright, he’s just happy to be supported, you had to remind yourself.

The ace had noticed your sour look, however, quickly turning back to you, mouth turned down into a scowl.

“Why the fuck can’t they stick to Shittykawa?”

You smiled giddily, before tangling a hand in his spiky locks. “Well that’s because you’re sweet, kind, genuine - muscular - and, uh”, you looked down embarrassedly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “fuck, you should be with one of them, I don’t deserve you.”

Now, you’d seen an annoyed Iwa plenty of times, but this couldn’t be matched - His brows seemed to furrow until they almost disappeared, his mouth pressed into a tight scowl as he looked your face up and down, checking whether or not you were being serious. Upon noticing that indeed, that was the case, he pulled you into him a tad too aggressively, pushing your chin up lightly to gaze into your eyes.

His glare seemed to soften, before he started peppering your face with kisses.

“You”, kiss, “are”, kiss, “the best goddamn thing”, kiss, “that’s ever happened to me.”

Finishing with his assault of kisses, Iwaizumi gave you a soft smile, before glaring playfully. “If you ever think that any of those girls would interest me half as much as you do, you’re really just as much of an idiot as Trashikawa, you know.”

Finally, he looked around before promptly squeezing your thigh, his large hand almost engulfing it. A small smirk played on his lips as he rose his gaze back to yours.

“I promise I’ll show you how gorgeous you are when we get home.”

#oikawa tooru x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi haijime #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #seijoh x reader #hq x reader #Anonymous

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softsakusas · 3 years

Text

Cloud 9

Being on “Cloud 9” is a way of saying you're in a state of perfect happiness.

A Tsukishima Kei x Gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

The silence inside the dark lit bedroom was deafening that you could hear a pin drop. The steady breathing of the one person inside was the only sound that you could hear. The only light that can be seen was the moonlight shining through the window. Tsukishima was home late, especially since working and managing the museum had its cons too. Checking if each and everything was at place, listing new things to be displayed, and things to arrive in the said place. Even though it was late at night he could never find any ounce of regret getting that job, since it was always his dream to work at one.

When he was child he was fascinated by dinosaurs, like a lot. He even has his own collections of them in his room at his childhood home. He believed that even though they exist, or that’s what they say, he believed that there are things that still haven’t been discovered. That's what a child's mind was full of imagination and curiosity. When he was younger he always saw the way his father looked at his mom, full of love and admiration. Even after the late night arrival of his father, there was never an ounce of anger he saw in his mom, for she is a patient and kind woman.

Growing up he never really liked anyone, romantically. The only person he liked was his own brother, for he idolises him. Both have the same interest in volleyball. Kei was amazed at how his brother played and has too much pride in his brother playing, that is one day, he never thought that his own brother would lie to him. He knows it was to protect his pride as an older brother, but why can’t he just tell the truth. That’s when Kei trusted less people. The only friend he had growing up was Yamaguch, who stayed through and through no matter how he acts.

That was until high school, joining the volleyball club made him realize a lot of things. Gaining new friends( even though he tries to deny that fact), eye opening experiences and sculpting him as who he is right now.

He never really saw himself being in a relationship, and never really expected to be in one. But then again, life surprises us with lots of things, giving him someone to trust and love.

When he first saw them, he thought ‘Oh maybe they’re just like everybody else’ but then again they really caught his eyes, the way they ignore his snarky remark or they would just reply back with a sarcastic remark. He began to notice their presence in his and the way his mind would think about them randomly in a day, with their smile and how they put up with him.

People used to say to him that he would never have a person who could put up with him because of his attitude. He never really cared about those things. Yet here he is now, leaning on the doorway looking at the person he would call his one and only love. He felt as if the tiredness and fatigue left his body.

They opened his eyes to a new experience accepting him fully with his flaws. He felt as though every time they are together he is in CLOUD 9. He found solace of comfort and happiness with them. They gave him and taught him trust again and reassurance. He felt like there was nothing in the world that could make him lonely ever again. And he was thankful for them for everything and anything and now. He felt… He felt that he was truly home. The only place he wants or rather the person they are. They are perfect for him and he was perfect for them, no one can change his mind no matter what. Not everything was perfect, but he knows those obstacles are just to test but he knows just by being with each other they would be okay. Cause everything they or he felt for was perfect and that everything is really where they should be.

side note: this is like my 2nd post hopefully it's good. please send a feedback, it would really be a good one. thank you so much and I hope you enjoy your entire day and week. (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #kc📝writings

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

sleazy seonghwa who sneezes (i) || p.sh (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x park seonghwa (ateez)

➳ word count: 7146

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff

➳ synopsis: by the intervention of fate (namely Choi San), you see a different side to the school’s resident bad boy that you weren’t aware existed.

>>>

Park Seonghwa is, decidedly, what most of the school population would call a bad boy.

With his jet black lip piercing and dyed blonde hair that is clearly in rebellion against every dress code in school, he’s exactly the sort of boy your parents warn you against. The black leather jacket he wears in place of his uniform tie and blazer doesn’t really help his image at all, and you’re sure you’ve seen him step into school at precisely twelve in the afternoon from the window of your classroom, long after lessons have started.

You’ve known Seonghwa for a long time, since elementary school, back in the days when his hair was still its natural shade of soft ebony and his lips curved up in a soft smile instead of the thin, sharp line it does now. With silent eyes you’ve observed him over the years, watching as the death of his mother struck him as hard as a speeding car and doing a million times the damage, witnessing his transformation from the boy with the cute, candy like smile to the young man with hard, cold eyes and even steelier fists.

A few years, your heart broke for him as you watched him turn away from the light and walk into the shadows without a backwards glance, casting his life away into a hopeless abyss. But as time passed, the memory of that young, lost boy reaching out for his mother’s hand faded, replaced by bruised and bleeding knuckles, split lips and cold eyes.

You had stopped keeping track of how many piercings he’d gotten when you couldn’t count them on your fingers anymore.

Students whisper about him behind closed doors every time he passes them in the corridor, citing unknown sources and rumours about smoking, gang fights, drugs, the usual deal. Girls chatter mindlessly about his good looks, he’s strikingly handsome, you have to admit, but his arctic gaze is enough to keep them at least five feet away. No one dares to cross him, not even the teachers and school authority, and honestly, it’s a miracle he’s still even in this school.

He’s part of a circle of friends the school calls ATEEZ. Their leader, Kim Hongjoong, has kept his mullet for the last three years of high school, completely ignoring the repeated warnings that the school gives him, because who dares to touch him anyway as the eldest son of one of the richest men in Korea? Some you know by face, some by name, but you’ve never met, much less talked to any of them before. Instead, you keep your distance, not wanting to be mixed up in their troubles when they come roaring into school with jet black motorbikes, smirks and bruised fists.

It’s been exactly six years since Seonghwa’s mother passed, and you’re walking to school in the morning. Your earbuds are plugged in, the radio’s on and you’re just listening mindlessly to anything that comes over the station, scrolling through your Instagram feed. Oh. San is considering adopting his third stray cat, the ‘vote yes or no’ option beneath his story.

You click ‘no’, your best friend already has two stray cats and a Shiba Inu in his house, and Shiber is terrified of the felines. It’s a miracle how Shiber even got used to Darong and Puchi, but you doubt that he’ll get used to yet another stray invading his personal territory.

Turning and entering the back gate, you’re stepping across the grounds to your classroom block when your phone suddenly pings with a flurry notifications.

It can only be one person.

[Green Mountain] how could u not let me adopt yobu hes gonna be so sad u know TT

[Green Mountain] retribution on you and your kids and your grandkids and your great grandkids

[Green Mountain] why are we even friends

You roll your eyes, feet crunching on the dry leaves under the soles of your shoes as you type out a reply.

[You] What’s the point of asking for my opinion if you’ve already named him and adopted him San

You’re nearing the back of the school building when you hear a sniffing sound. You pause in your tracks for a moment, wondering if someone is crying from the stress of the exams that are coming in a week, before a soft achoo reaches your ears.

You barely have time to be surprised before the little sneeze is followed by a rapid series of more, each sounding more adorable to your ears than the ones before. There’s another sniffle and a sneeze, and you can’t help your lips curving up in a smile. Perhaps spending too much time around San has made you soft, but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

You fish out a handkerchief from your pocket, since it’s the first day of the week, you haven’t used it yet. The person behind the noise must have gotten a cold from the chilly autumn weather, so you think they might appreciate the gesture. Stepping up the stairs to your classroom block, you turn the corner around the building with your handkerchief outstretched and a gentle smile already in place.

“Hey, I heard you were sneezing so I thought you might want this...” Your voice trails off as your eyes widen, seeing the infamous Park Seonghwa leaning against the wall, hand over his mouth and nose, your own shock mirrored on his face.

For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other in stunned silence.

You’ve always admired him in the same way people appreciate statues in art museums, from afar, studying each and every feature but never quite understanding the full story behind the carved jawline, the sculpted nose, the mysterious dark eyes. But this is the first time you’re seeing him up close in the dappled morning rays, someone so far away and untouchable, and you see the flaws that mar what you had once thought was near perfect skin, a bruise at the corner of his mouth, a scrape on his cheekbone, the white scar across his left eyebrow.

His handsome features pinch into a wary scowl when he sees you, straightening up his originally relaxed position against the wall. You’re a little intimidated by his height as he towers over you by at least a head, giving you a dark glare. “Get out of my sight. I don’t need your help-” The words are cut off by a massive sneeze that sends him burying his face in his hands, before he starts hacking furiously, alternating between adorable sneezes and baby-like coughs.

A snort escapes you before you can stop it and he actually pauses to give you a murderous look, right before he goes back to sneezing.

Oh my god, you think in your panic induced haze, he’s going to kill you to stop rumours of his childlike sneeze from spreading around the school.

You fight down the urge to laugh in this terrifying situation, instead focusing on the predicament you’re in. You’re trapped between a rock and a hard place, right before a person with one of the most feared and sordid reputations in the entire school. Give him the handkerchief and risk his anger, or leave without lending him a hand and still perhaps bring his wrath down upon you?

In the end, you simply do what you had set out to do in the first place.

“Here!” You practically shout in his face, trying to muster as much courage as possible so your voice doesn’t tremble, but it betrays you anyway in spite of your efforts. Thrusting the white handkerchief into his hands, you do some sort of awkward bow before the idea can run through your mind fully and your face turns tomato red in embarrassment. “I hope you get better soon!”

And then you spin on your heel and dash into the classroom block before you can die from shame of it all.

“Hey, wait-” Seonghwa calls after you, but you’re already gone, leaving nothing but your white handkerchief in his hand.

“You’re late today.” San remarks in a surprised voice when you slide into the seat next to his, panting for air from your little dash to class.

“I was lending someone a handkerchief. And you’re early.” You turn to the window, making a big show of searching the sky. “I don’t see any pigs, falling or flying… so I must be dreaming.”

“Well, I had to come early to school so my chauffeur could fetch Yobu back to the mansion for me.” Your best friend remarks with a shrug, and a silly, goofy smile crosses his face for a moment at the thought of the adorable one eared ragdoll cat. “I couldn’t leave him waiting here in the cold.”

“I swear the reason all these cats relate so much to you is because of this.” You tug at the thick leather choker resting against his throat, fingers brushing the cool metal of the round, silver studs on it. “If we just add a bell to this, you might as well be an actual cat, Sanie.”

Your best friend merely grins, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you expectantly. “And I suppose that’s…?”

Laughing, you pull a small cardboard box from your school bag, opening it and presenting it to San proudly. It’s a small silver bell, one that reminds you of one on a cat’s collar. The moment you had laid eyes on it at the mall, you had known it would be perfect for him. You gesture for his arm and he stretches it out to you with an amused smile on his face, your fingers fiddling with the friendship bracelet on his wrist. Undoing the clasp, you slide the silver piece onto the bracelet with nimble fingers where it rests next to the Siamese cat charm, the bell making a soft jingling sound.

“Ooh, pretty!” San inspects it with shining eyes, smiling broadly at you. He then takes out his own box, a red jewelry affair with the name of some expensive brand stamped on the lid in bright silver. Your breath catches in your throat as you catch a glimpse of it, the box is probably worth more than the entire charm you bought San.

“Sanie, you know I don’t like it when you buy me stuff like that…”

Your best friend pauses in opening the box, mouth turning down in a sad frown as he looks at you with earnest eyes. “But I want to do it for you. You’re my best friend, and I want to spend my money on you to show you how important you are to me.” You waver at his words, heart sinking as you feel like you’re making use of him for his wealth. But you know San is determined, and besides, he’s already bought the charm, so you sigh and try to fix him with a stern gaze.

“This is the last time, alright?”

San’s face cheers up in a split second.

“Alright!” He whoops, putting the charm of a Norwegian Forest Cat on your bracelet. It feels heavy, probably made of silver and custom made to boot. It’s been your tradition for the last two years of school. Every day, on the first day of a new semester, the two of you had promised to buy each other a charm to celebrate your friendship. Somehow, every charm the two of you had bought for you had ended up being some breed of cat, so you suppose that you’ve broken tradition for the first time today by giving him a bell instead. When San fixes the clasp of your bracelet, he grins at you and pats you on the head.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

You kick him in the shin. “I said this is the last time, you goof. Don’t go getting any ideas.”

San pouts at you, shaking his head so that his dark brown hair falls into his eyes, showing off the red streaks in them. Your eyes widen in alarm and smack him on the arm as he lounges back in his chair casually, placing his booted feet on the table. “I thought I told you to get rid of those last week before school started!”

Your best friend whistles cheerily, feigning ignorance. “I promised nothing.”

San, for all the adorableness he holds, is too, part of ATEEZ. A certified bad boy, a definite troublemaker. Everything on him, from the designer white shirt with scrawled designs all over it to the multiple silver piercings in his ears to the striking red coat he has slung over his chair, screams rebel in response to every dress code in existence. San rebels, but he at least does it with style.

On the first day of school when the two of you been assigned to seats next to each other in class, the very first thing he’d done upon meeting you was to rip off his tie and declare to you loudly about how the colour scheme of the tie was absolutely hideous when matched with the shade of the blazer. He had then proceeded to rant to you all about the material of the blazer and the undershirt, and you don’t think you’ve seen him in uniform since that day.

Well, you suppose he knows what he’s talking about, considering that he’s the heir to one of the biggest fashion conglomerates in the country. Besides, you’ve stolen that red coat more times you can count on cold days and it often spends the night over at your house when San makes you wear it home.

“What kind of name for a cat is Yobu, though?” You ask San, shaking your head at him as the teacher walks into the classroom. He simply grins at you, tweaking one of his many earrings with amusement.

“A friend of mine chose it-” He begins to explain excitedly, but then your teacher clears her throat in front of the two of you hesitantly and San’s expression darkens, looking up to glance at her as if she’s a pesky fly he’d like to smack. The teacher’s face drains of colour.

“What is it, Ms Kim?” His voice is dripping with venom and you feel your face flush at his bad attitude. You tug on his ear and he yelps in pain, turning back to pout at you.

“Ow! Why are you bullying me?” San sulks like a little kid and you can’t help but swat at his arm. The teacher, drawing a little courage from seeing San being steamrolled into submission by you, pipes up.

“Mr Choi… you’re not supposed to be sitting there-”

That’s her mistake.

San’s eyes turn glacial as he turns to face her slowly, gazing down his nose at her imperiously, dangerously like a cobra waiting to strike. San isn’t loud and quick to anger like some of his other friends are, but he’s no less dangerous with that vicious, poisonous mind of his. The teacher falls silent immediately, none of the other students willing to help her out lest they get on his bad side.

“I’ve said it at the beginning of term and I’ll say it again.” San enunciates every word slowly and precisely, his dark gaze never wavering from the teacher’s eyes. You can almost imagine it, a monstrous serpent like aura looming behind your best friend, frightening everyone before him into submission. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his gaze, but you hear people describing the experience to be akin to staring down the barrel of a gun. “I’m sitting besides her and no one else. Did you not hear me the first time?”

“Mr Choi, I’m just doing my job-”

“Do. You. Understand.”

His last words are nothing like a question, instead carrying a more mocking tone. The threat is like a loaded gun, the bullet unseen and hidden in the chambers of the weapon, but the finger is already resting on the trigger, eager to fire. Your teacher pales at his words, fingers trembling against her binder.

You feel bad for her, so you gently tug at San’s sleeve, pulling his razor sharp gaze away from your teacher. “Hey, San, I’m not going anywhere. How about you start thinking about ways we can get Shiber to warm up to Yobu when we go over to your house later while I have lessons?”

His face brightens right away, the icy look melting right off like snow in the summer at the thought of Yobu and Shiber playing together. “Of course! Why didn’t I think about that?” Pulling a piece of paper from your bag, he swipes one of the pens off your table and begins jotting down ideas and names of cat treats. His attention off the teacher, the entire classroom heaves a simultaneous sigh of relief.

Your teacher takes five minutes to calm her racing heart before the lesson begins.

Seonghwa sits at the bench at the school gates, waiting for the rest of his friends.

Golden and red leaves spiral through the air, caught and tossed around by the autumn winds as they flutter to the ground like clipped butterfly wings. They fall to the ground, devoid of the green freshness of spring, dead and utterly lifeless. He remembers the limp hand of his mother, her fair skin drenched in crimson lifeblood, the drunk driver having crashed right into the side of his mother’s car as she returned home from buying him supper. She’d died on the spot, right before any the ambulances and paramedics arrived.

His fingers curl around the dry maple leaves, crushing them and scattering them with the wind. He hates the autumn. All it brings is death and pain.

“Hyung!”

He’s pulled from his thoughts and turns around to see three of the five 99’ liners stepping out of the school gates, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. A smile crosses his face briefly. No matter how terrifying of an image he might have to others, he has a soft spot for the rest of the boys in ATEEZ. All of them have stuck together through thick and thin, supporting each other no matter the struggle, Wooyoung through his addiction and Jongho through his fits of violent rage, Hongjoong with his familial conflicts at home and so much more. They’re like family to him, he briefly wonders, before his eyes darken at the thought of his drunken father back in the house they share.

He forces the thought from his mind, instead looking upon his friends’ faces, frowning in confusion.

“Why are you smiling so much, Sanie?”

The boy in question merely grins wider, tucking his hands into his pockets as he dodges a kick Wooyoung aims at him. “Wooyoungie tripped on Mingi’s shoe and fell down the stairs earlier.”

Mingi stifles a laugh at Wooyoung’s flat expression.

The sleeves of San’s white shirt are rolled up, showing the cat charm bracelet dangling from his wrist. The silver bits and bobs usually tinkle and jingle, letting everyone in the area that San is coming, but today, the sound seems to be especially prominent. Seonghwa’s eyes rake over the charms, counting five, six, seven…

He spots a silver cat bell dangling at the end.

“Did you get a new charm, San?” Seonghwa asks, curious and San nods proudly, preening in front of his hyung. The bell jingles once more, as if showing off to Seonghwa.

“She got it for me!” He smiles widely, stuffing his hand back into his pocket. San doesn’t need to say who it is for Seonghwa to know. Aside from ATEEZ, San has no friends… except a mysterious girl that San doesn’t want mixed up in their business.

“Can’t have Wooyoung seducing her from me.” He’d joked once, to Wooyoung’s not so amused amusement.

But Seonghwa can understand why San wouldn’t want his friend to be associated with them. From the way San speaks about her ever so often, she seems to be a quiet, mild tempered girl who focuses hard on her studies and can even miraculously convince San to revise for the upcoming exams with her in the school library. Being related to them in any way could stain her pristine reputation, make it difficult for her to attain any student leadership positions in the school that were vital to a portfolio, or even make any friends in general.

Honestly, Seonghwa doesn’t know why she would stick with San.

But San is happy when he speaks about her. He’s clearly fond of her, he’d even dragged all of them to search for a suitable charm for her birthday gift.

Then a ticklish feeling rises in his nose and he pulls the handkerchief from his pocket, sneezing into it. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the piece of white cloth has saved him so many trips to the convenience store nearby to buy a pack of tissue. Looking down on it, he sighs as he looks the handkerchief over. It’s a piece of plain white cloth, without embellishment or embroidery, nothing outstanding to set it apart from others physically, but unique, because it was there for him when he needed it. Just like the girl who’d given it to him, he thinks to himself with another sigh, wondering how exactly he’s going to find her and return the handkerchief to her.

He doesn’t remember much about how she looks, having been trying to stop himself from sneezing in front of her when she’d literally thrown the handkerchief in his face and shouted at him to get better, before she dashed away faster than Usain Bolt on steroids.

Honestly, who still uses handkerchiefs in this day and age?

“Did you catch a cold, hyung?” Ever perceptive Wooyoung asks curiously, before spotting the handkerchief in his hand. “I didn’t know you used handkerchiefs, though.”

For some reason, something in his voice is completely judgemental and even though Seonghwa feels the same, he can’t help but feel like he needs to defend the girl who gave it to him, at least. Then he catches himself, frowning. Wooyoung’s too curious for his own good, tell him a little and the he’ll have her name, class, blood type, age, address, favourite food down to a tee tomorrow.

Besides, Seonghwa wants to do this by himself.

So Seonghwa shakes his head.

“It’s not mine. A girl gave it to me in the morning, but I don’t know who it was. I owe her a word of thanks, at least.”

Mingi raises an eyebrow, teeth fiddling with the silver piercing on his lower left lip absentmindedly. “Someone approached you, hyung?’ He sounds as confused as Seonghwa feels.

Curious, San glances over at the piece of white cloth for a moment, staring blankly. Then something in his dark eyes glint minutely, the side of his lip quirking up in amusement. Is it fate?

A thought forms and the cogs of his mind start turning, building upon that wisp of a thought until it turns into an idea, then a plan. Seonghwa catches sight of the little smirk on San’s face and frowns in confusion, opening his mouth to ask the younger boy exactly what he’s thinking. He’s a little afraid when San smiles like that. It usually means he’s up to no good.

“San, what is it?”

But San shrugs playfully, eyes shining with glee.

“Oh, it’s absolutely nothing, hyung.”

Seonghwa’s been searching for you for a week now.

For the first time, he actually attends school regularly even if it isn’t to go to class. Standing at the main gate at the crack of dawn, his eyes rake the faces of the students who walk into school every morning. All of them give him a wide berth, wearing the same terrified, yet befuddled expressions, similarly confused as why to the one of school’s bad boys would actually be in the school compound before the bell rings.

Regularly, at that.

About fifteen minutes before the bell rings, he hears the familiar thrum of an engine and raises his head to glance at the driveway outside. Just as he does, a sleek black Jaguar purrs into sight, coming to a stop. It’s presence still causes the same ripple of excitement and anticipation as it did three years ago, and Seonghwa can see all the students in the front yard of the school whispering behind their hands as they discuss the boy inside, wondering whether he’s going to abide by the school rules for once.

The driver, dressed impeccably as ever in a black, custom tailored suit and white gloves, crosses over to the passenger’s side and opens the door for the person inside with a deep bow.

“Young master.”

Kim Hongjoong, eldest son to the CEO of one of the most powerful business empires in Korea and probably the world, steps out with a yawn, rubbing at his eyes as if he’s still half asleep. Then he turns to the chauffeur, who Seonghwa recognises now as Hongjoong’s personal assistant and bodyguard, and gives him a nod.

“Thank you, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom falters momentarily, head rising a little as he looks at his master. “Young master, you know your father does not like it when you thank me… I am a mere household servant-”

“Who gives a damn what that old fart wants?” Hongjoong grabs his bag from the backseat, adjusting the silver beads and tags in his mullet. “I’ll see you later, Jae.”

The chauffeur can’t exactly argue with his employer, so he merely sighs a little and nods, bowing once more. “As you wish, young master.”

Seonghwa watches quietly as the car zips off down the street.

“Still here, Mars?” His best friend steps up next to him, bag casually slung over one shoulder as he quirks a brow, showing off the eyebrow slit at the side. Seonghwa lets his face relax into a small smile, adjusting the collar of his maroon turtleneck.

“Yeah.”

Hongjoong merely sighs in exasperation, waving his phone in hand. “You know, like I told you at the beginning of all this nonsense, I could have just given Jaebeom a ring and you would have your mystery girl’s identity in a folder on your lap within ten minutes. It would have included handphone number, siblings, hospital records and financial accounts and you wouldn’t be standing here like some lovesick goof every morning.”

Seonghwa doesn’t take any offense to his friend’s barbed words, knowing they stem from genuine concern for him. In fact, Hongjoong only uses his glib tongue and charisma when it comes to charming people into doing things that he wants. He’s not quite as skilled a manipulator as Wooyoung, who can puppet any person like a marionette on strings, but then again few are.

Seonghwa prefers it when Hongjoong takes on this tone with him. It’s more casual, more informal and Seonghwa doesn’t feel like he’s at risk of being played. When he speaks like that, he’s not the heir of the Kim Corporation, Kim Hongjoong, but instead he’s just Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s best friend.

“You know why I want to do this myself.” Seonghwa says softly and Hongjoong pauses a moment, because he does. He understands all too well just having everything presented to him on a silver platter with a golden spoon, not having to put in effort for any of it. Things lose their value that way, and he knows Seonghwa is determined not to let this happen.

Hongjoong merely sighs as he glances at the white handkerchief in Seonghwa’s hand.

“Well, I doubt anyone’s coming in now, it’s pretty late.” He tells Seonghwa, who nods and tucks the neatly folded cloth in his pocket. “Let’s get to class.”

San calls you at approximately five in the morning. On a Saturday morning, in fact.

Groaning as you roll over in your bed, you reach for your phone, the silver cat charms clicking against the screen as you put it to your ear. You’re thinking of a hundred and one ways to slowly butcher him and rip him into tiny little pieces when his cheerful voice comes over the phone. “Hey, my dear best friend, what are you doing up so early in the morning?”

A growl tears from your throat. “It’s 5:16 AM, Choi San. If you don’t have a good reason for waking me up at this time of the morning I’m coming over to your house, I’m going to rip out your throat and I’m going to steal Shiber from you.”

A horrified squeal comes over the phone. “Don’t steal Shiber!”

You almost sigh at how he completely missed out the ‘I’m going to tear your throat out’ bit, but you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation, sitting up on your bed as the blanket falls to your lap. “What is it, San? If you tell me now that you want to watch reruns of the Golden Girls at this time of the morning, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep.”

“Oooh, kinky.” San whistles and you groan, smacking your head against the bedside table. Murder does really seem to be a tempting option now.

“Choi San I swear if you do not give me a good reason right now I’m going back to sleep-” You begin but then San cuts in more quickly than a swerving F1 racer.

“No no no, please don’t! Well, you see, one of the maids back at my house just told me that Yobu fell sick and needs to see a vet, but none of them are open at this time of the morning.”

Your jaw drops at the news, heart thundering in your chest. “I can’t believe you wasted all my time talking nonsense when Yobu was ill! What are we going to do, San?” You’re honestly worried for that sweet mannered ragdoll cat, fingers drumming anxiously against the table when San continues.

“But I have a friend knows about veterinary medicine since he works part time at a vet, so could you please bring Yobu to him? I’ve already told him that you’re coming.”

Something strikes you as odd and your eyes narrow suspiciously. “San… why can’t you just bring Yobu there yourself?”

“Ahh…” You hear your best friend falter a little over the phone and from the sheepish tone in his voice, he’s up to something again. You’re about to question him when you suddenly realise that there’s the thumping of the bass in the background, synthesizers screaming and the sound of drunken singing. Your heart falls.

“You’re in a club, aren’t you?”

San pauses uncomfortably. You’ve made it clear multiple times that you don’t approve of his partying lifestyle, but you’ve also told him that it’s his life and he needs to make choices for himself. “Yeah… “ His voice is soft over the phone, but then it tries to cheer you up a little. “I swear I didn’t even drink a lot! I’m not even drunk right now! I just came for a bit of booze and the atmosphere.”

At that, your smile softens a little. You know that San is desperately trying to change his ways, but it’s only the beginning, the first step of a long journey. “I know. Be back before sunrise, okay? Stay safe and don’t make me worry about you.”

You can hear San’s smile over the phone. “I promise. Now then, I’m leaving our child in your hands, alright?”

You’ve barely agreed when the call ends, the beeping of the phone all that’s left of your conversation.

You’re standing outside an apartment building at seven.

Yobu lets out a little mrrow from the basket under your arm and you stroke him on the head gently, checking the address on your phone. He looks perfectly fine to you, but then again you’re no doctor. Glancing at the block number and the unit, you’re indeed at San’s friend’s house. What friend, you have no idea, but you really need to get Yobu checked up as fast as possible.

Stepping up to the door, you press the bell once.

There’s an electronic warble and some shifting coming from behind the closed door. “Wait a moment, please-” You hear and you frown, the voice sounds male and vaguely familiar, as if you’ve heard it before. But before you can remember where, the door swings open to reveal the resident of the house.

You nearly drop Yobu in your shock.

You’re so going to murder San in his sleep.

Because it’s Park Seonghwa standing there, blonde hair mussed from sleep, dressed in a soft grey sweater and sweats, staring back at you with equally wide eyes. No leather jacket, no silver chains around his neck, simple black piercings in his ears. To your surprise, he looks soft as a kitten, not at all like that bad boy image you’re so used to seeing in school.

You glance down at his feet. He’s wearing freaking Gundam cartoon themed socks.

“Mrrow…” Yobu meows plaintively from his basket, as if demanding for the two of you to stop staring at each other and get a move on. That’s enough to jerk Seonghwa out of his shock and he opens the door a bit wider to let you in. “Uhh, please come in.”

You do as you’re told, slipping your shoes off at the door and stepping inside. The house is surprisingly bare, a pair of folded mattresses against against the wall and a lumpy couch in the corner. There’s a vet’s bag on the floor, stethoscope already laid out. You glance to the shelf at to your left as you set Yobu down on the ground, there’s a picture of a woman who you assume to be Seonghwa’s mother, and next to that is a collection of assembled Gundam models.

It seems as if someone is a fan.

You’re briefly afraid if something bad is going to happen to you when Park Seonghwa closes the door behind you, but as much as San enjoys playing pranks on you, he’s never one to put you in danger. Seonghwa sit down before you, cross legged, looking painfully awkward for the first time you’ve seen him.

“Umm… Hi…” He greets you softly and you stiffen to attention, Yobu curling in your arms and you hesitantly stroke the tiny cat gently. “So… Yobu is sick?”

Your eyes widen a little in surprise. “You know Yobu?”

Seonghwa nods slowly. “Yeah well… I was the one who named him.” He holds out his hands for the grey ragdoll, looking at you hesitantly while you’re still staring at him in shock from this unexpected information. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip nervously, dragging across the black piercing there. “May I?’

You somehow regain enough cognitive function to place Yobu into his arms, the small feline nosing into Seonghwa’s chest and he lets out a gentle laugh, nuzzling the kitten with his nose. “Let’s see what’s wrong with you, little guy.”

Your mind is still reeling from all of… this. From what you know, Park Seonghwa is a mysterious bad boy who is a member of a terrifying group called ATEEZ that your best friend also happens to be part of. But even after knowing San for three years, he’s never really exposed you to any of his other friends, so you still steer clear of them whenever you see them in school.

But this Park Seonghwa before you is looking at the tiny kitten like it holds the moon and stars in its tiny paws, humming a soft tune under his breath as he reaches for his stethoscope. He’s nothing like the Park Seonghwa you’re familiar with, bruised fingers gentle as he checks over Yobu for any physical ailments, cooing to the cat in a sweet voice when it attempts to squirm out of his arms occasionally. You usually never say this… but you’re quite mindblown.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him.” Seonghwa muses after a while, setting his tools down. You’re jerked out of your stunned stupor, letting out a witty ‘eh?’ as he puts Yobu down on the ground, the kitten batting at his sweater sleeve with its paws.

Seonghwa tugs his lip piercing between his teeth and for a second, you’re raising your eyes to heaven to ask exactly what you have done to deserve this punishment, but then he’s speaking once more. “I don’t see anything wrong with Yobu… He seems perfectly fine. Did San mention anything?”

You shake your head. “No, San just told me to bring Yobu over to you.”

“That’s odd…” Seonghwa frowns, fingers fiddling with the piercings on the shell of his ear before he lets out a sigh, rising to his feet. You keep your remark of ‘yeah, that sounds like San’ to yourself as you follow him with your eyes, watching as he steps over to the shelf, opening one of the drawers. “Anyway, I’m glad you came. I’ve been looking for you for a couple of weeks now.”

You pause, a little confused. Looking for you? What would the Park Seonghwa be searching for a person like you?

When he turns around, he’s holding your white handkerchief in his hands.

The two week old memory comes to the front of your mind and your mouth falls open. You remember walking to school, hearing someone sniffing quietly behind the school building, offering them a handkerchief… only for the person to be the one and only Park Seonghwa.

“Ahh…” Is all you manage to say, a little stunned as you accept the handkerchief back. It smells of clean cloth and soap that you don’t quite recognise, meaning that Seonghwa must have cleaned it for you. “You didn’t have to, but thank you anyway.”

Seonghwa shakes his head firmly as Yobu paws at the hem of his sweats, whining for attention. “No, I needed to. Thank you for lending it to me. I really appreciate it… could I repay you somehow? Maybe bring you out for a meal tomorrow?”

Your brain hits the brakes, all activity coming to a screeching halt as the words ‘meal’, ‘tomorrow’ and ‘repay’ bounce around your head like rubber balls. Thankfully, you’re saved from having to answer from the sound of your ringtone, although the second you hear it, you’re tempted to kill San right this second, and maybe yourself too, to save yourself the shame.

“You have a call! You have a call! Hey! Answer it! Don’t ignore me! Pleaseeee~” San’s voice comes from your pocket and you freeze in embarrassment, as Seonghwa stares at you in shock.

Your face turns red and you rush to answer the call, cheeks heating up in horrified mortification. Jabbing the little green icon with as much fury as you can muster, you hiss into the phone when the call comes through.

“What the hell did you do to my phone, San?”

“Hello! How’s my dear Yobu doing?” He sings, completely ignoring your furious question. You pause in your tracks, wheels turning in your mind as you put all the clues together. His too cheerful voice, the handkerchief, how he didn’t tell you Seonghwa was this veterinarian friend…

“Choi San.” Your voice is literally bubbling with mounting vexation and your rage must be clearly heard, because there’s a gulp over the phone. “Did you plan all of this?”

The line goes dead and you stare at your phone in shock.

Then you shriek in fury.

“I’m going to kill that slimy worm! That little bastard! Playing me like this!” Your fists are clenching around your phone, dearly wishing they were wringing San’s scrawny neck instead. You’re about to throw something when a warm hand settles on your shoulder and you whirl around in shock, suddenly remembering that Seonghwa is still in the room with you.

“Is everything alright?” He asks hesitantly, dark eyes wide and concerned and your rage dissipates into thin air, replaced by all too potent self-consciousness. He’d just seen you screaming your head off like a mad woman, for god’s sake.

“Yeah...I’m just going to have to kill that bastard the next time I see him.” You mumble under your breath, turning your phone to silent before savagely shoving it in your pocket. “Yobu is fine, San just played a massive prank on us.”

To your surprise, Seonghwa doesn’t even react in the least, clearly expecting something like this after having known San for so long. He merely presses one hand to his face as he shakes his head in exasperation. “I knew something was up when he was smiling so much that day. That kid, honestly…”

“Sorry for the bother.” You apologise quickly, scooping up Yobu in your arms and placing him in his basket. The ragdoll lets out a soft meow, as if confused as to why you’re leaving so soon when you practically run for the door in shame. But right before you can leave, Seonghwa’s hand grasps your wrist lightly, pulling you back, and you make a soft ‘eep’ in surprise as you turn to face him.

He actually looks painfully nervous, teeth toying with the black piercing on his lower lip as his gaze moves around shiftily, his toes scrunching up under Robot Man’s face. “Well… will you… will you let me bring you for dinner tomorrow? To thank you?”

You freeze awkwardly, the tension between the two of you thick as sauna steam. After a long, awkward pause of silence, Seonghwa finally seems to realise he’s holding onto your wrist and drops it like you have the plague, scooting back several steps to a more respectful distance. His tongue swipes across his pink lips shyly as he musters up the courage to speak again. “Please? I mean, if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t need to, I completely understand-”

You’re snapped out of your lip piercing induced shock when you finally realise that Seonghwa thinks that you’re reluctant to go with him. Not that you aren’t slightly… but maybe it’s time to give San’s friends a chance and get to know them. From what you’ve seen of Seonghwa, he doesn’t seem that bad to you anyway.

Awkwardly, you unlock your phone and pass it to him.

His eyes widen in surprise when he sees a blank contact open, the tiny line hovering at the ‘Name’ bar. Then a smile, one real and genuine, settles on his face as he enters his name and phone number, saving it before he passes it back to you.

“I’ll call you?” He asks as you slip on your shoes, balancing Yobu’s basket in one hand and your phone in the other. You nod in reply, a little breathless from his radiant smile.

“Yeah.”

From the basket, Yobu gives a smug mew of affirmation. His mission is complete.

#ateez #ateez seonghwa #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #w; seonghwa #seonghwa #w; fanfiction

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unholyhelbig · 3 years

Note

prompt-were!chloe wakes up from a nightmare of violently attacking beca in her wolf form and immediately heads over to beca's dorm to check on her. beca comforts were!chloe for the night while were!chloe's thoughts are running wild if, or when, beca finds out she's a werewolf. wondering what beca might do if she does find out.

[A/n: Um, hello, I haven’t touched this AU in a while and it feels nice to be back!]

Read on AO3

Chloe could taste blood. Its startling sweetness coated her tongue and stung her throat. The metallic scent burning her eyes and pulling like poison. It was intoxicating and startling and her heart pounded against the inside of her wrist because she thought she had been careful. She was always careful.

There was a stickiness to the air, her sheets clinging to every inch of exposed skin that she had allowed. It was close enough to the full moon that Chloe had resounded to a simple pair of boy shorts and a tank top that she hadn’t much cared for. The window to her dorm room was open, silver light making a warped square on the tiled floor.

Aubrey wasn’t here, and Chloe would be gone by midafternoon tomorrow. She had purposely arranged her classes so she could pull the duffle bag from under her bed and slip out before the day started to fade to navy and her skin began to prickle.

But right now, when her roommate was at the library and her heart pounded in her sweat glistened chest, something felt wrong. Her hands- her hands were bloody and that’s where the scent came from. The sheets were muddled in crimson brown and her lips tasted like the sour end of a key.

Chloe had done something, and she didn’t’ know what. Her mind swam with remembrance of anything she could muster: a dream? Yes, it was a dream. She and Beca, and the woods and the feel of wet moss slipping under her bare feet.

And fear.

So much fear that hadn’t been her own. So much that it mingled with her own scent of primal desire. But this couldn’t’ be right, it shouldn’t be right, because she had been in this position for years, since high school, and it had never culminated in her wolf escaping early. They coinhabited, shared the same ideas.

The same idea of Beca with her soft lingering touches and her defensive way around other people. The way she smelled of peach shampoo and lined her eyes in dark makeup that oddly worked for her- and her wolf was falling as clumsily and hard as she was.

So no, it didn’t make sense. Not for her to attack Beca. And then there was the blood against her feet that could have been or own or someone else’s. Chloe stood and took in everything, if she went for a midnight run it was plausible for her to snag herself on a few brambles and then heal oddly fast.

But it was under her nails and pressed into the lines in her palm. Chloe took three deep breaths as she paced across the room, turning on her heel when she got close to Aubrey’s neatly made bed. The girl was nice, she was charming, and she was completely oblivious most of the time.

It worked for them, Aubrey’s weird library habits and Chloe’s weird wolf habits. But it was nearly impossible to cover up everything, and after discussing next year’s living situation, she knew she would have to fess up eventually.

Right now, she needed Beca. She needed to smell that sweat sour scent of her shampoo and know that she was okay. Chloe pulled a sweatshirt from the back of her chair and achingly pulled it over her shoulders. She didn’t’ bother with shoes, the night air cold and wet.

She was the only one on the quad, her toes sinking into the grass as she crossed the large area from her dorms to the freshman ones. Beca would think she was mad, showing up in the middle of the night, mud-soaked and desperate. She had barely gotten to know the new recruit, had barely known anything at all.

Beca had written her dorm assignments on her Bella’s registration and this was bridging stalking, but none of that stopped Chloe. She shivered as the AC unit kicked on and covered up the sound of her own entrance to the hall.

This time she passed a girl, stinking of alcohol and stumbling with her keys. She blinked dumbly at the dirt and the blood and the thought of differentiating the two. Chloe smiled weakly and picked up her speed until she was standing right in front of Beca’s door. Her toes curled as she worked up the nerve to knock.

When she finally did, she hard something heavy being set down, and then a few socked steps to the door. Beca was in a t-shirt despite the slight chill to the air, her makeup wiped clean and a perfectly sculpted brow raised in confusion, then worry, and back to confusion again.

“Chloe?” She asked.

“Hi, Yeah, I”

This was stupid. What exactly was she doing? She was acting on fear and the scent of blood. She was struck with awe and the scent of peach. It was almost as intoxicating as her nightmare. Now she idled and now she wanted to tuck her tail and run.

“Are you okay?” Beca asked, wrapping her fingers around Chloe’s wrist and pulling her inside. Chloe was thankful for the action, skin screaming in response “Is that blood?”

Chloe just looked down dumbly at her state. That blood wasn’t Beca’s and that had been enough for her. It was instant relief, and even if it wasn’t her own, she would figure it out when day broke and she threw her duffel bag into her trunk. That was tomorrow’s problem.

“What are you doing here?” Beca started again.

She had busied herself with grabbing a water bottle from the desk and soaking the side of an old t-shirt with it. Chloe watched her carefully, trying to choose her next words with precision. The girl turned and lilted her head to the side.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just… had a weird dream and I thought,”

“You thought?” Beca pushed.

Her touch was gentle as she pulled Chloe’s hand into her own, using the damp edge of the shirt to wipe the red coloring from her hands. There was no urgency, just due diligence. It didn’t’ take long before everything was cleared, at least from her fingers.

“I thought that something had happened to you. It’s stupid, I know. But I have a history of sleepwalking and waking up covered in blood is not, it’s not normal.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Beca had smiled tentatively, “But I’m okay. See? Not a thing wrong? You don’t have to worry.”

Chloe swallowed the dry taste in her mouth and nodded. Beca had been working on a mix, the computer program creating a strange purple glow as it mixed with moonlight. She felt heat bloom against her cheeks and averted her stare.

“You should get some sleep,” Beca said, lifting her chin towards the dorm room bed.

“What? Here?”

“Mm,” She hummed “I’m not going to bed anytime soon and someone has to make sure you don’t sleepwalk because Aubrey clearly isn’t doing a bang-up job of it.”

Chloe blew air from her nose but found herself smiling in return for the kind gesture. She was suddenly tired, suddenly filled with exhaustion that needed to be met by a craving comfort. She relented and curled up on the small twin bed.

She fell asleep to the sound of Beca’s fingers against the keyboard, and the scent of peaches instead of blood.

#chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe fic rec #werechloe #werewolf au #beca mitchell #Pitch Perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction

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joheun-saram · 3 years

Text

promise - 1 (knj)

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve

masterlist | next

Summary- It’s NYE and you can’t wait to bring in 2017 surrounded by your friends, but there’s a new cute boy around. You’re intrigued but quickly find out there is it’s no good being cute when he’s literally the most infuriating person you’ve met.

word count- 3.1k

pairing- asshole!Namjoon x Reader (alternatively, edgelord!Namjoon)

rating- PG15

genre- collegeau, roommatesau, enemies2lovers, slow burn, this chapter is platonic fluff(and angst I guess), future angst, fluff and smut

warnings- alcohol consumption, marijuana consumption, Namjoon being an absolute ass, he’s against socialism for a hot second (to rile her up, our Joonie is still woke tho nw), mention of sex, Jungkook’s parents based on my actual best friend’s parents (shoutout to their amazing jello shots!)

a.n- Well, well, well... if it isn’t my simp ass writing another Namjoon series. Love that about me. Get ready for some slow burn and a lot of Namjoon just being annoying! 🥴This is a drabbleish series so most parts will be about 2-3k.

Thanks for the beautiful @ditttiii for beta reading and to @aroseforyoongi for helping me with the political argument (also for dubbing this Namjoon edgelord!joon 🤣)

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist- @namyoongles @cheesecakes-randomshitz

Send me an ask to be on the taglist!

You were running late. Very late. With a sigh you watched the street pass you by in a blur, the distant roar of your bus dimmed by the rap music that blasted through your ears. You looked at the group chat to be bombarded by messages.

Jungkook: bro istg if you’re not here in the next ten minutes

Hoseok: HURRY UP! JK IS DOING SHOTS WITH HIS DAD OMFG

Jimin: OMG Y/N. WE’RE GETTING DRUNK WITHOUT YOU

Jungkook: adsdsd duddde u suk wdt syop taling foevr

Yoongi: I’m gonna drink all the whiskey I got from Korea this week if you don’t get your butt over here.

Yoongi: Jieun says hi btw!

The texts continued to devolve into nonsense as you willed the bus to move faster. You were annoyed. Jungkook had planned the new year’s party at his parent’s house, and you were beyond excited to party, having spent the entire winter break stuck at home with your parents as they argued over the smallest things. You tightened your grip around your duffle bag as the bus came to a stop. Trudging through the snow you finally reached the familiar red door of your best friend’s house.

You knocked, taking in the large three-storey suburban house as you waited to be let in, already digging through your backpack for the bottle of tequila you had brought along. If they took any more time to open the door, you were going to start drinking right there on the porch. Before you could uncap your bottle, you were greeted by Jungkook’s dad, the familiar, jolly older man moved his hair out of his eyes as he greeted you.

However, before you could finally get out of the cold, he stopped you, presenting a tray of colourful jello shots.

“Y/N! Penalty for being late. You have to take a shot!” He laughed as you sputtered, his face reddened by what you assumed was alcohol. You had known Jungkook since the two of you were freshmen in university and had routinely stayed with him and his parents during break, but you had never seen Mr. Jeon this drunk. You stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do as he insisted, your friend finally joining him and encouraging you as you tentatively took a shot.

“I changed my mind! One of every colour!” Mr Jeon exclaimed joyously as Jungkook groaned.

“Dad! It’s cold. Let her in!” He whined and thankfully, you were let in. Taking off your shoes and leaving your bag by the door, you ventured into the living room where you saw all your friends. Hoseok leaned where he sat on the couch, his face buried in his phone as he, no doubt, texted his hookup. Jimin danced next to the Christmas tree the Jeons had yet to put away with a glass of liquor as Yoongi played the piano in the corner, cuddling with his girlfriend Jieun. Bubbling warmth swelled your heart as you saw all your favourite people.

“Come on let’s get you a drink!” Jungkook put his arm around you, planting most of his weight on you due to the alcohol raging through his veins as he guided you to the kitchen through the living room. In the kitchen, you were met by the sight of his parents swaying together to Yoongi’s expert piano skills, and a man you didn’t recognize sitting at the breakfast island, talking to Jungkook’s younger sister animatedly, who seemed to be trying to leave the conversation.

Jungkook poured you a rum and coke, easy on the coke, as he made his way to the breakfast bar. You stood next to his sister, making small talk before she excused herself to go to her room. She never stuck around long during these get-togethers.

When she left, you were left standing awkwardly next to the only stranger at this party. The first thing you noticed was that he was tall. Much taller than all your friends, his dark black hair styled away from his face, a strand falling on his forehead shaped like a comma. He was dressed much like everyone else in dark wash jeans and a navy t-shirt with white leaves outlined on the sleeves, except his jeans fit him almost too perfectly, sculpting his thick thighs. Although he seemed friendly, greeting you with a pretty dimpled smile, your sudden attraction to him made you nervous.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon,” he said, eyeing you from over his cup as he sipped whatever concoction he was drinking.

“Oh shit! I keep forgetting you guys have never met!” Jungkook slurred as he sidled up to the two of you with his stool, leaving you standing between the two sitting boys. “Namjoon and I have been friends for years. I think we probably met the same time you and I did, but I guess we never ended up meeting together?” He ended his statement as a question, and it surprised you. You thought in three years you would have met all of his friends.

“Well, that and I took a break from school. I was doing an internship in California.” He beamed, clearly proud of his achievement. “I worked at Twitch, you know them?” He smirked, and you had to fight your urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he worked in Cali. You went to a university renowned for its engineering degree and it was the goal of every software engineering student to land an internship in California. Those lucky enough to achieve it used it as social currency and bragging rights. You despise those people. It wasn’t that you weren’t smart enough to land that opportunity, in fact, you were coming off of your internship with Facebook last term, but you always felt flaunting a job to be such an ugly trait. However, Namjoon was Jungkook’s friend and so you let it slide.

“Ah Twitch. Very cool.” you hummed as you drank.

“Yeah. What program are you in?” He asked, continuing the conversation as Jungkook disappeared to talk to his parents, trying to convince them to retire for the night since they had embarrassed him enough.

“Computer science,” you replied non-committedly, watching his face break into a wide smile.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Me too!” He replied excitedly. You had to admit, his smile was very charming and you let your guard down a little more. Maybe he just got influenced by kids in your program to brag about Cali. “I haven’t seen you in any of my classes though! Would’ve remembered you. None of the other compsci girls are this pretty.” He smirked, clearly proud of his flirtatious comment. You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately put off.

“So glad to know you deem me pretty enough to notice.” You rolled your eyes, before grabbing your bottle of tequila and a few disposable shot glasses and making your way to the living room. “Well, it was… okay to meet you. I’m gonna go do shots.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, did I offend you?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he easily caught up to you, walking beside you and even sitting next to you on the floor, as you lined up the glasses to pour the drinks for everyone.

“No it’s cool, dude. We just don’t have anything in common,” you said nonchalantly as the rest of your friends crowded the table, excitedly taking a shot glass in hand as Jungkook waltzed in with a plate full of lime wedges and an intricately expensive-looking salt shaker. Namjoon didn’t say anything as everyone took their shots, but watched you throw back your drink, noticing the small smile that overtook your features as the alcohol from earlier finally started to take effect.

After a few more shots, the party really started. Although there were only seven people, your rowdy, borderline chaotic group had you laughing. Hoseok was going on some tale about his adventures back home where he ended up at a bar with his high school friends and got the numbers of four girls by doing a disgustingly named muff-diver shot. He bragged about his game, and you burst his bubble by telling him it was really only because he was hot. Something he didn’t take much offence to as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Namjoon, however, came to Hoseok’s defence, much to your annoyance.

“And how would you know? I doubt Hobi here has used his A+ game on you.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… you guys are friends, I doubt he would try to pick you up.” He spoke with a logical tone, as he eyed you and Hoseok.

“Oh really? Okay Hobi. Since your game is so great. Let’s see it.” You turned around, staring at your friend next to you. Namjoon leaned back against his hands on the floor, watching the scene unfold with a smirk.

“Really darling? Don’t blame me when you fall for me.” Hoseok moved closer, finishing his drink as you huffed in annoyance. You were in your first stage of drunk, the stage where you got mean for no reason

“Get on with it, loser. Your face is making me drier as we speak.” You waved as Hoseok leaned in, his nose rubbing gently against your ear, his breath on your neck, making you shiver slightly.

“Hey baby, how about you let me take you downstairs and defile you on Jungkook’s Iron Man sheets.” His voice was low, almost a growl. You never thought you would hear Hoseok’s sexy pickup voice and you were sure that if you were someone who had not seen him whine and cling onto you after a few drinks, you’d be putty in his hand. Instead, you burst out laughing, doubling over with your hands on his thighs as tears of mirth filled your eyes. Not one to give up that easily, Hoseok continued.

“See. I’m a funny guy Y/N. Let me eat that pussy!” He couldn’t hold back any longer either, his voice breaking at the word pussy as he too devolved into a fit of laughter. His comment, however, broke Yoongi and Jieun out of their bubble as they looked up from their make out session, looks of horror on their faces.

“Please tell me you did not just say that Hobi!” Jieun chided, her voice shrill.

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Yoongi shivered as he drank more of his whiskey in an attempt to calm himself. Hoseok and you continued laughing at your friends’ reaction, the rest of the group joining in, except Namjoon who seemed to be watching the two of you with raised brows.

“Wait. I don’t get it. That should’ve worked.”

“Yeah dude. Y/N what the fuck? Let me eat that pussy!” Hoseok grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you while screaming at your face, between giggles.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna get a stomach ache. Stop!” you wheezed, before turning to Namjoon. “Sorry dude. I’ve literally helped Hobi pee once. There’s no going back to sexy when you see him whine about forgetting how urinating works.”

“Yeah and no offence babe, but you literally had your hands on my dick and it was flaccid as hell.”

“You guys are weirdly close,” Namjoon commented, his face scrunched as he assessed you and Hoseok.

“You think they’re close, you should see her and Jungkook. They even slept together!” Jimin remarks finally sitting down after dancing by himself for the past twenty minutes.

“And it was fucking horrible. High five!” Jungkook leans over the coffee table to slap his hand against yours, the two of you giggling.

“What kind of incestuous group is this?” Namjoon remarked, sipping his drink before turning to you where he watched you leaned over the table as you still slapped your hand against Jungkook’s to the beat of the music. “So when’s my turn?”

“Excuse me?” You recoil away from Namjoon, almost jumping in Hoseok’s lap. Oh here it was; stage two of your drunk persona, anger. You felt it coursing in your veins at his insinuation. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Apparently the group dick toucher.” He smirked again, that annoying lopsided smile that made his one dimple deepen in his cheek. “I promise I won’t be flaccid like Hobi was.”

“Okay! Y/N and I are going on a walk!” Hoseok exclaimed as he saw your fist clenched. He knew you were ten seconds away from punching Namjoon in the face, and he put his arms around your waist and easily hoisted you up, walking you to the front door.

“Hobi I swear to god, I’m gonna murder him.” You glared at Namjoon as he returned your heated stare with an easy smile and a wave.

“I know babe. So we’re going on a walk. Let’s go pick up some food, yeah?”

The two of you walked around the block to the nearest McDonalds, picking up an assortment of cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets for the party, even getting Namjoon what he wanted, despite your burning desire that he starve to death. By the time, you returned to the party and took a couple more shots you were sufficiently cheered up. Hoseok had that affect on you, calming your mood with his jokes and anecdotes.

Cuddled with Hoseok as you sat between his legs on the couch, the two of you shared a vape as you let the weed settle in your bones with a mellow buzz. Jimin sat in front of you on the floor, leaning against you as you ran your hands through his hair, enjoying the soft fluff. You were so glad that he had decided to forego his usual hair wax today. You felt like you were in utter bliss, your annoyance with Namjoon long forgotten. That is until you tuned into his conversation with Jungkook - not that you had any choice, because even though he seemed to be talking to Jungkook, his eyes were pointed at you.

“I’m just saying capitalism is the reason you’re sitting here in this nice home. People who can’t afford healthcare or education just need to work harder. That’s how life works.” Namjoon sipped his drink, raising an eyebrow at you, and you decidedly ignored his baiting. It was like he was trying to get you mad on purpose. You didn’t understand his gameplan. Why couldn’t he just let you enjoy bringing in 2017 like an adult?

“Dude… why are we even talking about this?” Jungkook groaned, face scrunching in distaste.

“I’m just saying people shouldn’t look for a handout when there are literally thousands of skills they could learn to make their lives easier. Why are we using our tax dollars for the lazy?” Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze boring holes into you as you stared him down. Oh curse your stupid resolve, why did this fucker know you so well, you literally just met! Before you could stop yourself, you were speaking.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid? That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Education and healthcare are a human right!” Your voice was louder than usual, startling Hoseok and Jimin as you suddenly stood up, walking over to where a smug looking Namjoon and a confused Jungkook sat on the floor.

“I’m not, but you must be, to not realize that we could invest in teaching people skills to make money instead of just giving them money. Don’t tell me you’re a communist.” He sipped his drink, his eyes dancing with mirth, relishing the fact that he had gotten you to argue. And argue you did, for over an hour, the room forgotten as the two of you discussed social policies and taxation laws, ignoring Jungkook’s protests (“We live in a social democracy!”). You could feel the fire in your veins as you raised your voice, while he calmly discussed the matter at hand. Even though Namjoon was the most infuriating person you had ever met, the fact that he kept up with your arguments was extremely satisfying. Your friends knew you were the kind of person to debate a point until all the sides were uncovered so they would never start an argument with you, and as much as you hated Namjoon, you loved that he was such a great sparring partner.

“Oh my god! Shut the fuck up!” Jimin yelled suddenly, breaking you and Namjoon out of your bubble, as you looked at your usually bubbly friend, staring daggers at you. You sheepishly apologized, just as the countdown began.

Everyone stood and you followed suit. However the alcohol in your body decided to catch up as you stumbled, instinctively grabbing on to Namjoon’s arm to not fall over. As you’ve started to realize is his ammo, he one-upped you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Fuck, why does it feel so nice and firm?

The countdown got closer to one and you felt trapped by his gaze, an intense look in his eye as he smirked at you. His eyes travelled from your eyes to your lips and you felt as if your chest was getting tighter.

“Three!” your friends yelled, but your mouth felt too dry to speak up. You licked your lips and Namjoon’s smirk widened. Why did you find his arrogant face so attractive all of a sudden? You wanted to punch him not two seconds ago!

“Two!” He started to lean in and despite yourself, you started anticipating his lips on yours.

“One!” Suddenly, your earlier resolve kicked in. No dude who insulted you all night was going to touch you. You pushed him off turning around to Jungkook.

“Happy New Year!” You pulled your best friend towards you by his collar, giving him a loud peck on the lips as everyone cheered. Jungkook smiled, pulling you into a hug and jostling you around, giving you a chance to catch the dumbfounded look on Namjoon’s face.

You hugged all of your friends in turn, and when Namjoon, still with his mouth slightly ajar, looked at you expectantly, you raised your hand to him with a smug smile. You kind of felt bad for the way he deflated before he shook your hand, but before you could dwell too much on that feeling, he tugged you closer.

“Well played,” he whispered in your ear, his breath ghosting your neck, and you felt heat rising up your neck. You pulled away with a scowl and before he could say anything else, your phone pinged, the screen lit with the last name you wanted to see.

Taehyung (3 messages)

Oh great. What did the fuck did he want?

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Right Next Door (Oikawa Tooru x F!reader)

You somehow end up roommates with Oikawa, sharing a bathroom, and let the unavoidable question of whether or not you’re soulmates hang in the air for far too long.

genre: fluff, slight angst (unintentional), college, roommate, soulmate!au words: 3k+

Nearly dropping the box you’re holding, you stare at the annoyingly perfect boy standing across the doorway from you. He’s beaming and introducing himself to your parents who are looking just as confused as you are. Spotting you behind them, his smile only brightens, striding forward to greet you. “Hey roomie!”

It’s an effort to keep your jaw from dropping to the floor. “Room…roommate?” You blink, unable to tell if he’s joking or not. Shouldn’t you have a—you don’t know—a girl roommate?

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly he says, “Yeah…looks like they had an uneven number and we got stuck together. Shouldn’t be a problem though right? We just share a bathroom.”

You swallow nervously. While he’s right, both of you have your own single rooms and share the bathroom, you don’t think your parents are going to be too keen on the idea of a boy being in such close living quarters with you. Particularly when said boy looks like a male model.

“Oikawa Tooru.” He sticks his hand out, then realizes you’re preoccupied with the box you’re holding. “Ah, sorry, let me help you! I’m all moved in already.” You’re still too much in shock to protest when he takes the box from your hands and asks you for your name.

Walking back out to the car to grab more of your things, your mother murmurs, “I’m not sure about this…”

Not wanting to go through the hassle of moving, finding a new roommate, and probably being unable to look Oikawa in the eye for the remainder of your college career, you assure her, “It’s really just a bathroom. Nothing to worry about.” She looks unconvinced, but lets it go.

Little do you know that sharing a bathroom is more difficult that you anticipate. Especially on the first day of classes when you both have an 8am and need to be in the bathroom at the same time. Or when you find out that the two of you both like to shower in the morning and open your respective doors at the same time to take one.

You got quite the view of his perfectly sculpted chest that morning and have switched to afternoon showers just to avoid him.

The most annoying aspect about being his roommate is the unspoken question in the room. Whether or not the two of you are soulmates. It would be easy enough to figure it out. Let him stub his toe and see if you feel it too. But there’s never a good way to bring the subject up. Not when you only see him for brief moments and most of those moments, he’s been half clothed. Not really the time to blurt out wanting to find out if the two of you are connected by the universe.

Though, you can’t help that when you do see him, your attention drifts to his knee. Throughout elementary school, you didn’t notice much pain besides the occasional rug burn or cut. But as middle school rolled around, the pain in your knee began to grow. It was constant and nagged you with each step, to the point where you couldn’t tell if it was your pain or theirs.

And as high school hit, the pain only increased. Enough that you consulted a doctor about it and discovered it wasn’t your pain at all. Your knee is perfectly fine, and whatever your soulmate is doing is completely wrecking their knee. While you feel the pain of it, you won’t bear any of the consequences like they will if they keep going the way they do.

Whoever they are, you’re reminded daily of them through your shared pain. And whenever you find them, you’re going to slap them upside the head and demand just what exactly they’re doing that’s destroying their knee as the years have passed.

But Oikawa’s knee seems fine. At least to your knowledge. So, you never bring it up. No point in making this situation any more awkward than it already is.

Nearing the end of the semester, doing the study guide for your physics exam, you’re stumped on the same question for 20 minutes and no amount of googling has gotten you any closer to the answer. Groaning angrily, you lean back in your chair and tangle your fingers into your hair. You don’t understand half the problems you’ve completed already, but even after skipping this one and returning to it; and spending more time on google than on the actual problem you’ve hit a dead end. And it doesn’t help that your knee is acting up, whatever your soulmate is doing right now is not what you need at the moment.

Glancing warily at the bathroom door, you mull over the idea of asking Oikawa to help you. You know he’s home, you heard him return about an hour ago and haven’t heard his door open since. And you know enough about him that he’s pretty damn good at schoolwork on top of being ridiculously good-looking. Truly—it isn’t fair.

You go back and forth on it for a bit longer before the prospect of extra credit outweighs any anxiety you have approaching him of your own accord. Your chair groans as you push out from your desk and pad quietly to the bathroom. It takes you a few minutes to garner the courage to knock on his door to the bathroom opposite from yours.

There’s no answer. Not even a sound of acknowledgement. You pause a moment before leaning it to listen through the door. It’s quiet.

That’s odd. You were so sure he was home.

You knock again, this time accompanying it with, “Anyone home?”

Again, you’re met with silence. You frown. Either he’s ignoring you spectacularly or he’s not home—you decide to go with the latter. Knocking again you say loudly, “I’m coming in!”

When you open the door, Oikawa jerks from the stretch he was in the middle of and falls into a heap on the floor. He’s wearing nothing but impressively short shorts, sweat glistening on his golden skin, and your immediate reaction is to close your eyes, turn tail, and get the fuck out of there. However, your body moves a lot quicker than your brain and you end up closing your eyes, turning, and smacking straight into the doorframe.

You hear him laugh as you join him on the floor burying your forehead in your hands. “Am I that terrible to look at?”

Despite that your eyes are still screwed shut, that image of him will be burned into your memory forever. Just like you can’t forget the sight of him ready to shower, his towel draped low around his waist, chest on display for you to ogle at. A sight you’re sure half the girls on campus would kill for.

“What? No—I mean—,” you splutter, reaching for any object to help you up and get out of his room.

Your arm is grasped by a warm and sturdy one that lifts you to your feet, and Oikawa teases, “Oh, so you’re saying I’m nice to look at?”

“That’s not—ugh, just put some damn clothes on, will you?”

He laughs again but his hand leaves your arm and you hear some rustling before he says, “Alright you’re safe now.” Peeking one eye open, you’re relieved to see that he has indeed clothed himself but is now sitting quite smugly on his bed looking at you. He knows he flusters you and it makes heat crawl up your neck. “So, what did you need that warranted barging into my room like that?”

You cross your arms. “I knocked! Three times!”

He grimaces, then nods to his desk where his phone connected to some headphones have been discarded. “Couldn’t hear you, sorry.”

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have come in without permission anyways. You’re clearly busy and what I needed wasn’t that important.”

He cocks his head. “I’m pretty much done! What did you need?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you realize the hardest part is swallowing your pride and asking him outright for help. “I’m stuck on a stupid physics problem.” You frown at the smile that lights up his features, knowing he’s going to lay on the teasing real thick.

“And you need my help?” He grins, theatrically clutching his chest. “The great brain of Oikawa Tooru?” You roll your eyes as he continues, “The physics master? I will humbly provide my knowledge—”

“Are you going to help me or not?” You say, already retreating to the safety of your own room. Oikawa shuts up and scrambles to follow you, dragging his own desk chair through the bathroom and into your room.

He plops down on it backwards and rests his chin on the backrest, peering at your desk. “Which problem is it?” Taking a seat next to him, you slide your textbook to him and point out the source of your stress. Watching him carefully, you realize it’s fascinating to watch him shift to this completely foreign expression he has while reading the question. Up until this point, you haven’t seen anything besides his playful teasing demeanor—not this serious, thoughtful one he’s currently sporting.

After a minute, he reaches across the desk to grab your pencil and notebook and starts explaining the problem to you. Subconsciously, you scoot closer to him to get a better view of the paper as it feels like the physics knowledge gates are finally opening to you. The way he explains it is clear and concise and makes way more sense than your textbook ever did.

When he’s finished, you turn the page and point out another problem. “I may have googled this one,” you admit, pressing your lips into a firm line, unable to look at him.

He just smirks, peering at you from the corner of his eye. “How many have you googled?”

Slumping in your chair, you cover your face with your hands. God—it’s embarrassing admitting to him how dumb you feel in this class when it seems so obviously easy to him. “A lot.”

He doesn’t tease you though. All he says is, “You’ve been living next to me all this time!”

Finally realizing just how royally fucked you are for this class, you bow your head and mutter, “Please help me.” He makes a small surprised choking noise that you immediately shove him for. “Stuff it.”

“I was right though.”

“About what?”

He gives you a mischievous grin. “You do need the physics master.”

That gets him shoved off his chair completely.

Oikawa tutors you for the next couple of days whenever he has the time between his own classes, studying, and volleyball practice. Most of the time that means he’s tutoring you over lunch and dinner, and sometimes late into the evening. You learn a lot more about him in a week than you have the entire semester. He loves volleyball and plays for the university, is probably one of the smartest people you know, and your newest discovery—is alarmingly obsessed with milk bread.

Enough that he deems it proper payment when you pass your physics exam, demanding that if he’s to continue tutoring you that you keep the supply of milk bread coming. You don’t tell him, but you purposefully bought the most expensive kind you could find to thank him. And if he notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he tears through the packaging like a little kid and shoves an enormous piece into his mouth.

In the midst of chewing he says, “I have a game tonight, but afterwards we’re going to karaoke if you want to come and celebrate passing!” He watches you hesitate, knowing you would. You’ve slowly been opening yourself up to him, and while he’s persistent—so are you. “It’s just a few people, it’ll be fun! And I’ll be there~”

That earns him an eye roll. “All the more reason not to go.”

“Mean!” He says, giving you his signature pout. One that he’s learned you’re not impervious to. “How about you don’t have to buy me any more milk bread if you come? Hmm? Enticing, isn’t it?”

“You really want to cut off your milk bread supply?”

He frowns. “Well—no, but I want you to come.” He stares at you so earnestly that you can feel color rising to your cheeks.

In order to relieve yourself from his attention you concede. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“Yay!” He wraps you up into a hug, gathers his volleyball bag and stuffs the remaining milk break into his mouth. “I’ll text you!” He shouts through a mouthful of milk bread as he hurries out the door.

Sighing, you sink onto your bed and try to distract yourself with a TV show. Yet your thoughts keep drifting to Oikawa and his volleyball match. After being his roommate all semester, you’ve never seen him play. And he must be good if he actually plays for the university and doesn’t just sit on the bench. Glancing at your watch, your curiosity gets the better of you.

You buy your ticket at the door and once you find a seat in the stands you immediately begin searching for a familiar head of perfect brown hair. Spotting him down on the court setting for his teammates, you realize that he didn’t invite you to watch his game. What if he doesn’t want you here? You shrink into your seat further, hoping he doesn’t scan the crowd and notice you. Luckily, he’s far too occupied with warming up and when the team approaches the stands to extend their thanks his attention is taken by his slew of fangirls who are waving at him from the front row.

When the team bows before returning to the court, you sit straighter in your chair and lean forward to get a better glimpse at him. He’s wearing knee pads like the other players, but what caught your attention are that his are different colors. One black, the other white. If you were to guess, it looks like some kind of knee brace to you.

But that’s…that’s a coincidence isn’t it? It has to be. No matter if it’s the same knee as yours.

Throughout the game, you can’t help but be highly aware of the pain panging through your knee. You try and chalk it up to your imagination, but the pain seems to be aligning with Oikawa’s movements. Yet he shows no sign that it’s bothering him at all. It must be your imagination. You can’t fathom that if he’s feeling the same pain you are that he’d be able to hide it so well.

You can’t stop thinking about it. What if it is him? What will you do then? And by the time the game ends, you’re drowning in your own thoughts, barely noticing that the team is lining up to bow to the crowd again. This time doing a poorer job of hiding and he notices you. First, he looks shocked, then a smile lights up his features and he fucking winks at you which makes all the girls in the front row swoon thinking it was for them.

Did he bait you into coming here? You frown, returning his gesture by sticking your tongue out at him.

You purposefully avoid him after the game, though end up stumbling upon him placating his fan club just outside the gym. He sees you, but for your sake, he doesn’t acknowledge you; saving you from the wrath of the Oikawa fan club. You hide around the corner, knowing you’re going to have to face him eventually and come through on your agreement to go to karaoke night.

He finds you a few minutes later, already grinning devilishly and wiggling his eyebrows. “Trying to sneak out?”

“Maybe.”

“Too late!” He links his arm through yours and drags you out from your hiding place. “Well? Did you like it? Volleyball, I mean.”

You try very hard not to fixate on his proximity, not wanting to give anything away. If you’ve learned anything about Oikawa at all since you started spending more time with him is that he is far more observant than he looks. And he certainly showed that down on the court today. “It was fun to watch. And you’re really good.”

He beams, though this time it feels half-assed. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I have a question though.”

“Shoot!”

“Why are your knee pads different colors?”

Oikawa almost stops in his tracks. Why of all things is that the thing you noticed? But he composes himself and says smoothly, “I couldn’t find my other black one. Coach nearly ripped me a new one.” You don’t believe him. To his relief, he catches sight of his teammates and picks up his pace dragging you behind him. “It’s karaoke time!”

He introduces you to his teammates, and they’re all extremely nice and welcoming. It helps that they’ve invited people of their own too, so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on anything. Oikawa grills you about the game while people take turns on the karaoke machine. It’s fun talking to him about it, as he clearly loves the sport, and you don’t mind indulging him.

Though what you won’t indulge him in is getting up on the stage and singing. You’re enjoying watching others do it, particularly Oikawa belt his heart out and make a complete fool of himself. Even though every time he gets up there, he does his very best to coax you to join him. He even goes so far as to dance off the stage and come over to where you’re sitting, giving you his signature pout that he thinks you can’t resist.

On about his third go, he’s eyeing you up and you just know he’s planning something ridiculous. His final and most outrageous scheme to get you up on stage yet—you’re sure of it. To thwart him, you get up to refill your glass of water; to which he panics and leaps off the stage dramatically to stop you.

When his feet hit the floor, he isn’t expecting his bad knee to buckle beneath him, making him feel like the air has just been knocked out of him as he stumbles to the floor. He’s at least used to hiding his pain, so he’s able to swallow the shout that almost escapes him.

Though a few steps away, his head jerks up at the sound of your voice barking out in pain. Without warning, blazing pain laces up your thigh and you crumple to the floor. The room has gone utterly silent, only the sound of the music playing fills the air, and Oikawa feels like his heart is about to bust out of his chest.

He isn’t prepared for you to whip around, still on your hands and knees, and hiss, “You liar!” He pales under the weight of your stare. You struggle to your feet and storm out of the building, doing your best not to limp, and he thinks he’d very much like to dissolve into the floor now. His teammates are staring at him in disbelief and one of them says, “Guess we should tell your fan club to cancel their weekly soulmate meetings.”

“You guys are awful,” he sighs and grips the nearest table to hoist himself to his feet. He tests his weight on his knee and finds that it isn’t as bad as it could have been, just landed wrong. Despite teasing him, his team shoos him out the door to find you.

This definitely wasn’t not what he was expecting when he found his soulmate.

No surprise that he finds you in your room, and when he walks in you just huff and pull your knees closer to your chest. “So, you’re the damn idiot destroying his knee.” Leaning on the doorframe, he’s aware that he should keep his distance for now. “Why did you lie?”

“It’s a touchy subject.”

You groan, flopping back onto your bed, knowing it’s best to not press the issue. Not until he’s ready to explain it to you. “Oikawa Tooru,” you muse. “My soulmate.”

He steps a little farther into the room and peers down at you on your bed. “How come you gotta say it like that? I’d say you’re the luckiest girl in the world,” he teases.

“Oh god.”

“Now you’re just making me sad,” he pouts, going so far as to sit on your bed with you.

Lifting your head up to look at him, the tightness in his chest loosens at the small smile on your lips. “Your fan club’s going to kill me.”

He just stares at you for a moment before bursting out into full blown laughter. You’re taken aback, never having heard Oikawa laugh so unabashedly before, but find that your own smile grows on your face. “I’ll handle them,” he says, then opens his arms up to you. “Now can we have a real ‘soulmate’ moment please?”

You can’t help but throw yourself into his arms and melt into his embrace. He wraps his arms around you and pets your head softly, kissing the top of it, letting himself enjoy this moment. He’s…glad it’s you. He enjoys being around you, able to be himself and not put on the façade he’s perfected for his fan club. “I’ll tell you about the knee sometime, I promise,” he says into your hair.

He feels you chuckle and against his chest reply, “You better, seeing as I have to deal with it too.” You squeeze him gently and comfortingly. “But for now, let’s focus on me not getting murdered in my sleep by a gaggle of fan girls, okay?”

He lets his laugh come out unrestrained again, a beautiful sound you hope to never stop hearing, and holds you even tighter against his chest, like if he lets go, you’ll slip right through his fingers. Good thing you live right next door.

The way Oikawa breaks it to his fan club is by no means gentle. He’s watched you be nervous about it for the past couple days, always peering around corners, and being generally on edge when you’re out in public with him. So, when he does spot them across campus, he pulls you into his arms and although you whisper angrily, “What are you doing? They’re right there!” He presses his lips to yours and kisses you for all the world to see.

And while you normally love how unfairly good kisser he is, you also really hate it because it makes all your thoughts disappear. You like to tease him it’s his secret talent, which he takes far too much pride in. He’s notorious for striding into your room and making you forget all about whatever homework you were doing.

But do you really mind?

#Oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario

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