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north-blue-hearts · 9 months

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Famous Last Words

CisFem Reader x Trafalgar Law

CW: Violence, swearing, mature themes, erotic romance, angst, creative use of devil fruits, this story is still in progress, I will add content warnings as needed.

Chapter 5: Disenchanted

You watched the concert on the security cameras with Zoro. Rosinante left the room, leaving the two of you alone for long stretches.

“Soul mates, huh?” Zoro questions between songs at one point.

“Seems so.” You admit.

“… Was Nami right then?”

You laugh a little, taking a drink to think about your answer for a moment. “Yes. She was, but she kind of under sold it, I think.”

“Oh? Oh. Oh, wait, that’s why you needed to leave?”

You nod a little noncommittally. “It’s a powerful emotion.”

“Worried about the stalker?” He prompts, and you nod.

“Hard to keep a low profile, if your soul mate is the lead singer of Your Synthetic Enchantment.” You say a little roughly. “And… well, there’s more to it. I never talked about it.”

“Yeah.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah?”

Zoro goes over to the mini-fridge, grabbing a bottle of water as another song starts up. “Everyone knows you’re holding back, and it’s okay.” He adds quickly, putting a hand on the back of his neck and furrowing his brow a little. “I’m kind of crap with all the talkin’ stuff, but… I mean, everyone has things they don’t want to talk about.

“It doesn’t mean you don’t like us, or don’t trust us or whatever, so it doesn’t matter.” He admits, taking another drink. “But we know.” He motions toward you with his hand a little. “You get that worried look on your face, like you want to say more.”

“I do want to say more.” You admit, and it feels like a massive relief just to say that much.

Zoro grins. “That’s enough. Knowing that.” He assures you, turning back to the monitor and watching the feed.

After a few lines from the current song he turns to you. “Is this really a song about them being afraid of teenagers?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, it’s about authority being afraid of teenagers. I can see how you’d think that though.”

A few songs later the band share their thanks and love for the fans, pretending to pack up a little before they came out and did an encore song. The drums gave the song away before the first notes left the guitar and bass.

“Well, I know a thing about contrition, because I got enough to spare.” Law sang into the mic, but it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it at this point. He was ready to be done.

Near the end of the song Rosinante comes back into the room. “Alright, are you ready Miss?” He prompts. “Your friends went backstage before the encore, and the band should be getting there shortly. I doubt my boy’s going to say farewell properly, but he hardly does most nights anyway.”

You smile at Rosi. He was going to be your best friend in all of this, you were certain. Everyone already knew that Law’s parents, and younger sister, passed away some years ago. The tragedy of Flevance was one of the most well-known blunders of the World Government, and Law’s debut had been the action that had drawn attention to it.

His manager was different back then, and there’d been a huge hullabaloo as tons of information had come out about how Amber Lead Disease wasn’t a disease and wasn’t contagious. The real kicker to everything had been about how it wasn’t untreatable either, as Law was a survivor.

That was almost six years ago, and about a year after the story broke there was a big scuffle between Law and his first manager that shook up the tabloids for a little bit. After the dust settled on that, Rosinante became his manager. You’d seen pictures of him before, but seeing him in person had been an experience.

“I am, thank you Ro- er, Cora-san.” You say as you stand up and head out of the room. Jean’s in front, with you and Rosinante in the middle and Zoro at the rear. It felt like overkill to you, within the safety of the back halls, but you weren’t a bodyguard, and there wasn’t any reason to argue.

Besides, you were fully distracted.

Every step down the hall was a step closer. You could barely hear Rosinante talking as you walked, over the sound of your own heart. You could barely believe you were walking closer to him, and not further away.

The whole night had been surreal.

The further down the hall you walked, the more sounds you could hear. The muffled voices of people were echoing down the hall, just slightly louder than the distant muffled rush of the concert goers, still screaming on the high of the show as they delayed their inevitable departure. Some will have left before the encore to avoid the slow lines leaving the parking lot.

Some, like Franky and Robin, will be grilling food and commiserating with other fans idly in the lot, letting time pass by before they even consider leaving.

You turned the corner in time to see a door close down the hall, and it seemed to be your destination as Jean walked straight toward it. People in uniforms were further down the hall, using boards and arms, to block access and viewing down the hall as they kept any unauthorized people away.

You could hear Nami’s voice as the door opened.

“You really found your soul mate? That’s fantastic Traffy!” She beams and you can hear Luffy laugh.

“You should’ve told us ahead of time!” He’s almost pouting, you can hear it in his voice.

“Sorry, Mugiwara-ya, I didn’t want word to get out be… fore.” Law’s words die on his lips as he turns toward the door. His eyes go wide as he sees you, and a smile pulls at your lips as you look back at him.

You’re not really sure what to say with those golden eyes locked on yours. You almost want to look away, but you don’t. You can’t. A part of you is nearly afraid to blink, as though the action itself would pull you from the dream you must be having right now.

You’re barely aware of everyone else. You’re certain you heard Nami and Vivi gasp, but the room had fallen into a hush.

“… Are they gonna stay like that?” Someone asks, and there’s a smack followed by a grumble. You can hear it all, and you know everyone else is there, it just doesn’t matter.

“Cora-san, is there another room?” Vivi asks, and you’re vaguely aware of people shuffling around. Law steps back from the doorway, and you follow him, just a couple of steps. Enough space for everyone to leave.

The soft click of the door barely seemed enough of a signal, but once the door locked, he lifted his hands up. Holding them up by his waist and giving you a shy smile as you reached out and put your fingers against the palms of his hands.

The touch was almost like electricity, enough to pull your gaze away from his eyes, but the brief zing of pleasure gave way to warmth. A nervous laugh pushes past your lips at the relief of being able to touch his hands. He threads his fingers through yours, holding onto your hands and nearly sighing.

“(Y/N).” He says it softly, barely a whisper, as though he’s almost afraid to say it too loud, but he’s too desperate to not say it at all.

Emotions well up inside of you, and his fingers slip away from yours in a moment of panic as tears fill your eyes. You hadn’t heard your own name in years, and the first person to say it to you was your soul mate.

A muffled thank you falls from your lips as you bury your face in his chest, hugging him close. One warm hand is atop your head after a moment, the other around your back, returning the embrace.

“I can’t believe,” you manage, sniffling and almost laughing at the same time. “You dreamed about me.”

Law’s hands flex. “You dreamed about me.” He insists. “… I couldn’t reach you.”

“You could hear me.”

“Yeah.”

“Law.” You say his name once your voice clears a little, wiping your eyes before you step back slightly. His hands don’t quite let you go, one still at your waist, the other on your shoulder. You leaned into the hand against your face, hand holding his against your cheek. “Trafalgar Law.”

His fingers flex against your face. “Traffy.” He says, but the word is already distasteful to him, you can tell. “Call me… Traffy.”

You look up at him quizzically. “Why?”

“I can’t say your name, when we leave here, right?” His brows are knit, he looks irritated. “I have to call you… that name, until they find that guy.”

You nod. “Anywhere that someone could hear, yes.” You admit.

He pulls you closer, gently, as though he wants you to be able to pull away if you want. His eyes aren’t irritated anymore, but they’re on you, looking from your eyes to your lips.

“It’s only fair then,” He says, his voice almost a whisper. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”

“It seems like you want to kiss me,” you murmur softly, eyes moving up from his lips to his eyes as you smile. “More than you want to talk.”

The flicker of light in his eyes, the crooked grin that slips along his lips for a moment, are enough to send a sweet shiver up your back. “Seems so.” He answers quietly, pulling you a little closer.

There’s a soft breath between you both, one last glance at one another that can’t last as long as you wish it could, and the first tentative brush of your lips against his sends little shivers through you both. You feel him suck in a breath along with you, and then the small space between you both disappears as you nearly crash your lips into his.

The rush through your chest pulls your lips apart, leaving you desperate for air as your heart’s pulling in every scrap it can find against the flood of oxytocin in your system. Law’s hands hook your thighs as he lifts you up, bracing you against his chest as you lean down from your new vantage and kiss him again, legs wrapping around his waist.

Moans bubble up in his chest, shuddering against you as soft sounds fall from your lips in return. Heavy breaths and desperate kisses are all you know for a moment before he sits down on his knees. His hands shift, and he leans you back, resting your back against the floor as he cradles the back of your head in his hand.

His arm is beside you as your hands disappear into his hair. It’s damp from the concert still, but you don’t care. The scent of makeup cleaner still hasn’t reached you, and the heavy scent of exertion isn’t your concern as hot breath crashes over you before he kisses you again. His knees are pressing into your thighs, and your body is hot with need and desire, your hips shift, sliding your thighs up his legs as another kiss threatens to steal sense and breath from you.

Your fingers are fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when there’s a knock at the door. You both freeze, and after a second you hear Nami’s voice.

“Just making sure you’re having your first time together where, and when, you really want to.” She says with a knowing lilt to her voice. “We’re heading to the General, Dia, text me if you’re going home a different way.”

You can feel the heat rushing up to your face, and you can see that Law’s face is flushed.

“Thanks, Nami.” You reply as evenly as you can manage, and hear her walk away. You look around and start to realize you’re on the floor of a backstage room. Not that it would’ve been something you would’ve regretted, but maybe dinner and a soft bed was a slightly better prelude if you could choose it.

Law puts his head down on your chest for a second, seeming to gather himself.

“That -.” He starts, and you start to laugh – a little from nerves, but also because it was more of a rush than you had expected.

“They really undersell the whole ‘you’ll know’, bit, don’t they?” You ask, and he starts to laugh softly. His laugh fuels yours and yours his, and he sits up, resting on his heels as he finally just lets himself laugh completely.

You could listen to that sound for years.

The two of you are nearly in tears by the time you get yourselves under control.

“Yeah,” he admits, chuckling again as he stands up and offers you a hand up. “Intoxicating seems like a cop out.”

You’re certain your face is a beacon of red as you stand up. “Yeah… little bit.”

There’s a moment of almost awkward silence between you. You’re not sure what to say, but you know that you don’t want to leave. Long, tattooed fingers, reach out and curl around your hand, and Law runs the bottom of his lip along his teeth, trying to think of something to say.

“I… have a submarine.” He offers. “I mean, just… you don’t have to go… home. Um, you could stay.”

“… I want to stay.” You admit quietly.

“For tonight. Tomorrow.” He corrects, bringing your fingers up to his mouth and kissing your knuckles softly. “We don’t leave for the next island for a few days. We have some time.”

“Time to talk?” You prompt.

He smirks. “Among other things, but yes.”

“We have a lot to talk about.” You insist.

Law looks over at the wall, glancing at the clock. “There’s 104 hours between now and when we have to set sail.” He begins with a devious grin. “Assuming proper rest, that 64 hours awake.” He pulls you close and nearly purrs the next words into your ear.

“I’m sure we can spare a few hours in there for words, at some point.”

You start to say something when the air shifts around you. You aren’t sure what it is exactly, just a sense that there’s something in the air that wasn’t there before.

“Shambles.” Law says, and your whole world shifts.

#Famous Last Words #Trafalgar Law x reader #x reader #reader insert #trafalgar d water law #band AU #Soul Mate AU

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rixsjwb · 29 days

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lovin you.

summary: while at Tokyo award show, gojo is mesmerized by you singing on stage.

og song:

cover:

warning: nothing fluff

its not often you get asked to join the biggest award show in Tokyo, you were nervous.

you weren't a very big star like those who were attending, but your recent release album had a specific song that everyone was listening to, which was why you were invited to watch other artist in-person sing, and get their hard earned award infront of thousands of people.

so here you sat with shoko and utahime, both soloists who released many big hits that end in the top 100, on a cozy couch as you watched the infamous megumi, nobara and itadori perform there crazy dance stunts on stage. you had never been more amazed. They were known for their hard, hip-hop dances and crazy choreography.

and they were young too, which amazes you even more. you look around to see more famous idols arrive with the aide of a staff member guiding them to their assigned seats, as they bow to show respect to their juniors and seniors.

nanami kento, a famous old fashioned singer, singing in the modern days. he was. a big hit amongst the young and old generation, you stand up along with your seat mates to bow and show respect, shoko going in for a hug with him because she's known him since there youngling days.

but you keep it respectful and bow, unaware of an eye watching your every move.

other idols were leaving the seating area to prep for their performance. The most recent performer was the classic duo gojo satoru and geto suguru, they were very well known, handsome looking and everyone fanned over them.

seeing them up close makes you understand how whenever you see them posted on social media, being mobbed by fans that every goes absolutely lunatic on them. they were all sweaty for performing hard cherography and their beautiful vocals, again a wave of idols stand up to show their respect as they were lead to their new assigned seats, which was the couch next beside you.

you clap with the crowd as another idol performs, but your quick to show some respect to gojo and geto as they take a seat on the couch next to you, you could hear a small thank you coming out of gojo mouths as you both make eye contact, his smile charming and dimples poping out, while getos smooth baritone voice thanks you which his pretty hair and face.

as you watched other idols perform a staff member comes your way ushering you to go back stage as your turn is yet too come.

back stage staff are squirming like chkens with there heads cut off, they were very busy fixing pervious artists makeup to look presentable when going back to the seat area.

the makeup artist was quick to get you in her chair to do touch-ups on your hair and make-up and clothing, too, preping you with ear pieces and a microphone.

a beautiful silk off the shoulder with long flower sleeves was the dress you had worn before going on stage. You never adapted to the nervous jitters no matter how many times you performed in front of crowds. just that this was 10x as large.

you were giving a microphone before going on stage, preping your stance when you hear the all to familiar mc introduce you.

"Now, give it up for miss beautiful y/n l/n!"

you can hear the crowd cheering very loud, almost taking away the nervousness you felt before as you listen to the ear monitor count you in.

starting off strong with a whisle to a riff.

"lovin' you is easy 'cause you're beautiful,

-Makin' love with you is all I wanna do

-lovin' you is more than just a dream come true

-and everything that I do is out of lovin' you

la la la la la

do, do, do, do, do oh

..."

as you finish your song your quick to wave a goodbye too the crowd walking off stage, the nervous jitters replaced with relief as the thought of people throwing tomatoes and jumping you because you sounded horrible didn't come for you.

you felt good after that. As you get a glimpse of the crowd, everyone had the flashlights on waving in a rhythmic way in sync.

as your getting another touch-up you see some other idols getting ready to go on stage, a familiar toji fushiguro and sukuna ryomen being handed a mic for there up coming performances.

"You sounded great love, congratulations." toji says, despite is intimidating look he's was very supportive. sukuna beaide him nodding in agreement.

"thank you, good luck on stage!" You say wave to them as the staff is now telling them their queue is on in 10 seconds.

being lead back to your seat was now completely a different seating. you sat near the big 3 megumi nobara and itadori, who started a conversation with you saying how you sang amazingly.

you can't help but feel bashful with the never-ending complements.

as all performers came to an end, it was now them announcing the winner of different categories and nominees.

best album nominees: shoko ireri, gojo and geto, the big three, nanami, y/n

and the winner is...

gojo and geto with almost 1 billion active listeners on Spotify! and there biggest hit 'standing next to you'!

best top hit nominees: shoko iriei, sukuna ryomen, toji fushiguro, nanemi kento, gojo and geto, utahime, MMI(maki Mai and inumaki) etc

winner is:nanmi kento !!

best cherography nominees: the big 3, gojo satoru, MMI, etc

winner is: the big three!

best vocals nominees: y/n l/n, gojo and geto, nanami, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, MMI

winner is:y/n l/n!

to hear you being under that category and win was a shock to you, usually it was gojo and geto winning this category, or even nanami kento but you? you were shocked.

and the big screen obvious caught that.

you stand up clapping Bowing the the idols who sat behind you uthaime giving you a high five as both her and shoko cheer you on as you walk up to the stage to claim your award and give your speech.

"I'm shocked I even won this award, but I'm always grateful for the never endless love I've got. Thank you for all your support, everyone!" You keep it short as you stare at your award in a daze, still not believing you had just won this award.

as the award show comes to an end, waving goodbye to those fans who sat near the stage, you feel a tap on your shoulder causing you to turn around to see who it was, just for it to be the infamous gojo satoru.

"you were mesmerizing y/n, your sang so beautifully." he said, if it was in a quieter place you wouldve sworn he sounded shy while talking to you. he sounding genuine and sincere. "thank you, gojo. you and grto sounded great on stage." you sent him a smile as you're walking on stage. You don't realize he had a hand ghosting behind your waist. As the stage you were walking on had a thinner walk space, causing some idols to cram up in one spot.

as you finally get back stage, many idols made there way to the after party happening, but you just wanted to go home your heels were killing you when you were jumping with other idols showing support to idols who hadn't made an appearance in a while.

eventually, when going home you get a notification, showing gojo satoru had added you on Instagram. and your interactions had blown the internet off the roof.

many posted how gojo looked at you longingly, and in his next interview he posted, he blew up again after saying. "y/ns actually my inspiration for this next album, I'd love to do a collab with her one day!" geto smiling while shaking his head in agreement, "she's got a nice voice. I think we'd all have chemistry together." geto added on.

to say you have an upcoming album that you're sure your fans will love is something you can't wait to release.

#jjk x reader #Spotify #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #jjk fluff

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pashterlengkap · 1 year

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He came out to his parents in a song, and it will move you to tears

When Andreas Wijk played a new song for his parents that he just wrote and recorded, he wasn’t sure how they would react. Millions of kids could say the same thing about coming out to their mom and dad, but Wijk — a 29-year-old singer famous in Sweden since he was 15 — was doing it with music. --- Related Stories Miley Cyrus’s new single “River” was inspired by a gay dance party The singer dropped the video and the story behind the song to coincide with the release of her new album. --- In a message posted to Instagram, Wijk wrote: “A week ago I wrote a new song. I think it’s called ‘if I was gay’ and this morning I played it to my parents when they picked me up for lunch. It’s scary to be transparent. I’ve never really posted anything like this on here…” He called it “the scariest thing I’ve ever done.” Wijk was coming out to the world in a heartwarming moment in a song. Soon enough, mom and dad and millions of viewers were in tears. View this post on Instagram A post shared by ANDREAS WIJK (@andreaswijk) “If I was gay, would I be what they say?” sings Wijk, as his parents listen intently. “Just a stereotype.” The dawn begins to break on what Andreas is telling them. “If I was gay, how do I get to heaven?” Wijk continues, “when there’s ‘no church in the wild.'” The singer looks over at his dad furtively. The die has been cast. What’s he going to say? “Tried to be honest, but honestly I can’t. No, I can’t.” The son puts his hand over dad’s. The gesture is returned. “If love is the same, why is this not the same thing?” “The same thing.” As the music continues, Wijk exhales, seemingly all the tension leading up to this moment. His father is looking out, listening, his eyes brimming. His mom, behind them, is a picture of pride for their son. “I’ve never kissed a boy, would I like the way it feels? Picturing his face and I lose a piece of me.” “Play me all the classic love songs on repeat. None of them talk about what I feel.” “What I feel.” The father and son appraise each other. And Wijk goes in for the hug that he’s been hoping for. Mom and dad are smiling ear to ear. “Oh Andreas,” his father says. “I feel so relieved,” Wijk manages through the tears. The relief was years in the making. Andreas Wijk Instagram This was not the first time Wijk tried to share his feelings with his parents. In a later Insta post, Wijk reveals he came out to his parents when he was 15 years old when he hoped he could be “healed” by his pastor father. Wijk wanted to “get free from my sickness.” “For 13 years we prayed, but I never got ‘free from it.’ Today I feel closer to God than ever before. I feel so loved, happy and filled with peace.” Wijk says he lost a lot of friends when he came out. “My best friends turned away, telling me I was going to hell. But I never let go of God. Today my family has completely changed and we are also closer than ever.” With millions of views and over 200,000 likes, Wijk posted he was “Overwhelmed by this love ”. “This is amazing lovely one,” said lounorthcote. “so happy you are sharing your truth sending so much love ” “Oh boy, to have the bond you and your parents have,” wrote maciej.digital. “You are so lucky.” “cried like a baby watching this video,” posted heil3682. “no words,” said mrjakobolsson. These days, Wijk is catching up on being publicly out. He’s walked in Stockholm’s Pride parade, attended the Swedish Gay Gala, and celebrated his 30th birthday topless. And now he’s currently in rehearsals for the stage version of Moulin Rouge in Stockholm, following Ewan McGregor in the movie as Christian. “It really feels like you are reflecting your whole life story in this song,” Wijk’s dad says in the video. As he writes in the song’s lyrics, Wijk “kept a candle burning, a lamp unto my feet,” lighting the way. Somehow, with love, he’s arrived where he wants to be. http://dlvr.it/SlTylv

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

With you, he wants it all.

Part 2!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1! Also, I totally meant to post this earlier but Taylor Swift’s new album wrecked my plans.

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 9972

The next time you wake up, the room is significantly brighter. You feel around in the cold bed, realizing Spencer isn’t there anymore. You have to force yourself to open your eyes to combat the overwhelming urge to roll over and sleep for another twelve hours. The clock reads 12:07. You can’t help but think you deserve more sleep as you force yourself into a sitting position. Once you finally sit up, you hear someone shuffling around, whispering in the other room. It’s too quiet to try to make out the voice, but you definitely heard something. Without too much thought, you quickly jump out of bed, grabbing the only thing you can find that even remotely resembles a weapon- the bible from the hotel drawer.

Slowly, you push the door open, getting ready to make a break for the door to the hallway at the first sign of danger. Remembering everything from yesterday has you on edge as you move toward the kitchen area, looking for anything out of place. You duck around the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room only to find it empty. As you finally let your guard down, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn around getting ready to slam the book into whoever is touching you.

Spencer catches your arms before you hit him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, dropping the book and hugging Spencer.

“I’m sorry! I just heard a noise and you weren’t in bed anymore and I wasn’t sure where you went and I wanted to make sure nobody else was in the room, but I-“

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” Spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cling to him as if your life depends on it. A few minutes pass, before you calm down enough to pull out of the hug. You run a shaky hand through your hair, moving to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

“I put the coffee on so you can grab some when it’s done. I’m going to get dressed so we can figure out where we want to go for inspiration today!” You wink at Spencer before heading back into the bedroom to shower and change. You throw on a pair of jeans and a light sweater after squeezing the extra water out of your hair. You like to let it dry naturally on days like this.

You make your way back into the kitchen only to find Spencer has already changed into a navy and white plaid button down, khakis, and a navy cardigan. He is sitting at the table drinking his coffee when you enter the room. You immediately put the kettle on, reaching into the cabinet to pull out your tea collection.

“No coffee for you?” Spencer asks, gesturing to the half full pot on the counter.

“Oh, nope. Not for me. It’s only palatable if I add way to much sugar and then I get all antsy. I only have coffee if I have a really good reason to stay up.” You chuckle as you add the teabag to the mug you set on the counter. You sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you sip your tea.

“So, where do you want to go?”

“For what?” Spencer pretends to not know what you’re talking about.

“It’s time to start writing silly!” You grin at his deer in a headlights expression. “Spencer, I told you not to worry. We are just looking for general ideas right now. Anything that could potentially lead to a song. It’s more fun to observe others during this part of the process because the ideas are less specific.”

“I don’t even know where to start!” He actually seems nervous about this.

“Spence, let’s just go to your favorite coffee shop. And don’t tell me that you don’t have one. You’ve already drunk half that pot of coffee.”

“Why my favorite?” He actually looks taken aback at the suggestion.

“Well, for one because I’m not from here, so I don’t know where to go.” You try to backpedal, but you’ve started a list. Something he is all too eager to point out. “And two?” He’s got his brows furrowed, a look of pure confusion adorning his face.

“If it’s your favorite, then you’ve been there before.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well yes, but your point?” The confusion is still present, but his words are laced with exasperation.

“You might just be comfortable enough in your surroundings to suggest a song idea.” You shrug as you say it, trying to make it feel more casual.

“You considered whether or not I would be comfortable?” He seems genuinely surprised now.

“Of course. I want you to help me, so I gotta butter you up.” You try to cover up your blush with a joke.

“Thank you.” HIs words seem surprised, but the two of you move on. Spencer grabs his satchel, and you your jacket, as the two of you exit the hotel to head to the café. You opt for walking since the weather is not too hot. You don’t say much during the walk. After the moment in the kitchen, you feel a bit nervous. A few fans stop you along the way for a picture or an autograph, but mostly you just enjoy each other’s company. Nobody pays much attention to Spencer, rather opting to ignore him to get your attention. Every time someone comes up to you; you make a point to say excuse me or smile at him before addressing the fans though. You just don’t want him to feel left out or like he’s not important.

You finally make it to the café. Spencer opens the door before guiding you in, again placing his hand on your back. You thank him as you make your way up to the counter to order. You order a chai latte for yourself, gesturing for Spencer to order his when the barista asks you if you need anything else. You make sure to add two scones to the order before sliding your card into the machine before Spencer has a chance.

“It’s my fault you’re here with me, so please. My treat.” He shakes his head slightly, a small smile forming on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you, none of this is your fault?” He gives you a look as you two move to find a table after accepting the scones.

“I know.” You don’t sound sure as you take your seat. He doubles down the staring as you continue. “I promise. I know. It was just a joke.” You sound more sure of yourself that time, earning another smile from Spencer.

The barista brings you your drinks as you settle into the corner booth. You set your phone up on the table, pulling up the recording from yesterday. You pass Spencer your headphones from your purse so he can listen to what you’ve already come up with.

You take this time to really study him. The sun’s rays are streaming in through the blinds on the window, causing slight shadows to drift across his features. You take in the sharp lines of his jaw as he turns to look around the café, listening to the various melodies and lyrics you sang for the team. His brown locks appear golden as the sunlight reflect off the highlights. He’s sporting a slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. His hazel eyes drift across the faces of everyone in the room, not settling for long on any one person.

You shift your attention to his hands. He has one draped across the table, lightly tapping along as he listens. His long fingers are mesmerizing. You begin to recognize he is tapping out the melodies as if he were playing the piano. The other hand is wrapped around his coffee cup. You bite your lip as you think about all the things those hands are capable of. Your mind wonders as you stare. You are staring so intently at the way his hand grips the cup, you don’t notice when he removes the headphones.

Spencer clears his throat to catch your attention. “That was incredible. How do you come up with ideas so fast?” He looks like he knows exactly what you were thinking, but is too kind to bring it up. He’s just doing his job, and this isn’t a date.

“Oh, um thanks. I guess the BAU is just full of inspiration. The song writing process is a little different every time, but sometimes I can think of random lyrics and melodies.” You try to smile as you force yourself to focus. “Think back to a time where you felt an emotion really strongly. It can be whatever emotion you want. Then, try to put it into words. I like to use common phrases or metaphors because it can be fun to twist it into something new.” You close your eyes as you think back to how you felt the moment you understood there was a man out there killing people because he is obsessed with you. Maybe it’s a little too soon to write that one out. The idea does give you another way to explain it to Spencer. “It’s kind of like therapy. You can talk out your feelings and share them with people. It’s just a bit more public.” Spencer looks like he’s contemplating his entire life as you sit in this coffee shop.

“Spence,” you say it lightly to draw him out of his own thoughts, “don’t worry about it. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. Why don’t we try something else?” He looks grateful as he nods. “Great. Pick out someone in the coffee shop, preferably part of a group.” He looks around before his eyes settle on someone.

“Okay, now tell me what they’re thinking about.” He looks confused, like a lost puppy. “It’s called people watching. Just make up a story about what they might be doing here.”

You and Spencer discuss ideas for the next few hours. He picked out a young man, maybe about 19 years old. He was clearly here with friends trying to catch a break from studying if the backpacks on the floor were any hint. Spencer noticed all of that immediately of course, being that he is a profiler.

His story sounded just like the profile Hotch told you yesterday, although much less horrifying.

“White male, late teens to early twenties. He is likely a STEM major. This is the first time he has let loose in a while, normally choosing to forego the party life for studying. He likely has immense pressure on him from his family to succeed and do well in school.” You nod along, not having any idea where this information is really coming from. He sounds so confident, you can’t help but ask how he knows all that.

“You’re incredible. How did you figure all that out?” You stare in wonder at the man across from you. He doesn’t meet your eye, but responds nonetheless.

“His age is fairly obvious to observe. His bag is fuller than the others, indicating a major that requires more coursework. He keeps checking his watch, almost as if he knows he is wasting time that could be spent working toward a goal. The family pressure can be inferred by the other behavior. It is more likely a young adult is studious due to a strict upbringing with a focus on work ethic and goal-driven activities.”

“Amazing.” You sigh as you look around the room. “My turn.” You point to a couple sitting a few tables away from you. “Those two are exploring the possibility of taking their relationship past that of friendship. They obviously like each other and are too nervous to say anything.” Almost as if to prove you aren’t a profiler, the two lean across the table for a kiss. You laugh it off, knowing it’s just a game for you.

“Or maybe not. Either way, their song would be about new love. Something slow and pretty.” You smile as you turn back to Spencer. “Your turn again!”

The two of you go back and forth a few times. His stories were really just profiles, but after a few tries he leaned into the fun, game-like nature of people watching. Of course, his last story didn’t stray too far from profiling, but it was much more dreamlike in the way he presented it.

“The woman sitting by the window,” he said, subtly pointing to an older woman at a table alone, “she’s waiting to see her grandkids for the first time in years. Of course, she’s excited to see them again, but she’s nervous. What if they don’t like her? What if she can’t patch things up with her… I’m guessing daughter?” You smile brightly at the story. Family moments were usually the most inspiring for generic song ideas.

“Good job, Spence! What would the song be about?” The question clearly caught him off guard. For the past few stories, you asked how he came to those conclusions. It was so fascinating to hear how his mind works. This time though, you thought he could really be on to something. You give him an encouraging nod, as you set your phone up to record again.

“It could be about- about family.” He states it so firmly; you know he wants to say more. “She is sitting there thinking about the memories she has with her own parents and grandparents, so the song could be a reflection on days spent enjoying their company. Maybe future memories they can make together.” He smiles, albeit shyly.

“That is a really good idea! It fits with the vibe of the lyrics I came up with for Rossi.” You see the moment it clicks in his head. I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.

He actually seems pleased with himself now. “We could work on that one tomorrow. We should get up and walk around though, we’ve been sitting here for hours.” You reach for his hand as you scoot out of the booth, pulling him along with you.

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker as you head outside. You feel an overwhelming desire to be close to him, but you don’t want to overstep. The early evening crowd is out and about, bumping into the two of you as you walk back to the hotel at a leisurely pace.

“Why don’t we go order some room service and just hang out for the rest of the night? All that people watching was exhausting.” You turn to grin up at him as you continue walking. He hums in response, looking down at you in return. You swear you can feel the mood shifting, but the moment is broken by a tap on your arm. You turn to examine the source of the interruption only to find a little girl who couldn’t be more than 10 years old.

“Hi there!” You squeeze Spencer’s arm before ducking down to talk to the little girl. “Are you parents here?” She nods turning to look at a couple a few feet behind her, slightly out of breath, as if they just chased her down the street.

“Carly! Honey, you can’t run off like that! You could have gotten hurt!” The man scolds her, but is clearly relieved she didn’t get away from them.

“Sorry daddy! I just wanted to say hi to Miss Y/N! She sings my favorite song ever!” You wave at the parents before turning your attention back to the little girl.

“Hi Carly, it’s nice to meet you! You really do need to be careful though. You should always stick with the adults so you don’t get lost.” Your voice is playful, but your expression is serious. The only way to truly convey that message to a child you have no parental claim to. She nods in response.

“Mommy! Take a picture!” You pose with the girl as her mom takes a picture.

“We’re so sorry for interrupting your date! She just saw you and took off down the sidewalk.” You blush at what the woman is implying about you and Spencer, not daring to look at him.

“No worries at all. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Have a good night!” You wave goodbye, linking your arm with Spencer’s as you start to walk. He gives you a curious look, but you just laugh before joking “What? It’s so I don’t get lost.” He chuckles at your childlike behavior, but shifts so you can hold him closer.

The rest of the walk is peaceful. You don’t see any more fans, which is good because you aren’t paying enough attention to anything at the moment. You keep picturing the look on Spencer’s face right before the little girl interrupted you. What was about to happen?

Before you know it, you and Spencer are back in the room. He steps into the kitchen to call Hotch while you call to order dinner. You change into the FBI sweatshirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts before settling on the couch to wait for Spencer. A few minutes later, he joins you on the couch after he hangs up. “The team has ruled out all the performers. It’s not surprising as the unsub wouldn’t be brave enough to perform for a crowd. They are still working through the lists of vendors and crew members.”

“Good. That’s progress. Progress is good.” You nod to yourself, trying to convince yourself everything is normal.

“Talk to me, what’s going on inside your head?” Spencer reaches out to take your hand while you stare at the ground.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just hard. It’s hard to have such an amazing day and then think about how it only happened because people are being killed. I guess I feel guilty.” You keep going before he can interrupt you. “I know it’s not my fault that this guy is out there doing horrible things, but I still feel bad for enjoying myself while it’s happening.” You don’t have any tears left to cry. You look over to Spencer to find him staring back at you.

“Y/N, you are such a selfless person. There isn’t anything else you can do right now. We haven’t had any more victims, likely because nobody has posted about how excited they are for your shows since we still have 13 days before the next one. We are going to catch this guy.” You form your mouth into a soft smile before nodding at him. “What movie do you want to watch?”

You smile at his attempt to distract you. “You pick. Anything that will take my mind off things, but not require too much thinking.”

Spencer is racking his brain for a movie that fits your description when you hear a knock on the door. “Must be the food, I’ll get it.” When you return with the food, you find Spencer still thinking over movie choices.

“Okay, how about this. What do you like to watch when you really need a pick me up?”

Again he looks surprised that you would take his opinion into account. “Um, usually Doctor Who, but that’s not a movie it’s a-”

“TV show. Right. Is that the one where they fly around in a telephone booth?”

“First of all, it's a police box, not a phone booth. Second of all, Doctor Who started a quarter of century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventures. So really, they should just call it Bill and Ted's excellent rip-off, I mean at least then...”

You listen as he rambles about why people always think it’s a telephone booth. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about. You don’t realize he asked you a question until he clears his throat with a confused expression.

“Sorry, I was rambling again.” He looks dejected, and you would do anything in the world to make him smile again.

“No, I’m sorry!” You scoot closer to him to convey your point. “I was listening at first I promise. It’s just, you looked so happy I got distracted. Let’s watch Doctor Who.” You turn to face the TV before you say anything else that makes you feel like a complete moron. He sorts through the food as you find the show online, setting it up to play on the TV. There’s random free episodes on demand, so you end up staring with the 11th doctor.

You are completely captivated by the show. Every so often, Spencer would comment on a theory about what one specific prop could mean only to have you cover your ears and warn him about spoilers. During an episode about creepy angel statues, he goes on a tangent about how Amy could have avoided the whole situation. Once he starts mentioning characters you haven’t met, you actually have to reach your hand up to cover his mouth to get him to stop talking. His words putter to a stop, eyes widening in shock as he stares at you.

“Spence, I absolutely love how passionate you are about Doctor Who. But it doesn’t matter how adorable it is when you ramble on about something. If you spoil one more thing before I can actually watch the whole show through, I will not hesitate to smack you.” You stare right in his eyes the entire time, watching as they widen with each word. You had to get a lot closer to him to actually reach his mouth. He had moved forward, animatedly waving his arms around as he talked about various plot points, so you were basically sitting on his lap to avoid being smacked in the face.

You drop your arm from his face slowly, as if any sudden movement would break the spell you were under. You lean forward, connecting your forehead to his. You take a steadying breath as you close your eyes. Your about to close the gap when his phone rings. Again, the moment is lost. You only move enough so that he can reach into his pocket for his phone. As he answers the call, you shift in his lap to cuddle into his chest.

“Morgan, what do you need?” Maybe you’re imaging it, but he almost sounds the slightest bit annoyed. You can just make out what Morgan is saying on the other end of the phone.

“Calm down, Pretty Boy. We might have a lead, Hotch and Emily are tracking it down now. I’ll meet you at the hotel in the morning to go over it all with you and Y/N.”

“Okay, thanks for the update.” He sounds so normal now, you think you must have imagined the annoyance earlier. He hangs up the phone, tossing it next to him on the couch. He wraps his arms around you before shifting so you’re both laying down.

“Let’s just relax and watch more Doctor Who. Morgan is stopping by in the morning to talk about the case.” You nod in agreement, turning to face the TV. A few episodes later, you and Spencer are drifting in and out of sleep. Neither one of you really wants to interrupt what you’ve got going, instead opting to just fall asleep on the couch.

You hear the faintest knocking noise that pulls you out of your slumber. It takes a few minutes for you to recognize you are on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms. He must have pulled a blanket over the two of you last night after you fell asleep. Before you can get up to evaluate the knocking, the door opens and Morgan comes rushing in. The concern on his face is quickly replaced with a knowing smirk. You blush, jealous that Spencer is somehow still asleep.

“Hi Morgan. Sorry to alarm you. We must have fallen asleep watching TV last night.” At the sound of your voice, Spencer slowly begins to wake up. He smiles sleepily at you before realizing your attention is elsewhere. He practically throws you off the couch in his effort to sit up when he realizes Morgan is in the room.

“Sorry!” Spencer looks at Morgan, then back to you. “I’m so sorry!” You laugh as you stand up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You settle yourself in the chair, gesturing for Morgan to sit next to Spencer now that he isn’t sprawled across the entire sofa anymore. Turning to Morgan, you ask about the case “What did you want to talk about?”

“We have been focused on going through the people who work for the tour. It makes the most sense for them to travel with you, otherwise it would require a lot more planning.” You can feel the nerves growing in your stomach. “Garcia found a name we wanted to run by you.” He hands you a picture before saying the name. “Ryan Moore. He works-“

“On the instrumentals. I know. He usually runs the sound booth during the shows. I don’t know him that well, but we’ve talked a few times.” You think back over your past conversations. “It couldn’t be him.” You are 100% sure he is not the unsub, and the agents don’t fail to notice the conviction in your voice.

“What makes you so sure?” Spencer is flipping through the case file Morgan brought with him. He doesn’t even look up when he asks the question, too focused on memorizing every detail about this man’s life.

“Well, Hotch told me the unsub wouldn’t be able to talk to me right?” You look to Morgan for confirmation.

“Yes. He wouldn’t approach you or seem confident when talking with you if you approached him.” Morgan confirms what you’re thinking.

“Great. So it can’t be him.” You smile to yourself for actually contributing to the case. “Last week, right after the Columbus show, he asked me out. The unsub wouldn’t be brave enough, right?” The utter joy in your voice startles Spencer enough that he finally looks up from the file.

“Alright then. He’s likely not the unsub, but we’ll finish the investigation into him just in case.” Morgan settles back into the chair he’s sitting in, making no move to leave even though the conversation is clearly over. There is an obvious smirk on his face as he looks at Spencer.

“Well, I’m going to make some breakfast, feel free to watch TV or something.” You smile awkwardly at the two men, unsure of why there is suddenly a strange tension in the air. As you move into the kitchen, you connect your phone to your Bluetooth speaker. Listening to music while you cook has always been calming for you. You honestly prefer baking, but eggs and sausage with toast sounds perfect right now. You pull out the ingredients, humming softly as you dance around the kitchen. You can just barely hear that Morgan and Spencer are talking in the other room, but not enough to make out what they are saying. It just sounds a bit more intense the conversation you just had.

You choose to ignore it and give them their privacy instead focusing on cooking. You end up making scrambled eggs the way your mom taught you, by mixing in some chive and onion cream cheese. You pop some English muffins in the oven under the broiler while you place the eggs and sausages in dishes. After turning the music down, you move all the food to the table. You’re about to invite Spencer and Morgan to have some food when you hear their conversation.

“I’m telling you man. She likes you. You should go for it.” Morgan is clearly trying to encourage Spencer, but he won’t hear it.

“Morgan, it’s not like that. It’s probably just transference because I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Plus, you saw the smile on her face when she talked about Ryan asking her out. She was beaming.” He sighs, almost wistfully as you consider what he’s saying. Surely you are capable of separating your feelings for him from the situation. Would you like him if you had just run into him on the street? Plus, what does Ryan have to do with this?

You move back to the stove to remove the English muffins before they burn, putting them on a plate as well. Ultimately, you decide to try to straighten out your feelings for Spencer before making a move. You want to be sure. If there is even a shred of doubt in your mind, Spencer will surely be able to see it on your face. Stupid profilers.

Their conversation died down while you were dealing with the muffins, so you walk back to the other side of the room. You mumble out “I made food, you’re both welcome to have some” before returning to the table. You have a lot to think about and the last thing you want to do is lead Spencer on if you aren’t sure. He deserves better than that.

The conversation over breakfast is nice. Nothing too heavy or serious. The three of you are just talking about your lives. Morgan asks you what it’s like to be famous. You ask him and Spencer what it’s like to be in the FBI. You realize just how different your career paths are. The only thing you can relate to is travelling. Neither Spencer nor Morgan have family in the area, but they mention how hard it is for Hotch and JJ.

“That I can understand. The travelling, I mean. Of course, I travel to perform, not to track down killers.” The room is quiet for a few minutes as you think about what to say. Morgan and Reid being profilers know you haven’t finished your thought, so they give you the time to think it over.

“Thank you.” You say it softly, but firmly at the same time. This is the first time you’ve seen either of them look surprised.

“Wh- for what?” It’s Morgan who speaks up. Spencer has a familiar expression on his face. It’s the same look he got when you asked his opinion for coffee shops and movies.

“For everything. For protecting me. For catching bad guys. For giving up so much to do this job. You two, and the rest of your team, you all sacrifice so much to keep people safe. I mean, I’m sure the people you save and the families you give closure to are grateful, and you deserve that. But, you also deserve to have everyone be thankful for what you do. You get into the minds of these people. It must be exhausting to have to think like that all the time. I’m barely dealing with it now and it’s only be on my mind for 2 days! I just can’t even fathom the number of people you have saved, people that you’ve never even met, by doing this. So, thank you. For being strong enough to do it. For being you.”

You spoke every word with every ounce of sincerity you could muster up. You were looking between them as you said it. The shock on Morgan’s face slowly morphed into a small smile. Spencer’s expression didn’t change, but somehow looked more sincere when you were done.

Neither one of them knew what to say. Morgan rose from his chair to pull you into a hug. Patting you on the back, he uttered a soft thank you before saying he should get back to the office to help the rest of the team. You locked the door behind him, turning to see Spencer staring at you from the table.

“Spence? Are you okay?” You were nervous that your impromptu speech made him uncomfortable. He rose from the table, slowly making his way across the room to you.

“I’m, I, I just… that was… thank you. You amaze me.” He barely says the words, practically breathing them into existence. You reach for his hand, squeezing it.

“I meant every single word. Promise.” There is nothing more you want to do than kiss him right now, but all you can hear in your head is Spencer talking about transference. You hug him quickly before pulling back again. Without some distance between the two of you, you won’t be able to control yourself. “Do you want to go to another café today? Or somewhere with a piano so I can finally see you play?”

“We can do what you want today. You let me pick the café and the show yesterday, so it’s only fair.” You grin, knowing exactly where you want to take him.

The two of you get ready in near silence after that. Both of you want to calm down a bit before spending another day together. After you’ve both showered and changed, you drag Spencer down to the SUV. The weather outside is perfect for where you want to go, but the park is just far enough away that you want to drive. You pull up directions on your phone, hiding the address from him. Spencer protests the entire time. He keeps mumbling about how he would know how to get there if you just told him where you were going. Then something about how mobile phones are a distraction, so it would be safer for him to drive anyway.

You just let him ramble on about the many DC streets. Your grip on the wheel tightens when he starts listing off statistics about car accidents.

“More than 38,000 people die every year in crashes on U.S. roadways. The U.S. traffic fatality rate is actually 12.4 deaths per 100,000 inhabitants. An additional 4.4 million are injured seriously enough to require medical attention. Road crashes are the leading cause of death in the U.S. for people aged 1-54.” With every passing word, your knuckles get whiter, your heartbeat gets faster, and your breaths get shorter. Spencer is too caught up in reciting the statistics to realize anything is wrong until he turns to look at you, his next sentence dying on his tongue. “Seatbelts reduce the risk of dying by…” His brow furrows as he takes in your appearance.

“By what Spence? Don’t leave me hanging?” You try to joke with him to calm yourself down, but he obviously sees right through it.

“45%.” He continues before you can even comprehend the number. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m totally fine. 100% A-Okay.” You try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Having arrived at your destination, you pull into a parking spot.

“Y/N, talk to me. What is it?” You take a steadying breath as you turn to face him. Honestly, you are embarrassed more than anything else. You were the one who decided you had to drive.

“Spence, really it’s not a big deal. I just get nervous driving sometimes. I don’t have to do it a lot, and I’ve never felt like I was particularly good at it. It doesn’t matter though, we’re here.” You move to get out of the car, but Spencer reaches across the car to stop you. His face is only inches from yours as the realization dawns on him.

“And I was rambling on about how dangerous driving is.” He says it more to himself than to you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you stop me? I really need to learn how to shut up. I just get so caught up in the statistics-“ “Spencer. I love when you ramble. I’ve already told you how calming it is… normally. I’m fine, I promise. You just have to drive us back to the hotel later. Deal?”

“Deal.” You’re both smiling as you get out of the car to walk around the park you brought him to. He doesn’t ask why you picked this place and you don’t offer up a reason. He’ll figure it out soon enough. You talk about random things from childhood as you lazily stroll through the trees. There’s something so calming about wandering through so many trees when you know you’re in the middle of a bustling city.

Before long, the two of you have crossed the park. A few feet away stands an upright piano in front of a park bench. You glance at Spencer as he looks at the piano, realization gracing his features as he discovers why you chose this particular park. You beckon for him to sit down next to you, asking him to play you a song.

He blushes as you whisper pretty please in his ear. The cherry on top does him in. Soon enough, you are hearing the beginning notes of Bach’s Prelude in C. You just sit and listen, watching his fingers gracefully move above the keys. He’s not the most passionate of piano players. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he moves his hands efficiently across the instrument, as if he really is thinking about the math behind it all. Still, you lose yourself in the music, swaying lightly. You find yourself leaning on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you think about everything you’ve been feeling.

You studied music for a few years when you were young. That’s how you started writing, with lessons to learn to play both the guitar and the piano. You took to the guitar more than the piano, but you remember learning about the emotion behind every classical piece you were taught to play. You can’t help but think back to those lessons as you listen to Spencer. This song is always reaching forward, yearning for the next note. It plays into the idea that life is simple and pure. Even good at times. But there is something lurking just below the surface. It’s weirdly fitting of your current situation, but you choose to just be glad he chose the major over the minor.

You feel the breeze in your hair as Spencer finishes the song. For a few moments, the two of you sit listening to the leaves rustling in the wind. Eventually, you look around the park once it is quiet again. It’s mostly empty given that it’s 2 pm on a Tuesday, so there aren’t many people around to witness this moment. You slip your phone on the piano to record before you take over, playing that all too familiar melody that reminds you of Spencer. Neither of you say anything as you let the music and your emotions guide you through the song. You can tell it’s not perfect, but it just feels right.

After that, you and Spencer brainstorm lyrics for Rossi’s song for another few hours. The park begins to fill up as school lets out and the workday ends. A few fans recognize you, asking for pictures. After a particularly strong gust of wind, Spencer drapes his cardigan over you as you walk back toward the car, both of you blissfully unaware of the figure watching you from behind the trees.

The next few days pass in much the same fashion. Spencer takes calls about the case, trying to narrow down the massive list of crew members on your tour. You and he work on lyrics for Rossi’s song, as well as JJ’s. She’s just so pretty, the words flow right out of you. You can tell Spencer agrees. You believe him as he swears up and down that the two of them are just friends, but you can’t help teasing him just a bit.

“Honestly, it would be weirder if you didn’t think she was pretty. The woman looks as if she were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. A living embodiment of Aphrodite.” He nods in agreement, a faint blush on his cheeks.

No matter how much you try, you just cannot come up with anymore good lyrics for Spencer’s song. It could be that he is sitting right next to you all the time and knows the song is for him that’s causing the writer’s block, but it’s still frustrating.

One night, he’s working through the case file for the third time in a row when you interrupt his thoughts with a seemingly random question.

“Spence, can you tell me a story?” He looks up at you, brow furrowed and eyes confused. “I just need inspiration for the lyrics. Everything I come up with sucks.” You pout until he finally gives in. “Yay! It can be anything, even a memory. Just make it overwhelmingly happy.”

Spencer stops looking through the file as he thinks back on his life experiences for an overwhelmingly happy memory. The faces of his team members instantly flood his mind as he sorts through the many good times they’ve had. He keeps circling back to one event, ultimately deciding it is happy enough to fit your standards.

“This is actually the story of JJ’s wedding.” You lean forward, a wedding story could be just what the doctor ordered. “Will wanted to marry her for a while, but she was hesitant. She said everything was perfect as it was, she didn’t feel the need to change anything.” You were honestly a little confused as to where the happiness was at this point, but you let him continue anyway. You could listen to this man talk for days on end without complaint.

“We ended up working a case with Will. It was a bank robbery turned hostage situation. It was a rough case for all of us; bombs, secret partners, kids at risk. I won’t bore you with the details,” he chuckles at your thankful expression, “but it all worked out in the end. Will, he could’ve died. When JJ went to see him in the hospital, she told him to ask her again. She wanted to get married then and there in the hospital chapel. Will wanted to wait until he was actually out of the hospital though, and not wearing a hospital gown.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of loving someone so much, you were instantly ready to marry them.

“Rossi, he overheard everything. So, he started planning. He called JJ’s mom, told her to fly in and to bring her wedding dress. We threw her a surprise wedding the next day. It was such a beautiful moment, to have such a joyous event after everything that we had been through. JJ looked wonderstruck as her mom walked her down the aisle. The lights were sparkling. It was enchanting.” He spoke with such awe about the whole event. He told you stories about doing magic for Henry and Jack, who you came to know as Hotch’s son. It was so easy for you to picture the fairy lights and purple flowers. The team seemed like such a close-knit family, it only made sense that they would share this memory.

The chorus of the song hit you like a ton of bricks. You didn’t even warn Spencer as you jumped from the couch and ran to the piano. He followed behind you, curious to see what would happen. He watched with wonder as you placed your phone to record on top of the piano and started playing the family melody you first hummed while thinking about him.

“This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go. I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you.” The verses didn’t pour out of you in quite the same way, but the general storyline of the song came to you in the next few minutes. You rushed to get it all out, speaking directly into the phone.

“The first verse can be about feeling out of place in a room, faking laughter, forcing smiles. Then it all changes when she sees him. It’s as if they have a conversation with only their eyes as they float across the room to each other. Then the chorus. The second verse can be about her wondering if he felt it to. 2 am who do you love? Chorus again. Then the bridge can be about hoping that the one night wasn’t it for them. That she’ll see him again and hoping he isn’t already in love or with someone.” You’re so pleased with the song idea, you don’t notice the shifting expressions on Spencer’s face. After your explanation, you turn to him, the biggest smile he’s seen yet on your face.

“What do you think?” He’s so shocked he doesn’t know how to respond. After a moment of silence, your face begins to fall. You can’t stop your brain from thinking the worst.

He must hate it. Oh god, he’s just trying to find a way to let me down easy. Why do I have to be so stupid? Sure, go ahead. Write a love song about the man who’s sitting next to you. That won’t be weird at all. Oh god, oh god…

Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful. It will make a wonderful song.” He’s whispering in your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against you is too much. Everything you’ve been pushing back for the past few days comes roaring to the surface. You can’t stop yourself.

You pull back slowly, only to pull his face to yours so rapidly you’re surprised you didn’t get whiplash. In less than an instant, his lips are moving gracefully against yours. His hands slide down your body to your waist as he pulls you even closer to him. Your arms move up around his neck, your fingers running through his hair. The hunger and passion is slowly taken over by the need for oxygen, the two of you separating just enough to pull air into your lungs.

He kisses your forehead, and you kiss his nose. A few minutes later, and you’re still standing there with your heads pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. Every so often, one of you places a light kiss on the others mouth, just to make sure this is real.

“I know what you’re thinking.” You are still out of breath from kissing him, but you can just tell his mind is moving a mile a minute.

“I’m not sure you do.” He sounds nervous.

“I think I might surprise you.” You can’t help but tease him a little before continuing. “You think its all transference. That I only think I like you because you’re here to protect me. Some sort of white knight bullshit.” You can’t stop yourself from sounding mildly annoyed about it. Although, the look of shock on his face helps. “I heard what you said to Morgan.” He sighs before moving to pull back.

“No, Spence. Listen to me. I heard what you said to Morgan.” You wait for him to follow your train of thought back a few days.

“But that was four days ago?” He looks more confused than ever.

“I know. I wanted to make sure that what I feel is real. I didn’t want to lead you on if I might not actually want this. But I do. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before. Spencer, you are a light in my life and not just because you’re here to make sure I don’t get murdered. Although that certainly doesn’t hurt. I feel like I can tell you anything and you won’t judge me for it. That I can truly be myself without worry of letting you down.”

“Y/N you could never let me down. I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything. I don’t want you to regret me.” He looks crestfallen.

“Spencer Reid.” You move your hands to his cheeks to gently push his head up to make eye contact. “I could never regret a single moment spent with you. I have loved every single one. I loved watching you listen to the songs about your friends. I loved listening to you talk about things you love, like Doctor Who and statistics. I loved sitting next to while you played piano. I loved talking to you about anything and everything. Spencer, I love how I feel when I’m with you and I know for a fact I would feel the same way if I met you walking down the street.”

“Y/N” the way he says your name is music to your ears. “I love how I feel when I’m with you too. I loved listening to you sing about my friends, capturing the essence of who they are. I loved watching you experience the things I have grown so accustomed to doing. I loved the feeling of you leaning on my shoulder while I played Bach. I loved hearing you come up with an entire storyline for one song in a matter of minutes just based on one story. I have loved every single second I have been with you since I first saw you 7 days, 2 hours, and 32 minutes ago. Even if I didn’t say a word to you until after you woke up in the hospital.”

The two of you laugh as you pull him to the couch to cuddle. You put on more Doctor Who, sitting with your legs across his lap and playing with his hands. It’s nice to just be close to him without having to worry. You find yourself getting wrapped up in the show. Spencer is quieter this time. You think he might have something on his mind, but you decide to wait for him to share. Between the third and fourth episode, he speaks up.

“Y/N, are you and Ryan… are you together?” You look up to see a nervous expression once again on his face.

“Ryan who?” You are genuinely confused as to who he could even be talking about.

“Ryan Moore, the sound booth guy.” You look even more confused than before.

“Not even a little bit. I politely declined his offer to take me out. Is that what’s been bugging you for the last three episodes?” You smile at his pout.

“Maybe. You just seemed so happy when you mentioned that he asked you out. You were practically glowing with how big your smile was.”

“Spence, I was happy because I could actually help you with the case. I only have eyes for one guy.” You shift to straddle his lap.

“Yeah, who’s that?” He pulls you even closer.

“Matt Smith” You say it with the best deadpan expression you can manage in the circumstances.

“Wow, your standards must be pretty low to settle for the 11th doctor. He’s not even in the top three best doctors!” He plays along with your joke, although he doesn’t have to act incredulous sat you preference for the 11th doctor.

“Well, my number one doctor isn’t really on TV.” You bite your lip, leaning in until you connect your mouth to his.

Right as you’re both about to take it one step further, your phone rings. “Fuck.” The word is barely a whisper leaving your mouth as you pull back from Spencer trying to catch your breath.

“Hello?” you don’t hear anything on the other end of the phone. “Hello? Anyone there? Hello?” Suddenly the line goes dead. You turn to Spencer. “Well, that was weird.” Spencer frantically moves you off his lap as he stands up, taking out his phone. Without telling you anything, he is frantically dialing a number, mumbling under his breath.

“Garcia! I need to you to figure out who just called Y/N’s phone.” He waits a minute, presumably listening to her reply. “Yes, it just rang and when she answered nobody said anything. Thank you.” He hangs up, swiftly moving back to the couch to pull you into a hug.

“What just happened?” You can feel your heartrate speeding up.

“It might be nothing, but that might have been the unsub. Garcia is tracking down the number that made the call right now. If it’s possible to figure out, she’ll have it done by morning.” He rubs calming circles on your hip with his thumb. “Why don’t you go to sleep? Try to get some rest?” You nod, rising from the couch.

“Spence, will you lay with me?” Your voice is small and scared as you ask the question. He simply nods, both of you changing into pajamas before meeting in the bedroom to lay down. You snuggle up close to him, trying to breathe in the same pattern as him until you fall asleep.

When you wake up, you can hear Spencer in the living room, talking on his phone. You want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but not if you can’t cuddle with Spencer while you do it. Throwing the covers off of you, you get up so you can actually see Spencer. He’s got his back to you when you open the door, so you sneak up behind him. He jumps a little with a surprised gasp when you wrap your arms around his middle.

“What? Oh, uh… I’m fi-fine. Everything’s fine. I was just surprised.” He spins around to hug you, giving you a slight glare. “By, um, a beetle. Yeah, there was a beetle.” The lie is so obvious you can’t help but laugh as you bury your head into his chest.

A few minutes later, he finally hangs up. “What did they find out about the phone call?” You mumble the question into the fabric of his cardigan.

“Less than we were hoping for. It was a prepaid cell, so Garcia can’t trace it back to the owner.” You squeeze him tighter, glad to have him with you through all of this. After a few minutes of standing with him, you reluctantly pull back.

“Well, we should get to work. These songs are not going to write themselves!”

You and Spencer retreat to different parts of the suite to get ready for the day. As much as you would love to jump his bones, it doesn’t feel right to take up his time with that when he could be working. At least if you were working on songs together it was part of the cover.

You ultimately decide to just sit in the park across from the hotel today. Normally, you wouldn’t even leave your room at this point in the writing process. You just don’t completely trust yourself to be alone with him at the moment. At least in public you can control yourself a little bit. Yet, the many people walking around the park do nothing to stop you from grabbing Spencer’s hand and playing with his fingers while thinking particularly hard about a certain lyric.

A bright flash of light draws you out of your reverie. You already know how the picture is going to look. You are laying across a blanket, knees in the air. Spencer is sitting beside you, reading messages from the team on his phone. His other hand is still between yours as you run your fingers over his knuckles. You are absolutely sure there is look of complete adoration on your face. You can’t bring yourself to care that the paparazzi took the picture. You have nothing to hide.

After the shock of the bright light fades, you notice a familiar face behind the few photographers in front of you. The shock of seeing someone for a second time floods your brain while you try to remember the profile Hotch told you that very first night. Without thinking too hard, you fling yourself into a sitting position. You gather everything you brought with you to the park, dragging Spencer along with you. He clearly doesn’t understand the shift in your behavior, but he’d gladly follow you anywhere.

It’s not until you reach your room that you look at him. He can see the fear in your eyes before you even open your mouth. “Baby, what is it? What happened?” He begins recalling everything from the moment the first flash went off, trying to figure out what made you so scared.

“I saw him.” You can barely hear yourself over the sound of your heart beating in your chest. “I saw the unsub. I mean, I think I did. He held the door open for us this morning when we left the hotel, and then he was in the park when the paparazzi were taking pictures. Hotch… he said to tell you if I saw anyone more than once in a day.” The words escape your lips in a hurry, trying to keep up with your flying thoughts.

“Okay, breathe. I’m right here. I’m going to call the team. Did you recognize him from anywhere else?” You try to picture the face in your mind, and suddenly you are seeing him everywhere. In the coffee shop that very first day. Behind the trees in the park with the piano. If you and Spencer were there, so was he. Just, normally you only caught a glimpse of him for a second. Definitely not twice in one day.

You rush to tell Spencer what you’re remembering. At this point, you don’t even know if it’s true. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. Just filling in this man’s face on other people’s bodies to fit the story that he is the one behind it all. Nonetheless, you give him the description of who you saw. White, probably 35ish, brown hair. You didn’t see his eyes, but they looked evil. The expression on his face just screamed serial killer. Maybe that’s in your head too. Who knows?

“I know I’ve seen that face before, I just can’t remember where. God, I’m useless. This man is hurting people and I can’t even remember where I’ve seen him before. Think. Think. THINK.” You’ve started pacing the room, trying to figure out who it could be. Spencer doesn’t say anything else to you until he’s finished the phone call. Even then, he’s more so humming and shushing you than really talking. He pulls you into a hug, trying to calm you down yet again.

“Y/N. You are anything but useless. You noticed he was there. That’s a step in the right direction. We are going to find him, and he is going to go to jail for a very long time.” Somewhere, deep inside, you knew Spencer couldn’t guarantee that, but you also knew it was better for you to listen to him than to force yourself down a rabbit hole you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

A few calming breaths later, and your asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms.

It’s still dark when you open your eyes. You can hear someone moving around, but it’s too dark to see. Spencer isn’t with you on the couch, so it could be him, but something feels wrong. Why would Spencer be up in the middle of the night wandering around in the dark?

“Spencer?” Everything goes still at the sound of your voice. Yeah, that was not the best move you could’ve made… Before you can say anything else, you are knocked out cold. The sound of a lamp smashing over your head is that last thing you hear.

tag list:

@mac99martin , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @spencerhotchner , @girloncorneliastreet , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @moonshinerbynight , @meowiemari , @justanotherfangirl , @im-so-wonderstruck , @eevee0722 , @raining13lemonade @dilaudidwinchester , @silverdagger69 , @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid one shot #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x you

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miraculousholder · 3 years

Text

We Belong Together ~ Chapter 1

Hey! Just wanted to say that I finally posted my second Miraculous Ladybug fanfic and I am so excited for you all to read it! Will be updated on here and on AO3 :)

We Belong Together - AO3

Summary: It has been years since Marinette Dupain-Cheng last saw Adrien Agreste when he broke her heart. Since then she has moved on and continues to pursue her dreams in becoming a renowned fashion designer. Adrien hasn't forgotten the girl who had stolen his heart, but never got the chance to see her after graduation. But when he decides to secretly have a career in singing and has an underground band, that's when he spots Marinette. The girl who got away in the crowd. Can they both see what went wrong in the past to make it right? Or will they ignore their feelings and completely move on?

Marinette Dupain-Cheng sighs in relief when she finished up her sketches for her senior project. While she still had to make the garnet, it was much easier than designing it. Putting it all together was the fun and best part.

She checks her phone, realizing she had a few missed texts from her friends and one missed call from Alya. Checking the time, Alya should be out from her own class so she decided to call back her best friend.

After a few rings, Alya answered. “Hey girl! By time you answered one of us.”

Marinette chuckles. “Sorry about that. I finally came up with a great concept for my senior project and I had to finish it before the ideas left my head. But I’m finally done with the first part.”

“Oh great! So we’re going out tonight?”

“I did not say that!”

“Girl come on! We’re seniors in college and not once do I ever recall you going out to the clubs or getting drinks with us. While I respect you for committing to the internships and your classes, it’s high time you let loose and have some fun. You won’t be twenty one forever you know?”

Marinette knew that her best friend was right. Her goal was to always become a fashion designer and while she loved what she did, it was definitely time consuming. It was a miracle she even still had friends who understood her busy schedule and made their plans based on her availability.

“I mean, I don’t have classes tomorrow so I guess I can afford to stay up-“

“Yes!” Alya yells and Marinette jumped from her friends loud voice. “Okay, sorry! I’ll text you the details and wear something...with a rockstar vibe.”

“Rockstar vibe?” Marinette questioned. “Are we going to a Jagged Stone concert?”

“Oh you’ll see.” Is all Alya said before she hung up.

Marinette was confused but decided not to question it any further or else she would regret accepting the invitation.

A few hours later, nightfall had fallen over Paris. Marinette ate some dinner since she knew that if Alya and the girls were coming over, there would be some pre-gaming happening before they left to whatever place they had in mind.

Her small pet dog, Tikki, laid comfortably on her Ladybug bed in the living room. Marinette walks over and leaves out a bowl of food for Tikki and refilled her water bowl as well. Tikki already ate but it was just in case she came home late and didn’t wake up on time the next morning to feed her dog.

The door bell rings and Tikki lifts up her head upon smelling familiar people nearby. Marinette puts her dirty dishes in the sink and walks over to open the door.

Alya, Juleka, Rose, and Mylene walk in. All of them wearing concert attire but matched it to their personalities.

“Wow you girls look great!” Marinette exclaims, closing the door.

“And you look good, Marinette.” Says Rose. “I love the jacket.”

“Oh this old thing?” She tugs on her jacket. “It’s just something I’ve had in high school.”

Alya walks over to Marinette’s secret stash of liquor, as Mylene plays with Tikki.

“How’s Ivan?” Marinette asked Mylene.

Mylene smiles when her boyfriends name was mentioned. “He’s doing great! You’ll actually see him tonight.”

“Oh? Is he going to meet us there?” Marinette wonders and before Mylene can reply, Alya hands her a shot glass and she walks over to join everyone by the counter.

Marinette chuckles. “Okay can one of you tell me what we’re doing tonight?”

“Underground concert,” says Alya and hands her a glass. “Nino told me about this band he has been producing songs for and he invited us to go check out them out. Apparently they’re really popular in the alternative scene.”

“Oh sounds like fun.” Marinette and the girls surround her countertop and take a shot. The liquid burning her throat a little but she ignores the feeling.

Rose nods excitedly. “It will be! Alya told me that some of the band members went to school with us!”

Now Marinette was even more curious. “Like who?”

Alya clears her throat. “Lets not ruin the surprise!” She says and changes the subject. “Mari, are you still seeing the guy from the visual arts department?” Mylene asks Marinette.

Marinette has been going out with a boy from the visual arts department as of recent. While she enjoys his company, she isn’t really into him. It just didn’t feel right, but she hasn’t had the chance to tell him they were better off as friends.

“I am but we’re not official,” she assures her friends. “I’m not really looking for anything serious anyways.”

“So if a guy comes up to you and asks you to go home with him, you’ll take it?” Alya wonders and Marinette thinks about it.

“I’ll consider it.”

Alya accepted her answer and they took one last shot before leaving to the club.

The club was in a weird place in the city that was populated with sleazy clubs and teenagers who looked for a good time where they shouldn’t be looking.

The girls go through a dark alley and Alya reads the instructions that her mystery man gave her. She stands in front of a black door and knocks four times.

A minute passes and the door opens, revealing a huge bodyguard wearing a white mask.

“Alya?” He questioned.

Alya nods. “Yup! Carapace told me to come through the back for VIP.”

The bodyguard looks at the girls, stepping aside to let them in. They each held one another’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other as they entered.

The place smelled like cigarettes and hard liquor, a smell that Marinette wasn’t to fond of but can tolerate. They make it to a small section of the upper floor that had a great viewing of the whole dance floor and stage. The girls sat down and Alya ordered them all a round of drinks.

“Carapace? I thought it was Nino who invited us?” Rose asks Alya.

Alya shakes her head. “No it’s just a nickname that they go by here. You see, majority of these artists are undercover celebrities who like to play music by their own terms or just like to escape the crazy world that they live in. So they make up an alternative identity so they can party or rock out without worrying about the paparazzi.”

“Wait, then how will you know which one is Nino?” Marinette asks. While the concept was cool, she wasn’t sure if she would like to hide her identity from the people she was close to. Unless she really need to.

Alya shows her a picture of Nino wearing a green mask. She then shows the others and they start to be on the look out for him.

“Well I hope he passes by so we can thank him for this cool VIP experience.” Rose says excitedly. “And it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him so we have to catch up.”

Marinette smiles and their drinks arrive. They give a quick cheers before they start drinking.

After twenty minutes of talking and joking around with one another, the lights in their section went down and so did the ones on the stage. The crowd yells out in excitement and the girls get closer to the recliner to watch the show.

Marinette can see a group of boys walk out to the stage and the start of the guitar. The lights turned back on and everyone went crazy over the band on stage.

She can see the name of the band written on the drums, Cataclysm.

What an unusual name, she tells herself as the lead singer begins to sing. He was a fantastic singer and Marinette closes her eyes as she vibes with the loud music playing.

Her friends were clearly enjoying themselves and were maybe a little bit too loud compared to the other attendees who were watching the show in the first floor. She followed along with her friends, also dancing and laughing.

Marinette looked down again at the stage, the band finishing up their first song. The lights were finally on the lead singer and when her eyes stared directly at him, she froze.

(An hour before the show)

Chat Noir, or Adrien Agreste as his most of his close friends and family knew him by, fixing up his black eyeliner and mask. His bandmates were doing the same or sitting on the couch before it was time for them to go up.

Nino comes in and was beaming with excitement.

“What’s up with you?” Jared asks, fixing the strings of his guitar.

“Oh nothing just that Alya and the girls are finally coming to check out the band!” Nino announced.

“Yeah, Mylene texted me that she was here.” Ivan brought up.

Kim was stretching. “Any of them single?”

“Kim, these are our friends from school. Besides aren’t you still seeing Ondine?” Max brings up.

Kim shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Actually there is one girl who is single.” Nino answers Kim’s question. “Maybe big shot over here can finally get his first girlfriend.” He points at Adrien who was resting comfortably on the couch.

Adrien opens one eye and looks at Nino. “I can get a girlfriend if I wanted to.” He closes his eyes again and stretches his arms out as he sat up. “But I told you. If I’m getting a girlfriend I want them to fall for me, not Adrien Agreste.”

While he loved his life as the son of famous renowned fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste, it came with consequences.

The main one would be how he made friends. While he was home schooled for a good portion of his early childhood, he was able to attend a real school when he turned fourteen. It was a private school, but to him it was something. But based on how people treated him, he knew he was getting a weird taste of privilege that he didn’t want.

It started with how guys would want to come over only to his place and never bothered to invite him to theirs. Sure his father was strict, but he would’ve allowed it as long as it didn’t interfere with his studies. But no his friends at the time wouldn’t bother.

Then every holiday his locker would be packed with constant love letters or presents girls would leave for him. Not to be rude he accepted the small tokens of appreciation but he never liked it.

He hated this and when he would meet up with his friend Chloe, she convinced him to transfer to her school. It was closer to his place and not as crowded as his private school.

“I mean you’ll still be surrounded by peasants, but you’ll be with me Adrikins!”

And after one long and difficult hour of convincing his father, he agreed to let him transfer to College Francoise Dupont. There he met probably his closet friends and met the love of his life...

“Adrien? Oh Adrien,” Nino says his name in a song like tune. “Time for the show, let’s go.”

Adrien gets up and grabs his guitar. “Let’s do this guys!”

His friends chuckle and they do their backstage circle before they get on stage. While they usually start off the show with one of their classics, they decided to start slow before playing their more hardcore stuff.

As Adrien, he never could be on stage with people constantly watching his every move and wonder how he will fuck up his family name. But as Chat Noir, he belonged to no one. He wasn’t the son of a famous fashion designer. He wouldn’t be in the tabloids the next day. No instead he got to play till his hearts content and go home.

That was until he looked up at the balcony where a group of girls were cheering them on.

And that’s when he spotted her. Even though his eyes were slightly blinded by the bright lights, he can still see her raven black hair that can be mistaken for a dark blue. She blue bell eyes that he can stare at all day. There was only one girl who can ever have him in a trance such as this.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The girl who stole his heart and the one who will forever be known as his first love.

He continued to sing into the microphone, not removing his eyes from her. “Just another day started out like any other. Just another girl who took my breath away.” He sang, continuing on with his performance. The crowd loved it, girls getting closer to the stage to get his and the others attention.

But Adrien can only stare at one girl.

The one who got away.

#fanfic #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #we belong together fanfic

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mochiyoonfi · 3 years

Text

Our Utopia

Synopsis: Y/n is an Idol Trainee under the same company as her big brother- Kim Namjoon. But there’s more to her than her angelic voice.

Universe: idol!bts, idol!reader, reader is Namjoon's sister.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drug abuse/addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, abuse, sexual assault, violence.

A/N: This is a request! Requested by @deereadeer Sorry this took so long!

~ (reader discretion is recommended) ~

Betraying the darkest parts of your heart to strangers was definitely something you wouldn’t recommend. Heart in your throat, you looked across at the judges. The founder of the company had his eyebrow raised, as if asking if you were going to do anything.

Taking a deep breath, you summoned every ounce of your courage and opened your mouth.

As you begin to sing, you feel everyone’s eyes fixed on you. You don’t pay attention to that, only to the thumping feeling of your racing heart.

You close your eyes, putting all the emotion you can manage without breaking down, into your voice.

Suddenly the room around you faded, you saw your darkest fears, the ones you could never talk to someone about. Your worst memories.

Walking through the lush park that you could no longer stomach to see, the gentle air playing with locks of your hair. The three men, strangers to you, who now haunted your nightmares regardless, had come out of nowhere, the darkness around them betraying the darkness of their hearts. And when it was over, they slunk back to nowhere.

You had only been two blocks away from your house.

You were almost home.

But you weren’t.

The frightful attack was just the start of your mentally declining slope. Drugs, alcohol. They became your only comforts. The only thing helping you cope. The shame surrounding your use of them was apparent to only you. No one else knew of your pain. Not even your best friends.

The real saving light to your turmoil came, maybe not when you desperately wanted it to, but it came nonetheless.

Your parents.

Of course you knew that your trusting, caring parents would have never imagined the spiral you had fallen into.

But they tried their best to comfort you regardless. You saw the shame in their eyes though, they couldn’t hide that. Their shame didn’t change the fact they loved you.

You knew that they loved you.

So when they told you to go to rehab, you went willingly. They had to know what was best for you. Because you sure as hell didn’t.

Your eyes slowly trailed up to the judges, resisting the urge to wipe your eyes, unsure of if there were even tears in them.

The judges all had straight faces. For a second your heart sunk.

Maybe you just weren’t good enough.

Was your best not good enough?

The female judge was the first to crack. She turned away and her shoulders began shaking, her hands shooting up to her face. Sobs were torn from her mouth, none too quietly.

The CEO, Bang Shi Hyuk or better known as PD Nim, wasn’t crying or staring almost blankly at you. He was smiling.

“Thank you for auditioning, we’ll get back to you if you’ve made it through.” He stated, voice a little quieter than normal. “You remind me of someone.”

You blinked.

He sighed, realising that you wanted to know who he meant. “You remind me of RM, from BTS. You both speak well and have heartfelt lyrics.”

It was your turn to smile, a sense of pride washing over you. “He’s my brother.”

The judges gasped quietly, the crying woman’s eyes widening. “Why didn’t you tell us beforehand? We would’ve marked you better!”

You shuffled on your feet, fingers playing with each other. “Well…I guess… I..”

“I think Kim Y/n means that she didn’t want to use her brother to make it through the auditions.” Bang Shi Hyuk said, smiling kindly at you.

You nodded vigorously. “Yeah. I want to do it for myself. Not cheat my way through…”

The woman stood up, face contorted somewhere between disbelief and anger. “What if you don’t make it through? Wouldn’t that be worse on your reputation? It wouldn’t even be cheating, it would just be an advantage!”

“I want to do this myself. I’m sure I can.”

Bang Shi Hyuk nodded. “We have your details and contact information. The period of call backs is one to two weeks. Thank you. Goodbye.”

-✥-

“Namjoon’s really good at rapping.”

You were lying on the floor of the practice room at Big Hit Entertainment with five other girls. Not just any girls. These girls were insanely talented— and also the only female idol trainees signed under the same company as the Kpop sensation, BTS, the band your brother was in. You six girls were kind of special in that sense.

“Yeah I know.” You replied, not trying to hide the pride in your voice.

“How come you aren’t good at rapping then?” Aiko asked, her dark eyes fixated on the tv mounted on the wall. You rolled your eyes when you saw that her eyes were solely on your brother. You still weren’t used to the whole ‘worldwide famous brother’ thing.

“Just because my brother is a good rapper doesn’t mean I am too.”

Heeyoung laughed. “Yeah but how can you not even drop a beat?”

Heeyoung was the main rapper in the group, so you weren’t surprised to hear this from her.

“I’m a singer, not a rapper.” You replied.

Ji-Eun smiled softly. Her smile was a welcoming thing to you. She normally was quiet, didn’t smile much and wasn’t very opinionated— a real peacekeeper. When she spoke, she spoke with pure honesty. You had never seen her lie before, at least, not successfully.

“You’re the best singer I’ve ever heard. Better than all those professional singers out there.”

You went red. “J-Ji! You can’t say that!”

Aiko shook her head. “No, she’s right. You’re a real natural talent. Probably even better than Jungkook.”

Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook? He’s a senior to us! You can’t insult him like that!”

“Y/n, it’s a compliment to you.” Aiko scoffed, no malice in her voice.

“B-but-!”

A tinkling laugh filled the room and you turned to the source. The lead dancer of your group was grinning up from her phone. “Y/n, you really can’t accept compliments can you?”

“I can accept compliments just fine Luna.” You pouted.

Luna shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe just not in front of us.”

“Baram has no problem accepting compliments. I guess she should do our acceptance speeches.” Aiko stated.

Baram looked up from her phones. Baram smirked instantly. “No, that won’t work. Our modest leader shall accept everything.”

“Accept what?” Luna laughed. “We haven’t even debuted yet!”

Aiko jumped up, thrusting her fist into the air. “Yeah, but I know we’ll do well! Just like BTS! Just like TXT!”

“Yeah but BTS is mainly vocalists. We have two vocals.”

Everyone’s eyes drifted to Baram. She was a known overthinker. Ji-Eun quickly came to the rescue though. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got some of the best dancers I’ve ever known! We’ll rock the industry to their core.”

You grinned. If anyone could energise your group, it was definitely Ji-Eun. “On three! UT-Opia!”

“UT-Opia!”

-✥-

You sat down in your dormitory, ignoring the fact that Aiko was sleeping, quite loudly, in your own bed. You rolled your eyes, throwing a blanket over her and turning on your camera.

You smiled warmly into the camera. “Welcome back, Blisses! I’m Y/n, the leader and main singer of UT-Opia! Today I’ll be talking about the song writing process! First I think of what the song will be about. Normally two themes: Love or sadness. I’m feeling pretty happy right now, so I’ll write about love.”

You talked for maybe five minutes before signing off and turning off the camera. You sighed in relief. Now all you had to do was your afternoon workout, and you would be done for the day.

Aiko stirred from under the blanket. “Oh. Hey Y/n.”

Walking over to her, you smiled lovingly. As much as you loved all the girls equally, you had a soft spot for the maknae, Aiko.

“Hey Aiko.”

She looked over at where your camera was set up, sheets of music and note paper discarded messily. Her brow creased. “Were you filming a daily vlog?”

You nodded.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” She warned.

You laughed unintentionally at this. Here she was, so exhausted from her daily life that she had collapsed into your bed, and slept for who knows how long. And she was telling you to take a break.

“I’m fine Aiko. You, however, look tired. Please sleep well. I’ll wake you when we need to practice.”

Her head immediately fell into the blanket again. “Thanks Y/n.”

You shared a room with Ji-Eun, which you never used. Really, it was more a gesture than anything useful.

You carefully pried open the front door to your actual dorm, being as silent as possible.

“Y/n! You’re back!”

Your brother greeted you with a hug and you couldn’t help but fall into his warm embrace. He smiled at you.

“Where were you? I hope you weren’t practicing all day..”

You grinned and pulled him into another quick hug. “No more than I need to.”

Namjoon sighed. He rustled his short blue hair and eyed your own dyed hair. “Honestly, at this point do we even look like siblings?”

“The price of fame.” You quipped. He laughed slightly.

“The price of keeping your fans happy.”

You turned to him, setting down the cup of coffee you had just begun to make. You studied him with care, studying him for any of his normal nervous habits. But no, he was standing calm and still.

“Don’t you enjoy making your fans happy anymore?”

He looked up from his own cup. He shook his head. “I do. I love making them happy. In fact, they make me happy.”

“I wonder if I’ll be as happy.”

The words came out without any intention to. Your thoughts had somehow managed to scramble themselves and now your older brother was looking at you, bright eyes unable to mask their sympathy.

“I’m sure you’ll be just as successful—if not more. And I’ll always make sure you’re happy.”

You sucked in a breath. “Always?”

“When have I ever not been here for you?”

You didn’t answer his question, knowing if you lied he may be able to tell, somehow. Instead you just nodded, smiled slightly awkwardly.

A gush of breeze raced past you, so fast you couldn’t even see what it was. Well, not really. As sneaky as Taehyung thought himself, the young man from your brother's group was actually not very good at unnoticed movements. In fact it had only taken two days of living with him to know his lying habits, exactly how fake his smile was, and what he did when he was tired. A lot of the time, it was the latter. He never seemed to get a full night's sleep. Often he would knock on your door and you would get out of bed and follow him out onto the deck. Together you would sit in silence, just gazing at the stars.

“Y/n! You hard worker! I’m glad you’re back!”

You smiled at the younger man and brought him in to you for a brief hug. “Ah, I should be saying that to you guys. Promoting a new album is making your schedules busy, eh?”

Namjoon sighed loudly. “It’s hard.” He saw your slightly disappointed face and hurried to correct himself. “It’s always worth it though.”

“Mm. I’ll wait until I see the worth.”

You breath hitched. Min Yoongi, the second oldest in your brothers group, had entered the room. He scratched his neck slowly, eyes trailing to each person's present face. He looked away before he got to you though.

“Oh Yoongi give her some hope.” Taehyung complained.

Yoongi shrugged. “It’s true. I’m just tired right now. Where’s the cereal?”

“Grandpa, it’s 10 at night.” Namjoon groaned.

Yoongi’s upper lip curled downwards in something that resembled disgust. “What’s wrong with cereal at night?” His frown deepened. “And don’t call me grandpa.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. How’s your practice going anyway?”

Realising this was directed at you, you looked up into your brothers strong eyes. “I think we’re pretty good! Almost as good as you guys!” You teased.

Namjoon laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You girls are very talented. All we have really is years of work and a massive fan base backing our every move.”

Your eyebrows fell. “We haven’t even debuted yet. Of course we aren’t that successful.”

“You guys still do daily vlogs right?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah Y/n did one this morning.”

Turning to Yoongi, your heart caught slightly. “D-did you watch it?”

He nodded. “It was good. I like the way you write your music. It’s very deep.”

Your heart began pounding, not because of the butterflies catching at the fact that he had been watching you, but now because he had seen you so invested in your music. It almost felt as if you were ripping out pages of a diary you had kept for years and giving it to him to read through.

“Too bad you didn’t do any singing though.”

“I haven’t heard you sing— really sing, I’m so long Y/n.” Namjoon jumped in. “Do you think you could sing for me at some point.”

“Me too!” Taehyung jumped in, reminding you that he was still there.

“Maybe later?” You squeaked.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s fine. I think you should go to bed.”

You sighed. Of course Namjoon had noticed the sleep bags under your eyes. He was too perceptible for his own good sometimes.

“I will. I just need to talk with Jungkook first.”

The three boys nodded. It had become a regular thing, you talking to each of the boys in private every few days. They just assumed that it was for some type of mentoring purposes, as the things you asked about were always vague. But your conversations always turned to a more emotional route.

Because you weren’t there only for their tutoring and mentoring.

-✥-

“Jungkook sunbae?”

“Come in.”

You slowly opened his door, walking in quietly. He was slouched on the floor against his wall, phone in hand. He looked up at you and grinned.

“Hey Y/n. Nice to see you. And for the hundredth time, just call me Jungkook. You’re older than me for goodness sake.”

You laughed, sliding down next to him. “But you have so much more experience than me. It doesn’t feel right addressing you so casually.”

“You’ve been living here for two whole years now. I think we’re pretty good friends at this point.”

“You guys have really blown up over two years.”

He turned off his phone, throwing it and landing it perfectly onto his bed. “And you guys have gotten a lot better at dancing— which to be honest, is astounding seeing how good you were to start with.”

“And your mental health has gotten so much better.”

“It’s only thanks to you.”

You smiled. “I’m glad I can do anything to help you. You didn’t need much helping really, just a gentle push in the right direction. You’ve been strong since I’ve known you.”

“You as well.” Jungkook responded earnestly. “You were really reluctant to move in with us at first.”

A laugh filled the room. “Well you should expect that— A 23 year old moving in with a bunch of men.”

Jungkook shrugged. “I moved in with a bunch of teenagers and young men when I was only young. I guess I had very different experiences to other people.” He looked down at the tattoos running all along the skin of his hands. The word ‘ARMY’ spelt out of his group members' names. “I guess some of those experiences were good though.”

A warm smile washed over your face, lighting up your eyes.

Jungkook was right.

Some experiences were different— and they weren’t all enjoyable.

But some of them were good.

“I’m really glad I came here. Even if I didn’t really want to at first. I’ve learnt so much from you guys. I think I’ve grown a lot more too.”

Jungkook chuckled, ready to poke fun at you after your shared emotional moment. “I hope you don’t mean in height, because that certainly isn’t true.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him slightly as you got up.

He looked slightly crestfallen as you began to exit his room. “Wait I didn’t mean to offend you!”

You giggled. “And you didn’t. I just need to go to bed. I’m tired, Kook.”

A bright grin washed over his face, white teeth popping out in a bunny like expression. “You called me Kook!”

You paused in his doorway. “No..”

Bolting towards, and before you could react he had his arms wrapped around you tightly.

This felt sickeningly similar.

The feeling of being deprived of air.

The world turned to pure black.

“Y/n?”

You blinked.

Right. That was just your memories. This was the present.

And there was no reason for you to be afraid.

Grabbing at Jungkook’s back you found your chin resting on his shoulder. He fidgeted, clearly surprised that you had returned his gesture.

“Yeah I called you Kook. Goodnight, Jungkook. Sleep well.”

He pulled back, even though you were his noona, a few years older than him even, he still stood a large majority taller than yourself. He leant down to press a light kiss onto your forehead. A brotherly action.

You pulled him into another hug quickly before running out of his room, trying in vain to hide your beaming face.

-✥-

“They’re coming over here? Them!” Aiko squealed, not even trying to conceal her inner fangirl.

“Yeah. And one of ‘them’ is my older brother.” You eyed up Aiko’s bouncy stage. “Don’t make it weird.”

Aiko huffed, placing her hands onto her hips, staring at you with a sassy pout. “I've never made things weird.”

Luna jumped up, feeding off Aiko’s overexcited energy. “We can introduce ourselves as a group right? That’ll be so cool! Using our stage names too!”

“You don’t even have a stage name.” Heeyoung pointed out.

Luna thrust a hand at herself dramatically. “My name is so beautiful I need no stage name.”

“Girls! Get ready, they’ve just arrived.” Your manager said offhandedly, obviously not grasping the weight of the rest of your group getting to perform in front of the most famous band in the world.

You all jumped up, standing in a line in front of the door, a few metres back so as to not scare the poor boys.

The door clicked open and a bodyguard stepped inside. He looked around, then stepping forwards and aside, he cleared the way for the tall man behind him to enter.

Your brother smiled softly at you as the rest of the group filed inside slowly. You could hear Aiko practically buzzing when Jimin stepped inside.

“2! 3! Bangtan. Hello, we’re BTS!”

“We know.” Ji-Eun muttered and you had to bite your tongue to suppress a laugh.

You stepped forward, taking in a breath. “Hello! We are UT-Opia!”

At the end for UT-Opia, the other girls joined in so it came out as a chorus.

Your manager waved his hand as if this wasn’t necessary at all. It probably wasn’t, but it made you feel professional.

“Introduce yourselves girls. I’m sure the boys don’t need to.”

Ji-Eun raised her hand. “Manager, I’m sure I’ve told you, I don’t know BTS well at all.”

You giggled. Ji-Eun was ever blunt and honest. Your manager didn’t see this as a virtue though, and hung his face in his hands.

“It’s fine. Hi! I’m RM, rapper and leader of BTS.”

The following six members introduced themselves, to which Ji-Eun noticeably didn’t pay much attention to. Realising it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath, mustering your fleeting courage.

“I’m Y/n of UT-Opia. I'm the main vocalist and the leader.”

“I’m K.” Ji-Eun tried dismally to put any emotion into saying her stage name. “I'm the lead rapper and the oldest.”

“Hey! I’m Luna, lead dancer!” Luna accentuated the words ‘lead dancer’ with a flip of her dyed blonde hair.

“I’m Gem and I’m a main dancer.” Baram looked almost starstruck to be talking to BTS. She was normally overly confident and self certain, but right now she looked quite awed.

“I’m Cinnamon, it’s a stage name do not worry, and I’m a main dancer but I prefer the title of-”

Manager tapped his watch. Heeyoung smiled sympathetically at him, but regardless continued her speech. “I’m main dancer but I prefer the title of main rapper.” She looked down at her purple button up shirt and dark tracksuits that somehow looked fashionable. “I’m not as good at dancing as I am at styling.”

You could’ve sworn you heard Manager groan at her final wordings.

“I’m Aiko. I’m the youngest and I’m a sub vocal and also a dancer and sub rapper!”

Manager breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness that’s over. Girls do you have a song you could perform, you know, to show what you can do? The boys can give some pointers or something.”

He looked down hurriedly at his watch. “I’m late to a meeting. Thank you BTS for coming. Please take care of them.”

As soon as the uptight man rushed from the room, Yoongi dropped onto the ground along with Jimin, and on the other end of the room, Heeyoung.

“Let’s get rid of the formalities, alright?” Yoongi asked.

You nodded. “Ji-Eun, their names are Namjoon, Seokjin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Taehyung and Jungkook, alright?”

She frowned. “I would’ve addressed them by their hair colours if I didn’t know.”

“But unnie-” You began.

Hoseok cut you off with a laugh. “Sorry Y/n for interrupting. Just K has such a lack of care. It’s quite honestly refreshing when everyone treats you like kings of some kind.”

“My name isn’t actually K.” Ji-Eun pointed out. “It’s Ji-Eun. Call me Ji.”

“I’m Baram.” Gem added.

You noticed the boy's eyes trail to Heeyoung. She didn’t comply.

“I’m just Cinnamon. It’s my birth name.”

“Her name is Heeyoung.” You said, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes. “And the air of mystery is gone.”

“So what are you guys gonna perform?” Yoongi asked, eager to hear you sing.

You fiddled with your fingers. “We’re a mainly dance focused group, should we dance?”

“I want to hear you sing though.” Yoongi replied, not enforcing, but softly so he sounded as if he were reassuring you.

“Well.. I-” You begun.

Heeyoung leapt to her feet. “Well? Cmon! Let’s do that song!”

“Heeyoung and Aiko dragged you to your feet. “It’s a good song too!”

“I dunno.” You whispered.

Ji-Eun looked deep into your eyes. “There’s no harm in trying.”

And with that, you were in the middle of the room, a microphone in hand and the rest of your group spread around you.

Aiko pressed the player, turning on a quiet piano track you could remember sitting down and playing to record. It had been emotional by yourself, how would it be with people with you?

You took a deep breath.

No harm in trying.

Focusing on your voice instead of their reactions, you closed your eyes. As the words to your song left your lips, your mind wasn’t in the practice room. You were racing through all your bad memories.

And there was a light at the end of the foggy tunnel of pain.

A way out.

The last time Namjoon had heard you sing was before he went to audition for Bighit Entertainment. A long time ago. You had been just goofing around with him, he was rapping to the song and you were singing. He had showered you with compliments over your voice after that.

Would he still like your voice?

Your eyelids fluttered open. Ji-Eun, Heeyoung, Aiko and Baram were all moving rhythmically around you, moving with the music. Luna was dancing beside you in a smooth flowing form of actions. It wasn’t the normal hip hop or pop dancing she normally did. This was a more sorrow filled format. Her movements were lucid. She noticed you watching and made her way over to you. Her palm drew across your face, sliding your eyelids shut.

Only when you felt the moisture on her palm slide across your face did you realise you were crying. So much emotion was being poured into your voice that you hadn’t kept a tight enough lid on how you were acting physically.

You didn’t make the motion to wipe off your tears though.

The tears, the pain— they were part of your song.

Part of your life.

As the song drew to a close, your eyes opened again to see the astounded faces of the members of BTS. Yoongi’s eyes were wide and it seemed as if there was a slight sheen to them, a small amount of moisture. Hoseok, Jimin and Jin all looked amazed, and slightly guilty that you were crying. Jungkook and Taehyung were both blinking back tears. They had needed you a lot more than the others in your years of helping them with their mental health and hated seeing you upset.

The boys all had the same look of adoration and amazement plastered onto their faces. They were blown away by your voice, your emotion. By you.

Your brother was astounded though. A wave of emotions seemed to be rippling through his expressions all at once. It was a relief to hear your sweet voice once again, lifting and filling up the room as you sing your heart out. Pride overwhelmed him.

He was proud of you, of your voice. Of your emotions.

You fetched some drink bottles and took the chance to dry your eyes, handing a bottle to each member of your group.

“That was a really good song.” Yoongi noted. “The piano was superb as well. The lyrics.. they were really deep and heartfelt.

Aiko smiled. “That’s our Y/n writing and playing that song!”

Namjoon blinked slowly. “You wrote that song?”

“Y-yeah.” You gulped. Maybe he didn’t like it after all. “It’s not very good but-“

“Are you kidding me?” Namjoon yelped. “It was so good! The lyrics were so deep as Yoongi said! I can’t believe you’re such a good writer!”

You flushed a shade of crimson. “I-I-I thank you.”

“What is…” Yoongi’s voice trailed off. He peered at the moisture still in your reddened eyes. “Never mind.”

You flashed an okay-then smile at him and turned back to listen to how Hoseok and Jimin were critiquing their dancing— even though they would be the first to admit there was hardly anything to criticize. Jungkook began talking to you about some singing tips and you immersed yourself back into real life again. Pulling your mind out of your over active imagination.

-✥-

A nock came on your door when it was already late at night. In fact, if you stuck to your schedule you would already be in bed. But you found yourself sitting in your room, writing out lyrics to a song that you didn’t even need to write. You slowly opened the door, shutting off your light first so it looked as if you were about to go to bed, and not ignoring your schedule.

“Sorry Y/n. I know it’s a bit late.”

Yoongi stood in the hallway, shifting awkwardly, his eyes in contrast shon with a determination.

You felt your stomach fill with butterflies and you tried to quench the feeling. “No, it’s fine. What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. I just...I wanted to ask a question.”

“Fire away.”

He shook his head slightly. “Well it’s not just a casual question. And I want to make sure I’m not invading your privacy. But it’s about the song you sung earlier.”

You felt your heart drop, blood running cold while simultaneously goosebumps spiked onto your skin.

“You seemed very emotional.. not even seemed. You cried and I really want to know why. I just feel that if I wait any longer to ask you, it’ll be too late. Now feels like the right time.”

Sighing, you knew he was right. You couldn’t hide your demons forever. Even though you had talked to your therapist a bit about the incident, you had never gone into depth about it with your parents. You had never even told Namjoon. Your brother had no idea that it had happened.

And it was time that he knew.

“Can you go get Namjoon? I’m not ready to tell the others yet.”

You were really close to Yoongi, the time that you had spent in their housing really grew you close to him. He had picked up on your main reason for being there almost the third time you had talked to him. He didn't mind that you were partially there just to help their mental health.

When you first moved in he hadn’t been at his best, stressed over the band’s popularity and success. His OCD was worse than ever.

More upset than the others, you were eager to help him get back on his feet. At first however, Yoongi was cold to you. He didn’t think he needed your help. He could fix it himself.

And he thought you were stuck up and arrogant to think that you could help him. After all, you were only 25 years old. Who were you to help him?

But slowly and surely with your help, he managed to get a hand on his health. He accepted that you could help him. It came to a time when he was happy to talk to you, and looked forward to it even.

Telling them was hard, but it felt freeing. Like a weight you had been carrying for the past eight years was lifted. As if you had been chained to your trauma and couldn’t get free, and now the locks were opened.

“You were attacked?” Namjoon almost yelled. You shushed him, nodding. Even though Yoongi had told the other boys not to enter the recording studio, you didn’t want to run any risks of them hearing regardless.

“The place is sound proofed Y/n, don’t worry.” Namjoon looked apologetic, as if by yelling he had upset you somehow. “But you were attacked? When was this?!”

“When I was seventeen…”

He immediately let out a cry. “You never told me? I could’ve helped you! Did the person ever get caught? Held accountable?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t a person… it was three men.”

Namjoon swore loudly. “Multiple people? Attacking a fucking teenager? Who the fuck do they think they are? Who are they Y/n?”

You felt someone’s warm hand slip into yours, giving your own a tight reassuring squeeze. You noticed you were trembling slightly. It wasn’t from Namjoon raising his voice. It was from realising the weight of what had happened to you, that had suddenly come crashing down onto your mind.

You kept your gaze focused on Yoongi’s hand grasping yours, trying not to look at your astonished brother's face.

“I… I don’t know. They.. weren’t found.”

Namjoon let out a loud growl. “So the authorities can’t even do their job and find these degenerates? Fuck them.”

“N-Namjoon they’re trying their best! It’s not their fault…”

A wave of sympathy and guilt washed over his face. “It’s not your fault either Y/n! It’s those stupid bastards fault!”

You held your free hand up to quiet him. “Namjoon, I know it’s not my fault.”

His eyes narrowed, staring deep beyond your skin. “You’re so different Y/n… I shouldn’t have left you. You’ve changed so much from the little girl I left in Ilsan.”

You shook your head. “I changed at first after the attack. When I miscarried my child,”

You heard the boys intake of breath when they heard miscarriage. Namjoon didn’t know that you had been pregnant. YOUR PARENTS DIDN'T KNOW. How could you talk about this without crying? Without breaking down?

It was so hard to think about let alone talk to someone else about. But it was your brother. He had a right to know. And you wanted him to know.

“I-it really changed me. I thought.. maybe I was to blame for my child’s death. After all, I was the mother.. I was meant to take care of my baby. And I didn’t.”

“Y-your child..?” Namjoon whispered.

The present had faded into a fog. It was if you were standing in the dark, pure silence enveloping you. All you could hear was your thoughts, booming louder than you could control.

Your child.

Yoongi softly touched your arm. “Y/n? You were.. pregnant when you were attacked?”

You shook your head slowly. “The attack.. I got pregnant after..”

The words clicked inside Yoongi and Namjoon’s minds, sudden rage boiling through them.

The child you had carried inside you. The innocent victim of ruthless men, who you were just as bad as. It wasn’t the child’s fault. You had decided to keep it after you were found to be pregnant, hoping that you would be able to provide the child a life better than it’s conception.

You found out only months later that due to complications of your physical and mental health sustained after the attack— the poor infant had died before even reaching half term.

You had failed them.

“Y/n.. it’s not your fault.” Yoongi murmured. “You couldn’t stop them from attacking you, you weren’t to know… it’s in no way your fault. It’s so brave that you kept the baby...”

You shook your head, hands coming up to wipe tears from your eyes. “I was the mother! How could I fail my baby? It wasn’t their fault that their father was a c-criminal! It wasn’t their fault that they were conceived from an assault! They were innocent! T-There’s always a way to save someone!”

Namjoon grabbed your hands in his. “Y/n, it isn’t your fault. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, that you still feel guilt. You were so brave to try and give them a life anyway, even if it hurt you. You shouldn’t feel any guilt. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. I love you, Y/n. And I’m here for you.”

You sniffled softly, glad for your brother's presence.

He was right.

You knew that.

You had known that for years. But it took someone else saying that for you to finally realise it was true.

It wasn’t your fault.

“Do you feel alright to continue, Y/n?” Yoongi murmured, an empathetic expression washing over his face. “We can take a break if you want…”

“No.” You smiled slightly, Yoongi’s caring side more than enough to reassure that you were safe. “I’m alright.”

Taking a deep breath, you continued your story. “I-I got addicted to drugs. I was completely off the rails, trying my best to cope with something I couldn’t handle. It was destroying me from the inside out. Eating away at my physical health as well as my mental state. My-... our parents, found out a little while after. I didn’t last that long before they discovered what happened.”

“They knew?” Namjoon cried, his choice cracking. “Why did no one tell me? I should’ve known! I would’ve helped you!”

You shook your head, tears filling your eyes. “You don’t understand Namjoon! If I would’ve told you you would’ve left BTS! You would’ve come back home!”

“Well yes! Of course!” Namjoon replied.

“I couldn't let you give up your dreams for me! I couldn’t be responsible for ruining my brother's life! Not when our parents were already so shocked and upset to hear the news! Mum was always so supportive to both of us! She tried her best to make me happy and comfortable! But it got to the point where they couldn’t handle it anymore.. they sent me to rehab.”

“Rehab?” Yoongi asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded. “It really helped me. The people there were so kind. It took me a while, but I finally recovered.”

Namjoon’s heart had been thumping in his chest for the past ten minutes. He couldn’t bear the thought that anyone had dared to hurt his little sister. By all accounts, to him she was perfect. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to hurt her.

“I should’ve been there for you! I’m your older brother and I didn’t even get to support you! I didn’t get the chance.”

You felt your heart shaking within you. “N-Namjoon? I have to tell you something else too.”

Namjoon and Yoongi looked at you, nervous for whatever you were going to say. You took a deep, shaky breath.

“You know the people you were in a rap group with back at Ilsan?”

Namjoon’s heart stopped.

“T-they were the ones who attacked me.”

Anger flared inside Namjoon’s eyes. “My former friends?! Attacked you?”

You nodded reluctantly.

His head fell into his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’ll kill them.”

You both turned to Yoongi, whose jaw was set in determination. “I’ll kill them.” He repeated, his eyes focused solely on you.

Namjoon quickly jumped in. “Me too. Those sick bastards think they can get away with hurting my sister? I-I-”

“No.” You whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Namjoon snapped. “I never knew that you were this hurt! How could you be fine?”

“Rehab really cleared my head.. I finally got a chance to step back and for the first time in possibly years, think about what I wanted.”

“Y/n…”

Yoongi’s soft eyes were focused solely on you, in a way that would normally cause your heart to do somersaults. But not right now. The tension in the room was thick, the atmosphere that of a depressing one.

“You’re a fighter.”

You hadn't expected this response. You had expected some form of criticism, for him to tell you on for subbumcing so easily to the quick way to no pain.

You get your heart squeezing. You had never talked in depth about your feelings to your parents, but right now you would be willing to open your heart to Yoongi.

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Sure, when you first got here I thought you were a snob, someone stuck up and ready to have the world handed to them simply for Namjoon’s achievements.”

Namjoon’s brow creased. “Watch how you talk about my sister hyung-”

“It’s alright.” You reassured him. “I trust his words mean no harm.”

Yoongi nodded instantly. “My views on you quickly changed. You cared for each of us, even if initially it was solely as a favour to Hitman Bang. And we began to care deeply for you. Because no matter what you’ve been through, no matter what tears you’ve shed and for what reasons, you always will mean so much to us. So much more than you can imagine.”

Yoongi wiped a tear from forming on the corner of his eye. He smiled sadly at you, regardless of the simplicity of the gesture, a wave of emotions spread through the one smile, rejuvenating and replenishing your drive, your focus.

“You deserve your happiness.”

You turned to the small voice.

He had spoken so much quieter than you had ever heard him speak before, the raw feelings in his voice transparent. “You deserve to be happy. You’ve been working so hard. You can’t just sacrifice your happiness for the benefit of others. I remember when we were growing up, you used to always make sure that I was okay if anything happened. Y/n, I’m your older brother. It’s okay to rely on me for support sometimes. You need me just as much as I need you. And that’s not a bad thing.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You threw yourself against Namjoon’s chest, grabbing his back tightly, clasping him as if you could never let go.

“Y/n…”

You tried in vain to wipe your tears from your eyes, looking up at his strong face.

“It’s okay to cry. You don’t always have to smile. You’re still strong. And I’ll still love you anyway. You’re still my sister.”

You buried your face into his toned chest again. “N-Namjoon..I-I-I love you too.” You sniffled.

He gripped you tightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“It’s not your fault, Namjoon. It’s only their fault. Please don’t feel guilty.”

Pulling away from you, he wiped the tears off your moist cheeks. “Okay Y/n. For you, anything.”

A small cough was interjected into the comfortable silence of the room, reminding you that Yoongi was still there. Both you and your brother turned to him. His eyes were soft and empathetic, as if he didn’t want to spoil the moment, but couldn't wait any longer.

“C-can I please talk to Y/n alone?”

Namjoon considered his hyung. While he didn’t really want to leave his sisters side, he knew that Yoongi wouldn’t ask it he wouldn’t take care of her. Namjoon knew he could trust him.

“Okay.” He relented. “Y/n, I love you. Just say if you need anything.”

On his way out he grabbed Yoongi’s shoulder bringing the older man against him.

“Make sure she’s okay. Don’t you dare hurt her.”

Yoongi nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I was in a dark place once. I wasn’t happy. It felt like the world was against me.”

Now that you were alone with Yoongi, he seemed a lot less cold, and a lot more caring. The off putting gaze he had on accident given you multiple times was replaced with soft eyes that seemed to drip honey.

“I got through it. And I’m heaps weaker than you. I don’t have the mental endurance that you have, nor the fighting spirit. If anyone can overcome this situation— it’s you.”

You wiped your eyes with your hands. It was so reassuring to have someone believe in you. To have someone who was backing you up.

“You know, I can’t believe how strong you are. To be able to recover from that in just years? And with only really your own strength? I really admire it. It’s amazing.”

You blushed slightly. “I didn’t really have much choice.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the door as if someone might burst in any second.

“Y/n… I shouldn’t be saying this. But I can’t hold onto my feelings any longer. I really like you.”

Your heart began racing and you could feel your skin begin to heat up.

Could Yoongi see how nervous you were?

You hoped he couldn’t.

“I-I-”

He grabbed your hand tightly, making your face flush.

“Y/n, you don’t have to answer me right now. I can wait as long as you need. I would wait forever for you.”

“Y-Yoongi I really like you too. I know I’m not always perfect but I-”

Yoongi’s body fell against yours, his arms wrapping around your frame. He stroked your hair slowly, burying his face in your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be perfect. Your flaws make you humans.” He pulled back slightly, playing with your hair as he looked right through you. “I believe you can overcome your flaws. They don’t make you a bad person. They make you you.”

You giggled slightly. It was weird to hear Yoongi so sweet. Normally he stayed away, his face in a resting serious face. You were so happy to see him smile.

“I’m so glad you like me back. I was so worried.”

“Me too…”

He pulled away one last time, his face weighted with a burden that hadn’t been obvious before. Or had you just not noticed.

“Y/n.. I know your past. So I think it’s time you found out mine.”

Your mouth opened slightly, eyes widening.

“Really? You trust me that much?”

He nodded, grinning. Then he frowned again. “Not all of it will be pretty. I-it might shock you a bit.”

You squeezed his hand that was still in yours. He blushed.

“I’m ready.”

38 notes · View notes

bandaged-writer · 4 years

Text

swan song || dazai

➤ Pairing: PM! Dazai x Contemporary Dancer! Reader

➤ Genre: fluff, romance, angst

➤ Warnings: mention of minor character death, mentions of suicide, alcohol consumption, innuendos, murder in the form of a nightmare, violence, language, blood, mental breakdown

➤ Summary: Not even Dazai could predict that a certain calico cat would lead him to his serendipity made of bruised knees and angelic smiles.

➤ Word count: 10k

➤ Note: This fic is very important to me since it’s partially based on events I went through as a dancer myself; therefore, I’d be really happy to hear what you think of it. Have fun reading. <3

It was rare for Yokohama's streets to be completely empty, especially when the moon illuminated even the darkest alleys and offered to lead the way home for many lost souls. Ever since November arrived and the trees' leaves had already fallen, the temperatures had dropped considerably. Snow began to fall and wrapped the port city in a gentle blanket of white; even in the dark of the night, branches shimmered in the moon's light, streets became as clear as day as the artificial light of street lamps was reflected from the snow's surface.

For once, it was a tranquil night in which blood didn't stain the innocence of Yokohama.

Dull footsteps filled the silence as Dazai followed the calico cat - Sensei - out of the bar Lupin. The cat had been pawing at the brunette's pants, meowing at him to finally leave the empty bar and catch some fresh air. Truth be told, Dazai didn't know why he listened to a cat of all creatures which graced the surface of this planet. Maybe it was the tiny voice in his head which wanted him to go home, rest his sore limbs and hopefully find some peace and quiet in the form of sleep.

"Where are you leading me to, Sensei?" Dazai's tongue still tickled with the taste of whiskey, but his head was very much sober. Chocolate orbs watched how the cat left tiny prints of his paws in the snow and merely meowed at him in response as if telling the mafioso to trust him. Who was Dazai to deny the request of a lucky charm on four legs? "Yeah, yeah, got it." Odd, how the mafia executive found comfort in talking to a cat.

Dazai's breath came out in white puffs of air which dissolved into nothing, the cold nipped at his cheeks and would hug him like the familiar arms of death if it weren't for the black coat wrapped around his slim form. As much as Dazai craved to die, freezing to death wasn't his favorite way to leave this world; he had standards, after all.

Streets had long since blurred into one another when Sensei suddenly meowed out loud and pawed at the spinning door made of glass which was rimmed by a golden color. Raising his gaze, Dazai recognized the building immediately. It was an expensive theater which was often rented by the mafia to celebrate the success of bigger missions. Famous actors, singers and even dancers held their performances in the vast venue, but it was nothing but another building at night.

"Are you sure, buddy?" A small smile decorated Dazai's usually unreadable face, a curious shimmer flashed in his eyes as he heard the soft bass of music being played from within. Another proof that Sensei certainly wasn't an average cat. Intrigued by what - or rather who - was awaiting him, Dazai entered and let a sigh of relief slip his chapped lips, Sensei always right by his side.

Warmth greeted the mafioso, the red carpet below his feet silenced any sound his shoes could cause and possibly startle whoever was at the very heart of the theater. Cash registers were unoccupied, snack bars were filled with various treats, but they seemed to be untouched as well as the alcohol on display. Everything that was of value was still in place, unscathed.

Every step Dazai took was in sync with the rhythm which faintly caressed his ears and he found himself enjoying the calm beat. Before the brunette knew it, he stood in the middle of rows upon rows of chairs, the cushions cold and unused as his eyes were focused on the dancer, clad in black, on the wooden stage. Dazai only registered how Sensei leapt on one of the chairs, everything else was unimportant.

Bare feet floated across the floor from left to right, arms moved gracefully like the stretching wings of a swan. Eyes were closed in concentration as your heels turned to the right and your arms rested across your torso. Your left hand went around your head once, traced the line of your right arm and ended up intertwined with your other hand. Stretching your leg out in front of you, you swiftly kicked the limb to your side and let your torso follow the movement by dipping it low and coming to a standing position.

The song Dazai didn't know came to an end, your heavy breathing filled the room along with the soft sound of your feet padding along the stage.

"You know that staring at a woman is rude, don't you?" Your voice was rough around the edges as your lungs grasped for some much needed air. A thin layer of sweat made your face shine in the dim light and a smile settled down on your lips. Ripped out of his mesmerized state, Dazai chuckled at your reaction - he had expected you to yell at him, scream, threaten him, but instead, you called him out. "True beauty even makes a gentleman stare," he said.

A rosy blush bloomed on your cheeks as you suddenly laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls which were decorated with rich designs and several paintings you couldn't name. "You sure know how to flatter a woman. I'll give you that," you sat down on the edge of the stage, right in front of Dazai and reached for your half empty water bottle. Honestly, you couldn't quite believe the stranger's words; who found a sweating person beautiful? Either way, you didn't bother to ask and simply let him have his fun. The mafioso sat down on one of the many chairs, took off his coat and let Sensei cuddle himself into the fabric.

"Can you do that again?"

"Huh?"

"Dancing. Can you dance once more?" It was an innocent request from Dazai's point of view. He wanted to understand what you danced to, what made your body move and how you moved it. He wanted to understand the story behind it. With a soft gaze, you leaned forward, chin resting on your palm. "In exchange for your name, I will consider dancing, again," the smile on your face was pure, there were no hidden intentions behind your persona, just the innocence of curiosity. You were far from being a threat. "My name is Dazai. Dazai Osamu."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dazai. I'm [Name] and not someone to deny the audience a wish," grabbing the hem of your black button down shirt, you wiped some sweat off your forehead and made your way to the bluetooth speakers which stood somewhere in the shadows.

Dazai found himself drawn to the mere way you walked. Yes, he had seen many confident women, especially in the mafia - Kouyou was the best example for that, but no one carried themselves like you. There was an air of elegant confidence surrounding your being like a halo, every step was memorized by your legs, every turn you took was sharp. Dazai had never interacted with a dancer before, but he could tell you were one. An experienced dancer, too.

His train of thought was interrupted by the soft sound of a plucking instrument being played and he saw the way you fell into a completely different persona. The air around you seemed to change into a melancholic one, your face reflecting emotions he saw daily: fear, anguish, melancholy. Gone was the friendly you. It was replaced by someone who looked like you.

Naked feet glided across the stage with ease as you seemed to become the beat yourself. Muscles smoothly tensed up to hit a sharp beat and immediately slid into a more relaxed state like it was the only thing you knew how to do, like it was breathing.

The closer Dazai looked, the more he noticed the calloused parts of your feet and for a moment, he wondered how much it had to hurt, but your face showed no signs of discomfort - if anything, you were at peace, in the middle of your very essence.

Much like paintings, Dazai didn't quite understand the story behind it, couldn't put together the pieces you showed him. He only finished the edge of the puzzle you performed which gave the mafioso a slight idea of the bigger picture you were trying to show him and maybe if Dazai asked, you would tell him the story behind the dance. For some reason, he sensed that it was an intimate question to which the answer was the moves you generously provided.

A slow jazz beat filled the empty bar named Lupin at nearly 00:00 o'clock, the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes lingered pleasantly in the air. Only two seats were occupied at such a late hour; one by Dazai and the other seat was taken by Odasaku, the brunette's best friend.

"You've been looking at the clock quite a few times now. You still got plans?" Odasaku took a sip of his glass of whiskey with a large ice cube in it. The liquor pleasantly burned his throat and warmed the older man up from within - very welcoming considering the minus temperatures waiting outside of the bar. A single finger traced the edge of Dazai's own glass, his mind occupied with something - no, someone - else. "I can't hide anything from you, can I, Odasaku?" A tranquil smile found home on Dazai's slightly chapped lips. Something about Oda figuring him out like any other person made Dazai feel normal instead of an oh-so-called demonic prodigy with an unmatched intellect.

The mafia executive rested his cheek on his palm as he recalled the recent events. Sensei leading him to the theater, the soft thumping of a bass caressing his ears and his eyes landing on someone who bloomed on stage like a flower which was about to wither. "I was wondering if she was still up." At that, Odasaku's interest was piqued. It wasn't unusual for his suicidal friend to woo a woman, but it was unusual for him to wonder what his latest encounter was up to. "She?" The man was fairly curious, given that he usually witnessed how Dazai took a pretty lady home, but this time, Oda couldn't recall someone catching his friend's interest.

"Last night, Sensei lead me to the theater which the boss often rents for celebrations. I thought that maybe Sensei just needed a place to sleep at, but when I got there, I met [Name]." Slowly, Dazai twirled his glass and watched the liquid moving around while Oda was attentively listening. It certainly wasn't a common story to meet someone. "She's a dancer. Ah, what was that style called?" The brunette looked up at the ceiling in thought, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "Temporary? No, contemporary! She's a contemporary dancer."

"Let me guess. You want to see her, again." Oda spoke, finished his glass and looked at his dear friend in wonder. He didn't know who you were, probably never even saw your face, but the fact that you somehow managed to charm Dazai was quite a feat. After all, Dazai rarely thought of anything or anyone interesting enough unless it challenged his mind. "I do. But I don't know why." Dazai admitted, his lips pulled into a soft frown as he stared at his still full glass. For some reason, he had lost interest in getting pleasantly buzzed with Odasaku. "There's nothing special about her nor am I interested in dance and yet.." Dazai trailed off for a second and sighed. You confused him, although you were so easy to read and figure out. The blush on your cheeks gave away that you liked having Dazai's attention, you were easy to please. "She's pretty. I guess I enjoy being near her."

If anyone else had told Oda about Dazai's encounter with a dancer, he probably would've thought of it as a joke, but hearing such words from Dazai himself changed the situation. He could tell the younger man meant what he said and wasn't only trying to woo you for as long as you'd please the executive.

"Well? Is there any more to the story?"

"I only watched her dance, Odasaku."

"That's it?"

"That's it." Dazai confirmed with a tender nod of his head, brown locks going with the motion.

Odasaku looked at the clock - 00:30. For once, he felt like Dazai might see something more in a person than mere profit for one of his plans and he was looking forward to the day that epiphany would reach his friend. Hopefully sooner than later. If someone like Dazai was interested in someone simple like you then you could positively influence the man who had experienced nothing but violence, death and bloodshed for a majority of his life. "You should go, then. It's painfully obvious you want to see her."

"Are you sure?" Dazai asked, eyebrows pulled up in slight surprise. It didn't happen too often that he got to talk to Odasaku so freely without any prying eyes and judgment whispered behind their backs. In this bar, they were only Dazai and Odasaku. Not an executive of the mafia and a mafia member with the possibly lowest rank in the organization. "Why wouldn't I be sure? I can handle going home alone just fine."

There was no point in trying to argue with Odasaku. The man was awfully perceptive and aware of those around him and would probably drag Dazai out of the bar if it was in Oda's nature to do such things. Besides, Odasaku was always correct, right?

"Then I guess I'll see you around, Odasaku." Dazai wrapped his pitch black coat around his slender form and left with a gentle wave of his bandaged hand. Oda merely made a noise of acknowledgement.

He knew that one positive influence couldn't fix the trauma that Dazai had gone through, but love made man better, right? Deep down, Odasaku hoped that you would leave some kind of impact on his misguided friend, hoped that at least you could show him a bit of the light Dazai was so severely lacking.

He hoped that life would be kind to Dazai for once.

This time, Dazai was greeted by orchestral instruments put over a simple, consistent beat. No vocals accompanied the song, only the repeated words "save me, save me" echoing throughout the very lonely and cold hall. Yet, your mere presence seemed to fill the theater just fine.

He noticed you wore shoes unlike last night. Your dancing style was also slightly different. It lacked the element of ballet, yet he found himself watching you all the same.

How you kicked your leg out to the side, wiped your lips and for a moment, it seemed like you were getting ready to run only to pretend to slip. Skillfully, your hands caught your body before you rested on your back, hand reaching up in the air as if begging someone to save you from misery. The notes gently faded into nothing and found their end.

"And here I thought this was a one time meeting, Dazai." You teased from your position on the ground, rolled your body up into a sitting position and gave the man a teasing yet welcoming smile. A few strands of hair stuck to your face, some stood in weird directions, yet Dazai would still describe you as lovely. Sitting down on the chair he occupied the last time, Dazai returned the friendly teasing. "I like to make sure I see pretty things several times."

Damn smooth talker. Oh, how you'd love to wipe that cocky smirk off Dazai's stupidly handsome face. Damn him for making you blush so easily when his words weren't even that special. "Whatever you say." You dusted off your pants, let a few joints crack and tilted your head to the side as you took in Dazai's form.

The cold had bitten his cheeks red, a trail of goosebumps between the bandages around his neck and his jawline revealed itself to your eyes, he was shivering ever so slightly despite the coat clinging to his body. You couldn't blame Dazai - it was probably -10 degrees Celsius outside, some snow had frozen and the theater wasn't known to get heated up at night. Truth be told, you had also been shivering when you came in, but then..

Suddenly, your eyes widened in curiosity. "You're cold aren't you?" Dazai nodded his head slightly, not quite knowing where you were going with this. Of course, he was cold. What kind of question was that? Going to the very edge of the stage, you offered Dazai your hand and grinned from ear to ear with that silly blush still on your cheeks. "May I ask for this dance, dear sir?"

Warily, Dazai's gaze flickered from your palm to your face, his reaction hesitant. "Oh, belladonna, you do know that I'm not the dancer here, do you?" He just wasn't the type to dance, wasn't interested in the art either. Dazai only knew a few basic steps that Kouyou taught him years ago, but he barely ever had to use his non-existent dancing skills. "Aw, come on~" A cute pout adorned your lips as you tried persuading the mafia executive with puppy eyes and hopefully arguments that would convince him. "I'll teach you something really easy. I promise it'll be fun!"

Dramatically, Dazai threw his head back and covered his eyes with his palm, his loud voice easily filling the vast space. "How did you know that your mere beauty was my weakness? Truly, my only weak spot is standing right in front of me! How could I say no to a beautiful lady such as yourself?" At his antics, you couldn't help but roll your eyes, grab Dazai's hands and pull him on the stage with you. You noticed how calloused his hands were and wondered what his profession was since the rest of him seemed nearly dreamy. The more you thought about it, the more you could feel a headache approaching, though.

"First, off with that coat. You're gonna get warm real quick." Contrary to what your words implied, you took the coat off for Dazai and tossed the article of clothing in a corner where it wouldn't get in the way. Another thing Dazai learned about you was that you were touchy - not that he mined. He loved touchy, pretty ladies. But you..you nearly made his heart skip a beat with how eager you were to dance with him. "I didn't know you were so keen on getting me out of my clothes, belladonna."

Maybe the day you'd smack Dazai's face would come sooner than you thought. "Pfft, you wish, don't you?" Laughing, you shook your head a few times and picked your phone up from the ground to choose a song. What song would suit the situation or even Dazai's persona? He sure liked to joke around, yet his attire told you that he worked in a serious field. "I wouldn't mind~" Dazai spoke in a sing-song voice, hell bent on teasing your for whatever reason. However, it was part of his charm, you concluded for yourself.

In the end, you settled for a song played by only a piano. The mood was neither too sad nor too upbeat - it was a perfect mix of a tinge of sadness and the beauty of emotional clarity.

Dazai let you hold one of his hands while the other rested on your back, your free hand placed on his shoulder as you gave him instructions. "Take one step forward. Then I'll follow by taking a step backwards." His foot was quick to be placed between yours, chocolate eyes finding the two pairs of feet rather interesting. Dazai simply didn't want to step on your feet. Yet. "Good. Now one step to the right and a step backwards."

Dazai did as he was told and came back to center with you in his arms, leading him around the stage. Moving like this with the peaceful music in the background and your laughter right in his ear, some sort of warmth started spreading from Dazai's core and filled every fiber of his being with each step he took. Or maybe it was just the happiness swimming in your eyes. "See? It's not that hard. Do it again, but a bit faster." You encouraged the inexperienced brunette, grasping his hand tightly in yours. Dazai, on the other hand, felt oddly vulnerable as you lead him, taught him something he usually never used. It was a skill Dazai didn't possess, yet he found comfort in the fact that it was you taking the lead, dancing him through the steps his body had long since forgotten.

As time passed, Dazai gained security and picked up the speed until you told him that this was the perfect pace. At some point, your palm slid down his chest, the man's own palm coming to rest in the dip of your waist. Neither of you seemed to notice nor to care. Possibly, Dazai even dared to pull you closer, although he knew he shouldn't. Getting attached was a dangerous game, especially in his case. If Mori was to find out who Dazai found himself gravitating toward, he'd lose you. If the enemy was to know of your existence, he'd lose you.

Everything he'd never want to lose, would eventually slip through his fingers like water.

But there you were, in the blood-stained hands of a mafia executive, a content smile on your face and your heart beating in sync with Dazai's. The act of dancing with you was pure, probably the most common and innocent thing he had ever done, yet Dazai felt like it was wrong.

You were an angel, giving herself to the demon himself.

Yet, why did it feel so right?

"See? You're much warmer now." You beamed up at Dazai, eyes closed and he knew that this view would haunt him in his sleep. He should've stayed at the bar with Odasaku, drank a bit and then call it a night, but no, Dazai had to be selfish, greedy even, to come see you again when you were nothing but a stranger. Why the hell did you make him feel welcomed like he belonged right here with you? Dazai wasn't part of your blissfully mundane life and if you knew how many crimes he had committed, you'd let go of him like you had just burned yourself. And maybe, you actually would end up scorching yourself if you kept touching him, being near him.

"Yeah. It's your hard work though." Despite the emotional conflict raging on in Dazai's heart, he returned the smile you gave him, but it never quite reached his eyes. If you noticed, you didn't bother asking which the brunette was thankful for. How was he supposed to explain something he didn't quite understand himself just yet? "I argue we both worked hard." You gave his hand a squeeze. A gentle reminder that you were indeed there and not anywhere else.

Eventually, hours blurred into one another and Dazai was back in his seat with you sitting next to him, talking about the one time you thought your toaster was broken, but you only forgot to plug the device into the socket. You were silly and clumsy, too, Dazai learned.

"Oh, time flies, huh.." You looked at the watch wrapped around your wrist and sighed, the hint of a frown settling down on your face. The time read 4:53 am, the sky was still pitch black - definitely a downside to winter. A groan of annoyance rumbled deep within your chest, your head leaned back and eyes closed shut as you voiced out your frustration. "Why can't time go by a bit slower? I was really enjoying myself, too. Being here with you is better than going home."

"Oh? How so?" Dazai didn't expect you to be so open about your way of living, considering that he had met you not too long ago. But he did hear about some people who overshare personal feelings and issues, so were you a part of those people? Or did your trust already run so deep? "You see, I live on my own and it just gets..very lonely. It's almost depressing when there's no one to greet you, nothing to take care of. Agh, I said too much didn't I?" Maybe this was why your friends sometimes told you to shut up at a certain point. You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, chuckling. "It's okay, don't worry."

But maybe that piece of information was what caused Dazai to offer to walk you home even though you only lived a 8-minute-walk away from the theater.

Or maybe it was the fact that the sun wouldn't rise until 8 am.

Whatever reason it was, you felt less lonely when you stepped foot into your home.

The meetings continued.

Dazai would occasionally pop up during your practice in the dead of night, after a drink with Odasaku or because he was simply straying throughout Yokohama's streets like a lost dog. You had quickly learned of Dazai's suicidal tendencies, even scolded him whenever the brunette enthusiastically told you about a new suicide technique he had read about. Usually, those around Dazai didn't care about that, because it was normal and he would always show up the next day in one piece, overdramatically devastated that he was still very much alive.

"Why are you so worried about a stranger's life?" Dazai had asked with a teasing tone lingering on the edge of his voice. He didn't expect a serious answer, didn't expect a response which he couldn't decode right off the bat. "Then who would I be dancing for?" A tinge of blue had colored your words; the color of the ocean. Beautiful to look at, but so unbelievably deep that one could drown in them if they weren't careful. It had left Dazai a tad bit confused; apparently, you had danced just fine without him as well, so why were you so worried about something as trivial as an audience now? Nevertheless, he had smiled - it was a gentle one.

"I'm sure you would find another audience."

"But none of them are you."

He had felt special and maybe it was delusional of him, but the more time Dazai spent with you, the more he wanted you for himself. No one else should hear your laugh for they might ruin the sound. No one else should be on the receiving end of your teasing for they might corrupt you. No one else should see you dance for Dazai liked to pretend that you only moved for him and his selfish eyes.

But that was wishful thinking. Just like writers needed readers, just like musicians needed listeners, a dancer needed an audience to gain energy from, an audience to perform for. Dazai knew he couldn't remain your only crowd forever.

The worst of it all that Dazai did get attached to you. Attached to your clumsiness when you tripped on stage and lied that it was part of the choreography. Attached to the way you'd grin from ear to ear once your eyes spotted him sitting in his usual seat. But most of all, he got attached to your kindness. You always offered him something to drink or some of your snacks, offered to distract him from whatever was bothering Dazai some nights.

You offered him some peace and quiet, physically, mentally and emotionally.

However, the more time Dazai spent with you, the more his premonition proved to be true.

You ended up haunting his dreams like a ghost and twisted them into nightmares that he often had, but it was even worse now that you had stepped into his life. It was your fault for ruining his already morbid nightmares by popping up in them out of the blue. Each time Dazai dreamed about shooting someone, your hand would hold his wrist to stop him. Each time he dreamed about a new suicide technique, you'd cry out his name in the ugliest way with tears streaming down your cheeks and a painful strain tearing your vocal chords.

But this night was so much worse.

"Dazai, we need your help in our current interrogation. The prisoner won't spill, no matter what." A buff man in a suit and shades resting on his nose deadpanned. With a sigh, Dazai put both of his hands on his desk and got up from the comfortable chair, silently wondering if his men were capable of fulfilling a simple mission, at all. He didn't know the details, busy with his own case and trying to come up with a new way to finally get rid of this life he never wanted.

Empty footsteps echoed right through the cold hallways of the mafia, no word was spoken, no breath could be heard. It was a heartless place which had witnessed the deaths of so many souls that it could be the equivalent of a graveyard. The amount of bloodshed was gross, but necessary in order for the mafia to survive.

As the heavy door made of pure metal opened, Dazai's eyes widened. He would recognize the person anywhere, no matter how big the crowd was. Cautiously, he approached your shaking form and kneeled down in front of your broken body. Deep bruises in various shades ruined your skin, no doubt you were suffering from a couple of broken bones as well. Upon a closer look, Dazai could see that you definitely lost weight as well.

Dead eyes met his own, the withering shimmer of recognition floated in your orbs before it rotted away. "Please, kill me, Dazai." Your voice was weak, hoarse from the lack of hydration and screams you let out as the men in black tried to get information out of you. "What the hell are you talking about?" Grabbing your shoulders, Dazai put you into a sitting position and let your chin rest on his shoulders. You were broken beyond repair and it was his fault that you got caught in this mess, in his mess.

"Everything hurts. I'm in nothing but pain, anymore. Please, I'm begging you to take my life." Tears streamed down your cheeks at the mere thought of leaving this world behind. Death terrified you, you didn't know if anything was waiting for you on the other side or if your existence would simply vanish like someone had pressed the delete button. "Don't be stupid, I can get you out of here, I can-" Dazai was rambling and it was the first time you saw him lose his composure. "It would be an honor to die by your hands, Osamu."

Somewhere deep down, Dazai knew he couldn't get you out of this alive. The mafia would kill you. You'd seen their faces, knew where these creatures of the night operated from. Too high was the possibility of you running to the government and spilling all that valuable information.

Too high was the possibility of his men letting you die a painful death when Dazai could give you a fast, painless way out.

"I'm sorry." Dazai whispered in your ear, his lips tickled the shell of it and you basked in the gentle feeling for a moment. It was a luxury you wouldn't get to experience, again. A wistful smile settled down on your lips, your eyes closed. You were at peace. "It's okay, Osamu. I'll watch over you from the other side. But for now, this is goodbye."

Dazai's hands shook as he placed the muzzle of his gun right against your chest where your heart was peacefully beating. Why did he have to kill the one person he was attached to? One of the very little good things he ever had in life would slip through his fingers, no matter how desperately he'd reach out for you. Dazai took a deep breath - a futile attempt to keep his composure - and pulled the trigger.

You immediately went limp in his arms, blood staining the white dress you wore and his own clothes too. The executive dropped the gun, held your corpse tightly in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He was glad no one was there to see him cry and sob into your hair. No one would ever see the way he held you for an hour, the way he grew terrified of how your body temperature dropped.

No one would ever see the pure feelings he had towards you.

"Goodbye, [Name]."

Dazai woke up in a cold sweat, spine as straight as a candle while his mind was slowly realizing that this was nothing but a nightmare. A bad one, too. "Crap.." The executive rubbed the side of his head, his heart still pounding in his rib cage from the vision that had just haunted him. He hated how you tormented his mind and occupied it like it was your own pretty place. You should at least pay some rent.

Checking the time on his phone, the numbers 02:13 am greeted him. At that time, you were normally still practicing, pushing yourself past your limits until you were so worn out that all you could do was lie on the cool ground, panting. Dazai threw the blanket away a little harder than needed, grabbed a pair of pants and a button down shirt. He needed to make sure you were still alive, he seeked your presence.

Maybe you could tend to the foreign panic he felt.

A strong wave of relief and comfort washed over Dazai as he saw you on the stage and the song found its end. His heart no longer beat erratically in his chest, but gradually calmed down. Slumping down in his usual seat, Dazai realized one thing.

He was scared of losing you.

And judging by the way you stopped everything and ran off the stage to sit down right next to him, you were worried about him, too. Ah, how nice it was to feel your hand cup his cold cheek, the pad of your caressing the skin right underneath Dazai's eyes. He had grown used to your touchy-ness and right now, it was very welcomed. A confirmation that you were very much real and alive unlike in the nightmare you'd unknowingly put him through.

"Everything okay?" Carefully, you asked as Dazai didn't mumble a single word and let himself being touched without much of a comment that served the mere purpose to make you blush. The suicidal brunette you grew fond of snapped out of whatever thought he was stuck in, his head whipping towards you. Worry was laced in your eyes and while Dazai definitely expected the devastating look you gave him, it pierced right through a sensitive spot of his. It was weird.

"Do you think there's a difference between good and evil?" It was an unusually deep question which Dazai had never asked you before. Normally, he asked you for silly favors like choking him to death or using your high kick to break his neck. You blinked once, twice.

Then you realized that this was Dazai being in a vulnerable state.

A heavy moment of silence filled the air around you and weighed heavily on your slim shoulders, words got stuck in your throat. School, family and society would say yes to that question, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe it was a matter of circumstances, interpretation and one's own morals.

With a huff escaping your lips, you sat back in your seat and stared at the empty stage. The one you wanted to perform on with the hall being sold out, one day. "Maybe there isn't that much of a difference, depending on how you look at it," you started and caught Dazai's attention. He had long since figured that you were capable of thinking and feeling for your own, but he wasn't sure if he expected such a response from a citizen. "If two nations are at war and a man kills someone from the opposing country to protect someone close to him and the same happens vice versa, then who is good and who is evil?" Eyes fluttering shut, you tapped your temple with your index and middle finger, Dazai's own eyes always set on you.

"Then there's also Yin and Yang. A bad seed lies in every good thing, a good seed lies in every bad thing," your gaze flew to the wall high above you, the dim lighting of the theater emphasized the tender structure of your jaw, the light in your eyes and the delicate curve of your neck. "So maybe good and bad are a curious mix of one another and aren't that different from one another."

Gradually, the light returned to Dazai's eyes and dipped them into the rich, chocolate brown color you liked so much. The curve on his lips was tender, the ghost of a smile but it was genuine and came from somewhere deep within his heart. You didn't know where this sudden, fond look came from, but you knew you never wanted it to disappear. "Do you have a camera with you?" Thrown off by his sudden question, you could only nod. "Uh yeah, why?"

"I want to take a picture of us." Because he feared he might lose you for real.

Without prodding any more, you dug around in your bag for the black device and came back with the camera in your hands, a smile on your face. "Well then, let's take a fancy picture." You positioned the camera on one of the empty seats. Dazai casually leaned his weight against the stage while you sat on the edge, feet dangling in the air and your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull the man closer. A tranquil expression was on Dazai's face as you did so and said "cheese!".

The picture ended up in the pocket of his trench coat, reminding him that he had a bit of light in his life.

Lady luck certainly wasn't on your side this snowy day since she thought it was really funny to let your tyre drive over some sharp shards of glass. Swerving ever so slightly, you pulled up at a parking lot at an unfamiliar restaurant which was close to the frozen pier. "At least I didn't strand in the middle of nowhere." You huffed and tightly wrapped a scarf around your neck until the warm fabric covered about half of your face. It was a short walk from your car to the restaurant, but there was no way in hell you'd let the cold sink deeper into your bones than necessary.

Once the engine died down, you got out of your car and entered the small restaurant which was visited by only one man. Red hair, blue eyes and a pleasant voice as he chatted away with who you assumed was the cook and boss of this place. Tugging off your gloves, the scarf soon followed and was placed on the empty stool next to you; at least it was comfortable.

"Excuse me?" You politely interrupted the conversation between the two men and caught their attention. "My car died and I wondered if I could use someone's phone to get it towed away." The chubby cook was quick to respond as he handed you his old Nokia which was safely stored in the back pocket of his jeans. You thanked the man, glad that someone was willing to help and called the nearest auto repair shop. Ultimately, you didn't have any tyres in your trunk since you rarely drove. Oh, what a stupid decision that was.

After a small phone call and receiving the information that it would certainly take some time to get to your car, you decided to at least order some food and a glass of water. It was the least you could do after the owner was kind enough to lend you his phone for approximately five minutes.

While you were obviously enjoying your food, Odasaku couldn't help but wonder how high the probability of meeting you was.

At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but there you were, sitting a few stools away to keep a decent distance from the stranger who was Dazai's best and only friend. The description Dazai had given Oda was definitely more than accurate and not an exaggeration on his friend's part: the hair, eyes, height and way of dressing up matched Dazai's words all too well. Ah, what did the brunette say about you once? Right, it was like you demanded everyone's attention as soon as you stepped in the room, but in a very positive way. It was simply the aura you gave off.

Odasaku had seen the picture, too. You were definitely the woman who had hugged Dazai in the picture, beaming into the lens like no one else was watching.

"It's pretty cold, isn't it?" To Oda's surprise, it was you who actually struck up a conversation out of the blue. You wiped the small heap of snowflakes from your head, some of the melted snow had already dampened your hair and clothes. "You know Dazai, don't you?" Odasaku changed the topic, curious about what you thought of his dear friend, what your feelings were and if you had any concealed intentions. Admittedly, it was impudent of him to question your aim when Odasaku only knew you from words.

Eyes wide, you blinked in slight confusion before it clicked. "Yes, I do. Are you..by any chance Odasaku?" You had heard about Dazai's friends from some of his stories that either included a bar named Lupin or his job which the brunette still hadn't revealed. Well, it wasn't like it was any of your business, anyway. "I see he has already talked about me, huh? Only good things, I hope." Oda pretty much deadpanned and you couldn't help the laugh bubbling in the back of your throat at how serious he sounded - just like Dazai said. "Of course I heard only good things about you! Don't worry about it."

In-between a quick introduction and a few bites of the pasta you had ordered, you heard the question:"What do you think about Dazai?" Warmth was quick to dip the apple of your cheeks in a reddish color as your brain thought of an appropriate answer and how far you could go. Sure, this man was Dazai's best friend, but in the end, Odasaku was still a stranger to you. "What I think of him?" You repeated more to yourself than to Oda and suddenly got..shy. Odasaku nodded wordlessly.

"Dazai is an interesting person. It's hard to tell what he's thinking or feeling, yet being with him is fairly easy. Strikes me as someone who's definitely popular with the ladies and knows it, but he seems like a good guy, regardless. Pretty funny, too." For a moment your pursed your lips, fork poking around in your beloved pasta as you possibly shared too much, yet again. "I really like him, I guess.." Oda found no lie in your body language, in the way you talked or reacted when he asked you about the suicidal brunette. However, maybe you liked the mafia executive more than you realized or wanted to admit, Oda silently thought to himself.

"I might be sticking my nose into things where it's not wanted, but you definitely caught Dazai's interest." Oda paid for his own food, the cook mumbling something about him not having to do it, but accepting the money, nevertheless. "Huh?" Did your ears betray you or did Dazai's best friend, the infamous Odasaku who the younger man looked up to so much, tell you that Dazai was indeed intrigued? Maybe, you should get your ears checked, soon. Just to be sure.

"If you weren't interesting, Dazai wouldn't visit you. He's not much of a dancer and even less interested in it. But you seem to have caught him in a way."

With those words being said, Odasaku bid his farewell to the cook and you who was still processing his words and contemplating how much weight to give that revelation. Sure, Dazai had told you several days ago that he wasn't a dancer, but you couldn't really figure out why he insisted on still visiting you.

For the rest of the day, your heart beat a little bit faster than it was supposed to and this time, you were aware of the reason why.

Your encounter with Oda should've kept your spirits high, but that wasn't the case unfortunately. This night was void of any stars, thick, dark clouds even hid the moon that was usually watching you akin to a certain brunette.

But just like the moon, he didn't show up.

As always, just like every night, you stretched and practiced in the empty theater. The more time progressed, the more you seemed to mess up and feed into your own disappointment which quickly turned into impatience mixed with frustration. It seemed like your legs had a mind of their own and refused to listen to you while your muscles were getting sore from the strenuous training you forced them through.

You kept tripping over your own feet, painfully fell to your knees and sometimes managed to cushion the fall by dropping on your arms rather than your ribs. The soles of your feet ached, screaming at you to rest while a stifling soreness stretched itself throughout your muscles. But no, you couldn't stop. Not yet. Not when you were so close to perfecting the choreography, not when you were so close to feeling satisfied with the outcome. All you needed was more practice.

Sweat drenched your shirt and made your feet stick to the wooden floor in a disgusting way. But it would be worth it. The pain would pain off. You hoped.

Stretching your arm out, you felt the pain in your shoulder, but you gave it your all nevertheless. As soon as you stood on one leg, the limb gave out below you and ruthlessly let another bruise bloom on your kneecaps. Red, blue, purple, green and yellow stained your knees. A pained groan strained your throat as you picked yourself back up again, palms red from the amount of times you had done so. It was a painful process, but you needed it. Feeling that pain was so much better than feeling the distress of the impending death as a dancer, again.

Why couldn't you get that one move right? It was supposed to be easy and yet, you always failed over and over again. "Fuck.." You cussed underneath your heavy breath and wiped a few tears away. This was no time to cry over trivial things. The only reason why you picked up dancing again was to feel something. You had already died once and gosh was that painful. Oh, how you vowed to never die, again.

Once more. Taking a deep breath to keep your composure under control, you kept your arms straight by your side and put your weight on your dominant leg. You were in the middle of pivoting with your chest nearly touching your upper thighs when you lost your balance and fell to your knees and elbows. This time, tears flowed, the music kept going without you.

"To hell with it!" You yelled, threw your shoes against the wall in anger, frustration even and slid down the length of the wall. Heavy sobs rocked your body and you forgot that the vast space left an ugly echo of the disappointment you let out freely. At least, you were alone with no one to see you in such a weak moment. No one would see your tears and attempt to wipe them away. No one would tell you to cheer up and whisper sweet encouragements into your ear.

All you needed was to let it out.

It took you a while to calm down and find the bathroom of the theater. As you looked into the mirror, you were met with bloodshot eyes, messy hair and sticky clothes. Gazing downwards, you saw just how red your palms were and spotted a few cuts from mean splinters. Worn out, you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt and cringed at your bloody elbows, the red liquid was nearly dry and crusted around more severe bits. Just what you needed, really.

A sigh slipped your dry lips as cold water hit your hands, the temperature somewhat soothed the ache and calmed you down until you saw how the water turned red. "No, no, no, no!" You called out, eyes brimming with new tears you didn't know you still possessed as you scrubbed your hands, forearms and elbows furiously. The minor wounds reopened, causing fresh blood to leak from the broken skin and stain the sink in an hideous crimson.

That night, you scrubbed until it hurt.

No song resonated with you.

A few nights had passed when Dazai stepped foot into the theater once again and was welcomed by the sophisticated shadow your silhouette painted on the vast wall like the finest of paintings. Compared to the shadow, you were so bright and oh-so-short. He liked the contrast.

Silently to not disturb the flow you seemed to be in, Dazai took his seat as always and let his eyes drink in of the passionate smooth image that was you. The executive wondered just how much strength you had to possess in order to quickly switch from sleek moves to sharp ones that made your legs and chest pop. He wondered how many restless nights you had spent dancing in your room, on your own with no one to watch. He wondered why you still danced, although it seemed to be such an exhausting process.

All these questions were answered as Dazai merely watched you. The way you got lost in the lovely melody of the piano which was akin to a day in spring and spun on stage with your hands resting right above your heart, a happy grin on your face - that was the answer. Dance was something you were good at and found joy in.

Dazai was drawn to the way your shoes squeaked against the wooden floor, how your ripped jeans hugged your legs and the adorably oversized sweater. Everything was so you that Dazai found familiarity in your presence, peace and a bit of warmth which every human so selfishly craved for.

"It's good to see you, again." You squatted on the stage, arms hugging your shins closer to your body and as the holes in your jeans stretched, Dazai immediately noticed the nasty bruises on your knees. Seeing these stains for the first time, he wondered how hard how hard you had pushed yourself to look like you had fallen into a bucket of paint. How often had you fallen and still continued although it hurt? No doubt that the bruises still hurt at this moment, but when Dazai's eyes fell on your face, he saw nothing of the hell you had put yourself through. The smile on your reddish lips was tender, your eyes twinkled in the dim lighting and you welcomed him like he was your dear friend.

You never complained about the bruises on your knees.

"This sounds like you missed me, [Name]." In all honesty, a small, soft part within the brunette hoped you had missed him just like you had occupied his thoughts during his own work. For once, Dazai wanted to be missed by you, even though he had been gone for less five days. Your legs dangled off the edge of the stage, palms behind your back and supporting your weight as you nodded your head slightly. "Honestly? I did. It's not the same when you're absent, Dazai."

The mafia executive came to stand between your legs, bandaged hands resting on your hips and your doe eyes looking up at him in anticipation. His heart was so easily swayed by you and lord punish him if he would ever do anything to hurt you. "You meant what you said, didn't you? About not being able to find another audience." Ah, how were you supposed to respond? This was the first time Dazai got so close to you, touched you and it felt oddly intimate how he spoke, how he looked at you. Your heart pounded in your ribcage. "I always mean what I say, Osamu. None of them would be you."

Dazai was nearly cautious when he tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear as if you were to break if he was too rough with you. He so badly wanted to deny himself of you, of your presence and the mere thought of you, but humans were sinful beings who always wanted the one thing they could break, taint and corrupt. When had you made Dazai so weak for you? A foreign emotion which Dazai experienced for the possibly very first time in his lonely life and he didn't want to let go of it. Rather, he wanted to protect and treasure it in fear it'd break. But what if Dazai himself was the one to shatter whatever was going on between you and him?

Unconsciously, Dazai cupped your cheek in his hand and caressed the skin underneath your eye - much like you had done when the man had searched for you after the nightmare he surely wouldn't forget so easily. Maybe, Dazai wanted to caress all your bruises and wounds away. "Really? I reckon you'd find an audience of much greater size." His voice was barely above a whisper while you leaned into his touch, blushing. Slender fingers tugged on Dazai's tie until the tip of your nose poked his own, your warm breath fanning over his cheeks. "If I could choose between a crowd and you, I'd always choose you, Osamu."

Dazai's lips hesitantly brushed over yours, it was like the touch of a ghost to see how you'd react and you never shied away. Instead, you took matters into your own hands and pressed your lips to Dazai's, gently at first.

After getting over his initial shock, the executive let his eyes flutter shut while his hand now cupped the nape of your neck, thumb still on your cheek as Dazai let his lips melt into yours. It was a sweet kiss shared between two people who weren't familiar with the concept of loving someone else, but the act felt so awfully right; like one had finally found a long lost piece of a puzzle and could finally finish the picture.

You smiled once the kiss was broken, but Dazai was quick to chase your lips and engage you in another lip lock. This time, it was firm and you let your lips melt into Dazai's with your palms on his chest to feel his heartbeat. Ah, it was just starting to calm down, you noted and smiled into the innocent kiss.

You felt warm all over.

"Let me watch you dance one more time."

Your response came in the form of a simple nod.

And so, Dazai sat on down on the stage and watched you spin or fall into a half-split to your heart's content. He had no interest in dance, but he was interested in you.

Hopefully, he would get the chance to see you during the day, as well.

But that wish wouldn't be granted until four years later, because Odasaku died.

Spring rolled around and cherry blossoms bloomed throughout the lively streets of Yokohama. Children's laughter filled the playgrounds with some much needed life, the sun smiled down at the city while the salty breeze of the shore cooled everyone down once in a while.

But the most important thing: The agency was as energetic as ever with Kunikida scolding Dazai for having tried to woo the waitress at Uzumaki's in an inappropriate manner. Something about needing her hands around his neck or something like that. Atsushi watched his superiors in shock and mild confusion as the scene continued. "Ah, right, I can't waste any more time on you. A client is on the way." The blonde detective brushed his palms off on his pants as though Dazai had dirtied them just by breathing.

"Whaaat? But that means more work and even more reports!" Dazai complained and dramatically palmed his face, head leaned back to the ceiling as he dreaded the new amount of work a new client brought. Despite the brunette's constant complaints, Dazai still finished whatever was expected of him; it was Odasaku's wish he was currently living. "Quit complaining and make yourself look acceptable. You look like you just got choked." Kunikida scolded after having choked Dazai himself.

The opening of a door went unheard as the two detectives kept arguing back and forth and was only interrupted by Atsushi greeting the client as politely as he could. He was told not to ruin the Agency's name and Atsushi was sure that Kunikida would drag him through hell and back himself if he was to mess up. "Welcome! You must be Ms. [Name], right?" Atsushi hoped you'd ignore the mess happening in the background.

"Exactly. There's an issue and.." Gradually, you trailed off as you raised your gaze, let yourself take in the office until they landed on him. The man you thought had died due to his suicidal tendencies stood right in front of you among his colleagues. The man you had grown so deeply attached to was very much alive and still looked the same, though he had grown and matured a bit. Overall, his entire energy seemed to be a tad bit brighter.

Your muscles froze, hands shaking as your eyes widened and silent tears rolled down your cheeks. Dazai seemed just as shocked; his gaze was deeply locked with your teary one as he too recognized you. How couldn't he recognize you? You were the first person to soothe the pain he felt even if it was only for a couple of hours. Dazai still carried the picture around.

"U-uhm.." Atsushi was about to ask what was going on, but Kunikida stopped the rookie by putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him away from the scene. Kunikida didn't know the deal between Dazai and you, but he did know that you two obviously needed to talk about it without anyone interrupting. "Don't. You can ask him later."

"It's you Osamu, isn't it?" Hastily, you wiped your tears away once the shock wore off. How often did you wait for Dazai to come through the doors of the theater with an unreadable expression on his face? How often had you simply sat in the vast hall with Sensei in your lap instead of dancing? How often had you cried thinking that Dazai succeeded in taking his own life? "It's been a while, hasn't it, [Name]?" Dazai's expression softened upon seeing you again, although he was also scared. He never thought anyone from his past would see him ever again, and yet there you were.

"Would you let me explain?"

You should be angry at Dazai for leaving you behind just like that, but a bigger part of you was so relieved to see the brunette still breathing, standing in front of you with that same damn look lingering in the depths of his eyes. "You'd better." Dazai offered you his hand to take, hoping to take some of your anxiety and maybe some of his own fears, too.

Luckily, Dazai found out you were still dancing.

That night, he watched you once again and never stopped watching you.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd x reader #fic: swan song

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notanacousticsetcal · 4 years

Text

girl crush (lrh) - chapter three

summary - luke is 19 and 5sos is at the top of their game. daisy harlow is a solo artist becoming more popular by the day. daisy and luke “date” for publicity but some real feelings start to spark during their forced time together. the only problem? luke has a girlfriend.

warnings - none! (for this chapter) basically just lots of nerves.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - I changed the perspective to 3rd person because it felt more fitting. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone and if it does please let me know! Thank you for reading :)

DAISY’S POV

“Rise and shine, sleepy head! Big day today.”

Daisy groans and shoves the pillow over her head, pushing Virginia away from the bed. “When I gave you a key, I wasn’t thinking you’d be barging in here at the ass crack of dawn trying to ruin my beauty sleep.”

Virginia laughs and pulls the pillow away from Daisy’s face. “Sweetie, it's not the ass crack of dawn. It's 11am and you’re gonna be late. Get up, we gotta go.”

Daisy’s eyes shoot wide open. “11AM? Jesus Christ, why didn’t my alarm go off?” She stumbles out of bed and slips on some shoes, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. They were supposed to meet Dianne at 11 to start hair and makeup.

“I knew this would happen. I called to make sure you were on your way and you didn’t answer so I came to save the day.” Virginia gives Daisy a smug look and flips her hair dramatically over her shoulder.

Daisy reaches out and pulls her into a bone crushing hug, “You’re the best, don’t know where I’d be without you.” Daisy quickly grabs a pair of jeans and almost eats shit trying to hop into them on her way to the door.

“Lets go!” She calls to Virginia, grabbing her house keys and pulling on some slippers.

“Alright, alright I’m coming skippy-van-hops-a-lot, Jesus.” Virginia follows quickly behind Daisy, giving a quick goodbye pet to Artemis.

As the friends stumble out of Daisy’s apartment, she opens her phone to a few missed calls from Dianne’s assistant, Genevieve. She quickly clicks Genevieve’s icon and calls her back, pressing her phone between her ear and shoulder as she rummages through her bag for her car keys, bracing herself to be sternly reprimanded.

“Daisy, where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here like now!” cries a very stressed Genevieve. She mutters to someone else on the other end “I have her on the phone.”

Daisy tosses the keys to Virginia, mouthing “you drive” and runs her now free hand through her hair anxiously. “I’m so sorry Genevieve, on my way now. I overslept. I’ll be there ASAP.”

She sighs and whispers angrily, “Alright, hurry your ass up, I’m covering for you.”

Daisy lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you, I owe you. See you soon.”

Daisy hangs up and gets in the car, replying to all the other missed messages she had received while she was getting her beauty sleep including some from Mariah about how Daisy’s going to meet the aussie man of her dreams tonight. Daisy groans and curls up in the passenger seat of the car, laying her forehead against the cool glass of the window, semi hoping she drops dead before she has to talk to the stupid handsome lead singer tonight.

Virginia pulls out Daisy’s car, nearly hitting an elderly couple, and the girls quickly head to hair and makeup.

After a quick 15 minute drive, Virginia and Daisy practically sprint into Dianne’s office. Genevieve races up to the girls as soon as they pass the threshold, her normally tame red locks, frizzy and shooting in every direction, and grabs Virginia and Daisy by the wrists. She tugs them impatiently towards makeup and just short of throws them into their seats. Without another word, she storms away, looking more stressed by the second.

Virginia and Daisy share a look of mutual concern for the small redhead who’s always so calm and collected before they’re interrupted by Dianne’s employees, who without a single word begin work on their faces.

After two hours of careful work and perfected brush strokes, both Virginia, who is coming as a plus one, and Daisy have a full face of makeup and move on to hair. The girls give each other a once over, taking in the completed glam.

Virginia has always been the beautiful best friend. She has shorter, light brown hair and piercing blue eyes and the most perfect bone structure, but Daisy couldn’t even be envious because she’s the most supportive, selfless person Daisy had ever met and it doesn’t feel right to wish away any of her beauty -- she deserves every ounce of it.

Her eyeshadow looks simple with a heavy cat eye and her lips are painted a bold red. It looks stunning on her and will match perfectly with the satin red dress she had picked out for the event.

“Gia, you look hot,” Daisy’s mouth goes slack at the flawless makeup.

“Says you! I’ve never seen you wear this much makeup during the whole time we’ve known each other!” Daisy turns to look in the mirror. Her eyeshadow is heavier and smoky which makes her green eyes stand out that much more while her lips are painted a nude, glossy shade. It doesn’t feel like she’s looking at herself in the mirror. She gapes in awe at the makeup artists handiwork.

“Holy shit, this looks great.”

Virginia and Daisy wait around, getting their hair done, eating lunch (they only had salads, gag), playing games, waiting until it's time to get in their dresses and head to the event. The hustle and bustle of artists doing other girls’ makeup (including Ariana fucking Grande who both Daisy and Virginia were too starstruck to approach) and people in charge running back and forth swirls around them, but they pay no mind.

After a while, it was finally time to get dressed, so Virginia and Daisy agreed to part ways.

Virginia’s dress:

Daisy’s dress:

Daisy watches as Virginia steps out in her dress looking absolutely stunning, per usual.

Daisy’s dress is simple, but this is her first big event and she doesn’t want to overdo it. Any negative attention would upset her too much.

Daisy has to admit. She does feel pretty hot.

After exchanging a multitude of compliments, Virginia and Daisy are on their way to the VMAs. Daisy’s hands are a shaking mess and the more she thinks about the idea that in a few minutes she’ll be meeting that stupid dumb blonde boy she’s supposed to be dating, the more she feels like she can’t breathe.

Virginia notices the nerves and grabs Daisy’s hand, throwing the poor girl a reassuring smile. Daisy returns the favor and gives her a small, probably pretty unconvincing smile back.

The car halts in front of the entrance and the door is opening. Bright lights blind Daisy as she’s guided out of the vehicle, Virginia close behind.

Daisy smiles despite the chaos and waves to the photographers outside of the building, but inside she feels disoriented. It's like she’s on autopilot. She allows herself to be directed into the building and is quick to find Virginia again once she's inside.

“Jesus, I can’t see.” Virginia blinks and her eyes move around unfocused.

“Gia, I’m right here.” Daisy waves her hands in front of Virginia’s face, laughing.

“Goddamn, it felt like I was staring into the fucking sun.” She blinks and focuses her eyes on Daisy, giving her a look of annoyance at the ordeal.

“I know, I’m definitely not used to that stuff yet.” Daisy looks around anxiously, trying to spot Mariah so she can tell her what the hell she’s supposed to be doing. She’s never done anything like this before.

“Ah, you’re here! You both look stunning, the boys are already here. Virginia, dear, there are 3 other attractive men in that band and they all happen to be single,” Mariah suggests, slyly, throwing Virginia a quick wink.

Virginia blushes a deep red, “I’m not famous, they won’t spare me a second glance.” She brushes off Mariah with a wave of her hand.

Mariah scoffs, “Oh, please, doll, you look just ravishing, they won’t be able to resist. Besides, sometimes I think they prefer a girl away from the fame, you know? Knock ‘em dead, ladies.” Mariah gives Virginia’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and pulls the girls towards their seats in the audience which are labeled with their names.

VIRGINIA RHODES

DAISY HARLOW

LUKE HEMMINGS

CALUM HOOD

ASHTON IRWIN

MICHAEL CLIFFORD

Daisy internally groans. When Mariah said she would be sitting with Luke, she meant right next to him.

Daisy sits down, feeling a wave of intense panic set in. Why is she so fucking nervous? He’s just a boy.

LUKES POV

Luke scrolls aimlessly through twitter, liking his favorite tweets from fans and checking up on some of his friends. The boys laugh and mess around beside him while they make their way to the VMAs.

Luke checks his hair in his phone camera for what must’ve been the millionth time and runs his sweaty palms over his knees anxiously, glancing out the tinted window.

“Luke, Luke.” Calum pokes Luke’s shoulder repeatedly to get his attention.

“What is it?” Luke turns around to face Calum sitting behind him and sighs in slight irritation. Luke was on edge and didn’t feel like listening to whatever childish joke Calum probably wanted him to hear.

“Listen to the fart sound Michael can make, it sounds so fucking real.” Calum points at Michael and on cue, he makes a stupid fart noise with his mouth, sending Calum and Ashton into a fit of giggles. Luke sighs and turns back around, unlocking his phone and opening the Twitter app again, done with his bandmates’ antics.

“Come on, Luke, don’t be like that.” Ashton squeezes Luke’s shoulder from beside him.

Michael pulls himself towards the two boys, resting his head against Asthon’s headrest. “Aww, is little Lukey nervous about meeting his fake girlfriend?”

Luke scoffs, “Shut up, Michael.”

“I think you struck a nerve, mate.” Calum slaps Michael’s back approvingly earning a chuckle from the boy.

“I’m not nervous, piss off.” Luke rests his head against the window like a sulking toddler and the boys erupt in a chorus of laughter.

“What would Bella think about all this? Have you told her?” Ashton questions.

Luke sighs again at the mention of his girlfriend -- his real girlfriend -- Bella who was currently back at their shared apartment.

“No, I haven’t fucking told her.” Luke mutters, picking at his fingernails and looking awfully guilty. The boys hated Bella and from the beginning, Bella has always hated the boys, making it very difficult for Luke to keep balance between his relationship and his best mates. “Can we stop talking about this? We’re here.”

The boys climb out of the car, one by one, once the car slows to a stop. They’re led to their assigned seats and Luke feels his heartbeat pick up, so much so he feels lightheaded.

Nobody has ever had this effect on him before. Especially not someone he’s never talked to. He’s thoroughly confused to say the least.

There’s just something about her, something mesmerizing -- something unique. Maybe it's the way her eyes twinkled when she sang, like momentarily she was taken somewhere else, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders like a waterfall, or the way she was so passionate.

The boys turn a corner and immediately, Luke’s eyes fall on her. He wishes he could run, hide, go anywhere but here, but his legs keep carrying him closer and closer to her.

The boys shuffle into the seats and Luke begins to feel like his knees are going to buckle at any moment.

He knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way. But how can something that feels so right be bad?

He sits down next to her, shifting uncomfortably and once those emerald green eyes trail up to his blue ones…

Game over. Luke is royally screwed.

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings x reader #luke 5sos #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos imagines #5sos x reader #5sos x you #calum 5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of smut #5 seconds of summer imagines #calum 5 seconds of summer #luke 5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #ashton 5sos

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matt0044 · 3 years

Text

“Loose Ends” an Astra: Lost In Space One-Shot by matt0044

Each parent sat down at the Caird High School Meeting Room table wearing a solemn yet firm facade. Between Sofie Lacroix and Emma Spring, it was prime to keep up appearances for the sake of silently mourning for their "children." The reality was that they couldn't believe that they had gotten away with disposing of their clones. Whatever somberness that appeared on their faces was more of disappointment. All of those long years and effort creating a new life. Trashed.

"As much as we might've hoped for the best," Emma Spring heard Marco Esposito expound, "it's time that we stopped delaying the inevitable." She clenched the form handed out to her with a solemn expression, hoping not to give away her true grief. "Once you sign these forms, the Adjudication of Disappearance will be set in stone for our children and make them legally dead." Her mind drifted back to Seria and the promise that she made. The promise she failed to keep.

"What a shame," Jed Walker sighed with his usual straight-forward tone, signing his form. "I had such hopes for my boy." He eyed Olive Raffaeli next to him, speaking in vague enough term. "Speak for yourself," she replied indignantly yet quietly, signing off her own paper. "Quitterie was just barely scraping by academically." The nurse put her paper out onto the center where it'd be collected, trying to ignore Mister Walker. "The transfer would've been far too obvious."

Rei Hoshijima scoffed at the bickering old couple to his left. "Then you should've kept a better look at her personal life," he claimed, signing his paper. "Wei Lu was smart enough to keep her's as an unknown nobody." He eyed the famous singer just across from him next to Emma. "And you put Kanata through the wringer from what I heard," Gert Zweig remarked next to him. "Not that I fault you for trying to play catch up but you might've risked drawing attention to us."

Just as Gert signed off on his form, he felt his phone beginning to vibrate... along with everybody else's eerily enough. On top of that, they all could've sworn they had switched the devices off. After sharing a glance of confusion between each other, each adult in the room pulled out their smartphones and found an totally unknown caller on their FaceTime. They glanced at each other's phones to find the same screen showing just the same. Soon enough, they all answered.

"Did you miss us?" Kanata Hoshijima quipped with a cocky rise of his eyebrow upon appear on each screen. A wave of confusion washed all over the adults simultaneously followed by a bigger wave of dread in tandem. All except for Emma and Sofie who were just plain confused. "Seriously?" a young male voice chimed in with a deadpan tone similar to Jed's. "That's your opening line?" The adult in question's formal facade shattered upon recognizing his son. "Zack?!"

Kanata rolled his eyes at his first mate's backchat. "I know it's cliche but it was right there," he retorted defensively. "S-son?" Rei managed to speak out. "You're alive?" Kanata turned back to their screen with a cheeky grin. "Quite the plot twist, huh?" his clone replied with a devil-may-care attitude. "One minute we were on our way to camp, the next we're on a space voyage back to Astra." Rei shared his confused dread with his fellow conspirators before Jed spoke up.

"What do you mean by... 'space voyage'?" Jed Walker inquired, sounding fascinated in spite of his fear. Sure enough, Zack's face switched out with Kanata on their screens. "Without getting into the details, a wormhole on Mcpa sent us approximately 5,000 light years into space," he spoke in his usual matter-of-fact manner. "Thankfully, there was an abandoned vessel nearby that provided a viable route back." He adjusted his glasses. "Quite the coincidence if you ask me."

Olive did her best to keep some semblance of composure. "Yes... whatever were the odds?" she glanced ever so slightly towards Jed with a glare in her eyes. They had been told of the true home-world of humanity by the Vixian Archives in their efforts to bury any leads. They knew that not all ships had cleared orbit before the meteor struck Earth. What they didn't know that one was apparently still operational. Nor that their clones would actually survive to use one period.

Jed could see the look in Olive's eyes. In fact, he felt everyone else in on the plan glaring at him, as if silently demanding to know what their plan B is. Problem was that there was never a plan be. Charce was suppose to have done he and his fellow clones in when he had the chance. Even with their Crust Suits activated, their oxygen was finite for it to just delay the inevitable. However, he gave them a reassuring glance to promise that they would adapt to this in time.

"Where's everybody else?" Emma desperately spoke up to break the silence. "Please tell me that Aeris made it." Zack genuinely smiled at her than he had before. "I can assure you that we all made it through, Ms. Spring." Both Emma and Sofie were the only ones to let out a sigh of relief. "They're all packing up their stuff for when we touch down on Astra." Neither woman had ever felt more relieved in the last year than they had now. "We're checking communications."

Marco Esposito finally spoke up after composing himself like the politician he was. "Well, I'm certain that I speak for everybody here when I say that this is nothing short of miraculous," he proclaimed with a proud smile hiding his own dread. "If I may suggest, I can personally call the Space Port to fly you in." The unscrupulous man shared his fake expression with everybody else as if to reassure his co-conspirators of a way out. "Just let us know when you're landing."

Each adult began to see where Marco was going with this as they gulped hopefully. If he could tip off the military as to a threat up in orbit, they could mistake the ship for a unidentified flying object. The destruction of the ship would incinerate each and everybody on board without even a trace of their DNA. None of the kids would suspect a thing until it was far too late. With any further luck, nobody would know that their children had actually commandeered a space-ship.

"Oh, we'll land this crate when we're good and ready," Kanata answered as the screens switched back to him. "Specifically once you're behind bars." A sudden chill came over the adults as their facades fully crumbled like cookies in milk before Zack appeared on Jed's phone primarily. "Between illegal genetic cloning as well as attempted premeditated murder of nine minors, I imagine you each face a life sentence." For the first time, his father's face displayed unmitigated horror.

"This... can't be..." Emma began to speak up, starting to put the pieces together. She looked around the room at the adult around her and found their expressions to match her distress but with a dash of pure dread. "You were all part of the king's plan?" the former servant exclaimed. Her mind soon realized how much of a family resemblance there was among the others and their children. The reactions of astonishment sent her way all but confirmed her revelation.

"Charce filled us in on the details but we managed to do most of the deduction ourselves," Aires spoke softly as her face appeared on Emma's phone. "I even have it all jotted down in my extensive diary." Just the sight of her little girl before her brought the former servant to tears. "We've been told about Princess Seria and the risks you took just for her clone." It was a relief to know that her highness didn't leave this world in vain that she didn't bother to wipe her face.

"Just what sort of prank are you trying to pull?" Olive declared at Zack, slamming her fist on the table. "Where did this 'cloning' come from?" As if on cue, Quitterie's scowl flash upon her phone specifically. "Zack analyzed my DNA along with Funicia and found an exact match," she declared with barely restrained anger. "We even lucked out with Yun-Hua and Ulgar to prove it beyond doubt." Her original found herself actually intimidated by her daughter, unable to speak.

"This was what Finn died for, wasn't it?" Ulgar spitefully spoke upon appearing on Gert's phone, his fury on full display. "He blew the lid clean off of your little scheme through Esposito and had to 'commit suicide' all just to save your own skins." The vice principal felt his palms perspire and his breath becoming sparse as his clone dressed him down thoroughly. "Your own son was a small enough price to pay for your sick attempt at immortality." His phone slipped from his grip.

"This isn't happening," Macro Esposito stammered, still in denial. "Charce should've finished you off, ship or no ship!" Sofie finally found her voice upon hearing her adoptive son's voice. "He was in on this too?!" she exclaimed, still wrapping her head around all of this before his face appeared on her phone. "As King Vix's vessel, I was aware of what I was," he began with a solemn look in his eye, "and what I was tasked with." His adoptive mother once again had no words.

"Thankfully, the power of friendship prevailed and helped him see the light," Luca cut in almost too casual, flashing upon his father's phone. "Some cheesy melodrama like that." His adoptive father was bewildered by how casual he was being about it, shrugging it off. "You had to be there." Said bewilderment morphed almost seamlessly into a panicked fit. "That's impossible," he stammered. "This is impossible." His breath became shortened. "You are impossible."

Yun-Hua Lu appeared on Wei Lu's phone, the celebrity only surprised by her daughter's makeover. "We felt the same when we put it all together," she began somberly, visibly restraining her true emotions. "Few of your were ever ideal parents but we had hope." Yun-Hua darted her eyes around in discomfort, barely able to stand looking at her original. "Hope that... you'd miss us and make amends as our family," she tried continued, "but you weren't even that, were you?"

A loud slam on the table made everybody jump before they turned straight at a livid Olive. "Of course we weren't," she viciously torn into them, staring directly at Quitterie with the utmost contempt. "You're all clones, doubles, knock-offs." All of her bottled up frustration just gusted out like an endless geyser. "Your job was being our second chance at life until that DNA Collection Process law." A concerned Jed tried to put his hand on her shoulder only for her to swat him away.

"That is all you are!" Olive pressed on, emphasizing every word with her anger. "That is all you will ever be!" She turned her head all around to address the entire crew of the Astra. "Nothing more than glorified meat suits to slip into once we were all past our prime!" A near lifetime of aggravation was finally being unloaded the more she spoke. "So go ahead and call the cops on us because it won't change who you are: a collection of cells fashioned into pale imitations!"

A long moment of stunned silence over Olive's tirade followed both in the room and among their clones while she finally relaxed into their chair. None of the originals dared to dispute her but hardly expected such frustration to boil over. "Better a knock-off than the real thing, toots!" a foul-mouthed male voice spoke up as a pouty Funicia appeared on her mother's phone, her Beego puppet doing the talking. "Coming from you, 'pale imitation' is a real compliment in my book."

The originals were all surprised when a pale faced woman appeared on their phones in place of their children. "These children are far more than just duplicates for your schemes," she spoke in a deep yet almost alien accent. "They went out of their way to save my life and are far more selfless than you'd even hope to be." After sharing his confusion with the others, Jed was the first to speak up in fascination. "And just who might you be?" he asked, sounding almost too calm.

"Paulina Levinskaya," she declared with a strong look in her eye, "the last true Earthling."

While the term itself left most confused, Macro did his best to compose himself by wiping his sweaty brow. "Now let's all be reasonable here," he said in an attempt to mask his crushing fear. "There's no need to do or say anything we might regret when a compromise is possible." He looked across at his fellow co-conspirators for any sign of support amongst their mix emotions. "Wow, a politician trying to bribe his way out of trouble," Luca snarked, "big friggin' surprise."

A slammed fist on the table got all eyes on an angered Emma Spring. "How can you suggest such a thing?" she demanded with sudden surge of emotion not unlike Olive's. "You all tried to dispose of your own children when they were too inconvenient for you." Her regal dialect was beginning to show in her choice of words. "You think you can just buy their silence?" Sofie chimed in with her own indignant scowl. "The minute they land, their DNA will be processed in any case."

Jed Walker smirked ever so slightly. "Not unless we were to report them as alien threats," he suggested with a scheming look in his eyes. "I'm sure Mr. Esposito has the connections to trigger a Def-Con Two if we're lucky." Emma shot him a look of disgust. "Have you all no shame?" she demanded rhetorically. "Those are your children." Jed shot back a look of confidence. "Children who've become 'too inconvenient' as you eloquently put it earlier," he smarmily quipped back at her.

"Destruction or leaving well enough alone," Marco Esposito spoke back with Jed's brand of confidence to Luca along with the rest of the crew. "Sounds like a stalemate if I've ever heard one." He could see the beads of sweat going down his adoptive son's head. "So what do you say?" the pitiful politician proclaimed to the Astra crew as a whole. "Do we have a deal or do we have a deal?" The room remained silent for a few seconds as the originals felt a touch more hopeful.

"Perhaps we should ask the good detective what he thinks first?" Kanata suggested with a sly smile, appearing on everyone's phone once more.

Right on cue, the meeting room's door flung open to unleash multiple police officers like water bursting from a dam. The originals barely had time to react even as they surrounded the table itself and allowed a smartly dressed man in a trench coat stroll in. "With the exceptions of Emma Spring and Sofie Lacroix," Detective Grace declared, pushing up his glasses, "every single one of you are under-arrest for illegal genetic science in conjunction with an attempt at filicide."

The full gravity of the adults' consequences came crashing down upon them like boulders as they realized that they'd been strung along. "The police'd found our story a bit hard to swallow without a vocal confession," Zack explained in his usual matter-of-fact manner. "So I hacked into your phones to meet their requirements." They all looked at their phones to find Jed's clone on all of their screen. "Not too bad for computers well past their sell-by date if you ask me."

Kanata appeared on each screen once more with a mean look in his eye. "However, more than anything, we wanted to let you know just how much your screwed up," he declared, dropping his dopey demeanor. "A way to break all ties before starting our new lives." Rei could tell that his clone was looking more intently at himself. "You might've created us," the young captain began, his tone rising, "but you will ever never be us." Ever phone turned off one second later.

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shawn-mendes-post · 4 years

Text

Not Ready

Request: What if Shawn and reader are dating for a few years and they have a pregnancy scare and Shawn's scared and instead of taking he gets angry bc he's scared he'll miss things bc of his career or his career will end before he wants to and they fight and he sleeps on the couch bc she's angry and hurt but they make up bc they both can't sleep and eat ice-cream together in the kitchen Lol my request is long and very specific sorry.

@irespostthingsiwanttoseelater

A/n: I hope you like how it came out. I was nervous since this is my first request. I did change things a bit, but did try to follow what you requested.

Content Warning: Slight language

Word Count: 2,300

---

(Y/N) never thought she would be in this situation, worried sick out of her mind, not knowing how her boyfriend would react. She knew the two were still young and have upstanding careers that demanded a lot of attention. The two barely moved in together, despite dating for years. Neither was in a rush to get married and start a life, because of how busy they were.

There was nothing to do but tell Shawn; their lives would turn upside down. Sighing, she calls him, trying to get in control of her emotions, not wanting to deal with the issue alone. She wanted Shawn to come since it would impact him as well, hoping things will go well. Her hand rested on her stomach, queasy over the thought life could be growing in her.

"Hey, baby," his voice cheerful and love, which diminishes some of her courage to tell him. She loves him so much that she hoped nothing would break their relationship, not even this mistake. "Shawn, can you come over?" She asked, nervously biting her lower lip, tapping her finger against the table.

Silence filled the air between the two for what felt like hours to (Y/N) but was a few seconds. "Are you okay? Is something wrong? I will be right there, don't worry, everything will be okay," Shawn said, rapidly, running around to get the things he needed.

(Y/N) smiles faintly, knowing he is probably making a mess at his parent's home." It is better if I talk to you in person," she explained, not wanting to worry him more then he already was. She spoke to him a little more, calming him down before she could hang up.

---

Shawn was with his family, taking a break from his tour. He went to spend time with his family because (y/n) was feeling quite sick, so she stayed home. Shawn wanted to stay with her but insisted that he went with the promise of returning soon. Shawn knew he should have stayed home with his girlfriend, but he did miss his family at the same time.

Her calling him out of the blue worried him, knowing he would have returned soon. Shawn quickly left, rushing the goodbyes as he went to the car, driving recklessly. Shawn rushed home, entering to hear nothing, freaking him out more.

After searching the lower floor, he could not find his girlfriend, which scared him. He began to think of the different scenarios as to why she was not there. Shawn hesitantly walked up the stairs, thinking she would be in their bedroom.

---

After calling Shawn, (Y/N) was restless, wanting something to occupy her mind. All she could be thinking were ways of telling him the news, not knowing what to expect. She would drink water bottles as if she never had something to drink in years, knowing she would need to take the multiple tests.

Dark thoughts filled her mind, wavering her determination to tell him. She began to think of excuses to get out of telling hin, not wanting to scare him or make him change his mind about their relationship.

--- Shawn crept his way up the stairs, wondering what the reason she needed him was. The bedroom door was open a bit, letting Shawn walk in. His eyes laid on his beautiful girlfriend, who seemed lost in thought. He stepped closer towards the bed, gently getting on, scooting closer towards her. He envelops her in a hug, pulling her close to him.

"What is wrong, love?" He questioned, in a soft tone, not wanting to freak her out. (Y/N) starts to shake, whimpering at the thought of what his reaction will be. "I think I am pregnant," she blurted, not wanting to keep the issue to herself. She could not deny the idea of being pregnant anymore then she wanted.

The idea of being pregnant freaked her out more than she would tell anyone. A living being in her belly growing sounded so unreal. She never thought of having a family so young, especially not with a famous singer, who's gone for most of the years because of touring. She thought she would start having children in her mid-thirties, after becoming a renowned actress. She wanted enough money to take care of her children with the help of her husband. (Y/N) never thought she would be in her twenties, freaking out mentally with her boyfriend.

--- To say Shawn was shocked would be an understatement. He froze, thinking she was wrong. Shawn was not ready to be a father at all. Shawn might not even want kids; he did not know. Shawn began to think about his career and the idea of being putting things on hold. His music was everything for him, and the thought worried him.

"A-are you sure?" He asked, wearily, glancing at her belly as if it was dangerous being. Shawn watched her shake her head to his relief of her not being pregnant.

"I have missed my period, Shawn. I have been throwing up and can't keep down any food. I feel drained all day, not wanting to do anything" (y/n) explained, gently easing him into the idea. The possibility of her being pregnant with his child. Their child.

Shawn shakes his head, letting her go, getting frustrated with the predicament. "That does not mean you are pregnant. You can be overworked and stressed." He tries to explain to her, thinking logistics, denying the possibility of a baby. Shawn gets off the bed, pacing around, running his hands through his hair, a nervous habit. Muttering under his breath, realizing the changes his life will undergo if she is with child.

--- Watching him panicked, made (y/n) realize it was a bad idea to tell him. (y/n) should have kept her mouth shut, but she thought he ought to know. "I still don't know, Shawn. I wanted you to be here while I took a couple of pregnancy tests," she said, getting up from the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Shawn freaks out, moving away from her, sweat running down his forehead. "I can't be a father (y/n)." He spoke out, shaking his head frantically. "I am not ready. There is so much I still have to do, "Shawn told her, hoping she understood where he was going with this. Shawn stared at his girlfriend, not backing down for what he believed would be the right thing.

(Y/N) 's eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he was talking about. Her eyes widened at the outrageous response her boyfriend told her. "I am not going to have an abortion, Shawn!" She yelled, getting angry at him.

She wraps her arms around her waist, trying to protect her belly, which may or may not have a fetus. (Y/N) thought he would be reluctant at first, he never thought he would request her to get rid of the baby. She stared into his brown eyes that did not have the natural shine in them, making her nervous—stepping back, not knowing what Shawn would do.

"Not an abortion. There are other options," Shawn huffs, getting angry at her for being inconsiderate to his work. He wanted her to understand his perspective and how a child would interfere in his work. "My work is important to me as acting is to you. I will not allow a kid to come between my dream. There is still more I thrive for, and a kid is not something I want," he blurted out, shaking violently.

(Y/N) could not believe what she was hearing; this was not her Shawn. This man was someone else, and she could not love him. "Shawn! I am scared shitless, and this is how you react? I am not ready for this myself. I also have a job that would put on hold because of a baby. I thought you would stick by my side through anything." She yelled, hating that they were fighting over something that might not even be real. He wanted to lash out before she also took a test, which leads her to believe he is not the man she should be in a relationship.

"Well, this is something I did not sign up for (y/n). I thought we were careful. I'm not ready, and I think I never will be ready for kids!" Shawn shouts, frowning at the thought of being stuck and the responsibilities of having kids.

"W-what?" (Y/N) asked, never knowing he might not want kids. The two never had a conversation about kids, but she assumed he would wish to at least two in the near future. She wanted kids, and this was heartbreaking to hear. If she had this information earlier in the relationship, she would not have bothered to get involved with him.

"I might not want kids. I spend countless hours working, or I am on tour. I mean for goodness sake we aren't even married or engaged. I don't even know if I want to be with you anymore!" Shawn yelled, confessing, knowing he did not mean it but was tired of this argument. Shawn watched as the tears that build up in her eyes were running down her cheeks as she sobs.

Shawn could only watch as she fell to her knees, not caring; he was watching her cry. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut and not tell her in this way.

"Oh my gosh, it is not the fact I might be pregnant. The reason is that you don't want to be with me. How did I not see this coming?" (y/n) asked in disbelief, feverishly wiping away the tears. She slaps his hand away when he attempts to help her. "Do not touch me. Leave, Shawn. I don't want anything to do with you!" She screamed, pointing to the bedroom door, not wanting to fight anymore. She was emotionally drained and wanted nothing more to go to sleep.

Shawn opened his mouth, realizing what he said in the heat of the moment, thinking back to how he hurt her. He shuts it, nodding, thinking she needs her space from him. He hesitantly exits the room, glancing back just in case she stops hi, but she does not.

The empty corridor scared him, knowing he messed up in a way he might not be able to fix. He runs his hands through his brown locks, pulling at the ends, formulating a plan to apologize.

Shawn heads towards the living room, not wanting to do anything else because it was late. He stares at the ceiling, since it was already dark, and figured it would be wrong to take a jog. Shawns eyes trailed towards the couch, feeling like he would be sleeping for the next couple of days. Sighing, he felt uncomfortable at how things were between the two.

(Y/N) could not fall asleep in the soft bed, she shared with Shawn. Thoughts about the fight occupied her mind, wondering if things could have gone differently between the two. Sighing, she gets up, glancing at the nightstand, knowing the tests were in the drawer. She felt like enough time wasted as she headed towards the bathroom and needed to see the truth.

After five tests, she went towards the kitchen, believing Shawn left to go cool off. She was surprised to see the kitchen light was on and more surprised to see Shawn sitting down eating the tube of ice cream.

Shawn looks up; apologetic is reflected in his eyes as he frowns, patting the seat next to him, wanting to talk to her. (Y/N) takes the seat after getting a spoon, takes the tub to get some ice cream.

"I am sorry, love. I should not have lashed out and said those awful things. I panicked, which was not the best thing to do. I should have listened to you and talk like a reasonable adult," he said, staring into her eyes.

" I am sorry too. I felt scared of your reaction and felt like it would break us up. I know we are young but look at my side. I would be the one growing fat. I am the one that would deal with the cravings, pains, mood swings. I would be the one carrying a life in my belly." She explained the changes she would face throughout the pregnancy.

"I should have realized it. I think you would look amazing with a growing belly, but not now." Shawn said, moving one hand to her belly, rubbing in small circular, "maybe in the future when we are more settled," he said softly, leaning over to kiss her on the lips tenderly. " I do love you and did not mean any mean comments when I yelled. I should never raise my voice. I promise I will never get mad at you again," he vowed, grabbing her hands and bring them to his lips.

"You better not, or else I will leave your ass," she said teasingly, moving back to eating the ice cream before giving him the tub. "Anyway, I am not pregnant. It was a false alarm, and now we have to be careful in the future. "

Shawn smiled, nodding his head as he kisses her again, realizing she still wants to be with him. "Of course, baby. I will treat you like the queen you are," he whispers, wanting to be with her more than ever. He thought of ways he could make things up to like he promised.

"I love you," the two of them said in sync, smiling lovely at each other as they finished the ice cream tub before heading to bed. The two holding hands, never wanting to let go for fear of the other, leaving them.

#Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn #shawn paul #shawn x reader #shawn x you #shawn x y/n #love #pregnancy #fight #ice cream #arguing #pregnancy scare #request #reader input #reader insert #reader interactive #alec volturi x reader

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poisonous-widow · 4 years

Text

Good enough?

Adult katsuki bakugou / Pro hero x Adult Female Pro hero / singer

Summary: You were cheated on and it broke you down. But things never last forever. You pack your things and you leave with your kids, bakugou is filled with guilt and regret when he realises your truly gone.

Content: Angst, Crying, Depression, Cursing

WARNING NOTE: If you don’t like reading these types of genres then please DO NOT READ! However, if you are determined to manage through it then i wish you luck. Please be sure to have some tissues, a cry pillow to hug, blankets and water for hydration for the water fountains to come!

P.S: IDK if i’m good at these, first time so i expect this to be bad lol. Enjoy though! (づ^ω^)づ and please don’t hesitate to comment about it and if i should make a number two, byeee.

__________________

One

I am, the diamond you left in the dust

How many times has it been..Since you two once said those three sacred words, “I love you”?

Your Beautiful E/c sea foam hues wandered the beautiful decor of your walls of your- Both shared bedroom. This very room, Four years ago was a cave of love, a sacred place you could never live or feel whole without the other. You let your mind reminisce the memory of the night when you would hold your other half to your bare chest and let your soft slender fingers coarse through his hair lovingly, his arms tightly secured around your naked waist with his forehead to your chest, eyes closed with relaxation and exhaustion from the previous events that happened. Making the bed, usually a mess.

But now..It felt like a lost,floating memory in your body.

You released a breathless sigh as you dropped your bag on the plush bed, tossing the keys on the small lamp desk beside the mattress frame, “I’m home”, Your voice whispered. Oh how you wished he would answer you back with a warm welcome, anything that could lift the heavy weight which pushed on you...but no.

How could something like that ever happen..?

When you graduated from U.A, Katsuki Bakugou proposed to you and of course, you happily said yes. He was your husband and you, his loyal and up-most beloved wife. You two still continued as heroes but time to time, you wouldn’t show up. That was because you were the head lead singer of the famously known band “koi”. You told your Husband about it and he agreed to keep your singing identity hidden, as long as he got free access to your performances and that he was able to see you in the best views. Singing was your second love and you wanted to have that in your life still, so having your identity hidden and your lover keeping it a secret was a good thing.

However, time passed by, you noticed that things began to change. Katsuki had started his own Hero agency and was never home much. texts and calls never answered. It frustrated you. You could understand the amount of hero work he would get and the amount of events he’d have to present himself to. But you knew when someone needs to take breaks. Shouldn’t he too? You love katsuki so much that you wished that he would take better care of himself. To be home with you and just relax, hearing you sing a sweet tune or be there when you had your...little breakdowns over the littlest things. Katsuki was your rock and would listen to you when you vent out your problems about the band. he would always be there when you needed it. But now he wasn’t.

I am, the future you lost in the past

VRRR, VRRR, VRRR

What was that..?

VRRR, VRRR, VRRR!

SHIT, CRAP, IT’S YOUR PHONE! Scrambling around the bed for your bag, making it fall, trying to catch it and end in a miserable failure, you followed suit and plummeted to the floor. Hissing from the pain, you quickly pressed it aside and slammed your hand onto the vibrating mobile, sweeping it to your ear as your thumb slid the phone icon to the right, answering it.

“Katsuki, finally! you answered your phone for O-”

“U-uhhm...Y-y/n-sama?”

You paused and looked at the phone. That wasn’t the low-toned, gruffed voice of your husband. It was your babysitter.

“Ah, I’m so sorry Uraraka” Your cheeks tinted a light pink from the embarrassment you made of yourself to your friend. She giggled over the phone. “It’s okay Y/n” You could feel her smile through the phone “But...are you okay?” She sounded worried now. “Is there something wrong with Bakugou?” This time, Tsuyu’s voice came through the phone, her small ribbit not going unnoticed.

Uraraka and Tsuyu were some of the few who you were still in touch with and sometimes with bakugou. But through it all, They were the caretakers to your two 4 year old twin boys, Mistuki and Tatsumi. After the wedding and the honeymoon, you wanted to take things to the next level, there is when you’re two balls of lights blossomed into both your lives. While you and katsuki were too busy with hero work or your secret singing career away from the hero agency, they would come and take them for the day. They were two balls of sunshine and mischief and the girls loved them. They both looked like their father but Mistsuki had your sweet motherly and cinnamon roll innocence and the sharp fire of determination, along with the sheer wildness of their father. Tatsumi, was the replica of katsuki himself. He had everything thing equal, to his fire and wild, the ranting (and...katsuki, i-it’s just katsuki! that’ll all! you gave birth to a katsuki Jr), but he did have your sense in some manner.

“Y/n? You never answered my question” Tsuyu ribbits into the call, snapping your thoughts back to the conversation. “Sorry Tsuyu. I thought it was him. He doesn’t read my texts or voice mails. He doesn’t pick up his phone in particular anymore!” You scoffed. There was a small silence after your little rage. “Guys?” You called out, you heard a slight of shuffling “Oh, right! You shouldn’t worry about it and all Y/n. Bakugou runs his own agency and with his position, it’s difficult for him to attend anything like a break. Business seems to catch him quicker before he can reach a single ounce of rest”

You silently nodded, twirling the sealed bond between your free hand as the small rope tickled your neck. That had to be the reason, you were sure of it.

Sucking in a small breath and stood up, grabbing your keys and bag while you turned your phone on and tapped the screen so you could hear your friends on loud speaker. “well, I know that you two didn’t call to see me okay, so, want me to come pick up my babies to give you two some relief?”

Uraraka giggles, this time your mind could visualise her sweet adorable smile she’s always had, her brown hues gleaming.

“As always, you are straight to the point” Your lips twitched upwards, a small smile appearing. “Ribbit, actually we called to tell you that the band was approved to continue on.”

You were silent, a smile crawling it’s way to your face and it stretched beyond the cheekbones. This was the greatest success you’ve ever gotten; everyone was waiting for the conformation of it. All your hard work and your amazing band and crew really paid it off. The girls knew about your side career because you told them, you trusted them.

“This is great! I have to tell this to katsuki, he’s going to be thrilled!” You bolted from the bed and to the wardrobe. “I gotta go guys, I’ll pick up my babies after visiting kastuki. I’ll be there in 20 minutes, bye!”

“wait Y/n, Don’t you thi-”

You cut them off by hanging up, putting the mobile on the desk you scavenged through the pile of neat hanged clothing until you spot it; the dress you wore on your honeymoon all those years ago. The dress was simple and casual but beautiful nonetheless, it showed every aspect of yourself and not a single wrinkle in sight! i looked completely new. Yes, you were going to be just you; no make up, no formal clothing, nothing professional or superficial. It’s just you as your born self: The girl katsuki bakugou had married.

__________________________

Seems like I never compared

Wouldn’t Notice if I disappeared

You made it 5 minutes before Katsuki’s break. E/c hues beamed excitement and your body jumped with fresh bolts of motivation, your band, approved and ready for the big leagues! Katsuki was going to be real proud of you, you were positive and sure of it,of course.

As you walked down the hallway, some people recognised you, the famous hero-wife of the one and only Ground Zero. Making your way through a small litter of crowds, you tapped a formally-dressed woman on her shoulder, making her turn. You gave her a sincere smile.

“Sorry to bother you, do you know where i can find Katsuki Bakugou? I-”

“OMG IT’S HER!!! SHE’S HERE!!! OMG OMG OMG!!”

Your ears were ringing now, it hurt but you manage to keep a calm face. And since Curiosity just couldn’t poke you more, you turned around and a female was in front of you, squealing and red. She looked like she could explode.

“H-hello there..” You moved your hand a little, a small gesture of a wave. Her eyes blew up like stars behind her glasses.

“GOD!, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE REALLY HERE! AMI IS GOING TO FLIP WHEN SHE FINALLY MEETS YOU!”

‘Ami?, who is that?’, you asked yourself. You subconsciously tilt your head

“I...err..see. I guess you and Ami are new here?” The girl nodded freakishly fast, you were more worried about her neck snapping.

“YES! BOSS IS SO INCREDIBLY LUCKY TO HAVE YOU AS HIS BEST RIGHT HANDED FRIEND AND SIDE KICK! He speaks so softly about you, it’s really rare to actually see him smile! Ami and I were pretty curious about who you were..” The girl seemed to drift off on the last past.

Your brows furrowed at some of her words, ‘FRIEND!? I’m his wife. and SIDE KICK!? I know that i work with him but the only side kick that man is gonna get is the one from my foot!’, You were practically fuming in your mind.

“Your very pretty though, miss!” Her words seemed to cut you out of it. You smiled a little “thanks...” You rubbed your shoulder. “By the way, what position does your friend Ami have?” Curiosity was clouding over you now. “Oh! Ami is Ground zero’s Strategic Assistant. They basically go everywhere together”

‘They basically go everywhere together’

Your heart felt like it got crushed by an invisible amount of weight.

“W-where...where are they now?” you sternly said, eyes clouded and the girl just mistook it as exhaustion. “Down the corridor and turn right. go down the hallway and it’s the large door at the end on your left” She smiled and points you in the direction to go. You scrambled to escape from the secretary and towards the directions she gave you.

You stole, the love that I saved for myself

The more you carried on down the hallway as instructed, the more eerier it gets and you feel a shiver crawl up your arms, you rub them to create a friction of warmth. It’s too silent down here.

Then you hear him. Her. Them.

When you make it to the large doors on your left, your hand reaches for the handle but a moan causes you to freeze your movements from opening it with brutal strength.

“G-GROUND ZERO! AHN~! SO-AHHN!”

Her voice was loud, nobody would EVER call that a whisper. And to make it worse, she was crying in moans to his name. YOUR husbands name. Palm to your mouth, you stared at the coloured oak doors, frozen. Your body trembled lightly, feeling an absurd amount of weight plummeting on you; Truth was plummeting on you.

Silence took over her cries whilst you stood outside, still shaken by the current events that are happening and are still winding in your head. Although you can’t hear anything much more. Is that room sound-proof or some-!

“Fuck!! Assistant”

Ears perked up, that rather loud and clear moan. Your Husbands moan. Irises trembled along with your body, shock piling over each other within you. Your fingers felt cold as they trembled against the handle on the door, your tried your best to steady them as you opened the wood which stood in your way from the truth. Loud rumbles and shuffling occur as you allowed the door to freely open it’s way for you, Her scream of panic, His body trying to straighten itself.

And I watched, you give it to somebody else

Her legs were tangled around his waist in a lock. Blood ruby eyes trail from the bare figure of the girl Ami. She’s laying on the desk, looking up at the door, to you. He’s over her, muscular arms that once cradled you are now to the sides of her head. The panic and shock in his eyes are visible.

“Y-Y/n”

He’s trying to find words for this event which unfolds before your eyes. Ami hides her face. Her face was obviously red from being caught, Getting FUCKED by your husband and your husband FUCKING her.

“G-Ground Z-zero, I’m so sorry y-your si-side-kick had to s-see this! THIS IS EMBARRASSING” she squealed through her hands.

But these scars, I no longer hide

Firstly, you didn’t know how to react.

You knew something had changed, you felt it coming after he got the agency. But like a fool, you ignored it. You thought of it as something small and easy to fix...but nothing as far as this. face giving it’s all, you tried to express your anger to him, to shout our your fury to demonstrate the rage within you.

It never happened...

Water splattered the ground beneath you. All that was visible were the tears, the depression and anger somewhat showing but the walls you built to sustain the flow of water was cracking and crumbling at the scene.

Those lonely nights alone with him at work.

His sudden change of mood, the built up frustration, annoyance and anger. The sudden distance between you both. It was all because of this. Because of her.

Let’s just get this over with...

“I came here to tell you that the band was approved.” You looked down and rubbed your left arm. Your walls were coming down harder and you could feel your eyes sting from trying to hold back the water flow. However, his eyes glued to your crumbling frame.

Then a small heartless laugh came out of your lips, “You know, it’s hilarious to think..” You began, gripping your bare arm, the feeling of your nails digging into your flesh was a punishment to yourself. “My career for being a hero with you all this time was to represent that I would always be there, just you and me together on the battle field and in each others arms, but my Singing..” You let out another laugh, it was cracked but all of this was too much for you “My singing and my songs were all inspired from you because you’ve been my inspiration, my motivation and my absolute everything...ever since the day we met”

Couldn’t love me, if you tried

Because let’s face it...

“I was never good enough was I...” beautiful E/c sea foamed hues washed away to a rainy grey, red stains of tears lining pathways down your cheeks.

You took in a breath but you never rubbed your face from the tears, you let them slip out. You were already over-flowing with all these emotions, why should you stop them now. Turning around you were about to leave the room, but you halt for a second.

Katsuki had slipped out of his assistant and was arranging his clothes back on his body as quickly as he can, checking every now and then if you were still in his line of sight. you were leaving. He began to panic, the girl he just fucked erased from his mind.

Am i still not, good enough?

Am i still not, worth that much?

“Y/n!!” He yelled, even though you weren’t that far from each other. His arm was reach out, but your back was still in his face. It was only then your head began to turn itself. “You want to know what i’m most relieved about...?” you turned around, a smile gracing your lips.

Sorry for the smile i’m wearing now

“I’m glad Mitsuki and Tatsumi were never here to see this, their back-stabbing, unfaithful and disgusting ass hole..you truly are” Angry tears pouring from your eyes, you let them fall as you flicked the envelope you pulled from your bag into their air, soon falling flat to the ground where his shoes were.

You were gone when he looked up.

Bending down he gripped the envelope and trailed the neat cursive writing on the front, his name beautifully designed and full of love. He un-sealed it and opens the letter within.

To my beloved,

My love, my life, My Inspiration and the father to our two blessed sons, thank you for supporting me throughout the years and for taking me as your lover. You gave me a brighter world and all the drastic adventures ahead, thank you for loving me with everything you had.

I’m grateful to whoever blessed me to be fate with you, you and our children are all I need now, the next and from the previous life. With our family together, all is okay and we are strong. You are my everything and that is all i need.

I love you with every being of my self that i gave

Sincerely,

Y/n.

His body trembled erratically when he finished reading your letter, his hand resting on his eyes as he could feel the pain of tears about to flood him.

“What the fuck have I done..”

Guess I’m still...

No, wait

It was you that was never Good enough.

#bnha #xreader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x y/n #my hero academia #oc #Bnha character x reader #midoriya #todoroki #uraraka #class 1-a #katsuki bakugou x reader #singer reader #mha x oc #bakugou one-shot #mha one-shot

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