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exsgttibbs · 1 year

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the future liberals want || bib

Summary: It’s Tibby’s 18th birthday, and Babette has a secret Notes: this was meant to be for wrimo but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ no TWs as far as i can remember

@babettexdurand

BABETTE

Babette had organised a lot of birthday parties in her time, but this was actually the first 18th. Naturally, most families wanted to handle milestones like that themselves. She was having a hard time containing her excitement, considering that was exactly why she was planning this one. Because now she had a family of her own, and it wasn’t even a dream. It seemed almost impossible that little Tabitha was turning eighteen, but here they all were to celebrate. Tibbs, Babette, the birthday girl herself, and her little sister. You might think things couldn’t get any better than that, but… Well, Babette wasn’t going to spoil Tibby’s day with any big announcement, though keeping the secret for much longer might be tricky. Hopefully all their party activities would keep everyone distracted enough, if her celebratory glass of wine later went untouched.

She was, also, a little bit nervous of telling Willis the news. He hadn’t voiced any objections to the idea of a second child, but Odette was still a toddler. Thus far any mentions of another baby had been offhand and joking, mostly in relation to how neither of them were in a rush to once again go through the rigmarole of convincing them to sleep through the night in their own bed. There was just about enough time to settle her anxieties before Tibbs returned with Tabitha in tow- Babette had opted to stay home while they took a trip to the science museum, setting up for the celebration and making sure Odette got a nap so she wouldn’t be cranky later- and the grin she was sporting when she heard the key in the lock and rushed to the door to greet the pair was real.

“Mon Beau!” She wound one arm around Tibbs’ shoulders- the other keeping Odette on her hip- to pull him down for a quick peck on the cheek before moving on to their very special guest, “happy birthday!” Babette trilled, pulling Tabitha in for a hug too before ushering them both further into the house. “Did the two of you have a fun afternoon? Have you had lunch? Dinner is still in the oven but there’s cookies and all sorts if you’re hungry. Do you want to open your presents now or later? I know your friends might be bringing some when they join us later, but you could open a couple from your father and I first.”

Babette may have gone a tad overboard with the decor, but you only turned eighteen once! She’d been so lucky to get to watch Tabitha grow up these last few years, and was just so thrilled to get to be a part of this. So there were streamers, and banners, and balloons, and a few embarrassing childhood photos scattered about to boot. “...I can tone things down a bit before your friends arrive. If it’s lame, or something.” Maybe it was, but Tibby had always been the biggest supporter of her and Tibbs, and she just wanted to do what she could do to show that Tibby was special to her, too.

TIBBS

He had let Tibby drive to the science museum in her terrible, no good little beaten up car that was definitely going to conk out on her in the middle of the night and he kept on telling her that, even though it only seemed to make her love it more. He had a flash of how strange it was, sitting in the passenger seat, glancing across at his daughter as she talked a mile a minute about uni, the things she was buying and the arrangements she was making, how she’d joined a group for people moving into the dorms, how she had already started getting some second-hand textbooks. Tibbs was listening, of course he was. She was going to Pride U. Not to be a doctor, though she still begged him for his horror stories even now, but still. He was proud of her; and he was more than a little excited to have her closer, after all these years of driving backwards and forwards to London to fetch her.

But it was hard not to think about how much time had passed. How grown up she was, even if her birthday request had been going to the science museum. It was her birthday, Tibbs wasn’t going to tell her what to do with it, but still. He remembered the little girl who had come all the way to Swynlake on her own, looking for her father. She was an adult now, even if to him she was still a kid, and she probably always would be. He felt a strange pang in his chest, bittersweet yearning, thinking about the time that had passed.

“You’re going soppy.” Tibby informed him, pulling the car up outside the house. The brakes ground as she did, setting Tibbs’ teeth on edge. He hated this little Nissan Micra death trap.

He huffed. “Can’t an old man get a little nostalgic on his daughter’s birthday?”

“You’re not that old.” Tabitha pointed out. Paused. “Alright, you’re ancient.” She grinned. “But no, he can’t - at least not until after my party. Let’s go inside, I want my presents.”

“Who says you’re getting any?” Tibbs grumbled, hauling himself out of the car and up the garden path. The door opened to the exact amount of commotion he was expecting: Captain trying to jump up, Diana nosing at their knees, his wife’s arm around his shoulders and his youngest daughter’s chubby little hands, grabbing at his shirt. It was a welcome that Tibbs looked forward to pretty much every time he came home - he kissed Bridgette’s cheek, and then the top of Odie’s head, and followed them into the living room.

Tibby was stood in the middle of the chaos; she turned to grin at Bridgette over her shoulder. “Are you kidding? I love it! It’s perfect. And, uh–” She held her hands up, counting on her fingers, “Yes we had fun, yes we had lunch, and yes I want my presents now. But I also won’t say no to a cookie.”

“Your teeth are going to fall out.” Tibbs pointed out. He reached for Odette, offering to take her from Bridgette. “I’ll get the cookies, you point her in the direction of the presents. Stand clear, though. She’s like the tasmanian devil ripping into those things, I don’t want any innocent bystanders getting hurt.”

BABETTE

The house was quite often in a state of semi-chaos, yes. Between the two dogs, Tibbs’ often unpredictable schedule, and the kids. Babette adored it. Granted that sentiment might be tested by bringing another baby into the picture, but she had managed bigger households before, and she knew Tibbs would do his part too, as he always did. Despite his initial worries he was so wonderful with Odie and Babette could just tell she was going to be such a daddy's girl. Watching the two of them together now as she handed Odie over- who immediately started babbling at her father- made her wonder, for the first time, if their next would be a girl or boy.

She pressed a hand gently to her stomach and smiled, jerking back into motion a few moments later when she realised Tibby was staring at her, practically fizzing with excitement. “Right! Presents, yes.” Babette cleared her throat, “don’t mind me, I’m getting just as sentimental as your dad. I can’t wait ‘till you see what we got you!” The presents were piled up neatly by the coffee table, mostly from Tibbs and Babette, but there was a smattering of cards and other gifts from relatives and the like.

Tibbs returned to the living room shortly after, expertly weaving around animals and kids toys to set the cookies down on the coffee table. “Ok, so open this one first.” Babette instructed, picking up a large box and a card from the two of them to give to Tibby, “ and then the card.” Like her father had predicted, she wasted no time ripping into the first one, which was an assortment of dorm decor, a few recipe cards, and some nice skincare bits and pieces. Babette had picked out most of this stuff, because she knew it could be tricky the first time out on your own so she wanted to make sure Tabitha had a nice space, and some calming rituals. Also those dorms were unfathomably bland.

She rifled through everything with appreciative comments, promising to eat properly- a promise Babette knew she was likely to break, but was not too worried over- while Babette and Tibbs exchanged excited glances, eagerly awaiting her response to the second gift. Odie bounced happily on her fathers’ knee, oblivious but adorable, and Babette was very quickly emotional again, at the thought of this time next year when the four of them would become five.

Tabitha’s exclamations brought her attention back to the now, and Babette laughed as she started hollering, jumping up and down on the sofa and driving both dogs and toddler to respond in kind with loud babbling and barking. Oh god, and next year there will be five of them. She hoped their soundproofing was good.

TIBBS

When they’d first brought Odette home Tibbs had been terrified of holding her. She seemed so fragile and delicate, so small. He had held babies before, of course he had, but this was his baby. And he was so scared of not cradling her head the right way, or letting her slip out of his grasp. It was hard not to think about everything that could go wrong, given his profession, but nowadays he knew that Odie was made of pretty sturdy stuff. He’d seen her run face first into doors and trip over her own two feet onto the floor; he didn’t have to worry so much anymore.

Right now he hoisted her onto his hip, a movement so familiar that it was more muscle memory than anything else as he carried her through to the kitchen. She saw the plate of cookies before he did – chubby hands reached out for them, so Tibbs took one off the plate to give to her before he picked the plate up, carrying it through to the living room.

He set the plate down on the coffee table, just in time for Tabitha to start rifling through the box of things they’d given her for her dorm room. Admittedly a lot of that had been more Bridgette’s idea than his; when Tibbs had been at university his room had been bare walls and a bed and not much else. He hadn’t even had a lampshade for most of it, just the bare bulb, but he didn’t necessarily want Tibby to have the same experience.

He kept a hold of Odie to keep her out of the way, letting Tabitha open her presents in peace. It was hard, though, to keep anyone out of the way when Tibby shrieked, “Disneyland!? We’re going to Disneyland!?”

The dogs scurried into the room, Captain barking, trying to jump up at Tabitha; Diana sniffed around, her tail wagging furiously, wondering what the commotion was. Tibbs only smiled, happy that she was happy - it was their first family holiday, so he’d been hoping it would be a good surprise.

“Mm hm. Already squared it with your mum. We’re all going - all four of us.”

He looked over at Bridgette, smiling softly.

BABETTE

Tabitha had embraced Babette as her fathers’ new partner with as much grace and respect as she could’ve hoped- more, in-fact. For weeks before they’d told her the uncertainty had her in a chokehold. She knew it was not an easy change to accept, and that having to expand your idea of what a family could be- especially when you were a teenager already dealing with all the upheaval which came at that age- could be tough. But here they were. Babette had no intention of ever trying to replace Tibby’s mother, of course, but they’d grown very close, and she was looking forward to getting more time with her before university.

Four. Right. Babette had hurridley done the maths last night, and to her relief it would still be safe for her to fly, since they’d opted to go in the summer. It’d disqualify her from a lot of the rides, she was sure, but as long as there were plenty of princesses about to take photos with Odette and all the food carts around to satisfy whatever pregnancy craving she might have, it would all still be lovely.

She grinned back across at Tibbs, knowing he’d be getting his own surprise soon. Tomorrow, probably, because today wasn’t about her but she didn’t want to keep the lid on things too long. “Okay, okay! We can go over the details later- why don’t you go put on your party outfit, hm? Your friends will be here soon!” Babette pushed to her feet, gathering up the discarded wrapping paper to toss in the bin as Tibby scurried off to her bedroom. She saw Odette’s little hands reaching out towards the cookie tray, and slid it further along the table, “I know your father let you have one as soon as you saw them, missy.” She playfully admonished the little girl, bending to press a kiss to her forehead, then one to Tibbs’ cheek. “How are you feeling, hm? Any tears yet? I have to say, I nearly started bawling myself this morning when I was icing the cake.” Babette chuckled, smoothing a hand through his hair, “dread to think what I’ll be like when this little lady starts growing up, hm?”

TIBBS

When Tabitha rushed upstairs the dogs rush off after her, leaving the living room in silence for a moment. The only noise was the thump of Tibby’s steps upstairs and Odette’s huffing as she tried to reach the cookies, chubby little fists so intent on grabbing another treat for herself. Tibbs was softer than Bridgette, sometimes; not all the time, but sometimes. He probably would’ve let her had another cookie if only she’d been able to reach it. Consider it a reward for hard work, or something like that.

He smiled when his wife kissed his cheek, looking up at her and huffing softly, smiling just a little. “No tears yet - not in front of her, anyways. Only when her back’s turned.” They’d had a good time at the museum. They’d just gotten in a new collection, space suits and rovers and all kinds of stuff brought back from the ISS and shipped over from NASA, and though Tibby hadn’t mentioned it, Tibbs knew she would love it. He had picked the brochure up when he’d stopped in to town hall one day, and he’d kept in his pocket, tucked away for a month. Every time Tibby’d called or texted he’d been dying to tell her, but he’d managed to keep it a secret. And it was worth it for the look on her face when they walked through the dark tunnel into the exhibit, the walls lined with little blinking lights in the shape of constellations Tibbs only knew the name of thanks to his daughter.

And so maybe he’d gotten a little misty eyed once or twice, when she had been reading a plaque or staring at something so intently, taking it apart and piecing it back together in her brain. She didn’t often say she wanted to be an astronaut anymore - if you asked her what career she was wanting to go into, all she said was that she wanted to study astrophysics. But Tibbs had his suspicions. And it had made him a little emotional, that was all. To think that Tabitha was so grown up now, getting to chase the dreams she held close to her chest.

“Ah, we’ve got plenty of time for that,” Tibbs chuckled, looking back down at Odie. He bounced her a few times, sending her into a fit of giggles. “You’re not going to grow up for ages, are you Odie?”

She shook her head; Tibbs looked up at Bridgette again with a grin. “Want me to help get the place tidied up? If I put Bluey on for her Odie won’t even know we’re missing, I think.”

BABETTE

Of course, over the span of her career, Babette had met many fathers. Most of them were good, a few brilliant, and some awful. Tibbs was consistently in the wonderful category, and had always been, long before she’d considered him as a romantic interest. (Well, long before she’d seriously considered him as a romantic prospect, because any handsome and kind doctor with such a sweet daughter was in with a bit of a chance.)

She gazed down at him sweetly, wondering, “how did she like that new space exhibit? Did you manage to surprise her with it, or was there something that gave it away before you got in?” Babette hoped it had stayed under wraps. Tibby was too clever to keep a lot of secrets from- another reason keeping their relationship from her in the early stages was near impossible- but Tibbs deserved a chance to surprise her every now and then.

“Oh, I hope not. I wish she could stay this age forever.” Babette cooed at their daughter, gently gripping her toes to wiggle her little feet. “You’re just so cute aren’t you…” She babbled away for a moment- it wasn’t really the best for their language skills, but it just made Babette’s heart melt when Odie babbled right back.

Babette straightened up and smoothed down her skirt, hand pausing over her stomach for a brief moment before she cleared her throat and dropped it. “Yes, yes.. The kitchen is a little cluttered, but it’s mostly stuff to be set out on the dining table- plates and the like, the party food. I can take care of that, would you tidy away some of Odie’s stuff in here? It can just go in her room. I managed to get her down for a nap earlier so she won’t be fussy, but we shouldn’t keep her up too late after everyone’s here.” When Tibbs stood she leaned a little closer to him, and asked with a knowing tone, “how do you know she’ll be so well distracted by that show? Are you letting our daughter sit in front of the tv all day?” She wagged a finger at him, only playfully admonishing.

They’d both admitted fairly early that sometimes- no matter how much you loved the kid- they had the capacity to drive you up the wall like nothing else, and you needed fifteen minutes to yourself. A little tv didn’t hurt.

TIBBS

“Have you ever watched Bluey?” Tibbs asked, settling Odette on the couch so he could begin to tidy up around her. “I don’t think I’d know if Odette went missing whilst it’s on. I don’t think I’d know if you went missing.” He was joking; mostly.

He did his best to tidy up the living room, Odie decently distracted by the TV and a sippy cup of juice when she asked for it. Tibbs had nipped into the kitchen, coming to stand behind his wife for a moment, hands on her hips, a kiss pressed to her cheek in one quick, quiet moment before he’d got back to the task at hand. Odie’s toys were tidied and put away, dog toys put back into their beds and scraps of wrapping paper cleared away, presents put in a pile in the corner, near the TV. It wouldn’t stay tidy for long, not with Tibby’s friends coming round, but still. It was nice to have it in a good place to start with.

Tibby was the one to launch herself downstairs when the doorbell rang, welcoming her friends inside in an eruption of cheers and giggles and presents being passed around. He liked Tabitha’s friends; they were all good people, at least as far as Tibbs knew them. They all said good night to Odie as he carried her upstairs, telling them to get the party started, that he would be down soon.

For the most part, though, he let them get on with it. It was her eighteenth, he wasn’t going to cramp her style. But as the night wound down Tabitha took a bottle of prosecco out to the garden, saying she was too scared to open it indoors just in case she popped a window along with the bottle. The dogs loved it, anyways; the bang sent the careening across the lawn, trying to chase the cork as it sailed through the air.

“Now, she’s probably going to hate this, but as her dad, I’m obliged to embarrass the birthday girl,” Tibbs said, when everyone had a glass of prosecco in hand. “I’ll keep things short, though. Tabitha, I’m unbelievably proud of you. And incredibly proud of the smart, sure young woman you’ve become. You’re a good daughter, a good sister, and a good friend, and I know that this is just the beginning for you.” He raised his glass a little, ignoring the way Tibby rolled her eyes. “To Tibby.”

Everyone toasted, and Tibbs took a sip from the glass in his hand, noticing out of the corner of his eye the way Bridgette held onto hers, discreetly putting it down after a moment. Tibbs frowned softly, moving closer to her when Tibby’s friends got to chatting again, the music picking back up. “Hey,” He murmured, a hand on her elbow. “Everything okay?”

BABETTE

There was no one right way to start a family, or fall in love, and Babette was firmly of the belief that there wasn’t just one person out there for everyone, either. She’d loved before Tibbs, and- knock on wood- if anything should happen, she hoped it would be possible to love again after him. But there were moments that made her heart leap, that made her think; yes, everything turned out just right. Tibbs’ brief affection as he passed through the kitchen, or when Tabitha would come to her for advice, or the first time Odette wrapped her tiny hand around one of Babette’s fingers. So there was a smile on her face as she set out party food and cleaned up all her baking mess, the sound of cartoons and her daughters’ peels of laughter drifting through from the living room. Better than Texas, no contest.

What would another baby do? At one point, Tibbs hadn’t been sure if he wanted any babies. Babette had felt so seriously about it she’d put their whole relationship on pause while he figured it out. He’d come around, obviously, and they’d had Odette. But what happened if he hated the thought of a second baby? The party happened all around her while Babette tried not to let all her worries take her down a sad spiral, putting on her best Happy Hostess Smile and trying to make sure the supplies of snacks and drinks never ran too low without getting in the way.

Babette avoided it almost all night, mostly by slipping off to check on Odie and abandoning her drink on a side table somewhere, or excusing herself to the bathroom and emptying her glass down the sink. Inevitably, though, the birthday girls’ dad wanted to make a toast, and he was too damn observant for his own good. That's what she got for marrying a doctor. “Everything’s fine!” Babette said, as brightly as she could manage, bringing a hand to her face and dabbing gently under her eyes. She had teared up a tiny bit during his speech, so technically there was no lying going on. “I think that speech finally broke the damn, you know. Do I have mascara all down my cheeks, or something?”

TIBBS Tibbs wasn’t sure he believed her. She had been quiet all evening, and of course they both wanted to give Tibby and her friends some space, but still. She was quieter than he would have expected, more subdued for sure. He frowned softly as she dabbed under her eyes, reaching up to catch a stray tear with the pad of his thumb, wiping it away.

He had a tendency to trust his gut. It was a good instinct to have, as a doctor - there were so many times where he had felt like something was wrong, even when there hadn’t been any outward signs of it, and he had followed his gut and been right. Maybe he was just imagining it, or making things up, but Tibbs’ gut had been right too many times for him to start ignoring it now.

He glanced over his shoulder at Tibby, who was too busy dancing and laughing with her friends to be paying any attention to her dad. He set a hand on Bridgette’s elbow, nodding his head towards the kitchen as he led her towards it. It would be good to take a moment somewhere quieter, he thought, either to put his mind to rest or to figure out what was going on.

He leaned against the countertop, looking at Bridgette for a long moment. “Be honest with me.” He said softly, concern written in the furrow of his brow. “What’s up?”

BABETTE

Their work meant both of them well practised at spotting liars. Babette had hoped that his daughters’ birthday would be distraction enough, and Tibbs would be too busy lamenting how grown up she’d gotten to pay quite as much attention as he usually did. She should’ve had more faith in him, though, or perhaps a little less confidence in her ability to get through the whole day without letting her secret out. Tibbs always noticed. He sanded down the corner of their kitchen table after Babette knocked her hip against it one too many times, he put handles lower down on their kitchen cabinets so she didn’t have to get on her tiptoes to open them, he kept one of her hair-ties in his pocket and managed to hand it over exactly when she was looking for one.

Fortunately, Babette knew how to divert his focus. “Nothing’s up.” She said, smoothing a thumb over the space between his brows, “don’t frown, if you get wrinkles people will start actually believing you’re old enough to have an eighteen year old.” This wasn’t the time for the discussion they probably needed to have. Things had been different with Odette; they’d actively been trying to have a baby. It wasn’t like she thought Tibbs was going to leave her over this, or anything, but if another child wasn’t really what he wanted it could… Strain things, certainly.

She cupped his face in both hands and smiled once he relaxed his expression. ”There, so handsome.” Babette leaned in and kissed him, her arms looping around his neck, “and so sweet.” Another kiss, and one of her hands slid up into Tibbs’ hair as she pressed more across his cheek, right up to his ear. “Do you think our guests will notice if we sneak off upstairs?”

TIBBS

It was difficult not to be reassured by the gentle brush of her fingertips along his cheekbones, the soft press of her lips against his. Even after all this time he could be quickly disarmed by something so simple as a kiss – he had worried, after the curse was broken, that things like this would become commonplace. The magic would be gone, so to speak; the novelty worn off after a while. Hadn’t happened yet, though. He was starting to think that it probably never would.

Tibbs slid his arms around her waist, holding her close when she pressed against him. He gave a soft chuckle, hiding his face in the crook of her neck for a moment, pressing a kiss there before he leaned back. Just a little bit – just enough to be able to see her. It was a very tempting offer. Odette was asleep in her room, Tabitha was otherwise occupied… but she was also incredibly observant. He knew that from experience. And if she discovered they were gone, she would definitely go looking.

“Unfortunately I do,” He huffed, offering a rueful smile. “But as long as you’re sure you’re alright,” He raised one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

He meant it. After the curse, all the secrets that had been kept between them before. He didn’t want any more of that now.

“I had better go back out there before she suspects us of having another surprise for her.” He chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Bridgette’s lips before he pulled away.

BABETTE She’d told him far worse. Every terrible truth Babette had pulled out, Tibbs had accepted. And this wasn’t a bad thing- hopefully- just… Poorly timed. Honestly she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this was so scary. Tibbs was her husband. He’d made a commitment to her. Hell, he’d made a commitment the day he’d told her that if he only ever got to hold her hand, it was enough. (Thankgod they’d been able to do more than hold hands, though, even if that was exactly what had her feeling all twisted up right now). As many times as Babette had known love, it had always been fragile, and she sometimes forgot that wasn’t the case now.

Tibbs loved her, without making a secret of it. Would he be happy about this? Babette wasn’t sure, but she wanted him to be, and there was only one way to know. She pouted playfully as he rejected her suggestion, but he was right that they’d be missed, and he was right that she could tell him anything. He’d proved that often enough.

But he was leaving, and their quiet little moment was about to slip right out of her fingers, and when was the next time they’d have a chance? Babette had said tomorrow, but really there’d be a bunch of hungover kids to make breakfast for, and then getting all those kids home, and then all the tidying up. There was always going to be a reason it wasn’t time to tell him.

“Willis-” She said it before he could leave the kitchen, because his full first name only meant one of two things, and since she wasn’t half naked he’d know it meant something Serious. So now she had to tell him. “I…” Babette sighed, twisting her fingers together for a moment before squaring her shoulders and looking at him properly. “I’m pregnant.” She pressed her lips together to avoid waffling on nervously, and just waited, watching him.

TIBBS

She was right to use his first name – it pulled his attention back to her before he could head back into the living room, making him turn on his heel to face her. He had been hoping that she would tell him whatever was going on, if only to get it off her chest and clear the air more than anything else, but of course if it was something he could fix, he would do his best to help. If it was something worrying her, he would do his best to reassure her. Whatever it was, he just wanted her to know that she didn’t have to hide it from him, that he would help her to shoulder the burden of whatever it was as best he could.

He really wasn’t expecting her to say that, though.

His eyebrows arched, his expression one of gentle surprise as he let that sink in for a second. Pregnant. She was pregnant, they were going to have a baby - another one. Odie was still just a baby herself, really. Well, a toddler, and she was easily manageable between himself and Bridgette and Tabitha too, if she was going to be around more outside of school, but still. It wasn’t like they had been planning for a baby like they had with Odette. It maybe wasn’t the best timing.

Tibbs took a deep breath. And then he grinned, unable to help himself, as he crossed the kitchen again to wrap his wife up in his arms.

“That’s– God, I don’t–” He pulled back just enough to be able to see her, momentarily looking over the top of her head and off into the middle distance. “I mean, it’s a lot, and it’s unexpected, but it’s– amazing.” He looked down at her, meeting her gaze with a small shake of his head. “I mean, you’re – happy, aren’t you?”

BABETTE

He pivoted like he was still in the military, being called to attention by some superior or other. It usually made Babette laugh, if she was calling him back during some kind of spat or for something flirtatious, but having his full attention now just made her more nervous. Obviously it was important to have his full attention for what she was saying, but the anticipation while he stared at her and processed the news was driving her mad.

There would be questions, of course, about how they’d manage having another child so soon, certainly a lot of planning in regards to budget and schedules and the like. But they’d think about that another time. A party was hardly the place even for the announcement she’d already made, nevermind the rest of the crap that came with it. She thought they had plenty to celebrate, afterall, and thank god Tibbs felt the same.

Amazing.

Babette pushed up onto her tiptoes and kissed Tibbs hard, her mouth curving into a grin as she pulled away, giggling, “so so happy.” She promised, his face in her hands. Her love for children was no big secret, afterall, or even a little secret. It was so important she and Tibbs had nearly never made it this far at all. “I just- I didn’t want… I know we haven’t talked about it, and I didn’t want you to feel… I don’t know. Are you happy? It’s not exactly great timing, with Odie still so young and all. But we’ll make it work, won’t we?”

TIBBS

He wouldn’t lie, he was nervous. He had only really just started taking more on at work, getting back to a similar schedule he’d had before Odette was born because she was old enough, now, for him to be able to take a bit more on. He wasn’t worried about the financial side of things, just… well, they were going to have a houseful, weren’t they? Odette was still young, and would have to compete with a newborn for attention. And even though Tabitha was an adult, now, she still needed attention too. The last thing Tibbs wanted to do was neglect her because he was too caught up in a newborn and a toddler.

But they would come to all of that. There was time to think about it all. Nine months to remind Tibby that he was there for her whenever she needed him and to make arrangements with work, to get the nursery ready. Nine months that would fly by, no doubt, but still. They could get to the difficult bits later.

“Would there ever have been a great time?” He asked, his arms still wound tight around her, keeping her close. “Now’s as good a time as any. Odie’s young, but– she’s a good baby. She’ll be okay. Tibby’ll be over the moon, we might have to fetch her down from the ceiling when we tell her.” He chuckled, leaning in to kiss his wife again, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. “We’ll make it work.” He agreed. “When have we ever not?”

BABETTE

After having Odette, she’d had to lighten her own work schedule a bit, but luckily when you worked in childcare there were very few people selfish enough to say you couldn’t bring your own child along while you looked after theirs. Still, it was the least she’d ever worked, and also the least she’d ever worried about money, which had taken some getting used to. With another baby on the way she’d probably take off work entirely at least for a while before and after they were born.

But here she was, getting way ahead of herself again. No time would’ve been perfect. There were always going to be other things going on, and you just learned to handle it. Babette’s arms slid around his shoulders, and she ran her hands idly through his hair, more settled than she had felt all evening. “We’re not going to get any sleep for years.” She pointed out with a shake of her head, tone stern even as she smiled. “They’ll rile each other up, I’m serious. Be ready for bed time to become the biggest battle of your life.” Hey, she’d managed bigger households. “You’re right.” She conceded, smile growing. “We’ll make it work.”

TIBBS

He snorted softly, shaking his head against a smile. No, they probably weren’t going to be getting any sleep. Two small children in the house – it was going to be a challenge, that much he was sure of. And of course there were the niggling thoughts at the back of his mind, worries and doubts and anxiety creeping up on him, but it wasn’t as if the road had been easy up to this point. He and Bridgette had been through far worse than a baby and a toddler under the same roof.

And besides, he was far too happy to be worried, at least right now. There would be things to think about, things to do, they really might have to move house because surely they were going to need an extra bedroom now– but Tibbs pushed them to the side, choosing instead to press a soft, sweet kiss to his wife’s lips. “I love you.”

BABETTE

Thankgod they’d both been used to a fairly unpredictable schedule even before they’d met, honestly, because things weren’t about to get calmer. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, at least in Babette’s eyes; she’d spent her first few years in Swynlake living alone in a dull, empty apartment. Now her home was never dull, and even if it made her want to pull her hair out sometimes, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“I love you too.” She said, never ungrateful for how easily the sentiment could come. No more secrets. She didn’t need them. Babette closed her eyes and curled into Tibbs’ hold for just a moment, before reluctantly pulling away to just hold his hand, “come on, we’re really pushing our luck hiding in here.” Though it would’ve been nice to stay in the bubble, that wasn’t their reality, and the cacophony of teenage noise as they headed back into the living room was proof. She glanced back up at Tibbs with a grin, “we’ve just got to get to two more of these parties, and then we might get some peace and quiet around here again.” Of course, those two parties were quite some time away, but Babette was sure the time between would feel like a blink by the next time she was putting eighteen candles in a birthday cake.

The rest of the night passed quite predictably, and for once Tibbs managed to convince Babette to leave the cleaning until the morning. They fell asleep with her back against his chest, and his arms wrapped gently around her.

#bib #truly is bib season #is disneyland too meta? should they be going to parc asterix?#also a good time tbf #me once again projecting my ove of bluey onto a character

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moemoemammon · 3 years

Note

Following that "least favorite" request could we get their reactions to being to told that they're their favorite, but to not tell the other brothers so their feelings don't get hurt? Maybe because they relate to them the most or just get along really well. Thanks!

You're My Favorite! But Don't Tell the Others-

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

There are no words to explain the overwhelming satisfaction ion Lucifer’s face after you tell him that. Of course, it’s only natural that he would be your favorite, all things considered.

The Avatar of Pride won’t ever forget this moment. He carefully considers your words and agrees not to tell anyone, as much as he’d love to bring it up, because he knows more than anyone what kind of chaos would ensue should the others (especially Mammon) find out.

But they can tell something’s up when the eldest has been heard humming all day. He moves about the house with even more grace than usual, and hasn’t scowled even once.

But the REAL shocker was when Mammon tried hiding a bill right as Lucifer walked in... and the eldest let him off with a warning. A WARNING! The brothers thought the Devildom must’ve frozen over, but you and he knew different.

“MC, I would like you to accompany me to Le Pluvier this afternoon, once you've finished your studies. I've already made reservations, so be sure to get ready on time. I've made sure to consider the things you might like to eat, so I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Don't be late." "...I'm grinning? I don't know what you're talking about."

Mammon

The gigantic grin on Mammon’s face is so bright, it could rival the sun. You’ve seriously made his day. No, his year. Actually, he’s pretty sure he could ride this high for the next millennia! There’s nothing in this world that could dampen his spirits right now!

He feels like he just won big at the casino! Of course he’s your favorite! He WAS your first demon, and now he’s gone and claimed his rightful spot as your number one! Good luck trying to keep him from saying anything. Mammon’s gonna throw it around in everyone’s faces for as long as he can milk it.

And you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he treats you after hearing that. Despite always calling you his ‘servant’ or his ‘human’, you’d think your roles were reversed. Mammon spoils you every chance he gets, buying you clothes and trinkets, filling the spaces in your room with the things he knows you like, monopolizing you completely until nearly everything you own is a gift from him.

Your words also help soothe that jealousy of his a little. Only a little, though. It’s easier to watch you talk to other demons when he knows he’ll always be your first man.

“Didja really have to stay after class that long? I know you were talkin' to that demon that lent you a book, but you outta ask ME for stuff! Tch... you're lucky I'm in a good mood today! But I guess I don't have to worry about some low level demon like that, seein' as I'm your favorite!"

Levi

Wait wait wait....Come again? Did you seriously just say what he think you said..? That had to be a mistake! Some kind of...uh..verbal typo! Because there’s absolutely, positively, NO WAY in all of the nine layers that he could be your favorite demon. And yet you still insist that you’re telling the truth, and Levi feels like he’s died and gone to heaven.

Red faced and stammering up a storm, Levi looks like he might die. Is it really okay for a shut-in otaku to feel this giddy? Seriously, he hasn’t felt like this since he got his hands on a signed copy of a Ruri Hana audio drama! No no, this definitely beats that!

You’ve managed to inflate his nearly nonexistent ego, and now he feels like there’s nothing he can’t do! Maybe he could even go to Majolish right now?? THAT’S how good he’s feeling!

Almost as bad as Mammon in keeping it a secret. He doesn’t tell anyone right away, but they’re suspicious when they notice how much time he’s spending out of his room. And then when he and Mammon get in another petty argument, he drops the bomb that he’s your favorite demon in the entire Devildom, and you can guess how things go from there.

“Uuuoooo...!!!!! I've decided..! Since I've got a serious stat buff, I'm going to open a booth at the next convention coming up..! I'll sell my Ruri-chan fan art and spread her influence all over the Devildom! I'd never have the guts to do it normally, but I feel like I could do anything right now! Y-you'll go too, won't you MC?"

Satan

You nearly made this man spit tea all over his book, and now he’s coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out what could’ve prompted what he’s taking as a confession. You.. do realize what you’re saying, don’t you? And you know the kind of effect your words have on him?

Satan isn’t the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, so you have to look for his subtle expressions to tell how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing subtle about the redness of his ears and how he’s begging you not to look at him right now. For the sake of his sanity, give him a minute to recoup.

When he does recover, he agrees to keep it a secret for obvious reasons. And it’s hard to tell that he’s in a good mood, other than the fact that he hasn’t tried to pull any pranks on Lucifer lately. But Asmo sees all, and literally hounds him into spilling the tea.

He tells him a lie of course, but now the other brothers are noticing just how happy he is. Satan's smiling way too much today, isn't he? And he didn't even get mad when Beel got whipped cream on his jacket! Well, not THAT mad, anyway.

"Haaah... everyone's been harassing me all day, claiming I'm smiling a lot. I'm sure I look the same as I always do, but I'll admit that I've been happy ever since you told me that this morning. Wait.. you did think I've been grinning too, do you? I have??"

Asmo

Asmo always jokes about being your favorite and announces it as if the two of you are married, but when you actually confirm that his longing for you isn’t one sided, he ends up smearing lip balm across his cheek in shock. Did you... really say that just now? He knew it all along, but hearing it like that is just...!

Ooooh, he’s so happy he can hardly contain himself! Asmo throws his arms around you, peppering your face in kisses until you feel sticky from lip balm, wipes your face clean, then marks it up all over again. Good luck getting rid of him, because he might never let go.

Immediately posts it to Devilgram. Did you really think he’d let such a momentous occasion go unannounced? You must not have been paying attention to the kind of person he is! Asmo would put you on a pedestal in front of the world like a precious jewel if he were able, but this’ll have to do. He won’t hide his love at all!

Of course, the others don’t take too kindly to it, not that he cares. He never leaves your side, pampers you like crazy, and has even attempted to get you to move into his room. Lucifer put an immediate stop to that, though. Boo...

“I just can't get enough of you, MC! Just being near you gets me so excited that I can hardly stand it! You'll take responsibility for what you're doing to me, won't you? And in exchange, I'll take my time showing you just how much I love you. After all, you're my favorite, too!"

Beel

Beel never has a problem with choking while he eats, and it comes as naturally as breathing. Unfortunately neither of that applies right now, since you just made him choke on a meatball sub.

He usually takes your words with quiet acceptance, but this might be the most emotion you've ever witness from the stoic demon. His eyes are wider than that time that laid on an entire gingerbread mansion, sparkling up with such deep emotion you wouldn't be surprised if he cried. Instead he softens up and immediately embraces you.

...And doesn't let go. Sandwich long forgotten, he's been carrying you around all day, and ignoring any questions or protests from his brothers. Also insists on feeding you throughout the day. The food tastes better when he can enjoy it with you, so why not just bring you everywhere?

When he isn't carrying you, he's following you around subconsciously, either close up against you like a protective wall, or just far enough that you're within his line of sight. As far as not telling anyone, he... tells Belphie immediately. It was an accident though, since there's not much he keeps from his twin.

"MC, I won a meal ticket for Godevil Chocolatier. Let's get something for dessert today. Ah, you can get as much as you want, too. I really want to see what things you choose. They might become my favorites."

Belphie

There's nothing in this world that can wake Belphegor from his sleep, unless he allows it. No loud noises, no amount of shaking or smacking, and not even dragging him around the house. But the moment you whisper that he's your favorite demon, the Avatar of Sloth is wide awake.

Hey, you're not just saying weird things to get a reaction, are you? Because if so, this is a new level of cruel. Yet you confirm that you mean it and swear him into secrecy, and Belphie tries his best not to show how happy he is. A smile keeps creeping up on his face that he struggles to force down. It's annoying...

As funny as it’d be to tell everyone the news, he's good at keeping secrets. Instead, you've noticed that he's been sleeping a little less that before. When he does take one of his hundreds of naps, he finds some way to be closer to you. He's even been seen sleepwalking to your exact location somehow-

It's hard for him to believe that you're not teasing, though. How could HE be your favorite demon here? Belphie doesn't do anything special to win you over, yet after everything he put you through, you like him enough to deep him your favorite?

"You're weird, MC. I mean... me? I won't deny that I'm really happy though, but I guess I'm in disbelief. You should spoil me even more until I believe you. Lend me your lap for a few hours, okay?" "...I wonder what Lucifer would think if I told him, heheh."

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enchantestuff · 3 years

Text

miscommunication - charles leclerc

in which your Pierres little sister and reap the consequences after an eventful night in Monaco with his best friend

I think I'm going to make this into a series, like 3 more parts maybe??

part two

GIF NOT MINE!!!

warnings: smut, my failed attempt at angst (I tried), language, em yeah

3k words (I have no idea how that happened)

You had known Charles for years, which wasn't particularly surprising considering you were Pierres little sister.

When you were little you envied their friendship, constantly trying to insert yourself in their games and conversations. You had lost count of the amount of times they slammed a door in your face, demanding you to leave them alone. You hadn’t realised how annoying you were being as you followed them around everywhere, even if Pierre had scolded you for it each day.

When you were a teenager, Pierre purposely kept Charles away from you, telling him that if he even looked in your direction he wouldn't hesitate to end their friendship. You, of course, had no idea of the threat not that it mattered as you didn't paid any attention to the infamous duo during those few years, living in your own little world full of clothes , friends and different boys.

Now, however, you were an adult and all you wanted to do was support your brother throughout his career. In recent years you had gone to as many races as you physically could, but of course you had your own job and unfortunately didn’t have the time to attend any race this season.

Pierre was disappointed, he loved having you there to support him, but he understood that you had your own life and never placed any blame on you. After years of the two of you constantly ignoring each other and bickering, you had finally begun to act like siblings and all he wanted to do was make up for lost time.

You had thankfully gotten three weeks off work - well they weren’t necessarily weeks off as you still had to do your job, but your boss insisted that there was no need for you to trek to the office everyday when you were perfectly capable of doing the work at home on your laptop. The timing couldn't have been better with the triple header just around the corner, it almost seemed like a miracle and you were gonna enjoy every minute of it.

You grinned as you texted your brother.

Any spare tickets to the race :)

He replied almost immediately.

You're kidding, which one?

All of them?

Your texting was cut off by Pierres contact photo appearing on your phone. You answered instantly only to hear Pierre screaming through your speakers, he also slipped in a few delighted curse words before finally letting you talk.

“My boss gave me the next three weeks off so I’m going to go support my favourite brother” you grinned.

“Your only brother” he remarked and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

You spent the next few hours catching up and retelling pointless stories. You had gone to sleep with a lazy smile on your face and woke up the next morning to a text from Pierre, telling you that he had organized your passes for the three weekends as well as the flights, all you had to do was find a hotel. He slipped in the name of the hotel that he was staying at, and to your luck there was still room available. Now all that was left to do was wait.

You grinned giddy as you stepped off the plane and walked toward the baggage collection area, excited to finally get back to watching races in person. You rubbed your eyes in surprise when you spotted your brother waiting for you. “Pierre?” you screamed delightly, running up to him and pushing his body into a bone crushing hug. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever even if it was only a few months.

“Bonjour,” he laughed as he hugged you back.

“I thought you were busy all day today” you exclaimed once you pulled away from him.

He sheepishly shrugged at you with a lazy grin on his face. “I may have lied, are you ready to go?”

You nodded your head at him and for the first time in a long time your mind drifted towards your brother's best friend, Charles, who you hadn’t spoken to since an eventful night in Monaco a few months ago.

You cursed yourself as you thought back to that very moment.

Charles was having a party at his lovely home, you can't remember now what you were celebrating but everyone was ecstatic. You could hear the music from across the street and you knew before you even entered the house that it was going to be a night to remember.

The moment you stepped foot inside you were surrounded by multiple drunk people, all with large grins and hooded eyes plastered on them and you laughed as almost everyone stumbled around the house.

You spotted your brother in the middle of the room dancing with a pretty blonde, he had a goofy smile on his face and you knew from that sight of him alone that he was wasted. You were the only sober person there, at least that's what you thought until Charles had made his way to you with two cups in his hand, alcohol for you and water for him.

“I thought you were celebrating,” you mused as you took a sip of the dark liquor.

“Someone needs to keep these drunk idiots in check,” he joked.

“Well in that case” you said as you handed your drink to a stranger and took a sip of his water instead. You laughed at the bewildered look he threw your way before continuing, “I'm not going to let you tackle this party alone.” The smile that formed on Charles was genuine and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight.

You surprisingly enjoyed yourself the whole night, maybe that was because you knew everyone there, but most likely it was because you spent the whole night with Charles.

A few hours into the party he turned to you asking to dance, you didn't even hesitate to say yes, nerves surrounded you immediately and they only got worse when his hands dipped dangerously low on your hips. Your eyes automatically searched for Pierre and you left out a sigh of relief when you couldn't find him anywhere.

The thought of getting caught fueled both you and Charles, so when he spun you around to face him neither of you hesitated to connect your lips. You considered yourself lucky that everyone around you was too drunk to notice your heated make out and used it to your advantage. You pulled him even closer to you, moaning in his ear when he grabbed your bum and giggling at the whimper he let out.

You felt dizzy. The fact that you were both sober made your first kiss even more real.

You were anxious when he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere more private but agreed nevertheless, hoping that maybe he had wanted you for as long as you had wanted him.

He had tenderly kissed you again once he closed the door behind him.

“God, you have no idea how long i've waited to do this,” he moaned in your ear and although you knew that was just something people said in the heat of the moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe every single word that left his lips and got even more attached to the moment.

You revealed a piece of yourself to him that night, not only a physical part, but a part of your heart as you admitted your deepest secrets to him. “Fuck, Charles, I’ve always wanted you,” you moaned when he gently placed you on the bed.

You attached yourself to the kisses he placed all over your body, you paid attention to every bit of affection that he showed you, never once wanting him to stop. When he positioned himself next to you and asked if you were sure you told him there was nothing you've ever been more sure about.

You had both simultaneously moaned when he entered you, laughing at each other afterwards, which made your heart flutter. He was Charles, your brothers best friend and yet sex with him felt so natural.

He placed a tender kiss to your chest before he started moving and you couldn't help but hold him close to you, he didn't seem to mind however as he nested his head in the crook of your neck, letting you hear all the soft gasps and grunts that left his mouth.

You arched your back in pleasure when he reached the deepest parts inside you, your toes curled and your eyes rolled back and all you could think was God why didn't we do this sooner?

“Don't stop, please Charles, don't stop” you moaned in his ear, and if you weren't in a completely different world you would have noticed the shiver than ran down his entire body at your words.

“Trust me, mon amour, i never want to stop”

You weren't even aware of the moans the left your lips until Charles had grabbed your chin and looked at you with desperation written all over his face, “Merde, Y/N, i want more than anything to make this moment last but If you keep making those pretty little sounds you're gonna make me cum”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words “Shut me up then”

And he did, he grunted as he reconnected your lips, swallowing your moans and letting out his own in the process. From the kissing, to Charles’ moans and the rolling of his hips it didn't take you long to release the knot in your stomach.

You regretted it now, thinking back on it, it had completely ruined your friendship with Charles. Your daily silly texts to each other had ceased to exist, your weekly facetime calls had died and a piece of you had broken.

You didn’t expect any less, he was your brother's best friend and even though you always found him insanely attractive, you knew deep down he would have found your little crush on him weird. You always had the suspicion that he saw you as a little sister, and the way he completely ignored you after your hookup had proven them to be true.

You couldn't hate him, or even place the blame of your failed friendship on him as you also went out of your way to ignore him, something that you really regretted but couldn’t change.

“You alright?” Pierre asked as he grabbed your suitcase in his hand.

“Yeah sorry i - i don't know what happened to me there,” you choked out, walking alongside Pierre to his car.

“It's free practice tomorrow, you coming?” he asked once you were both sitting comfortably in his car.

“Yeah, of course” you nodded as you watched the tall buildings pass by in the window.

“Everyones misses you, you know?” he quickly glanced over at you while he drove, wondering what the hell you were thinking so hard about.

“Yep” you sighed, “Me too,” but all you could think about was the Ferrari driver and how awkward it would be to see him again

You had shut yourself in your hotel room for the rest of the night, the flight and overly long check in had taken all the remaining energy out of you and all you wanted to do was curl into the hotel bed and sleep for as long as you possibly could. So that's what you did, until Pierre rang your phone, telling you that he was leaving for free practice in half an hour, wondering if you needed lift, which of course you did you had mumbled to him while scrabbling out of the bed and running to your bathroom to take the quickest shower of your life.

You had somehow gotten ready in time and before you knew it you were walking around the paddock with Pierre next to you, basking in the glorious sun.

Pierre whistled in excitement when he spotted Charles walking out of the Ferrari motorhome. The brunette quickly turned at the sound, a smile forming on his face when he spotted Pierre, his eyebrows raising soon after as he finally noticed you next to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as he got closer and closer to you.

You stood firmly in your spot, uncertain if a hug would be too big of an action after months of silence between you both, quite frankly you didn’t even want to touch him, the pain that he had caused you cutting too deep. Unfortunately, he beamed at you and grabbed your hips, pulling you into his chest and rocking you both side to side.

“Hi,” you laughed, unwilling to cause a scene in front of your brother, you moved your arms to wrap around his neck.

“It's great to see you” he admitted when he pulled away and you felt your throat close up at his words. “I’ve missed you”

“I missed you too,” you smiled and although it wasn’t a lie, the words felt dirty leaving your lips. You shouldnt have missed him, not when he left you lying alone in his bed after you both had sex.

“God, you're acting like you haven't spoken to each other in months,” Pierre laughed, and you and Charles shared an awkward look with each other. The silence that followed was unbearable.

You cleared your throat as you looked around the paddock. “I'm going to get some water” you quickly spilled out and abruptly turned in the other direction, ignoring the confused look that Pierre shot in your direction. You had only taken a few steps when Charles grabbed your arm and pulled you behind a random building.

“Shh it's me” he flinched as you pushed yourself away from him, “it's me” he repeated looking at the bewildered expression on your face.

“You couldn’t have just talked to me like a normal human being?” you argued, “Did you really have to drag me behind a building?”

“I couldn't talk about you know what around you know who” he threw back and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh! You dont want to talk about us having sex infronf of Pierre” you snapped and he covered your mouth with his hand. You bit his hand and he gasped in response.

“You bit me!” he half shouted.

“You didn’t seem to mind last time” you commented , relishing in how flustered Charles had gotten.

“We need to talk about that” he choked out, looking absolutely anywhere except your eyes.

“Oh so now you want to talk about it?” you asked with an accusing tone to your voice, surpringing not only Charles but also yourself.

“I know it was a dick move, I just” he sighed “I didn’t know how to bring it up”

“How about maybe not leaving straight away? How about sending me a text explaining how you felt instead of leaving me in the dark for months? If you thought it was a mistake you could have just-”

“I didn't think it was a mistake”

You couldn't help the effect those words had on your heart, but suddenly you were even more furious, he was unintentionally playing with your heart and you didn't know how much more of it you could take.

“Then why didn't you tell me!”

You were frustrated and he wasn’t helping one bit. He had left it too late, the damage was done, you had spent months regretting your decision to climb into bed with him and a few words lazily strung together to form a sentence wasn't going to erase the emotional damage he caused you. It didn't matter anymore whether it was intentional or not

“I didn't want to ruin our friendship”

“That is the dumbest excuse I've ever heard!”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes and all you wanted to do was sob your heart out, but you refused to cry in front of him, you didn't want him to know the effect he had on you. “Look your late and i - i need to breathe”

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you ran away, unable to face the boy who broke your heart: the boy who had given you everything you could possibly want, only to snatch it out of your grasp.

You cursed yourself for getting attached to that moment because now, every time you closed your eyes, all you see was him panting on top of you and all you could feel was his lips on your skin. It was a memory that used to delight you but now all it brought was sadness and pain.

You knew your attachment issues would bring you pain one day, but only now as you crouched down next to some random building, did you realise it would be physical pain. You clawed at your neck in desperation. You couldn't breathe. Your tears were practically suffocating you and you couldn't help but think Charles' hands ripping your heart from your chest was the cause.

Unknowingly to you, Charles watched your retreating figure with tears forming behind his eyes. It had finally hit him how much he fucked things up. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought maybe you needed space, maybe you would have regretted it.

He wore his heart on his sleeve that day, everything that he told you was true, he was just so scared. So scared that he would be left heartbroken, that his feelings were unrequited, that maybe, just maybe, you would be disgusted with yourself for what you two did.

He left early the next morning to hype himself up, to finally tell you about his feelings for you that had been bubbling around in his stomach for years, but when he returned to his bedroom you were gone.

He didn't realise how much waking up to an empty bed would affect you, just as much as you didnt realise how much leaving would affect him.

He was never good at communication, but it was so easy with you, so why didn't he pick up the phone? He had no excuse except that he was scared.

It was his fear that hurt him the most. It was his fear that broke your heart and that had hurt him so much more than he thought was possible.

#Charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x reader #forumla 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #angst #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #Charles Leclerc smut #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 smut

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

OMG pm Dazai dating y/n and leaves without saying anything,,,, reunion when chuuya is interrogating him in their “dungeon” area, y/n sees him and flat out ignores him until her and chuuya leave, when she full on KISSES chuuya AND WALKS AWAY mmmm angst c:

Tasty angst.. Here I come! This was an amazing idea! I loved writing it♡

Speechless

Dazai Osamu x fem! Reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Tw: slight nsfw(kissing), angst, strong language.

"Hey Chuuya, I got here as soon as you called. So, what's the matter?"

You say, walking up to the redhead, a smile on your face.

Noticing the grim look on your friend's face, your smile drops, a concerned look replacing it.

"Chuuya? What's wrong? And why hasn't Osamu arrived?"

Chuuya grit his teeth at your words, and tightened his fists.

"That bastard left."

"What?"

"He left the mafia, Y/N. He abandoned us."

You couldn't believe your ears. No way. You loved him. He loved you too, didn't he? Didn't he?! How.. Why.. When?

"Is this some sick joke, Chuuya? Because I don't appreciate it. It's a very stupid prank. You know how cranky I get when you wake me up in the middle of my sleep. I don't appreciate-"

Chuuya grabbed your shoulders, shaking you. He thought that this was the only way to help you understand. To tell you, that this wasn't some prank. It was true. Dazai had left the the mafia. But what's worse, is that he left the two of you, without as much as a mention of his plan.

"He left, Y/N! He left us! It's not a joke! He.. He's gone.."

Chuuya's grip on you slowly loosened as he teared up. His voice cracked.

You teared up, too. Your mouth was agape, wanting to say so much, express so much, but not knowing how.

"But.. he didn't even say goodbye.."

Chuuya shook his head, gritting his teeth.

"He didn't bother to say goodbye."

....

"Chuuya, you down here?"

That voice.. It belonged to Dazai's lover. He could recognize that voice anywhere. The honey like tone, and the soothing pitch; it had to be Y/N.

Dazai's heart was beating at 1000 kilometers per hour, and he feared that if you came close enough, it would leap out of his chest and tango on the floor.

Every step you took, the sharp sound of your heel against the floor reverberated through the dark dungeons.

The last time he had seen you was the night before he left the mafia. He hadn't told you about his departure, and had simply vanished the next day. He didn't try contacting you, and neither did you try to find out about him. He assumed that you were fine with his decision. But he knew that this assumption was probably wrong. You hated being lied to. You were one of those people that took time to open up to someone, but once they did, they would trust them fully. And he had gone ahead and broken that trust. He had backstabbed you. You were probably livid. Maybe you're coming down here to give him a piece of your mind. Dazai shuddered at the thought of being on the receiving end of your anger. Anybody who witnessed your angry side never lived to tell the tale.

Finally, your outline could be seen above the stairs. You were standing there casually, your hands in the pockets of the Mafia style coat draped over your lithe form. Your coat looked expensive. It most probably was. You were an executive, afterall. You had been since you were 15. You were probably filthy rich by now. Your hair looked as silky as he remembered it to be. A few strands gracefully framed your elegant and chiseled face. You had definitely grown up over the years. The maturity in your eyes, the sharpened features of your face and the soft curves of your body proved it. Dazai couldn't help but stare at his true love, the woman he had fallen for a few years ago, and the one who he was head over heels for now. He simply froze in his place, eyes widenening and mouth slightly agape as he took in your form.

You began strutting down the stairs, observing the prisoner. For a split second, Dazai could spot surprise flash through your eyes.

"Y/N... I didn't want to get you down here.."

Chuuya spoke, a scared look on his face. He was terrified of what you would do if you saw Dazai down here. Part of him knew you hated him, and might lash out on him. That was fine. But what scared him was the other possibility. The other part of him thought that you might forgive him. Considering your kind nature, you might fall prey to Dazai's sweet, manipulative words and forgive him. He would be devastated if you did that. The brunette has caused a lot of pain to you, and Chuuya would absolutely hate it if you decided to be compassionate and forget all that pain. All those tears were shed over the bastard. He couldn't bear to see you ignore all that.

"Yeah, you went out of the way to avoid telling me. I got to know from Tachihara."

You rolled your eyes, smiling at the fiery haired man.

Chuuya fisted his hands, anger building up in his stomach.

"Don't lash out on him! I had to threaten the poor boy to get the info out of him."

You said, holding your hands up to placate him.

You came to stand right next to him.

"I wanted to know if dinner is still on."

Dazai watched the two of you in silence. He wanted to say so much to you, but he couldn't if stupid short rack stayed here.

Well, he didn't have an option. He had to talk to you. And now was the only time he'd get.

"Y/N! It's been so long, hasn't it?"

He grinned at you, waiting for you to grin back or scowl at him.

You looked at him without bothering to face him. You raised an eyebrow, and focused your attention back to Chuuya.

Dazai was heartbroken at that. You never used to ignore him. You used to always be so enthusiastic and encouraging. This is the first time you've ignored him.

"Y/N. I'm so sorry. I know I should have said something, but I was stupid back then. I didn't know how to say, and what to say... I... I love you.. please, will you hear me out?"

His voice cracked. He meant every word he had just uttered. He loved you. Back then, when he left the mafia, he was only 19. Leaving the mafia was the best decision he had ever made in his life. But the way he executed it was wrong. It was stupid. He had lost you.

Chuuya gulped. This is exactly what he had feared.

You finally faced Dazai, hands still in your pockets. Your face held a look of mild intrigue, almost as if you were enjoying this.

You tilted your head to side, eyeing his worn out state.

Without a word, you faced Chuuya.

"I'm starving. Meet me at our usual place."

Chuuya was shocked at your lack of response. He nodded nonetheless.

"Alright. Get started without me. I might take a while."

You placed a hand on his shoulder, and were about to turn to leave.

"Y/N! Please, just hear me out!"

Dazai had never begged anyone other than Odasaku in his life. He had only ever pleaded Oda to not go destroy Mimic. Nobody other than Odasaku had seen Osamu Dazai ever plead to anyone about anything. The demon prodigy of the Mafia always found a way to get what he wanted.

Chuuya was left gaping at the scene.

You grabbed Chuuya's neck, and placed your palm on his cheek. Drawing him in, you kissed him. Right in front of Dazai. You deepened the kiss as Chuuya pulled you in further, leaving no room between the two of you. Tongues danced together, setting an erratic beat, as the two of you got lost in the kiss. The air supply was getting low, and Chuuya needed to come back for air, but you pulled him before he could do so. The lack of oxygen made his eyes flutter close, and he felt light headed. You devoured his mouth, tasting him. Finally pulling back, you bit his bottom lip, and licked it.

Chuuya felt weak in the knees. This wasn't the first time you had kissed him. Hell, you both had done a lot more than just kiss. But it always left him flabbergasted and breathless.

You wasted no time as you turned and walked away, leaving the dungeons after saying a ,"Hope to see you soon!", to Chuuya.

As you disappeared above the stairs, Dazai felt his heart shatter. He felt a pang in his chest, and tears surfaced in his eyes. He exhausted all his energy and self control in keeping his tears in and maintaining a nonchalant posture.

Chuuya was elated. He couldn't express how happy he was even in a thousand words. The love you both shared was strong, and what happened just now had proven it to him. In a twisted way, he was glad that Dazai had left, as it led him to form a beautiful relationship with you.

While Chuuya glowed from giddiness, Dazai cracked on the inside, and felt hollow. He thought that this was what he deserved. Afterall, he was the one who had caused immense pain to you. It's only fair for you to return the favor.

His hair hid half of his face, but Chuuya could easily spot the tears streaming down his cheeks. Chuuya felt bad for him, for Dazai was once his friend. But Dazai had this coming. He had hurt you, and Chuuya is planning to hurt him in return for that.

Lemme know if this is what you were looking for!

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im-whatchamccallit · 3 years

Text

Fixed On//ATEEZ (OT8)

Pairing: ATeez (OT8) x Fem!Reader (Non-romantic)

Genre: Slight angst, psychological if you’re paranoid enough, majority fluff

Warnings: Mentions of stalking

Word count: 3.4k

You told yourself it was the lack of sleep from the three days you spent studying for your finals catching up to you, that the shadows you saw in your peripheral and the faint footsteps you heard behind you as you drowsily ran errands were simply hallucinations. You told yourself it was all in your head, but how could you believe that now that you were aware of him?

You had simply gone out to grab groceries, just a seven minute walk from your apartment that wouldn’t take any more energy from your already exhausted body, just craving a home cooked meal before crashing for the next two days. But you could practically hear his breathing as he circled around you in the produce section, feel his eyes staring at the back of your head while you selected a pack of beef and, now, you could see him clear as day as you trailed down the empty streets. You were tempted to stay in the grocery store to stall him, praying he got bored and left, but you made the mistake of going at 9:30 at night, the cashiers urging you to go as they closed at 10. Not a problem, you could just head home, right? But you couldn’t, the looming fear he’d find out where you lived making you whimper in distress. To add insult to injury, you left your cell phone at home because you didn’t think your trip would take so long and most stores were closed now, the street lights and your two bodies the only signs of life in the silent night.

You’d been walking for almost twenty minutes now, passing by your apartment reluctantly with aching feet and a spinning head, your eyes brimmed with tears as you tried to push on in case he caught up to you and hoping your $15 beef hadn’t gone bad by now. You need a miracle, something to ease your anxiety and get you home and away from the unidentified man. And, in the midst of your unfortunate predicament, you saw it: a 7-Eleven.

Your body picked up speed as you rushed inside, the place bright and lively despite only you and the cashier being present and the radio playing softly in the background, the tightness in your chest disappearing with each passing second. You gasped softly at the sound of the door’s chime, your head darting to see the hooded figure from before stepping inside and making an abrupt turn to the candy aisle. What now?

You tried to stay natural, moving to the fridge to pick out a soda that you didn’t want, glancing over to see the man adjacent to you mindlessly picking up bags of chips only to put them down once again, looking in your direction every so often to make sure you haven’t moved. And you did, floating about the store with no destination and him still on your tail, the teenager behind the register not caring as the both of you played a game of hide and seek that left your safety up to fate.

It seemed like you were hopeless but, for some reason, you were starting to get luckier as the night progressed, the door chiming and the boisterous chatter of men filling the fairly spacious convenience store.

“Get anything you want, we’re charging it to Hwa’s card.”

“Like hell you are! Pay for yourselves!”

Laughter followed the bickering of two of the guys echoed off the walls before they spread out, some going in pairs to different sections and some on their own, but the one standing alone in front of a rack of limited edition snacks just so happened to catch your gaze first. He was tall, wearing a coat that looked cute on him but made his upper body appear to be broad and muscular underneath, his face blank and firm as if he’s never smiled a day in his life. He was scary, and perfect.

Yunho’s lips were threatening to form a pout as he struggled to choose. Would he rather have a snack form Japan or Indonesia tonight? Both looked so good but he couldn’t bring himself to choose.

“I’ll get both.” He said under his breath before grabbing both bags, gasping loudly as a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Oppa, I thought you had work tonight!” You squealed in a faux happy voice, smiling brightly up at the wide and horrified gaze the man gave you.

“W-what?”

“Some guy’s been following me for a while now. Please, just pretend you know me.” You said in a hushed tone, smile faltering as you glanced over to the fridge you once occupied, the eyes you had feared all night staring directly at you, a soft whine leaving you as you peered back at the strange man you latched yourself to, praying he saved you in any way he could.

You gasped as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you until your head was flush against his chest, his once stoic face now adorned with a content smile.

“I texted you that I was free but you didn’t respond! I really wanted to see you tonight.” He said in a cute yet teasing tone, your head thrown back to see him smiling down at you, giving a subtle but clear wink to let you know he was on your side, your eyes stinging as you tried not to cry in the unknown male’s arms.

“How about we go grabs some snacks and head back to my apartment? I’ll pay.” He said with a gentle smile, your head nodding reluctantly.

You both made your way to the back of the store where his friends continued to joke and bicker, Yunho’s arm not leaving you for a second although his smile was gone now, eyes still puppy like yet hard.

Considering he was a fairly large guy, it was easy for the others to catch on to his presence but, upon turning to face their groupmate, they found themselves more focused on your meek appearance hiding safely under his arm. You could feel your face burning in both embarrassment and unease at the way they eyed you and the man.

“Who is this?” One asked, his hair a beautiful royal blue and eyes just as sweet as your large bodied savior’s, the way our eyes immediately diverted from his causing a few to laugh but the way you gasped in horror as your eyes locked with your almost hour long stalker, body trembling as you opted to look at the ground. You just wanted to go home.

“This is…. Princess! My girlfriend!” Yunho said, suddenly realizing neither of you knew each other’s names.

“If he’s holding you hostage, blink twice.” Another spoke, his eyes cat-like and face sculpted to reveal his dimples as he smiled playfully at you.

“Why’s it so hard to believe I can get a girlfriend? Bunny, go pick out something to eat. We’ll wait for you so we can pay.” Yunho said affectionately, giving a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder at the way your eyes widened in fear at him, his head nodding you onward as he silently told you he had a plan, eyes never leaving you as you cautiously moved to the glass casing filled with pastries.

“Seriously, Yunho, who is she?” Seonghwa asked, voice low as the other watched you closely. You were holding two plastic grocery bags filled with vegetables and meat, you were probably a university student based on your lazy but comfortable choice of clothing. Nothing about you seemed alarming, but your sudden introduction as Yunho’s girlfriend was enough to make them suspicious.

“Look at the guy in the hoodie. She said he followed her here.” He said in a hushed voice, the unknown man creepily moving close by you before closing in on a sealed pack of donuts but giving you a once-over now that he was close enough to get a better look at you.

You felt your jaw clench as to not cry out for help and set him off. He was only a few feet away from you now, able to grab and harm you just by extending his arm if you dared to alert anyone. That wasn’t a risk you wanted to take.

“Did he follow her car or something? Why would she stop here?” Wooyoung asked.

“Obviously she didn’t drive. She would’ve left her bags in her car if she did.” Yeosang responded, a few of their eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Wait, but the only grocery store nearby is almost ten minutes away.” Jongho chimed in.

“By car. If she walked, that would be almost 25 minutes.” Mingi concluded, their bodies running cold at the realization, taking in the severity of your situation.

You tried to seem casual, to make sure he was unaware of the sudden initiation of eight strangers planning to get you away from him as quickly as possible but, in the midst of your overthinking, you managed to wander off to the back of the store, eyes locked on the stands full of ramen in both impatient anxiousness and genuine wonder. There’s no doubt the beef you bought was no good at this point, and that constant walking you’d done really built up your appetite. You couldn’t let the boys pay for you, especially after offering their protection to keep you safe. But, you had your wallet on you, and you had to get in line with them anyways so they can pay for their snacks, so why not grab dinner for yourself while you were at it?

You mindlessly searched for the one you usually ate, even wondering if you should grab two in case you were hungry later while shifting to hold both bags of food in one hand, almost missing the set of eyes on you. Almost.

It felt like before when you were in the grocery store, body freezing as you listened closely but this time aware of the threating presence, only unaware of how close he was now. You slowly let your body rise, not wanting to let your guard down as you finally heard footsteps, the faint chatter of the boys snapping you from your daze as you tried to hurry back to them, yelping as you crashed into a warm body before you.

You held your breath, peering up cautiously before seeing a familiar and bright smile, his jaw slim but chiseled. He was the stranger’s friends, and he was cute. If you weren’t so worried about getting the hell back home safely, maybe you could’ve gotten a better look at each one to see if they were all this stunning.

“Uhm, P-Princess,” Seonghwa cringed at the pseudonym, not sure why Yunho couldn’t just ask for your actual name to begin with.

“We’re getting ready to pay. You got everything you need?”

You glanced at the bowl of instant ramen before nodding, Seonghwa eagerly taking it from your hands to leave it unoccupied, but that didn’t last long as he grasped it to guide you beside him, your sides practically touching. It was a bit confusing, it made you worried that your act would be found out by the mysterious guy following you. But Seonghwa was no idiot, his observation skills heightened since he was brought into your escape plan, trying hard to not send a glare to the creep standing in the place you were moments ago. If he hadn’t noticed him moving closer, who knows what would’ve happened to you.

“Hey, ready?” Yunho asked you softly, your head nodding once more as they began to hand their items to the still disinterested boy behind the register, your eyes examining their mannerisms.

You were a little wary about blindly asking for their help but, from the way they immediately took on the task to protect you by staying at your side, and even now as the short but equally as model-like blue-haired guy complained that he thought they were using ‘Seonghwa’s’ card, only to be met with teasing ‘Thank you, mom’ chants from the remainder which left him looking a bit disgruntled, you knew they were nothing to fear.

You moved forward as they trailed on to the side, setting down your ramen as Yunho kept his place next to you, moving to pull out his wallet but you immediately snatched your hand from Seonghwa’s wanting to give a quick apology but needing to pay before he had the chance to.

“Don’t worry, I can-“

‘It’s only a dollar, Princess, it’s fine.” Yunho said while handing cash to the man, a faint warmth creeping to your cheeks at how casually he used that newly established nickname.

You thanked the man as you grabbed onto yet another bag for the night, all of you eagerly leaving the store and into the parking lot, the suffocating atmosphere now dissipating into relief as you took in a breath of fresh air. That man didn’t follow you out, the ambience felt so light and fun with the group of men joking ahead of you as they walked to a van with a very bold ‘ATEEZ’ on the side, your jaw nearly hitting the ground.

You’ve heard of their group, their music everywhere yet never had the time or desire to actually look them up, which would explain why you didn’t recognize them immediately. Although, the cat-eyed one went viral not too long ago for his charismatic dancing and now, watching him and a tanned guy with a mole beneath his eye he pointed and referred to as ‘Woo’ laugh at something said by the blue haired man while the tall one, one that resembled a prince and fairy all in one, and one that looked scary until he showed a smile so sweet it managed to make him look more youthful, you realized they were all hot. And suddenly the intimidation you thought you were free from came rushing back to you.

“Hey,” The sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts, a yelp leaving you as you faced the first one you met, his smile falling a bit but recovering just as fast.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. Just need to know your address so we can take you home.” He held up his cellphone and a navigation system, your eyes wide as you looked between him and the bright phone screen. They could’ve honestly left you there once that man stopped pursuing you, yet they were still looking after you.

“Or I could call you a cab. We know you probably don’t want to be around a ton of strangers right now.”

“N-no! Thank you, so much, I’m just really thankful I found you guys.”

“Hey, it only cost us a dollar to help you, and I don’t think any of us would feel right just leaving you to protect yourself from that guy.” Yunho said gently.

His tone and eyes were telling you he was being sincere, not that you needed any more convincing to trust him or his friends. Not to mention he was right about you needing a ride home, reality kicking in that you still didn’t have your phone on you and, if your groceries weren’t completely wasted by now, you still had some time to save them.

With a small smile you took his phone from his hands, typing in your address and passing it back to him, your body turning to match his as you head towards the van, the faint sounds of the boys arguing over who would drive and all agreeing that none of them wanted to, leading to an intense game of rock-paper-scissors that Yunho gladly stayed out of, a small giggle threatening to erupt from your lips.

“By the way, you guys don’t feel like strangers. Especially with your group’s name plastered on the side of your car.” You joked, a simple ‘Ah’ leaving him as you stared at you with a smirk, almost a silent way to say he’s discovered your dirty secret.

“You know, at first I thought you were a fan or something and that’s why you came up to me. I didn’t think I’d be right.”

“Uh, actually, I don’t know anything about you guys. I didn’t know you were ‘ATEEZ’ until I saw, well, that.” You gestured back to the vehicle where the boys began to disperse and enter the car, but the loud and bitter comments of them not wanting ‘Mingi’ to drive filling the air followed by an authoritative ‘Do you wanna do it?!’ from the blue-head. Were they aware of how unintentionally funny they were?

“Well, in that case, I’m Yunho.” He smiled, a genuine one that made you breathe out in contentment.

“I’m (Y/n).”

Your introduction was brief, followed by a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, lingering in the air as you both made it to the van, easing your way inside and finding a seat next to the blue-head and prince-faced boy, giving a small nod and smile that he shyly returned, the three boys behind you too preoccupied in their phones to acknowledge you and, suddenly, the silence gone as Yunho spoke up from his awkward position of setting up his phone to the dashboard, the faint voice of the navigation arising in the background.

“You should introduce yourselves to (Y/n)!”

“Her name’s (Y/n)?” The one in the driver’s seat asked as he started the engine, peering to you from the rear view mirror with bright eyes before putting the car into drive.

“My name is Mingi.”

“I’m Seonghwa.” The guy from the passenger seat said to you as he turned to wave.

“I’m Choi San.” Cat eyes said from behind you, giving a dimpled smile that you easily returned.

“I am Jongho, and this is Wooyoung.”

“Hey! I can introduce myself!” You jumped slightly at the boom of ‘Wooyoung’s’ voice, giving a bewildered look at how fast he went back to his calm and charismatic self.

“I’m Wooyoung.” He reached his hand out to you, which you slowly took as you tried to calm down the giggles bubbling inside of you.

“Yeosang.” The one beside you said meekly, not giving you eye contact as he scrolled through his social media.

“And my name’s Hongjoong!” The blue-haired guy said, giving an enthusiastic wave that was slowly swallowed by the oversized sweater he wore, your breath caught in your throat from how cute he was.

“It’s nice to meet you all and, thank you, so much, for helping me tonight.”

“It’s no problem, we just wanted to make sure you stayed safe.” Mingi stated. You would’ve thought his deep voice would be drowned out by the van’s engine but you heard him perfectly.

“But what made you think we weren’t the creeps? You’re probably in a car full of murders and you don’t even know it-“

“Shut the hell up, Wooyoung, you’re scaring her!” Seonghwa yelled from the front, a hand landing on top of your head to give a small ruffle, your eyes following it to Hongjoong who peered past Yeosang’s head to see you.

“Don’t worry, we’re all good guys.”

“He’s lying! He yells at us all the time!” Jongho whined with a pout, slowly letting it grow into a smirk as Hongjoong glared at him playfully.

“Because none of you listen!” Hongjoong snapped back, an amused laugh from San echoing through the vehicle.

“Oh no, dad’s mad.”

“I’m stuck with ungrateful kids, of course I’m mad!” You couldn’t help but laugh, their bickering growing by the second as the car ride progressed.

It was funny how quickly they forgot there was a stranger riding with them, having conversations that you couldn’t understand about an idol life that you had no part in, Yunho attempting to remind them of your presence to make you feel included, eventually leading you to discuss university life that they couldn’t quite understand and, as mundane as it seemed, was still a bit entertaining.

You could see the familiar street light with a poster for part-time employment at the nearby seafood shop taped to it, signaling you were approaching your apartment a lot sooner than you expected and, as relieved as you were to finally be home and to relax from the horrifying encounter you had, you didn’t want to leave.

These boys, as loud and strange as they were, were peaceful to be around and a comfort you didn’t know you needed. You weren’t really aware of ATEEZ, who they were or the music the produced, but you knew they were good people, and maybe this night was enough to keep your mind fixed on them.

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beetsandskzreads · 3 years

Text

silent bright summer night

bang chan x gn!reader, y/n works with skz and became their friend (the ultimate dream haha)

genre: tooth-rotening fluff, slight angst with a happy ending

notes/warnings: nothing intense, this is very fluffy, there's brief mentions of cheating, long distance, y/n's exes, fear of abandonment, slight insecurities, deep talks, reader and chan are slightly wine drunk, y/n and chan are whipped, y/n makes it explicit they want to date someone very warm and caring (aka chan), i don't think that's a warning tho djsjs just saying

scenario: on a balcony, at a beach apartment on a summer night of vacation, y/n opens up to chan about their past and current lovers. what y/n doesn't know is why chan is so interested listening to it.

It was 1:01 am when chan and I found ourselves in the balcony that overlooked the city and it's bright lights on a summer night. Skz had gone to sleep right after all of us came back from a night out of lots of fun, buying stuff on stores by the beach, having ice cream, seeing the view of the city lights reflecting on the sea water, appreciating street artists...

The two of us had been talking the whole evening, we hung out as a group but mostly just spoke to each other and laughed at the members jokes, both of us having a sparkle in our eye every time we saw the group happy. There was this unspoken pleasantness, a bliss, calmness in the air but with a lot of excitement. Chan was so happy to be around the sea with "the kids" as he refers to them and being at the beach almost 24/7 this week, it was like his natural habitat, his home, a comfort place. It left you feeling even softer for him, and as you shared your love for the sea, your feelings were at a peak. You liked Chan, and you loved this place as much as he did.

The night was so great, everyone was out like a lightweight as soon as we arrived to the vacation apartment we're in. Chan and I were testing the theory that a glass of wine would help us get drowsy and help us fall asleep as well, since we both have trouble falling asleep and felt nothing but a remaining excitement from the night out. It came to me especially because of the enthusiasm of talking to him, we were connecting so well, I didn't want this to ever end.

And so we drank (one glass quickly becoming the whole bottle) and we talked for what felt like hours on end, that neither of us wanted to cease.

- My ex best friend, she never quite knew how to choose guys, she always went for the ones that would never turn her way, the ones who obviously wouldn't care about her, not because of her, but because they were really careless guys, walking red flags. - I told him, I couldn't remember where exactly the conversation started but we were talking about nice people picking shitty people to date.

- What about you? - he asked

- Me? I barely even like guys, I mean I do, but I'm really picky actually, I don't allow myself to fall for cold people, I wouldn't forgive myself if I took interest in someone rude, I try so hard to take care of myself so I either stay alone that way or I find someone who makes me feel better, who knows how to take care of me, after all we chase happiness, I think a caring person could do that, someone gentle who isn't scared of emotions or who at least is open to face that fear with me by their side.

- I get it, it's hard to get by if you don't have emotional support, a partner should be able to provide that support, yeah. Did you ever... find someone like that?

- Yeah, in the past I did and even now I do know someone more than ideal... I guess my ex partners when I was young were going through a soft phase tho... I guess everyone has an emotional limit they were scared to cross... once I found that barrier the relationship stoped evolving, reached a dead end and so there was nothing left for me anymore and I left, plus, you know, cheating, long distance, a bunch of stuff really... it wasn't meant to be and I'm okay with that.

- What about that someone right now?

Silence ruled for about 3 seconds before I knew what to say. That someone right now is him. Ever since I've known him feels like he's the only man ever, but I don't think I'd tell him that, not soon anyways.

- What about 'em?

- What's that person like? What makes you trust they're any different from your exes?

- Sometimes I fear they're not, but I set the bar really high and I reset it constantly, to make sure I'm seeing it right, sometimes they seem so perfect to me that I wonder what good have i done in my past life to deserve to be around such a bright person. Of course they make mistakes too, but even the way they deal with them is so... mature, it's so easy to just solve things communicating, it's insane to me. Then I remember it's probably because they're eventually gonna leave me too, or just not reciprocate my feelings and after they break my heart I'll probably loose all hope in love, be heart broken for two years until I decide I'm gonna focus on myself again... it's a cycle after heartbreak, but with this person I'm really scared, because they mean more. I'm way too deep in before I've even expressed my feelings, it's gonna be devastating. - I'm rambling, the wine made me do it.

- What makes you think they wouldn't like you back tho?

- I'm not sure I just... it would be too good to be true and it's complicated... he's amazing and I'm just not sure if he'd be into me, I mean, I think I'm lovable and I think I'd be a great lover, I just don't know if I'm his type or if he'd consider me. We have a bit of an age gap, I'm not someone who's typically pretty or specially good looking, I have my charms but I have no idea if that's enough for him to be in love. It's complicated with each others work too... - I notice chan's gaze on me, he has his head leaned on his hand on the table and he's looking at me with bright eyes, eyes that look tired and a little drunk but somehow, he manages to look at me in a way that makes me feel adored, I don't know why you have to make me feel so much love, Bang Chan - Why are you looking at me like that?

- You have no idea how other people perceive you, do you? - he ignored your question, probably because of his drunk-ish drowsy state - Everyone I know likes you, see, you're a naturally kind and caring person, you're attentive to people's needs, you make sure everyone feels comfortable around you... that's so appreciated by everyone. I think you're exceptional y/n, you have this charismatic way of existing, a refreshing and comfy presence everyone can feel, but to me... it feels like home. You feel like home y/n. So... I have no idea who that person is but I sure as hell know they'd be more than lucky to have you as a partner and they're definitely dumb if they let you go.

- Are you dumb? - my heart's pounding quicker as I'm about to do something I didn't plan on doing ever.

- Huh? No, why w-

- Because that person is you... I like you, Chan. In a more-than-friends way - I interrupt him quickly before I lose my newly found courage.

Chan could've sworn his heart stopped for a few seconds. Suddenly sobriety hit him like a truck. It was the alcohol that made you say that, he thought, but he wished it was true and you didn't drink enough to be lying about this kind of stuff, you had a full on conversation and you seemed pretty sober.

- Y-y/n are you sober? - he tries to navigate through the situation.

- Oh my... yeah I am, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, it just rolled out of my tongue. I'm sorry... - you said as you panicked and tried to go back inside, regret filling up all your organs.

"I messed up" your brain keeps repeating as desperation starts entering your body, until Chan grabbed your hand, stopping you from leaving.

- Wait! You don't need to apologize, I'm glad you told me... You didn't think I'd say all that about you if I didn't like you as well, did you? - he asks suggestively.

- I don't know - you blush as you realize what he's getting at - You're just so nice to everyone, I didn't make a big deal out of it.

- Well, you should've made it a big deal, the biggest deal actually because I've been trying really hard to show you how I feel these past few days and you were so clueless I thought you were purposefully ignoring the signs because you didn't like me back.

- I'm sorry Channie, I just didn't want to assume stuff and get heartbroken if it wasn't true.

-Well it is true, so you don't need to worry anymore. I really like you too, y/n. And I've wanted to say it for a while too, I was just wondering if it was a good idea since you work with us, but I can't contain my feelings anyways... you always treat me so softly and you look after the kids really well... It just feels like you were made to be by my side, you're the embodiment of the person I've always dreamed to be with, and these past few days with the kids and you... it just felt like we were the perfect family you know? I don't think I could be without you by my side anymore... - he stops, he's been staring at your eyes the whole time and now they're starting to water.

How could you not cry when he's saying the things you thought you'd only ever hear in dreams?

- Why are you crying sweetheart? - he whispered, as he wipes a tear with his thumb, the other hand holding your hand as he stands closer every second.

- It's just... I'm so... happy - you smile through your tears - I'm so happy to hear that, you said it in such a beautiful way too... I feel exactly the same, it's like I've gained a family with you guys but you... I've grown really attached to you, feels like some parts of you are tangled in my heart in ways I couldn't tear apart if I wanted to... I'm drawn to you and when I'm with you it's comfortable, blissful, it's right. You're so good to me, it's unbelievable, but it's true, and it warms my heart. - you say as your foreheads touch and your smile grows, his eyes showing so much adoration for you, you could melt.

Suddenly you share your first kiss together, a soft yet passionate mix of sensations, and it felt like everything you ever felt around Chan but better.

You stare into each other's eyes, smiling like the little lovely goofballs you both were, noses touching, ocasional little pecks filled with giggles because you were whipped for each other.

- So this means we're exclusive lovers now, yeah? - he asks with a blushing face, a very silent giggle and a huge, uncontrollable smile.

- Definitely, yeah - you answer biting your lip until eventually you let out the largest smile you ever had.

Needless to say, you didn't leave that balcony to go to sleep that evening. In fact, you two watched the sunrise kissing and cuddling, talking about the feelings you had for each other, when they started, why you liked each other, covered by a blanket, not wanting to let go of each other now that you were openly romantic.

Han found you both sound asleep, you on chan's lap, head on his neck as his arms wrapped around you gently, on a chair in the middle of the morning. He obviously called all the members to watch you two as they assumed you two finally got together. All of them saw it coming, Chan wouldn't shut up about you and had written what could be an entire album about you.

They were happy at least you'd be around more often to cook your delicious food. And you both blushed really hard once you woke up to lot's of teasing from the kids, it was fine tho, you liked it just like this, it was home.

#skz fluff #chan fluff #bang chan scenarios #bang chan oneshot #bang chan imagine #bang chan fluff #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fluff #bang chan angst #chan angst #skz oneshots #skz angst

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mothwithteeth · 3 years

Text

touch me not, touch me there

an anon sent me an ask about shigaraki crying during sex and i feel like i've been struck by lightning

when will my ability to write something coherent return from war?

enjoy a feelings dump <3

shigaraki tomura x reader (gn)

warnings: smut but mostly feelings, touch averse reader

It’s with uncharacteristic softness (fear?) that you tell tomura that you want him, eyes downcast and voice trembling almost imperceptibly. It’s so unexpected that he almost dismisses you out of hand. This has to be some kind of joke, and he’s not laughing.

“This isn’t funny.” He tells you, deadpan, hands in his pockets

Your fear turns to fury almost instantly. The chaotic shift in energy soothes some twisted part in him when your voice gets louder, sharper. He’s pleased to have unbalanced you until “... any idea how hard that is to admit to myself, let alone you, and you just-” as suddenly as it comes, your fury deflates. Does he think it’s a joke, or are you so thoroughly disgusting that the concept itself is the joke? You never should have done this. Never should have thought about it. Your hackles rise just as fast as the fury is gone. No need to be on the offense when defense is your natural state anyway. “I know I’m not a perfect ten, but I’m not a fucking joke,” it takes everything in you to keep your voice even, but you’re not going to let him see your hurt.

Well shit, that’s not what he meant at all. He may have miscalculated. He can’t just sit there and stare at you, he has to do something.

You take a step back; ready to throw your hands up and storm out

Do something

Four fingers close around your wrist before he can think it through all the way

A long moment later, neither of you have lost a hand; surprising considering the usual ways touch goes for either of you. That’s as good a start as any.

The intense staredown lasts a few seconds longer before you’re on each other. It’s unclear who’s made the first move, but the result is the same; a flurry of movement to the bed; unwilling to separate more than absolutely necessary.

Your hands are unbearably hot against his skin. Everywhere they land is red hot; unfamiliar, but addictive. He half expects claw marks on his skin when you desperately try to get his shirt off of him.

For once, someone else touching you doesn’t make your skin crawl; doesn’t make you want to scrub off the tainted area. Goosebumps of pleasure erupt over your arms, shivering through you while you try to get more and more contact. It feels good, and you’re greedy. That addictive personality kicking in again.

You strobelight flash your way through undressing before trying to ground yourself. You want to keep this. You want to have this. For once you want to stay in your body. Regrettably, you trust him with your life. Might as well trust him with your body, too. Deep breaths.

Neither of you is used to a touch that doesn’t instill nausea, and the sensation is overwhelming. A wave of need overcomes the both of you, desperation for a loving touch. Every “can I?” met with a breathless yes, touching and being touched; dizzying with its novel pleasure. Exploratory kisses inspire pleasant full body shivers; the subtle trace of fingertips leave you gasping, breath caught on unfamiliar sounds.

Tomura doesn’t fare much better. As much as he isn’t used to being touched he’s even less used to touching. Ironic that the only person you’ll allow to touch you is the one who could kill you with a twitch. But you know he won’t; trust him not to.

You trust him not to

Trust him to use hands made only to destroy to bring you comfort; bring you pleasure. He’s only good for destruction and decay, but here you are. You’re stupid to trust him, really, but maybe you won’t notice. Won’t notice he’s only able to break. To hurt. To ruin.

But when you get something distressed, additional scuffing just makes it more beautiful

“Tomura, please, want you to fuck me,” you finally pull him out of the sea of emotion threatening to drown him

Only to drop him back in without a life vest when he sinks into your pliant body; hot and wet and eager for him. Only for him. No one else can touch you, and that’s not even by his design.

He’s the only one who can touch you.

The only one you’ll allow to touch you

The thought lodges in his throat, just behind the adam’s apple; choking him with scalding tears. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, desperately humping into you. Hopefully you won’t notice the tears streaming into your hair; won’t hear the tremor of tears in his moaning.

Even if you did notice, you wouldn’t care. For fuck’s sake, you’re crying, too, whether or not you know it

Tomura grabs your hand, squeezing tight, but so so careful. You untwine your fingers from his, but before he can take offense, you press his fingers outward, splaying his palm so you can turn your head and kiss it, thumb pressed into the heel of his hand

The small act of intimacy makes him cum on the spot; hips stuttering into yours haphazardly with his release.

You didn’t cum. Shit, you didn’t cum

Your gentle reassurance is just another layer of overwhelm. You’re not disappointed. “Just wanna sleep. Can we sleep first?”

With a soft smile, you curl up against his chest, falling asleep quick and easy. Leaving him with his thoughts

#shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #i have all these fuckin feelings

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

B is for Blindfolds

Summary: The BAU Christmas party is held at the office. Penelope is full of terrible ideas, but somehow Emily’s are worse.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, use of a blindfold (for a fun game, not anything sexy here), pining, idiots who don’t realise their love is reciprocated as HELL (they will, but not quite yet).

Word count: 3k

A/N: okay so i really had fun writing this one!!! i have a solid solid direction of where this is headed now and i’m EXCITED about it! as always, please let me know what you think :) this is technically Wednesday’s update, and there’ll be another on Friday!

This is the second chapter of the A-Z of Spencer Reid series, but can be read as a stand alone.

The team, yourself included, are more than ready to let off a little steam. There was no point trying to book anywhere in advance, not with the sporadic nature of festive serial killers, so you’d taken over the office. Penelope had, in eager anticipation of your return, decked it out like a winter wonderland.

“Seriously, it looks like someone robbed a grotto,” Emily had joked.

She wasn’t wrong. A seven-foot Christmas tree, God knows how she’d smuggled that into the building, obscured the hallway outside Hotch’s office. It was dripping in tinsel, baubles, you name it. It even had a nutcrucker man. Mistletoe was hung, obviously in a way she believed to be covert, and maybe it would have been if you weren’t all deeply familiar with the antics of Penelope I-Love-The-Holidays Garcia. You’re all careful to sidestep it as you walk in, knowing she’s a stickler for the rules. All equally reluctant to invoke her wrath before a glass of eggnog or two.

On the table, there’s a selection of alcohol laid out. Alongside a bunch of pink glittery cups.

“I got everything!” Penelope chirps.

“I can see that baby girl,” Morgan chimes in, greeting her with a hug.

She really has: there’s juice, fruit, almost every liquor you can think of (including the fancy whiskey that Rossi and Hotch like to get out at dinner), wine of varying colours, and what looks to be some fancy fruit cider. From the spread, and the mischevious twinkle in her eye, you’re sure she won’t be letting you escape unscathed.

At that thought, you can’t help but steal a glance to your right.

Spencer. The man is stood next to you with folded arms, surveying the options in a way that almost looks pensive.

Got to behave myself

I will behave myself

Will he be drinking?

That question is answered when he takes a step towards the table, stepping behind it. He picks up a plastic cup and, playing bartender, asks.

“So, what can I get you?”

***

“Mixology is pretty much the same as any other kind of chemistry,” Spencer explains, gesturing with the hand that’s holding his cup and swilling the liquid, “It’s about balancing the right components to get the combination you want. A lot of the recipes call for more alcohol than is strictly necessary for the flavour they provide. Usually the other elements of the drink are designed to bring out the flavour or mask it, depending on what alcohol you’re using. Almost always you want to mask the taste of vodka, but tequila you try to balance it out.”

Spencer is leant on the desk next to you, rambling, having been allowed to be in charge of making everybody’s drinks over the past couple of hours.

Sipping the concoction he’s made you, you have to admit he’s done a pretty good job.

He clearly agrees, since he’s consumed more than a couple himself. He’s just tipsy enough to push at the boundaries of affection, his shoulder pressing against yours, his happy eyes a little glassy. You listen, hanging on every word he says, watching him lick his lips before he continues speaking again.

“That’s why they serve tequila shots with lime and salt.”

“And here I was thinking they were just making it fun for body shots,” Emily cuts in, making Morgan and Penelope laugh.

You see the look on Penelope’s face and intercept her before she can start, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But!”

“No!” You shake your head, “You really think Hotch is going to go for body shots?”

Hotch laughs dryly, taking a sip of the whiskey he’s been nursing, “That’s one I think I’ll refrain from participating in.”

“Fine,” Penelope pouts, “But everybody’s doing pin the tail on the donkey!”

“Pin the tail on the donkey? What are we, 5 years old?” Emily laughs.

You lean in against Spencer, who has been quietly surveying the last few moments. Your fingers slip slightly beneath his buttoned sleeves, coming to rest on his forearm.

“Balance,” You whisper quietly.

He nods, shifting to allow you to lean more closely into him on the desk.

It’s hard not to get distracted by your proximity to him.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. If you squinted, you might just look like a couple. That’s certainly what it looks like to Dave, who gives you a cursory once over before training his gaze elsewhere. Your heads are almost touching, Spencer is slouching but keeps his neck just stiff enough to avoid resting atop of yours. You’re casually against his body, the two of you strewn across the desk. It looks comfortable, familiar.

It feels comfortable, familiar.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

***

After a singular round of pin the tail on the donkey, during which a blindfolded Emily decided to go rogue and try to pin the tail on the moving-very-quickly-out-of-dodge Hotch, it’s decided the blindfolds will be used for a different purpose.

Trust falls.

Well, not so much trust falls, as you’re each blindfolded and tasked with the challenge of walking across the bullpen without falling.

“We’ll pair up!” Penelope announces, rubbing her hands together with glee, “Hotch you’re with Rossi, Emily you’re with me, Derek you’re with ____, and Spencer you’re with J.J!”

You will away the tinge of disappointment that flares in your chest at not having been paired with Spencer. Although, when you look up at him, you swear you can see a similar feeling sitting behind his eyes.

Probably reading too much into it

“Reid has an unfair advantage,” J.J argues, interrupting your thoughts.

“How do I have an unfair advantage?” Spencer asks.

“Eidetic memory,” She replies.

There are murmers of dissent, then Rossi pipes up.

“If you can’t make it across the bullpen you walk everyday without falling, I think you seriously need to consider whether you should be out in the field with a gun.”

Everybody laughs. They laugh more, though, when Rossi falls on his first attempt, crashing into Hotch. The two decide to resign from the game after that. Hotch plays the health and safety card, but privately you think it’s the double whiskeys that have betrayed him.

“You think you can do it?” You ask Spencer.

He smirks, “I could do it in my sleep.”

You shake your head, “Your legs are too long. You’re like Bambi at the best of times, let alone three mai tais in.”

“Two,” He objects, you quirk a brow and he relents, “Fine, three. And a whiskey Rossi gave me which was awful. I drank it fast and then he told me that one glass I’d had would cost $40. Who would pay $40 to drink that voluntarily?”

“Rossi, Hotch, Emily,” You smile, nudging him with your elbow, “And don’t think you’ve distracted me Spence, I’m still betting you fall.”

“You’re betting?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re that confident in my ability to mess up,” He teases.

“Something like that.”

He grins, “You’ll see.”

He takes the blindfold when it’s his turn, smirking at you as he adjusts it onto his face. It’s with a great degree of annoyance that you watch him clear the bullpen in five easy, and somehow very elegant, steps.

“Go Spence!” J.J cheers, her previous displeasure completely forgotten.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan cheers.

Without taking the blindfold off, Spencer tilts his head to exactly where you’re standing, smirking, “You wanna go next, ____?”

It’s hard not to visibly react to what his cockiness does to you.

You swallow, “Fine. Give it here.”

***

You move your feet confidently one in front of the other. After almost a year of walking the bullpen, you’re pretty certain you can get across it unscathed. You even remember to swing your hip to the right to miss the Santa gnome gone fishing currently hanging off Derek’s desk. In doing so, however, you manage to get yourself all caught up.

With a single step, you feel yourself slipping, arms flailing and managing to catch on to absolutely nothing. You panic.

"Spencer!"

"Spencer?!"

Spencer.

You recognise the feeling of his hands steadying you at your waist. He pulls you against his body, tucking your outstretched arm into him to steady you. You vaguely register Derek’s amused chuckle from behind you.

“I got you,” Spencer says, “Stay still, I’ll take the blindfold off.”

His hands gently slide up your cheeks, lifting it with care to avoid yanking on your hair. He pulls it up and away from your head smoothly.

The lights are dizzyingly bright. You blink rapidly, allowing your eyes to adjust on the face of the slightly concerned, slightly amused looking Spencer hovering above you. His left hand lingering against your cheek. You forget yourself entirely, lost in the intimacy of his touch, barely daring to blink in case it’s gone.

“Mistletoe!” Penelope cackles with glee, breaking your reverie.

“What?” You ask.

Spencer looks up. You follow his gaze, seeing the strategically placed mistletoe. In guiding you to safety, Spencer had walked right into Penelope’s trap.

Oh.

Derek teases something, underscored by a quip from Emily that has them both in hysterics. Neither you or Spencer are really listening.

He’s already so close to you. The pressure of his hand on your cheek starting to make you flush with warmth. His thumb strokes downwards, over your cheekbone. You tilt yourself a little towards him. Trying desperately to act casual, but ultimately failing miserably. His breath fans over your face, smelling faintly of rum and lime.

“Not like this,” He whispers, so quiet that only you can possibly hear him.

He presses a kiss to your cheek instead.

Fuck.

“Very exciting stuff guys,” Emily chirps.

Vaguely, you’re aware of J.J admonishing her, Rossi’s eyes studying you, Derek’s laughter, Penelope’s squeal of delight that someone had finally fallen into her trap.

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you wonder if it’s loud enough for Spencer to hear. From the way he swallows thickly, stepping back with a degree of caution and a look of a deer caught in the headlines, you think it probably was.

Fuck.

What did he mean not like this?

***

After the mistletoe debaccle, the party starts to die down a little. Hotch makes an excuse to leave, shortly followed by Rossi.

You stick around for a little while longer, devoting most of your time to the decidedly tipsy Penelope who’s hanging off Derek’s arm. The mood is nice, actually, a welcome change from the tense atmosphere that often clouds the bullpen, and its occupants wherever in the US they may be.

It’s a little after 1am when you decide to make your exit.

“Do you want to share an Uber?” You ask Spencer, gripping onto his elbow as he walks past.

“Yeah! I was planning on taking the metro but you’ll be safer in an Uber.”

“Are you...sharing it with me?” You ask, feeling a little awkward at having to repeat the request for clarification. The tipsiness you’d initially felt has started to wear off; it leaves both tiredness and an odd shyness in its place.

“Oh no! Of course!” He smiles, grabbing his satchel from where it’s slung over the back of his chair, “We’ll get them to drop you off first, then me.”

***

The wait for the Uber is silent, but not uncomfortable. You loll against Spencer, comfortable in the quiet. The only sounds to be heard of keys as various other agents leave the building. It’s easy to tell which are coming from the grind of the paperwork and which are coming from their own parties. You’d like to attribute it to a years worth of profiling experience but the tinsel around Jerry from White Collar Crimes’ neck is a tad on the nose.

You don’t speak until it arrives, climbing in and closing the door. Clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about embarassing us before,” You say, purposely being ambiguous.

He squints at you for a moment before opening his mouth, “You mean calling for me when you fell?”

“Yeah,” You say,

“You didn’t embarass me,” He says, quiet, “It was nice actually. Nobody’s ever called for me when they’ve been in trouble before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I guess I’m not the most athletic. People usually go to Morgan if they need some kind of physical help. It was nice. That you wanted me. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’d have asked for you sober,” You admit.

He squints in response, and you continue, “I trust you Spence. I trust you to always have my back in the field, to protect me. I’d trust you with my life. I mean, of course I’d trust any one of the others, the team wouldn’t work otherwise. But,” You trail off, a little embarassed.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah. Like you’re the person I’m closest to I guess. In the almost year I’ve been here, we’ve worked together the most. I think I have the best working relationship with you. If ever there was a crisis, I’d want you. Even if the crisis is me tripping on my own shoelaces while blindfolded.”

You both laugh at that. It’d be easy to succumb to a comfortable silence again, let the moment fizzle out.

“I think the same about you,” He says, his voice cracks a little with the sincerity, “Whenever anything goes wrong. You’re the person I want to talk to.”

You move your hand forward to close the gap between you two, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “I’m really glad we have each other Spence.”

“Even when I beat you?” The playful glint in his eye is back.

“Even when you beat me.”

“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you actually owe me for losing the bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you said ‘I’m still betting you fail.’“

You smile, “We never agreed what we were betting.”

“We didn’t.”

"So what do you want as your prize then, Rudolph?”

“Rudolph?” He laughs a little, incredulously.

“Well I called you Bambi before and obviously you’ve proved you’re more talented, I needed to pick a respectably agile deer.”

“Rudolph was known for his nose, not his agility.”

“The song says he guided the sleigh Spence, he couldn’t have done that if he wasn’t agile.”

He shakes his head at you, “He was just in charge of the lights.”

“Did they or did they not get around the world safely?”

“The song never clarifies that.”

“It’d be a little dark for them to kill off Rudolph.”

“Probably why they didn’t include it in the song.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes, “Well anytime you decide to stop nitpicking my compliments and decide what you want as your prize is fine by me, honestly.”

He smiles, obviously having decided to answer you sincerely. You study him as he, presumably weighs up his options, his teeth momentarily catching his plush lower lip. You swear you see his eyes flicker to your mouth. But then you blink, and he’s studying you thoughtfully.

Just wishful thinking

"Caramel,” He settles on.

"Caramel?”

“Last year I went to this coffee shop and I got their festive caramel coffee. It was amazing. But they only did it that one year, they gave me the recipe for the syrup but...” He trails off, looking embarassed, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, “I kept burning it. I had a thermometer but I couldn’t get the temperature quite right.”

"You want me to make you caramel syrup for coffee? Mixologist skills don’t extend quite that far?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Almost as if he’s worried for your reaction.

You're quick to follow yourself up, “Well I’d be happy to give it a try, but I think I’ll need somebody to taste test it. Make sure I’m getting it right.”

He grins, “I’m probably a better taste taster than maker.”

“Well, we’re off for a few days, assuming we don’t get any cases. You’re at Ethan’s for Christmas, right? When are you back?”

“The 27th. But I’m going to visit my mom over new years, so I’m leaving again on the 30th.”

You nod, “Well, how about the 28th?”

“The 28th sounds good.”

It’s impossibly good (bad) timing that the Uber pulls up outside your building.

“Well I’ll look forward to it,” You say, undoing your seatbelt.

“Me too.”

There’s a silence. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not like the one earlier. Your eyes linger on one another, almost cautious. There’s a buzz in the air, one that can't quite be attributed to alcohol.

Ask him what he meant by not like this

Ask him

“This your place?” The Uber driver asks, clicking his tongue with a degree of impatience.

“Yeah,” You reply, nodding. Reluctantly, you push open the car door, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Spencer as you depart.

His mouth hangs open a little, words seeming to play across his lips. Not making them out of his mouth. The driver clears his throat, and you throw him an apologetic glance. Spencer’s Uber rating will be in the toilet after this.

Good job he takes the Metro.

"Have a good Christmas Spence,” You say, wondering if he can tell. Wondering if he can sense how badly you want to stay, to let this Uber drive you around the backstreets of Virginia. They’re not particularly pretty. But there isn’t much you wouldn’t do just to spend time with him. You’d even allow yourself to promise caramel syrup you know you’ll butcher.

If he knows, the wistful look in his eyes doesn’t betray it.

“Have a good Christmas, _____.”

---

Next part: C is for Caramel

Series tagslist: @altsvu @reidingmelodies @muffin-cup @reidscanehand @bvttercupbby @jessicarabbit09 @lukewearingbeanies @lady-anon-x @aperrywilliams @southsidemistress @a-broken-pact @jjongs-tae-and-biscuits @reidsnose

(message me/reply to this to be added or removed!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #a-z of spencer reid #the a-z of spencer reid

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wonjaekook · 3 years

Text

One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.��

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard. “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

#neowritingsnet #nct fluff #nct angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenario #wonjaekook #i tried a slightly new sizing for the header :) hopefully it looks better now #there are definitely things I could have done better so let me know what you think!#<<<333

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

The Gang Reacts to You Dressing Fancy for a Job

“Is it okay to ask for the RDR2 gang (or just Javier if it’s too much!) seeing their crush all prettied and dressed up for a job (like the riverboat or Bronte’s garden party)? Would they work up the courage to ask them out? your writing sustains me”

YAAALLLLL THIS LONG AS FUCK BC THIS! IS! MY! RASPBERRY! JAM!

In this imagine, you’ll be impressing: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Sadie Adler, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones, Flaco Hernandez

ARTHUR MORGAN

Oh no. When you were volunteered for the job, he had a feeling you’d look charming in one of those big hooped gowns, but … this is like his heart getting hit by a train. The feelings are a little overwhelming, so while the girls add their finishing touches, Arthur tries to stand to the side and not stare. He wants to compliment you, because you look absolutely stunning, but words are completely failing him. Arthur manages to get a compliment out, but you’re totally occupied with how much you love or hate this get-up. Arthur doesn’t even care about what he was forced to wear; he could be in a paper sack and he wouldn’t notice. During the party, he’s distracted by how you seem to float around the room, easily joking with the guests as though you were one of them. Hosea has to knock sense into Arthur more than once, but how can he pay attention when there’s a literal angel in front of him?

When the gunfight breaks out, Arthur is at your side right away, pulling you into his protective embrace and trying to steer you out of the house. It doesn’t matter if you’re a good shot or not, that dress and corset are cumbersome as hell and he’s gonna stubbornly send you home. Arthur wants to be the one taking you back, but he has to stay and fight. He hands you off to Sean, warning him to be careful and get you back to camp in one piece. His tone is actually pretty scary when he says this. Arthur is beyond relieved when he finally gets back. You’re out of the dress, but you’re clearly safe and comfortable, not a scratch on you. He doesn’t care about his own injuries, but he’s pleased when you fuss over them.

JOHN MARSTON

No way John is gonna dress up like some goddamn banker, but he was totally ready to tease you about having to squeeze into a corset and frilly dress. The problem is, you’re gorgeous in it. He doesn’t know shit about women’s clothes or fashion, but something about the color and style just suits you so perfectly, like it was made only for you. He wants to give a sassy comment, but he just … can’t. John goes for a genuine compliment, but his cheeks and ears are tomato red as he mutters “ya look real nice”. If you hate the clothes, it’s a little easier for him to joke around with you, but if you love them and you’re twirling around, as happy as a kid and looking like an actual lady from one of those fancy paintings? He can only take so much sweetness before he has to duck his head and distract himself with something.

When the gunfight breaks out at the party, John is right by your side before you can blink. You don’t know how he moved so fast, but soon his arm is around your waist and getting you back to his horse. John isn’t the most graceful about this, and the dress is meant for dancing, not riding… so it ends up ripping as you two make your escape. Once you’re in a safe place and you can get out of the damn thing, John’s attention goes straight to the tears in the dress, specifically the one that’s showing the stockings and garterbelt you had to wear. The lingerie looks fantastic - it definitely awakens something in him.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

First off, he is not sneaky. Not at all. You know exactly why you were asked to play a role in this little con, and it was so Dutch could see you all dressed up. Now, either you’re totally annoyed by this because screw frills and lace, or you’re delighted because you can dress up like some fancy lady and rob rich folks. Also, it’s pretty funny how he pretends not to be interested in the sort of dress and jewelry you and the girls are deciding on. You know he’s trying very hard not to make a suggestion, and just to be a little mean, you made sure he was within earshot when you mentioned the matter of corsets and fancy undergarments to the girls.

Once at the party, Dutch plays at being some rich banker and you’re his young foreign wife. It’s absurdly easy to pull off, even with your terrible accent, and after each conversation you both are trying not to laugh. He’s definitely liking being able to have an arm around your waist and being able to lean in and whisper to you, but he won’t push his boundaries, especially if you’re already uncomfortable being all dressed up and powdered. While you two are dancing, he’ll whisper in that deep voice, praising you for how perfect you’ve been, or reassuring you that it’ll be over soon. When the shooting started, Dutch pulled you to a safe place you could lie low in, but if you bothered him enough he’d hand you a gun and let you join the shootout.

Back at camp, Dutch’s flirting hasn’t dulled in the slightest. He’ll sit close to you as everyone else celebrates, mentioning how wonderful you were and if you need help slipping out of anything. If you let him, he’ll help unlace those fancy boots, even massage your poor ankles and calves since you aren’t used to wearing tall shoes. Isn’t that thoughtful?

HOSEA MATTHEWS

Nearly all of this con was his idea, and you’re glad to help run it. Hosea is playing the part of some eccentric philanthropist and you’re a grand-niece or some relative. The two of you talk so smooth and fast, easily working off each other, that the hosts of the party don’t stand a chance. Hosea wants to avoid any sort of violence, but knowing the gang, who knows what will happen, so he wants you to stay close to him. During lulls in conversation, when you and Hosea are just observing the crowd and deciding who to speak with next, he’ll lean in and whisper something to you. It makes goosebumps break out on your skin, you can feel how warm he is and sometimes he’ll run a hand up your back as he compliments you on what a natural you are, or reassures you that it’ll be over soon. He’ll truly feel bad if you hate having to dress up and pretend like this; so he’s grateful you agreed to come along and help. If you’re thriving off the party and the trickery, he’ll give you knowing grins and winks that make him seem fifteen years younger. There’s a surprising amount of mischief in him.

When the inevitable fight breaks out (he totally called it), Hosea swiftly gets you to a safe part of the house he noticed earlier. From there you two snatch several stashes of jewels and cash and stealthily make your way out. Hosea had to be convinced to steal as much as you both did; he was terribly worried about you, since the dress would be difficult to run in. When you’re back at camp, Hosea isn’t shy about telling you what a great job you did, and how proud he is. He’ll give a kiss to your cheek and he’s very smooth about offering to remove anything that’s giving you trouble.

SADIE ADLER

Thank god she’s not the one in the fucking gown, that’s all she has to say. Well, that, and the jokes and snark she throws your way while you’re getting ready. If you hate the dress just as much, too bad, you were roped into the plan and Sadie is having lots of playful teasing at your expense. If you adore it and start modeling it for her, she won’t admit how cute you’re being… but she will consider wearing a tuxedo and being some “hoity toity” man just to make sure you’re safe. She doesn’t trust the “gentleman” at this party at all, and the closer you both get to the manor, the more antsy she becomes. All her previous humor is gone as she urges you to find her right away if trouble happens. Sadie is absolutely going to bring your favorite gun along and was trying to figure out a way to strap a revolver to your leg until Hosea pulled you away. You promise you’ll be alright, but she doesn’t look reassured.

The expected fight breaks out, and like you promised, you beeline for Sadie. She’s already on you - how the hell did she get into the manor so fast? - and she’s tossed your gun in your hands. Soon enough you both are blasting your way out of the manor. She gets impatient when you fall for the second time and rips the dress herself so you can run easier. It was your horse she brought around to escape, and Sadie hoisted you up, sat herself in the back and kept shooting while you rode to safety. It was… a hectic and messy escape, but neither of you had a scratch. Once you’re at the camp, she doesn’t feel bad for ripping the dress, even if you liked it. It was necessary, and besides, you can’t keep the frilly thing! Okay, she’ll apologize if you pout. If you hated it she’s more than happy to help you burn it.

MICAH BELL

How the hell is he supposed to respond to this? It would be one thing if you caked on make-up like a tart and strapped yourself into some circus tent-looking contraption, he could work with that. His brain just stops functioning for a few seconds when the girls finally unveil the work they did on you. If you hated the dress and it wasn’t something you’d wear unless a gun was pointed to your head, then Micah certainly had choice words to say, teasing and mocking the difference between this and your regular attire… except they were much weaker insults than he usually had. You were too distracted and uncomfortable to even care. If you adored all of it, practically buzzing with excitement as you turned and twirled for everyone, he might even try an attempt at a compliment, although it’d come out all jumbled and flustered. He decides to stay away and just watch you from a distance, both enjoying the view and trying to figure out this stupid knot in his stomach.

At least you two are apart during the party, so he doesn’t have to look at you enjoying yourself and swaying around in that dress. When the fight starts, he can finally have something else to put his mind to … until he sees you get caught in the crossfire. Micah would throw you a gun he pulled off someone, barking at you to follow him. Dutch told him to get you to safety, which he initially bristled at, but then he dutifully put you up on Baylock. He told you to keep shooting while he rode off - and he still got plenty of shots in himself. Once you were back at camp, he wouldn't apologize for dirtying the dress. It had to be done, and now the job is done, so you can get out of it…. and he would absolutely offer to cut it off with his knife. The whole thing, corset and all. He's gonna fantasize about it well after the fact, too.

CHARLES SMITH

If you love getting a chance to dress up and wear jewels, Charles can tell, and he finds your joy just adorable. If you dislike the idea of having to dress up for a stupid party, even if it’s a robbery, he’s very encouraging and reassures you as many times as you need. This kind of con isn’t really his scene, but he knows you’ll do well and he promises to look after you during the whole thing. He’ll even have you ride along with him on Taima if that'll settle your nerves. Once you arrive, Charles helps you down like a gentleman. If you’re still uneasy, he asks you to wait a moment and then comes back with a rose he picked from the garden. He places it neatly in your tied back hair. “Perfect. Don’t worry, you’ll do great, and when things go south, I’ll be there. Promise.”

Once the fight breaks out, Charles is true to his word and helps you escape in the chaos. You have no idea where he came from, but you didn’t refuse the help, or the gun he offered you - at some point he’d packed your favorite one - and you’re pulled up on Taima as gunshots go off all around you. Charles put you on the front of his horse to protect you better, even if it’s harder to shoot from there. It sort of makes you feel like a princess being swept away. When you two return to the camp, he tidies the rose in your hair and offers to help remove the restrictive dress or massage your legs if they hurt … casually, of course. Probably.

BILL WILLIAMSON

When the girls finally unveiled their handiwork, he thought his heart was stopping. You were so pretty - well, you normally were, but now more than ever. You looked like one of those porcelain dolls they put in music boxes. Bill didn’t even want to touch you or stand too close, worried he’d dirty you somehow. He couldn’t believe you wanted him to play the role of the bodyguard that would follow you around the party.... Though he played the part well, his silence combined with his big build made him seem intimidating. If you were clearly miserable in the dress and with the company, he wasn’t sure what to say to make you feel better, so he stayed quiet. If you were loving the dress and just thriving in the party, fooling everyone into thinking you were some high-class belle … Well, he was too distracted watching you, still not able to say much.

Eventually he had to split off from you to join the men, which he didn’t appreciate, but he made a point to bring your gun along with his. When the expected gunfight broke out, Bill beelined for you, practically tossing a man that was too close and handed over your gun. He didn’t expect you to be so grateful, it made him blush in spite of the gunshots going off all around you two.

The fight was more dangerous than expected, so Bill hoisted you up on Brown Jack without warning and raced off. Your dress ended up getting ripped from his haste, and if you really liked it, he feels bad for screwing it up. It’s easy to turn around his mood by complimenting what a good “bodyguard” he was. Just don’t flirt too much, he’s already had a mess of feelings today.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

He was trying to hide his excitement when he found out you were going to be dressing up and joining the others on this con. You’re already an angel, now he’s going to see you dressed in a beautiful gown and decorated with jewels? It fit so perfectly, too, like it was made for you. Javier wouldn’t hide his approval of the outfit, even giving you some suggestions on more comfortable shoes or a better hat. Mary-Beth thought it was adorable and left him to help you out - that made it much harder for him to hide how pleased he was with your outfit. If you truly hated it, he’d understand and would try to reassure you that not only did it look wonderful, you were going to pull the job off perfectly. His warm hands would sit on your shoulders as he said this, hoping you trusted in him. If you’re the sort who loves dressing up and conning, he shares your happiness and will even dance with you a little before you have to leave, relishing in your giggles.

While the party went off well, with you playing your part perfectly, chaos inevitably broke out. You have no idea where Javier came from, but you were damn grateful that he’d seen you and pulled you into a safe corner. Together you both snuck into the manor, stole as much jewelry as you could carry and easily slipped out the back, gunshots still echoing through the place. Javier grinned as he draped all the stolen necklaces and bracelets on you, asking you to keep them safe for now. You clasped your arms tightly around his torso when you rode away with him, resting your head against his back whenever you got tired.

SEAN MACGUIRE

He all but jumps out of his seat with delight when he spots you. Mary-Beth is still fussing with your hair, but the corset under your dress has already done all sorts of magic, and the dress itself hugged you like you were meant to wear it. Of course he can’t resist from fawning all over you. He wants to pick you up and twirl you like a princess, but Miss Gaskill scolds him for dirtying the dress and he gets dragged away by the men. For once Sean was wishing he was away from the action and complained enough that they let him accompany you on the carriage - that is, as the driver. Sean didn’t even notice if you were extremely uncomfortable, he was too busy gabbing about the party and saying what a natural you’d be. When you finally have to leave, he takes your hand and gives you a warm smile. “You’ll do great. I know it.” He didn’t realize how comforting it was.

Once trouble began, you were impressed how quickly Sean scrambled to your side, and with your gun no less. Before you could question how he did it, he was gleefully shooting and directing you away from the fight. As much as Sean wanted to stay and end it, he was far more concerned with your safety, you noticed. He swung you up on his horse with little grace, and even if your dress was ruined with blood and mud and your hat went flying off, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his torso and listened to the wild man whoop and shoot through the escape. Sean would absolutely be the type to help you off the horse and insist on carrying you around camp, bragging about his “rescue” the whole time.

LENNY SUMMERS

God damn it, he already thought you were cute! Now you’re gorgeous and he’s way too bashful to say anything about it for a while. He’s thankful for the girls fussing over you and the boys dragging him off to discuss the plan, because being around you is too distracting and makes his thoughts short-circuit a bit. He’s normally fine with talking to you! And it’s just a dress, so what’s different? If you really loved the outfit, you’d be a natural in it, and Lenny would find your enthusiasm and confidence very attractive. If you clearly hated it, he’d want to comfort you somehow, but would worry about coming off wrong. It’s a shame you didn’t like the outfit, because you looked fantastic in it. Before he had to leave with the boys, he’d pay you a compliment. “You’re gonna do real well, miss. Um, you … you really fit the role.”

He has a good sense of when things will go south, and when Lenny felt the tension in the air, he made a point to find you in the crowd. Ones the bullets started flying, he found you before you even made sense of the situation. Lenny would rather get you to safety right away, but if you want a gun, he ain’t denying you. All his previous nervousness would be gone as you both would shoot up the place, then find a horse to escape on. Lenny wouldn’t feel that shyness again until you both got back to camp, when he had to help you off the horse. He’ll immediately start joking about your dirty dress and praising your gun skills to keep his beating heart in line. Lenny feels much better when you’re back in your old clothes.

KIERAN DUFFY

He was embarrassed enough watching the girls parade you around, pleased with their work, and they had every right to be - you looked even more beautiful than the women in the magazines. It’s like you walked right out of them. He felt bad if you were forced into the role, knowing you probably hated the whole get-up, but if you absolutely enjoyed it, he was enchanted by how you seemed to beam with happiness. He’d only seen you like that a few other times, and he was pleased to commit it to memory. When you’re getting ready to leave, he can’t help but give you words of encouragement. He can’t imagine you’ll do anything but shine at the party.

Kieran was tasked with staying behind at the camp, as he expected, but at least he was trusted to hold a gun and stay on watch duty. His thoughts often drifted to you, wondering if you were doing well and if you were sick of the party or having the time of your life. When he heard powerful hoofbeats, he snapped at attention, readying the gun and calling out... only to recognize your horse and your silhouette. Your dress was a torn mess, but it was still restrictive, so Kieran wasted little time in helping you down. “Miss, are you alright? You aren’t - is that your blood or someone else’s? Alright, good. C’mon, sit down here.”

You told him about what happened at the party, how things got out of control and you had to flee in a hurry. The boys were likely splitting up to shake the law off them. Kieran was so relieved you were alright, his heart was hammering but outwardly he was calm as he helped tie your sprained ankle and get you some water. He wasn’t his nervous self at all, tending to you and asking questions with confidence ... until you pointed out you needed help getting out of the corset and dress.

TILLY JACKSON

Tilly was initially in charge of “acquiring” the jewelry and accessories you’d wear, but she ended up shooing the other girls away when they kept suggesting ridiculous hair and make-up ideas. She didn’t care what lady’s magazine Karen read, Tilly wasn’t about to turn you into a side-show act. She was always helping you with this or that, you both relied on each other. She always knew how to reassure you, taking your face in her hands as she spoke softly. “Listen, it’s nothin’ you ain’t done before, just wearin’ somethin’ fancy now. And those boys will do their job right and keep you safe, I’ll make damn sure of that.”

If you hate this sort of thing - dressing up and conning others - Tilly would’ve tried to help you get a different role, but ultimately, you had to do it. She’d give you a softer version of her usual tough love. If you loved it, Tilly would be the one teasing you to get your head out of the clouds. Either way, when you were distracted, she’d threaten the hell out of the boys to keep you safe. Even Arthur would get an earful; if you so much as came back with a scratch, she’d have their hides. If you came back a muddy, bloody mess because you couldn’t resist joining in the gunfights, Tilly would have your hide, too. If you came back mostly clean because you avoided the fight, she’d just laugh and tease you for being so “fussy” - but she was relieved you came straight to camp. The dress and jewels are all sold afterward, but Tilly keeps some bits of fabric to sew you both something.

MARY-BETH GASKILL

You have a feeling she’s enjoying this ... a lot. While the both of you were cool as you acquired the dress and jewels to go with it, as soon as you were back at camp, Mary-Beth was giggling and going on about how to do your hair. Soon enough you were dragged off to a tent for privacy and she dressed you up, cooing over your figure in the dress and how nice you looked. She didn’t even notice how flustered you were getting - of course if you enjoyed dressing up, you could share in her enthusiasm and get her advice on how to style it. If you hated it ... Mary-Beth reassured you it looked wonderful, “just like a princess!” Well, that didn’t help, but her obvious swooning was pretty cute. Mary-Beth ended up coming along with the job, dressed up herself and playing the part of your “companion”, since all high-society ladies were about that. You’re pretty sure companions weren’t supposed to be as red-faced or affectionate as she was around their ladies, but you weren’t complaining.

At the party you two were naturals, and what little screw-ups were quickly covered up. If Mary-Beth didn’t know something, you did, and vice-versa. You two were actually quite a team, and you noticed Hosea winking at you in approval from across the room. When trouble was starting, you pulled Mary-Beth aside and you both hastily dug through the manor’s drawers and silver cabinets while the gunshots went off outside. If you needed to defend her, you would, but luckily it didn’t come to that. You were able to steal a horse from their stable and go riding off, Mary-Beth holding tightly and urging you to go faster. You both couldn’t resist keeping two matching bracelets from the robbery.

KAREN JONES

Karen may not be interested in passing as one of those hoity toity girls, but she’s absolutely gonna help dress you up as one. She’s laughing the whole time, throwing out suggestions and distracting the hell out of Tilly and Mary-Beth as they work. Karen was the one who found the dress, and you’re surprised at how well it flatters you and how the color suits you so well. “Didn’t I say I know how to pick ‘em? Now tighten up those laces! Society ladies don’t have fun!” Karen is quite pushy regardless if you want to do the job or not - if you don’t, she’ll all but drag you to the carriage the boys brought and force you in. It’s a hell of a chance to get a lot of money, and she doesn’t want you missing it. If you love it, that’s all the better! She teases you plenty either way while you’re trying to dress, and gives you a big kiss before you have to set out, not caring who sees. You were long gone by the time she turned on the boys and all but threatened them to bring you back safely.

The party was lonely without Karen, you wished she had been part of the plan so you both could talk together instead of mingling with these insufferable people. Sure, she may have been a little too loud and unladylike... but it would’ve been far more fun. You escaped on cue, making a point to steal a gorgeous stallion as you left the manor behind, listening to gunshots ring out through the night. The boys (and Sadie) were doing their part, so it was time to go home. You had not expected Karen to come riding on your horse with a gun. “Damn it, you were takin’ too long! I got worried...”

She tried to hide how worried she actually was on the way back. She helped you out of the infernal buttons, lacing and corset, and gladly snuggled your aching body. By the time the boys returned to camp, you both had fallen asleep in your tent.

FLACO HERNANDEZ

You’d mentioned the plan in passing to Flaco, and he was so worried for your safety he came all the way down from that forsaken mountain to make sure it went off well. He didn’t hide that he disliked you working with “that little gang” when you could just stay with him, but that was for another time. While everyone ran around preparing for the con, he watched with great amusement as you were primped and stuffed into a corset and ballgown, whistling at you and making plenty of jokes. You weren’t going to live this down, ever. Once your outfit and hair was mostly finished, Flaco patted his lap and you sat obediently until it was time to go. Even if you hated the dress, Flaco thinks you look beautiful and will tell you so, kissing your cheek and muttering all sorts of sweet things to distract your nerves. He really doesn’t care about showing you off, if anything, he’s amused by your friends trying to look away.

It was hard not to think of him as the party progressed. You played the role well enough, but soon you were itching to get back to camp. Who knew how long he would stay around before going back to that cold place? The expected gunfight broke you out of your thoughts, and as you made your escape ... you suddenly felt a pair of familiar, fuzzy arms wrapping around you. “I’ve got you now, princesa. Why don’t you come back with Flaco?”

He was able to get you back, but not to your gang’s camp. Flaco had set up his own spot, making a point to bring your horse and your things... the only way the gang knew you were alright is he left word with Miss Grimshaw (after she gave him a thorough ‘questioning’ about his relationship with you). You better believe he’d help you out of that fancy ensemble, but if you really loved it he’d urge you to dance and spin around for him. It’s a rare day when he sees you wearing something other than four layers, after all.

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #micah bell x reader #sadie adler x reader #hosea matthews x reader #charles smith x reader #bill williamson x #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #lenny summers x reader #kieran duffy x reader #tilly jackson x reader #mary-beth gaskill x reader #karen jones x reader #flaco hernandez x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 preferences #omg i love this prompt but i took forevveerrr es tut mir leid

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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

Text

A Bad Deal

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } A continuation of "Childe gets an owie." Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Mention of Injury, Physical Intimacy, Undefined Relationship, Questionable Behavior, Bad Writing, Please Let Me Know if Anything Needs to be Added.

{ Notes } I realized when I decided to write this that I didn't title the last fic, but the best works are always untitled. Not really I'm just forgetful. This time Childe can have mercy. I was so surprised with the response to the last fic, the amount of people who liked it was a huge surprise. Also, the comments on it were so kind. So obviously I needed to write a follow-up right away. I hope it's equally as enjoyable. Set up for a continuation if people like it. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 1,940

Getting Childe back to Liyue was a simple affair, he wasn't hindered by any pain he might have been in. The Snezhnayan wasn't one to complain about pain, even if he wasn't numbed up. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood, chattering animatedly as you walked. The fact he intentionally moved closer to you so that your shoulders occasionally brushed did not escape your notice. Neither of you said anything about it.

Luckily the Golden House wasn't very far from the harbor and the path was clear of any monsters, for which you were thankful. You were more than capable of handling most monsters on your own, but you were worried Childe would jump into combat and end up hurting himself more than he already had been. He was capable as a fighter but you thought him to be too reckless.

The visit to Bubu Pharmacy was entirely uneventful, it was confirmed that Childe had two broken ribs on his right side and he was given some medication for the pain. There wasn't much else to be done other than recommend regularly icing the area and no strenuous activities. That was expected, broken ribs were good at healing naturally, given rest. You wondered if it would even be possible for him to take it easy as a Harbinger, but it seemed the other Harbingers weren't as active as him so perhaps it was possible.

"I think I can just take it easy for two weeks and then go back to business as usual," Childe remarked as you began down the stairs. You looked at him with a frown, wondering if he was serious. This man had no regard for his long-term wellbeing.

"You need to rest for six weeks, at least. It's better for you to recover entirely before you get back to... whatever it is you do," you said with a stern tone. Sometimes it really did seem like Childe was a child. Haha.

"I'm a busy guy, I can't take that kind of time off," he argued, not seeming concerned by that in the slightest. It was true that broken ribs weren't the worst injury to work around, but it still wasn't wise to be so careless.

"Well, you're a valuable asset to Snezhnaya, surely you'd be allowed time off to recover. The Tsaritsa must be at least that understanding," you reasoned, now realizing you were walking along with him not sure where you were going. You didn't even know where he lived, it was clear he didn't spend his nights on the streets at least.

The Harbinger hummed thoughtfully, clearly scheming. You wondered what excuse he would come up with. Probably something about how he was 'very strong and can recover quickly'. You could almost scoff at the mere thought, it seemed entirely in character for him.

"Alright, I'll request time off to recover," he said, grinning cheekily, "if you help me while I recover."

You raised a questioning brow, that was something you hadn't predicted he was considering. Still, you cared enough for him to want him to fully recover, and helping him out wasn't beyond your abilities. Aside from one attempt to destroy Liyue, he had been pretty harmless.

"You'll rest for the whole six weeks?" you asked, still skeptical. You weren't sure it was possible for him to stay away from a fight for that long.

"Yep, I promise."

"Alright, deal."

Childe offered you his hand to shake, and you took it. Looking back on it, it was probably not the best idea to solidify your agreement in the land of contracts. Not when the terms hadn't been thoroughly discussed, at least.

"Great, you can stay at my apartment while I recover," he chirped, opening a door to what you assumed to be his apartment. You hadn't even realized you'd arrived in front of the building, too busy trying to convince Childe to take care of himself.

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly closed it when an ominous feeling washed over you. For some reason, it felt like it would be unwise to break your agreement. You silently cursed your past self, maybe you were the careless one.

Your displeasure must have been showing on your face because Childe laughed after seeing your expression. You clenched your jaw, but decided it would be better if you didn't say anything, he was certain to tease you if you rose to the bait.

"Second floor," he said as you walked down the hall, gesturing to a stairwell. He huffed once as you were going up the stairs, and you could only assume the numbness was beginning to fade. A wave of guilt washed over you at the thought. You broke his ribs and forced him to take off work for six weeks, so you were probably out of the running for friend of the year.

You could immediately tell which door led to Childe's apartment when you got to the second floor, there was a Fatui guard standing outside of it. He looked entirely out of place and you could imagine he was bored out of his mind just standing there. When he noticed your presence he eyed you suspiciously but said nothing, instead bowing his head to Childe.

The Harbinger completely ignored his subordinate, opening the door to his apartment and ushering you inside. Once the door was closed he ran a hand through his hair, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief. It was probably nice to be home and finally able to relax after all that walking around with broken ribs.

"Your guard doesn't seem to like me," you remarked absently as you scanned his apartment. It was clean and surprisingly spacious, but a little bare. The floors were hardwood and there was a large carpet in the middle of the living room, with a sofa and some other furniture atop it. There were no houseplants to be seen.

"Yeah, I don't bring many people home," Childe laughed in response, plopping down on his couch which had no throw pillows or blankets. There was a wooden coffee table in front of it, but not much else around it.

"Oh, are you having relationship troubles?" you quipped in response, lips quirking up at the corners. He scoffed indignantly at your words.

"Have you seen this face? Of course not, I'm just waiting on the right person," he stated, lying sprawled across the couch. You shook your head at this, moving to the kitchen in hopes of finding some ice. Childe didn't say anything about you snooping around his kitchen, so you assumed there was nothing he felt he had to hide in there.

After gathering a dish towel and some ice, you came back with the make-shift icepack. He hadn't had a proper icepack in his freezer, which surprised you considering his line of work. Maybe later you would head back up to the pharmacy to get some.

"Ice your side for now. You should wash up and get changed soon," you told him after you handed him the icepack. While there had been no blood the fight was physically straining, so he probably needed to clean up. You realized after saying this that you had no change of clothes here, you'd need to go back to your place to get some things if he planned on having you stay here for six weeks.

"Okay, mom," he joked in response, you could only roll your eyes at this. He left the icepack laying on the right side of his chest, not bothering to hold it in place. You didn't bother to nag him about it, it was close enough.

"I'm going back to my place to get some stuff, I shouldn't be gone for long," you announced, turning to leave the apartment.

"Wait!" he shouted, sitting up suddenly, the icepack sliding down into his lap. "You owe me a kiss!"

You turned to look at him, a bit surprised by him shouting. You had forgotten about that entirely, but you did promise. So you walked over to the couch and leaned down to press your lips against his. You had intended for it to be a brief kiss, but his hand gently held your wrist and the other went up to brush against your jaw.

With a sigh you deepened the kiss, allowing yourself him to indulge for a little while. You were surprised by the slow pace he set, but certainly not displeased. He gently bit your bottom lip before pulling away, opening his eyes and giving you a smug look when he noticed your face had become a bit flushed.

"Get washed up and put clean clothes on while I'm gone," you said as you pulled away, trying to seem as unflustered as possible. It wasn't very effective, if his laughter as you fled the apartment was anything to go by.

Gathering everything you thought you would need from your apartment was entirely uneventful, you tried to pack everything you'd need for six weeks into a duffel bag but it was hopeless. You were bound to forget things and a duffel bag isn't much space, so you decided you could just come back whenever you needed something.

The Fatui guard stationed outside Childe's apartment was not shy about giving you a dirty look as you approached. It was safe to say the Harbinger probably didn't often have company. The guard seemed particularly suspicious of your bag, like that was the thing to worry about when it was commonplace to materialize weapons out of thin air.

"Stop," he ordered in a booming voice as you neared the door. You followed his order, halting outside the door. You proceeded to stare him dead in the eyes as you knocked three times on the door.

It swung open shortly after, Childe stepping out of the way to let you in. The way the guard clenched his jaw made you feel very smug.

"You don't have to knock, just come in," he said, and you were silently very thankful for those words. It was a little something extra to rub it in. Perhaps your loathing was a little misplaced, that man was likely not one who had attacked you in the past. But, he did still give you a dirty look and was none too polite, so there was something. Sometimes people are petty, and that's okay.

Once you were inside the apartment, you noticed Childe had showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes. The white t-shirt and grey sweatpants were rather different from his usual look, but it strangely suited him rather well. Maybe everything looks good on him because he's a pretty Fatui boy.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, shifting the weight of your bag as you followed him to the kitchen.

"Good, doesn't hurt much. What do you want for dinner?" he asked, opening the cupboards to survey their contents. How casual the atmosphere was made it feel awfully domestic.

"Um, I'm fine with whatever you make," you replied, banishing the thought from your mind. You weren't really sure about your feelings on the matter yet so you would push them all off to the side and sort through them some other time.

"Oh, right. There's a spare room down the hall across from the bedroom. You can put your stuff in there," he said, looking over at you standing in the doorway with your bag. You were already walking away when he added, "Or you're welcome to stay in my bedroom with me~"

"You wish."

Maybe six weeks with Childe wouldn't be too bad.

#genshin impact #genshin #childe #tartaglia #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #gn!reader #injury #intimacy #undefined relationship #tartagalicious #i still don't know how tags work #i hope y'all like it #i'm so in love with the people who commented on the last one #fatui #not me setting myself up for ANOTHER part

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

Everything He Wants pt.3

Carl Grimes x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2080 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader and Carl finally get to the bottom of what they feel for each other, but doing something about it isn’t as easy as it seems.

Part 1

Part 2

—————————————————————————————————

There was a bit of awkward silence between all of you for a moment as the men did their best to figure out what was going on.

Clearly, there was something happening but even Carl was lost, and he was part of it.

Rick and Negan had no hope of understanding, and frankly, that was by design. This was something you were going through with Carl and you didn’t want to involve them.

There was no way this was going to end well.

You couldn’t help but scoff, thinking about how something like that would go down. The two of you in love? It was insane. If Negan could hardly even handle a look shared between the two of you, a conversation would kill him.

However, you couldn’t exactly avoid it.

If you didn’t talk to Carl soon and figure out what was going on here, you were going to lose your mind.

Since the last time you’d seen him, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the strange feeling you got when you were around him, and you weren’t sure where to go from here.

This wasn’t something you were used to, after all. You had never been in this situation before, but you knew one thing for sure.

It wasn’t in your nature to just accept anything, and the way you felt for Carl made you uncomfortable. Because of that, you needed to know how he was feeling or what was going on in his head before you went crazy.

This was too much.

“Hey Carl, why don’t we get out of here” you suggested, offering your hand to him which he took slowly, completely unsure if he was okay with what was happening. After all, this was just as new for him as it was for you, and it wasn’t exactly foolproof.

Neither of you had ever done this before.

You had no idea how this was going to go down, but to be fair, there was more at stake for Carl. He didn’t want to get his dad into any trouble, but once he deduced that Negan wouldn’t overreact, he followed your lead.

Nothing terrible could come from such a casual action, right? No one was going to die because you had a conversation.

You hoped.

Neither of you spoke until you were far enough away from the rest of the people in Alexandria to have some privacy, but when you did, it was casual enough. You had no idea where this was going, but Carl was easy to talk to.

Easier to talk to than anyone else you’d actually spoken to before.

“I’m so sorry about him, he can be just awful sometimes” you shrugged, acting as if your father had just made some inappropriate joke at a parent teacher conference, instead of being the murderer he truly was.

It was a bit dramatic, of course, but Carl decided it would be best not to address that. Instead, he nodded, trying his best to think of what he wanted to say.

For some reason, his tongue always went numb around you and made it impossible to speak.

It was pathetic, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you hated him because of it. He should have been able to talk to you, at the very least, but it just didn’t look like that was going to happen.

You made him nervous.

“I’m really glad you came outside” you smiled, forcing yourself to channel some of Negan’s unending confidence you’d grown accustomed to instead of worrying about what could go wrong here.

Worst case, everything went up in flames and even if that happened, you never had to come here again.

The only thing that could come out of this was good, or at least, something new.

In this world, you lived like every day was your last because it very much could have been, and this wasn’t going to be the end of the world. This was one of those things that people did all the time before.

There was no reason you couldn’t do it now.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I wanted to” he replied, swinging your two joined hands between your bodies. It should have been a casual motion, but instead, it was stiff and uncertain.

He clearly wasn’t much of a talker but that didn’t bother you, you could fill all the empty space there was.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” you hummed, doing your very best to address him. You had no idea what the best way to do this would be, but evidently, you had decided to just throw away all the strangeness in exchange for reality.

You were both real life people and there were no rules about how you needed to do this.

After all, you didn’t owe anyone anything.

“A little” he decided, still blowing his own mind with the fact he was here at all. There was no reason that the two of you should have had anything in common or cared about one another but here you were.

This was just what happened.

“To be fair though, I think that everything is weird anymore” you shrugged, thinking about how everything had changed.

When you were kids, there was still so much normalcy ahead of you.

You never thought that this was where you would be, but here you were nonetheless.

This was what life was now.

“Yeah”

There was more silence between you as you walked, still holding Carl’s hand in your own, and before long, you were both outside his home, having made a huge circle around the walls of Alexandria.

The streets were still swarming with Saviors and Alexandrians alike as the raid ensued but you paid them no mind.

For you, this was a real sanctuary, something that you hadn’t had in a long time.

There was just something about being with Carl that made you feel like the world wasn’t constantly on the edge of imploding.

It was nice.

You had no idea where this was going or how this had possibly happened, but you weren’t going to argue. Instead, you followed Carl into his home, ignoring all the saviors still littering the place, and made yourself at home.

“You wanna meet Judith?” he asked, his jaw tightening as he watched a few of your men carry out some boxes of things that they were never going to see again.

It was just another reminder of why he shouldn’t be here with you at all.

You were always going to be the enemy.

...And even still, he was introducing you to his sister.

She was absolutely precious and you fell in love immediately. She was a giggly, cooing mess and you couldn’t help but swoon. She had this joy that just radiated off of her that no one else in this world could ever hope to imitate.

It was incredible, but as taken as you were with Judith, Carl was with you.

Even knowing that there was no way this was going to work, he couldn’t help himself.

It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t handle the sight of you with Judith cuddled in your arms. It was the most wholesome scene and it took his breath away, because he’d never felt like this before in his life.

He was in way too deep with you and it was going to be the end of him.

All in all, he was completely screwed.

Then, once Judith had gone down for her nap, you found yourself sitting on Carl’s bed, looking through a few dirty comic books. You hadn’t seen them in several years, of course, as the sanctuary didn’t consider them viable goods.

Still, you were glad to see them.

“You have quite the collection here” you hummed, leafing through the pages, now a bit weathered with age and grime.

This was one thing you didn’t get at home, in the cold industrial environment of the sanctuary.

It wasn’t exactly personal.

Even with all the things that Negan made sure you had, you just felt like there was something more comfortable here than there. It was a home, which was much more than just somewhere that kept you safe.

It was more than a house.

“I like comics” he shrugged back, going out on a limb and sitting down beside you, taking another one of his discarded books in his hands, fiddling with the pages instead of looking you in the face.

He felt weird.

This was weird.

“I like you” you grinned, not looking at him as you spoke, your eyes staying trained on the page in your lap. You had no real idea where a statement like that would get you but you couldn’t help yourself.

You did like him.

There was silence between you both for a few more moments as Carl tried to decide what he wanted to do with that information.

It wasn’t something that surprised him, because you both had been dancing around how you felt for one another, but that didn’t help him know what to do about it.

He didn’t know what he wanted to say or what you wanted to hear.

“I like you too” he smiled, doing his very best to keep his racing heart from stopping completely. This was shaping up to be the first time a girl ever liked him and that was nice, but he was terrified too.

He had never done anything like this before.

“That’s good, cause that would have made this whole thing a lot more awkward” you laughed, reaching out as gingerly as you could to take one of Carl’s hands in your own.

It wasn’t something that was new for either of you, as you held hands on your way up here but for some reason, this was a little different.

There was something going on, something strange, but you had already decided to leave it go.

It was what it was.

This was what it was.

You wanted to say more, to do more, but before you could, you heard that familiar boisterous laugh of Negan. More than likely, this whole thing was coming to an end, which meant that you would have to leave.

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you didn’t exactly get a choice in the matter.

“I should probably get going. I’ll see you later” you allowed, reluctantly standing from your spot. You were racking your brain, desperately trying to think of any excuse you could find to stay.

...But there wasn’t one.

There was nothing you could say or do that was going to keep you from having to go back to the Sanctuary at some point.

Thankfully though, before you could get too far away from him, Carl decided that he wasn’t willing to just let you go. He was worried about it, worried about what would happen if he let you walk out that door like this.

He needed you to know just how important this whole thing was to him.

Gingerly, he did all that he could to pull you back down to his side with a hand on your wrist.

Then, before he could remind himself that this whole thing was a terrible idea, he brought his lips to your own.

You had no idea what to do at first, but immediately found yourself kissing him back. It wasn’t something you saw coming, of course, but you couldn’t have been more glad that it was happening.

This was all you needed.

This whole time, the feelings you had for him were just swirling around in your stomach, nearly making you sick. However, now that you were here, pressed up against the male, you knew everything you needed to.

It didn’t matter that the two of you were on opposite sides of the war, or from completely different worlds. The two of you shared something much more important than that, experience.

You were the same age, living through the same things, and you didn’t even want to underestimate how important that was.

“Woah” you hummed, resting your forehead against his own as you tried to figure out how you were going to make this whole thing work. It was strange, but you knew that it was going to be fine.

You’d make it work.

Even Carl knew that.

He may not have been any good with words, but at least Carl could find it in himself to make a move.

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watevermelon · 4 years

Text

Cheating!Haikyuu x Reader

✧ Summary: Akaashi and Kuroo getting caught cheating and begging you for forgiveness ➳ A/N: Honestly, I don’t think ANY of the boys would ever even consider it. They’re all so loving in their own ways and for anyone to actually do this would be absolutely horrible to their partners. ➳ Masterlist

But ask for angst and you shall receive. kuroo’s is funny and akaashi’s is not

----- xXxXxXxXxXx-----

✧ Intro:

You trusted your boyfriend of the past year explicitly. Your relationship was built on a mutual friendship, going from casual classmates to one day dating when he had asked you out. You were surprised to say the least, this was one of the members of the volleyball team. They were popular throughout school with the entire student body. And so for him to show interest in you? You honestly hadn’t believed it.

But as the months went on and a few became your everyday norm, along with even getting invited over his house to meet his family, you were sure that the man you were dating was the one.

You remembered the first time he kissed you, the first I love you that he ever whispered in your ears.

And so it broke your heart to find out that you were not the only one he was saying these words to.

The school you were attending was known to be a powerhouse regarding volleyball. You were proud of the national spotlight your boyfriend was fighting on. And you fully understood the times when he would be gone or busy for weeks at a time - whether it was for traveling far away for various training camps or just practicing long into the nights for upcoming tournaments.

You remembered the first time you saw it, the text that was very much not from you. The phone had vibrated while he was out of the room and you were not trying to be nosy - calling his name that he received a notification and glancing at it briefly through the motion.

I miss your lips on mine.

You knew from the beginning that Akaashi always had a special connection to Bokuto. Even before you were close to the quiet setter, you admired how he always seemed to know how to lift Bokuto’s spirits. From the preliminary matches against Nekoma to just seeing the two in school, it made you want to foster such a close relationship with him yourself.

And on more than one occasion, you had to remind yourself they were just friends.

Your friends warned you ahead of time, that the two had a strong bond despite being separated by a year and not even attending the same junior high. You knew this and simply attributed it to his patience and overall ability to read people.

When you had once asked Akaashi about his relationship with the nationally acclaimed ace, he smiled and said, “He can be a lot to handle. But I love watching Bokuto-san play when he’s in the zone.”

You took it a face value, instead relishing in the comfort knowing that your boyfriend was wrapping his arms around you.

Months later, with that insecurity pushed in the back of your mind, it all came swarming out at Bokuto-san’s text. There was no denying what you were reading or who it was from. It was even accompanied by owl emojis of all things - as if there was anything cute about your boyfriend’s affair.

Your attention was caught and you needed confirmation, scrolling up through their conversation and seeing similar words spanning the last few hours alone. Had he been texting Bokuto the entire time he was sitting here with you?

You threw his phone back on the couch and stood, moving before even thinking about how you looked.

Why would Akaashi do this? Akaashi?? The kind, loving Akaashi Keiji who had the love of the whole school? Hadn’t he chosen you?

Standing in the middle of his family’s living room, you put a hand on your chest to steady your breathing. You felt the onset of panic gripping your chest, threatening to force tears to the corners of your eyes. There was nothing you could say, you just had to see if it was true.

How long had this been going on? Is it possible that this was before you were even dating? Why was Akaashi stringing along the both of you? Were any of the promises Akaashi told you true?

There was no denying the sudden jump of fear you had when Akaashi walked back in the room, a questioning look on his face as he saw you try to level your breathing.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

As if he had no idea, no reason to truly think that he was the cause behind your unease.

You tried your best to feign a smile, but there was no point in hiding anything to someone as cunning as Akaashi, you figured. He was best at reading other people. Instead, you held your frown and motioned to your phone, “I got a bad text from my mom - I need to go home.”

Akaashi was already moving toward you, arms reaching out to steady you at the shoulders. He was such a comforting foundation for you. And yet now, his close proximity brought nothing but anxiety and anger.

He seemed to notice since Akaashi dropped his hands to his sides. “Alright, let me walk you home?”

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice. You worried that you were going to unintentionally spill out the word vomit - accusing words ready on the tip of your tongue. He still reached out to encase your hand in his own, silently walking side-by-side for the entire time.

Thankfully, you had different homerooms and could avoid him for the first initial hours of school the next day. Did you have a plan? Absolutely fucking not. But you knew that you had to see them together - see them in their element and see why.

You needed to know the reason why Akaashi would throw away everything you built together.

You stayed silent to your friends, not even telling your best friend what happened. Not that you were afraid of Akaashi finding out that you knew somehow, but you wanted to see what was naturally between them, without anyone else’s interference.

Akaashi had thankfully given you your space, probably assuming that your family emergency from before was what was holding you down. It also helped that they had a practice match against Itachiyama at the end of the week, so he was called to practice especially more.

He always had such beautiful hands, despite the hours of practice he dedicated to his sport. It made you wonder what he did with them. There were a number of times before where Akaashi would text you late into the night, citing that Bokuto had demanded more practice with his spikes.

Was Akaashi really setting a ball for five hours straight after your last mid-terms?

You had a million questions in your head as you sat in the stands with your friends, watching the game of Fukurōdani vs Itachiyama. Bokuto was at the top of his game today, none of his usual vices holding him down as he played against his rival, Sakusa. For you and the other students cheering on the team, it could have been easily seen as just another game.

But it wasn’t.

You watched how Akaashi’s gaze would sometimes linger on Bokuto, long legs guiding his stride to a spike. The ace seemed to fly above the net, passion for their shared sport radiating even up in the stands where you were sitting. The fond expression Akaashi had only brought up his earlier words to mind - I love watching him play.

The interaction was so strangely intimate and yet public for any spectator the game. The moment passed, time moving forward as you continued to analyze every smile Akaashi shot the ace. Bokuto’s raised an overjoyed fist in the air in his excitement over the single point. He yelled his usual, Hey! Hey! Hey! And while you found the action usually humorous, you could only stare in blank realization as Akaashi fondly smiled at the spiker’s words.

There was no rising panic this time, nothing inside you screaming at you that something was wrong.

Your eyes kept following the scene, the game playing out while you stood stock-still among your friends. But your mind was already made up, long before the game ended. You thought about it a few times over the past few days, why Bokuto? Why you?

Why did Akaashi even approach you in the first place?

Thinking back to any conversations you had with Akaashi that surrounded volleyball. All their little volleyball antics - it was always about Bokuto. He got in trouble with the principal, got depressed during a game, even something as simple as being overly hungry before a match. And who was the one to always pick him up?

Akaashi.

And this was not something that could be as simply waved off as teammates. Neither Haruki nor Konoha were like this with the ace and both of them knew Bokuto longer than Akaashi. Kaori had even joked to you once that Akaashi was capable of reading Bokuto’s mind.

You were a fool.

You hadn’t told Akaashi you were going to attend this practice match in the first place and you honestly had no intention of doing so.

Instead, you texted Bokuto during the game to meet you outside by the entrance stairs, alone.

Most of the other students had already filled out of the gymnasium, out into the streets on their way home as you leaned against the cold railing. You could hear Bokuto’s quick steps around the corner before you even saw him.

“Hey, (L/N)-chan! What’s up?” He greeted you in a friendly manner, waving with one hand fully outstretched even though you were only a few feet away from each other.

You weren’t going to smile and pretend.

“Bokuto-san.” You stated, looking him in the eyes head-on.

Despite his amicable disposition, Bokuto had quite the intimidating disposition to outsiders. The tall spiker was built with muscles, arms and legs looking seemingly sculpted. And here you were, pointing a heavy glare with your chin held-high at a man who could very easily over-power you.

“Don’t smile at me like everything’s okay.” You started, “I know.”

His smile immediately squashed to a straight line, eyes hardening as they looked down at you. Bokuto crossed his arms, his athletic duffel pushed to the side of his body.

“I won’t apologize for being in love with him.” His voice rang through the calm outdoors, not a single soul to hear his confession other than you.

You scoffed, “How did I already know you’d say that?”

Bokuto kept your question rhetorical, for once staying uncharacteristically silent. His gaze never wavered off of yours, eyes boring right into you as you wordlessly sized each other up.

“I tried to let him go, once.” Bokuto continued, “When you first started dating, I tried and couldn’t.”

They were together before you were even in the picture.

You bit your lip, asking. “And you’re going to ask me not to make you do it again?”

Bokuto paused, uncrossing his arms and looking heavenward for the right answer. How could he? They were already on the road to love before you even really knew Akaashi. Why did he ask you out in the first place? Why progress this far in your relationship?

None of this was right and you had every bone in your body screaming at you to beat the ever loving shit out of the two volleyball players. But there was one thing you needed to cut off now.

“I don’t need an answer to confirm what you’re thinking.” You stated, “Treat his heart kindly.”

Bokuto sputtered, raising his arms in defense. “Akaashi chose you - he asked you out!”

You almost snarled at the irony, “As if that matters! What’s a label against the fact that he’s been in love with you during that entire time?”

He recoiled, nothing to say against your true question. You were his girlfriend, but how could that possibly matter when his heart continually lingered on the ace in front of you. And, since the volleyball God’s hated you, it was no surprise when the setter turned the corner to your impassioned conversation.

“What’s happening here?” His voice rang out, meeting Bokuto’s worried expression and your hardened one.

Akaashi stopped in his stride the moment he saw the both of you, not moving closer to you or Bokuto and simply guarding his expression from leaking any of his inner thoughts.

“I thought about this a million times over the past few days.” You said low, but voice strong enough for the others to hear. “How I would yell at you, curse you to your face... But now that I see you, you’re pathetic.”

Akaashi was the master of a blank expression, but now there was nothing but panic and hurt written all over his face. Whatever words he was going to say, to somehow excuse his behavior, died on his lips when you calmly raised your palm to stop him.

How dare he.

"I don’t want to know why you led me on for so long. Or why you decided stringing along Bokuto this whole time would be good to the people you claim to love.”

Bokuto frowned, looking to the side away from the two of you, but said nothing to refute your statement.

“Don’t ever talk to me again.”

You walked away from Akaashi then, turning away and heading home without looking back. There was nothing left, no words that could ever explain or fix the situation, not that you wanted him to try either. Bokuto’s voice reached you mid-way through the steps, his words low but aimed toward Akaashi.

The words were low and you were surprised you were even able to hear them: She’s not wrong.

The next day at school neither of them were present.

You laid it all out to your best friends at lunch then, all of you sitting under the apple tree and quietly listening to your story. They offered you small condolences, never bringing up the volleyball team or practice matches around you ever again. Konoha shot you a wilted frown in passing, no words enough to even start that conversation.

You only saw Akaashi one more time. It was no surprise that Fukurōdani was progressing to the Spring Nationals and everyone at school were quick to congratulate various team members on their victory. You saw them, preening around the lunchroom as the student body wished them luck.

They were holding hands.

You lingered on the sight for a single second. But it was enough for Akaashi to notice your eyes, shooting a withered smile in your direction.

There was nothing you wanted to do in response, nothing left for you to say and hope for when it came to the setter. And so you simply turned back to your friends, rejoining the conversation with thoughts of the volleyball team long behind you.

You had to re-read the text three times, your mind whirling in circles to accept the fact that this was for your Tetsurō.

It was only when your hands flew to scroll upwards that you realized yes, this was really happening. It was all so quick - he had left the room to use the bathroom, or whatever, at this point you hadn’t even remembered why. Just his phone, which he always had on him, had vibrated away on your coffee table.

You grabbed it half-mindedly, original intention to bring it to him and maybe leave it at the door in case it was some type of volleyball-related emergency. He was the captain, after all. And so when the actual contents of the texts grabbed your attention, it was all over from there.

The profile picture was of the popular student body president, her shining face radiating even now. The other boys of the volleyball team had always complimented her and brought her up in conversation. Before you were even dating, you remembered that Kuroo particularly agreed with many of her features: long-hair, mild temper, and good grades even in college prep classes.

You were on the average scale of things - average grades in college prep, a member of photography club, but not particularly motivated - you were easily replaceable in the fast-paced world that Kuroo and others were constantly facing. And while you tried not to dwell on it too much, Kuroo was at the top of class with many of the female student body interested in him - there were times he had inadvertently made you felt small.

But Kuroo did try to wave those thoughts away, saying that you were the one he was in love with. It was only for you that he showed his soft side and only you were the recipient of his loving gestures.

And yet now you had in your hands evidence that none that was true.

You wanted to scream - reading all the affectionate phrases he had typed away to this woman.

Were you going to accuse him, then and there? What were you even going to say to him?

Kuroo made the choice for you.

“What are you doing with my phone?” He asked, voice promulgating the silent room.

You were sure that your eyes were glossy as you responded back quietly, “I was going to bring it to you when it kept ringing.”

“Thanks babe, just pass it over.” He said calmly, outstretching a palm in your direction.

You held the phone to your chest, there was no way you could feign a reaction now. This was no longer the simple interaction that you could pretend would pass over, the adulterous text was still open on the screen, open for both parties to quickly see.

His grey-eyes surveyed you silently, not a single word uttered, as if it would break this unmoving conversation. You always found his observant stare endearing, how his greatest weapon on the volleyball court was something he used on you to understand you better.

And now, you could only imagine what he was truly thinking throughout your relationship.

Kuroo’s fond looks, those kind smiles, they were all calculated actions to keep you on his hook. They were not the loving terms of endearment you believed them to be. They were deliberate ways to sate your relationship, nothing more.

You frowned, handing him the phone and biting out coldly. “I want you to leave.”

“Listen babe, it’s not what you think.” Kuroo was reaching for you, taking steps to close the distance before you fled away entirely.

“Of course! What was I thinking?!” Your voice was raising with every word, anger seeping through toward the middle-blocker. “Some other girl texting you: I dream of waking up to you every day, could be some other context that what I’m too small-minded to know? Right?”

He followed behind you as you traversed through your empty house. You just wanted to get away from him, just the very image of Kuroo was enough to make you angry and inescapably hurt. There was so much you wanted to just yell at him, but at the same time you knew this was the man who held your heart.

And the same one who chose to break it.

What was there even to say to him? You’ve won? Congratulations? Get out of my house?

“Get out!” You settled on that and yelled behind you, your voice weak as you sucked in air between tears. Kuroo continued to follow behind you despite your loud command.

You pushed open the door to your bedroom and attempted to slam it behind you, but a simple kick of his foot and it stayed open. Instead, Kuroo closed it and locked it as he followed.

He had you cornered.

Would it be crazy if you jumped out the window?

Your eyes shot to the opening at the side-wall of your room, but it seemed his gaze followed your own path when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you to him.

Kuroo had his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you down. “Please just listen to me.”

“Listen to what?” You were trying to push him away, but Kuroo refused to budge against you.

He leaned his chin against the top of your head, one of his arms going down to wrap around your waist. “Stop, you know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Then why...?”

“It looks bad. I know it does.” Kuroo started to explain, “But I can prove to you that this isn’t what you think.”

You sniffed, not saying anything as you waited for whatever bullshit response was already formulating on his lips.

What you hadn’t expected was for Kuroo to raise the phone to your ear, the ringing of the outgoing call blasting next to you.

What was he doing? Was he insane?

You didn’t want to listen to her voice, listen to whatever she was going to say when she picked up the phone. Loving words, teasing innuendo’s, all of that you shared with Kuroo and now he was going to show-off what he had with another girl?

You twisted against him, ready to fight out of outrage of not only being cheated on, but also Kuroo doing the utmost stupid thing he could ever do and showing it off in front of you.

The voice that rang out froze you in your actions.

“Captain! Was my text really bad that you had to call?”

“... Yamamoto-san?” You near-whispered back in recognition.

You heard what was almost a yelp back. He stuttered over your name, before asking, “Ah, you and um. You and Kuroo-san are spending your day off together?”

Taking hold of the phone yourself, you looked at the screen and saw that it was indeed to the same student body president that the call was going through to. Same icon, same everything. So why was Yamamoto on the other side of the line? You looked up at Kuroo briefly, the middle-blocker staring at you right back. He urged the phone back to your ear, reminding you that Nekoma’s ace was still on the other side of the line.

“...Yeah.” You answered back weakly, remembering his initial question.

“... Was there something you needed?” He asked nervously.

“Um.” You bit your lip and looked at Kuroo, “Why is your name saved as our student body president in Kuroo’s phone?”

“Aasdfgh.” The strangled noise lasted for ten seconds before Kuroo cleared his throat next to you. “Captain! You’re there too!”

“Explain it, now.” Kuroo said flatly, his voice plain as his grip on your waist tightened. You put a hand on his chest in an attempt to keep him at a distance. You were still mad, admittedly also confused, but you didn’t want Kuroo to just hug the issue away.

Of course, he pushed your hand away and continued to hold you close.

“Please, don’t judge me (L/N)-san!”

Your confusion was only growing. “Um. What’s going on?”

“somycrushgavemehernumberbuticanttalktogirlsandididntwanttomessupsoiwaspracticingwhattosayonkurooandtherestandthentheygotmadsosometimesitextmyselffromtheirphonenumbersaspractice!”

The words were so fast, you held the phone closer to your ear in an attempt to decipher anything that was just said.

“Wait, what?”

Yamamoto sighed loudly before exclaiming, “I can’t talk to my crush!”

You tilted your head in confusion, “... Kuroo’s your crush?”

The middle-blocker sighed above you, moving to flick your forehead while Yamamoto was near screaming in outrage on the line.

“No!! I.. I don’t have a lot of experience talking to girls! And then my crush gave me her number and she started texting me! And believe me, I tried practicing on otome games and even they dumped me!”

“Uhh...”

His loud voice kept going, explaining the strange tale, “And so I was begging the guys to help me practice and eventually they got sick of me too! She was really into me too and we were flirting and I wasn’t ready!! I don’t have anyyyy experience, (L/N)-san!!”

You shot a look up to Kuroo, his gaze locked on you without any other hints of an expression on. You were sure that your face was a mix of incredulous and worried, was this for real?

“And then she started texting me dirty things and I wanted to do it back, so Kuroo taught--”

“Skip it.” The middle-blocker stated harshly, cutting off the ace.

“Aasdafhauh.” Yamamoto outwardly struggled, remembering that both Kuroo and you, a female, were on the line. “I thought all was lost and then Kuroo let me practice texting myself and seeing how it looked from his phone!”

Oh.

lmao

“Wait, what?”

Kuroo summarized it plainly for you. “It means he was practicing sexting himself from my phone.”

“Ca-Captain!” His voice rang out.

You could not help your growing, amused smile. “Is it true?”

“I - well, yes...”

His voice trailed, but you held in your chuckle. “Ah, thanks for clearing that up.”

Yamamoto paused before asking, “Did my impassioned words led to a misunderstanding?”

“I’m sure your words are the least of your problems tomorrow at practice.” Kuroo answered this time, earning an anguished exclamation before the middle-blocker hung-up and threw the phone away.

That was not what you were expecting.

Your mind was in a million places, not sure what to say and what you were just witness to. Kuroo pulled you along to your bed, near throwing you on top while you were distracted in your thoughts.

He hovered above you, placing a light kiss on your forehead and then trailing down the side of your face. You cupped his cheek, still trying to process what the hell just happened, but moved to slot his lips against yours and reassure yourself that this was real.

Kuroo pulled away and whispered against your lips, “I know it looks crazy, but please trust in me - in us.”

You nodded silently, simply stating an okay when Kuroo continued to stare at you.

“I want this... more than just now in high school.” Kuroo looked to the side, before returning his gaze back to you.

Guiding his head back to yours, you pushed off your elbow to lean up to him. “Me too. I’m sorry for being so quick to accuse you.”

“Stop.” He murmured against your skin, small pecks following his wake. “I should’ve explained it to you before.”

“I mean, it does sound pretty crazy.” You joked, a fond smile growing on your face as Kuroo continued to shower your neck with small kisses. “To think you were flirting with Yamamoto of all people.”

“Oi.” A small scowl was already on his face.

You were ready to tease your poor boyfriend, “Sorry, you were sexting him.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, a hand already sneaking its way under your shirt. “Why don’t I show you what I was teaching him?”

You felt your eyes comically widen at his boldness, any hint of your previous teasing falling away as your boyfriend’s sly smirk crawled further and further down your body.

The love you felt for Kuroo was undeniably mutual, but you had to learn to trust your boyfriend.

----- xXxXxXxXxXx-----

oop lmao hope you enjoyed these short stories!

Come checkout some of the added-on endings to Cheater!Akaashi’s story: ➳ Masterlist

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