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petalsofyouth · 1 year

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koi no yokan / part 1 | ran haitani x reader

tw: set in early 00s-10s, flawed characters, unreliable narrator, mentions of drug use, mentions of assault (nothing graphic) | i literally hate tagging so much because i feel like i missed something; anyways, if you think i really did tell me and i will include it.

wc: 18.516

author's note: i actually didn't want to post 'kny' on here and wanted my tumblr to be strictly for one-shots and drubbles, but now i haven't posted in so long & i desperately want to, so here we go.

part 1.

The new place promised a new life with new memories and new friends and new basically everything. It was too much. It was suffocating to the point where your breathing wouldn’t even out and every next breath seemed not enough. You tried to calm yourself with your favourite cup of coffee and your read half through [page one hundred and thirty five] book.

You brought a lot of books with you from your home. Them, all along with your other stuff still neatly packed in boxes had a faint smell of flowers. So mawkish it made you nauseous and despite heavy rain outside you wide opened every single window in your apartment. You wondered how you never noticed this (almost, not yet) stench back at home.

At home everything smelled like this, because your father had a flower shop and your mom loved her enormous garden more than anything else. She spent hours outside. He was at work all day. You and your older sister were at home alone.

You loved your family even though sometimes you wondered what was lacking. What was it that your heart was longing for. In all your years there you never found an answer to such an obvious question. Now, standing before a window wall, overlooking one of the many side streets of Roppongi in your late grandma’s apartment, you thought how amusing it was that when you escaped your native Obihiro you missed it so dearly. Do psychologists have a name for this feeling? As if knowing a name for something would provide you with shelter.

A small rather inaudible sigh left your lips. You opened a balcony door smelling wet air. It will rain soon. Hopefully for hours and well into the night. But for now you will drink your homemade iced coffee and read your almost finished book.

Because you are eighteen and it’s the end of March of 2006 and you will start lawyer school in less than two weeks and everything is so new and bright and sad at the same time.

Being young is really truly overwhelming.

part 2.

In the next two months you try to make new friends so you don’t feel that lonely.

You go out with them a lot. To the cinema, to karaoke, to bowling, to their small apartments and huge mansions. Name it and you’ll be there. Just to feel a bit less lonely. Surrounded by people, with drink in your neatly manicured hands, you are almost a part of that raving crowd.

Almost.

It’s never enough and returning back to your own place that finally started indeed looking like your own place in the early morning when sky is pink and cold blue and your legs are so heavy you can barely stand is relieving. To the point you promise yourself it’s your last time going out. You would believe yourself, but then again you said the same thing last week and two weeks before that too.

When friends don't magically appear after all these months you stop. You start attending all your classes, you read manga and books on your balcony, do homework and extra work to earn more credits. You cook and the smell of homemade food circulates the three storey building. Your neighbors must be mad at you because you usually play chef late at night. They either hate you or love you, you think. No complaints come though so you continue steering pots at three in the night.

Your mom calls you twice every week. Your dad almost every day. Your sister never. She sends you messages instead. They are stupid and small.

i am fine (x_x) (emojis she’s using never correlating with the text)

it’s empty without you at home

(/▿＼ )

found your stupid manga today & read it & why is this shit so sad. u r so depressing.

i am fine

[ ± _ ± ]

don’t worry i won’t threw it out

mom’s roses are withering she’s mad

i am fine

It’s never anything important so you reply the same nonsense back or sometimes nothing at all. You have a funny feeling you are missing out on something. You don’t catch what it is.

You'll never do.

part 3.

Life in Tokyo is not easy, but it’s not that difficult either. You fall into a perfectly constructed routine quite quick, without any problem .

You wake up. You make yourself your favourite iced coffee, throwing a little bit too much ice, and with a satisfaction you watch how ice melts, cracking under the warm hug of espresso. You drink your coffee on the balcony and then you go to university where you spend most of your day.

In the evening you return home. You eat. You read or draw and then you go to bed.

Somewhere in the middle of all these you find a friend. A true friend. She doesn’t go to parties and prefers to spend her free time in a coffee shop, walking around the park or reading a book. It sounds somewhat boring at first, but she’s a truly good person (and you haven't met a lot of those lately), so you succumb.

She’s a Tokyo native which is insanely good, because she shows you a part of the city that was hidden from you all this time. Together you go to have the best ramen and yakitori and imagawayaki. You visit art galleries because you both are into the art and you both are lawyers to be, but you’d rather be an artist. You go to libraries and bookshops. You draw in the park together and at your apartment since she lives with parents and it’s more convenient to hang out at your place.

Your new best friend is the one to warn you about gangs and all the criminal activity that is lurking in Tokyo’s darkest parts. It sounds more like a distant far away world that won’t ever touch you. You don’t feel frightened. After all you left it all at Obihiro with your sister and her stupid ex boyfriend who too was a part of the local gang.

Didn’t you?

The calm voice of your friend continues naming all the gangs and then she fills you in on what they do and what territories they control and how exactly they do it. It’s crazy to think she knows that much about it. Especially for a future lawyer.

You tell her just that.

She smiles and says that her eldest brother is in the gang hence she knows so much. His gang is cool though. They don’t beat women or children. They challenge other gangs and they do try to be fair to everyone and everything. They are good guys.

The way she talks about them you might think they are Robin hoods of Tokyo.

You know for a fact it’s (probably, you have your doubts) not true.

part 4.

It is early in the morning when you wake up one day in July. It’s scorching hot and gladly you have no school today so you spend half of the morning in bed staring at white ceiling. Thinking about nothing. It’s an easy morning and you appreciate the calm - though very very hot - air that surrounds you.

Laying around in bed proves nothing. It’s boring and soon your thoughts get too complicated. Too difficult. And if anything you don’t want today to be difficult.

It’s gotta be a nice day.

That much is decided, when you slowly rise from the bed, fall on it again, lay there for two minutes listening to the clock doing its little, but loud tik-tak-tik-tak dance. Eventually you get up and stretching midway march into the bathroom.

Bathroom is like a cold oasis in the desert. Your feet touching cool marble tiles, you cross a small room aiming towards a rather spacious but square form bathtub. Why and how your late grandma chose this ridiculous design is now history. You regret you never asked.

After taking a long bath, you throw a towel around yourself and go to the kitchen. To make yourself a cup of iced coffee, of course. You don’t do breakfasts and now it’s well past the time people eat their gohan, natto and whatever else they have for their first meal of the day. You’ll cook something a little bit later. Or call your friend and go out to that now favourite place to have sushi.

Summer breeze is gentle on your naked shoulders when you sit down on the balcony. The view is not much. Just another grey living building with luxury cars in the parking lot. Roppongi is surely different from your native Obihiro. Well, it’s even different from Tokyo itself. The contrast is subtle and you can’t tell what it is exactly, but it’s there. Present as ever.

You love Roppongi.

The quiet alone time ends suddenly. You hear something tearing and then a caustic smell of vinegar welcomes itself in the air. You groan. Loudly. Trying to guess what it is you stand up from your bamboo chair and look around as if it could reveal the sudden intruder. The unexpected intruder reveals himself.

“Oi! It’s chips.” The voice comes from your left and you look that way seeing nothing, but a plastic beige partition. You never noticed it being there before.

“How did…” You start, tilting your head so you could see the owner of the voice - he sounds young and you are quite curious because for all the months you live here you never knew you had someone your age living in your building. To be frank, you only met the old lady upstairs, but that’s because she was your late grandma’s friend and introduced herself first when you just moved in.

“You make a lot of noise.” He stops, mulling something over and you can almost hear thoughts being born in his head. Instead, he snickers and says nothing.

The barrier between your balcony’s space and his is nonexistent. The only thing dividing you two is that plastic beige partition which you easily look over from, steadying yourself on steel railings with one hand (the other one is holding the towel wrapped around your body) and furiously peer at your neighbour.

You totally never saw him before because you have a feeling that you would have noticed and remembered him. He is quite a character.

Blond hair with almost neon blue highlights is what you see first. Then his glasses that cover his peculiar coloured eyes. From the distance you can’t quite tell what colour they are, but it’s not brown, hazel or blue. It’s some other colour or maybe it’s the mix of all of them. They catch your attention the most. Until, your gaze travels south, to his chest full of tattoos. He is not wearing any t-shirt; fair enough it’s too hot and he is home.

Being too busy observing him you don’t notice him squinting his eyes and giving you almost the same identical look. The difference was though that he has seen you before. A lot of times actually. Now, he was just getting a better look.

“Salt and vinegar? Really?”

“Wanna some?” He offers you to which you wrinkle your nose and he snorts at you.

It’s more of a laugh than anything else so you don’t even register it. You don’t reply and get back to your chair in the safety of your own balcony. The whole situation seems ridiculous but the more you think about it - sitting some metres away from him hearing him eating his chips - the more it feels like it was supposed to be like this.

It’s your first time feeling something like this.

It’s deviating.

part 5.

After this encounter you see him everywhere.

On the flight of stairs. At the convenience store next to your house. In the parking lot under your building. You even bump into him on Keyakizaka street and once catch a glimpse of him at Roppongi Station.

It’s not unusual. You are neighbours. It should feel normal, but it doesn’t. It’s almost like he follows you around prying into your daily life. You know it’s not true because he doesn’t have a reason for it. Well, he doesn’t even know your name. Maybe it’s just fate that wants you two together.

Most of all, you meet on your joined balcony. He’s quietly eating his salt & vinegar chips while you read or paint. Sometimes he listens to his music. He does it wearing huge white Audio-Technica headphones. He blasts music at full volume and after some time you memorise his playlist. You must admit it. He’s got a nice taste in music.

You say it to him once and when he replies you can hear an easy smile intertwining with his words. “No shit. I wanna be a DJ. I do have a full DJ setup, it’s just that I rarely use it nowadays.”

“Why?”

It’s a simple logical question, but he doesn’t answer right away. Silence settles between you two and soon the only sound you can hear is that old lady on the floor above speaking to her husband. She asks him what he wants for dinner. It somehow reminds you of your home in Obihiro and swarms of cicadas rise in front of your eyes. Their сhirping fills your ears. The sound of home and summer.

The 2B pencil in your hand moves on its own while you wait for him to say something. It’s only after you sketch your yard full of cicadas on the pavement he finally speaks.

“Just being busy with work and Ran doesn’t like it when it’s too loud and my music is too loud for him”.

“Ran?”

He waits again before responding. This time it’s shorter. You don’t manage to draw anything. “My older brother.”

“He has a pretty name and I agree with him. Your music's too loud. I can hear it through your headphones all the time.”

“It suits him. His name.” He ignores you siding with his brother and doesn’t give you the satisfaction of being teased by you. “Mine though doesn’t suit me. Do I look like a Rindou to you?”

You laugh. He laughs too in a i told you so way. He doesn’t see you drawing gentian and orchid in the left corner of your sketch.

You also think his name suits him well.

part 6.

When Rindou meets you outside he always acknowledges you in one way or another.

It depends if he is alone or has company.

If he is alone he’d chat you up, asking you meaningless questions about your day. If he is with someone he’d just nod at you.

You don’t dwell on the subject. You don’t think he might be embarrassed of knowing you or some stupid shit like this. It doesn’t hurt your pride because you don’t know him that well after all. Besides your occasional balcony conversation you have nothing. You are barely even friends.

He doesn’t know your name. He never asked. At this point you are almost strangers.

part 7.

Your life carries on.

You attend classes, go out with your best friend, read books, draw and chat with Rindou. Over time you two become more accustomed to each other. Conversations turn effortless. Personal information shifts to shared. Neither of you mind it. Oversharing and spilling secrets doesn’t exist in your comfortable bubble in the middle of Roppongi.

Rindou is cosy.

No matter how close you two grow to each other, you (not him too, but you don’t know it) tell your friends about your little friendship. A grim feeling of inevitable stops you every time you try to tell your best friend about him, his blue locks and round glasses. If you tell her something bad will happen. What you can’t tell. This ominous prediction follows you around. Never leaving. You keep your mouth shut. If anything, you don’t want to ruin your nook.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t tell anyone because they won’t understand his desire to feel like a normal person for once in his life. He never mentions to you that he is in a gang. What he is doing with his brother and friends at night. He never shows you just how violent he can get and this side of him is hidden from you. Rindou likes it this way. This way you are friends with him because he likes vinegar & salt chips, wants to be a DJ and goes to gym every once in a while.

You are not afraid of him and you do not pretend.

He wants to keep it that way.

So he, just like you, keeps you away from his world.

By the end of the summer he learns your name.

part 8.

Despite all your accidental meetings you’ve never bumped into Rindou when he was with his older brother. Despite that, you feel like you know him already.

Rindou talks a lot about Ran. As it supposed to be, you assume.

You don’t talk about your older sister that much though.

You wonder if Rindou wonders why.

However it may be, he never asks you about that.

“Ran is a pain in the ass.” Says Rindou looking at the small screen of his Nokia 6230. He shoves white phone - every piece of technology he owns appears to be white and you want to ask if it is consciously done - in the pocket of his wide black sweatpants. “He is staying out today”.

The intonation and tone he chooses are suggestive to where his brother might be staying and what he plans on doing. You laugh and don’t press too much. It’s not your business and you are not interested in how Ran spends his leisure time.

“At least he could’ve told me earlier. Kakucho invited me to go to Atami, but he is already on his way and I don’t wanna go on my own all the way there. It’s what… like two hours? Three?”

He says all that in front of the convenience store where you both met some minutes ago. It’s well after six in the afternoon and street lamps are barely emitting any power yet. Soon the streets would be draped in these nostalgic azure lights and the whole Roppongi would come alive while other parts of Tokyo would slowly fall to sleep.

There are no people outside and no cars pass by you two. Your small nook is silent. Even the ventilators of refrigerators at convenience store stopped producing noise. The next thing you know it’s raining. A little drizzle. You sigh. “Wanna come over? I’ll cook.”

“Real homemade food?”

“Yeah. What a stupid question.”

He smiles a bit, thinking to himself that, well, maybe missing out on hot springs in Atami wouldn’t be so bad. He knows for a fact nor Ran nor Kakucho would eat anything smelling so delicious like your food. For a bunch of delinquents without family a plate of soup made specifically for them is a huge deal.

Of course, he doesn’t say any of these. He shrugs, his shoulders going up and down, and takes a huge paper bag with groceries out of your arms.

Together you walk towards your apartment building.

part 9.

You didn’t make soup that evening.

In the role of the guest Rindou took it upon himself to decide what you both should have for dinner. As you guessed before he wasn’t a shy type so feel yourself at home words died on the tip of your tongue the second he took his adidas sneakers off and went ahead of you to the kitchen. Strangely enough he went in the right direction. Maybe the layout of your apartments were the same. You were neighbours after all.

When you showed up in the kitchen, dressed in your for home shorts and your dad’s old t-shirt, he already stuck up everything you bought earlier in their places and was now patiently waiting for you, playing snake on his phone.

“I think you can make us soba with vegetables. And some chicken too, but I like it without skin”. He said, not raising his head in your direction. He appeared strangely familiar in your kitchen. As if he was there every day.

You nodded, not sure if he was paying any attention to you at all. “I have chicken breasts. Do you prefer enoki or shiitake?”

“Put both. I like both.”

Cooking is not a quick business. Rindo grew bored of watching you doing the same thing with different products and took it upon himself to tour your apartment alone. You didn’t mind. You had nothing to hide. Your paintings, mangas and books were all there was. Doubtful it would be of any interest to him you didn’t worry.

To Rindou it was different. He felt like he was intruding your personal life. Probing himself to become a part of it. If not that accidental meeting and Ran’s spontaneous decision to stay god knows where he wouldn’t be here at all. Looking at your canvases with unfinished paintings woke inside of him a dreadful feeling of unbearable closeness to you.

In all his life he never befriended anyone. All people came and went out as they pleased. Nobody stayed for long. He didn’t give them a reason either and not a single person asked for it.

Nobody made an effort to stay.

Looking at your pencil sketch of the valley full of gentians he already knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if you went away too.

part 10.

“I was in a juvie with Ran”. The confession comes out of him suddenly. He looks you in the face trying to decipher your reaction. There’s none that he could pinpoint. “We got out recently.” He adds as an attempt to fill the silence that lingers around the corner.

You put chopsticks aside and pressing your lips into thin line attempt to guess the motive behind his words.

Why did he say this now?

What is the reason?

Why did he decide to open up now that you having a quiet dinner at your apartment?

You find all the answers in his eyes. They are like amethyst. Blue and pink mixed together in a beautiful peculiar shade that suits Rindou just a little too much. They are intent and pleading. He has decided something for himself while you were busy cooking and what it is he doesn’t let you know yet, but you sure it has something to do with your hasty friendship.

“Why?”

“We beat up the leader of the gang and his vice to take over Roppongi. The vice didn’t make it out alive. Ran might have gone overboard a bit.”

“So it was an accident?” Your words are not of justification, but about stating the truth.

“Pretty much, but I don’t regret him dying.” He waits a moment and then adds. “If I knew the outcome before I would’ve done the same thing”.

The silence that settles between you two is heavy, but not uncomfortable. It changes the inevitable course of your relationship and you both let it do it. Whatever said is said. There is no turning back.

You avert your gaze to the steaming food in front of you and take a deep breath before saying what you want to say. Rindou gets ahead of you interrupting what yet to be said. “Do you think differently of me now that you know it?”

“No.” Your response is immediate. No delays. No hesitation. “Still the same Rindou as before. Some of us have to do fucked up things to survive.”

“Did you kill someone?”

Your laugh fills the room and cracks in his heart that were there because of worry. He is ridiculous, he knows it.

But it’s easy to be ridiculous with you.

part 11.

In the month to come you learn more about Rindou Haitani.

He and his brother are in the gang, but they are by themselves. They rule over Roppongi alone and every single person there is theirs. [This is said in a proud voice and when you ask if you are theirs too since you too now live in Roppongi Rindou goes red. It’s cute.] Their parents are not with them. If they are dead or alive, if they were forced to leave them or abandoned them out of their free will, Rindou doesn’t elaborate. The wound might be still too fresh or maybe it would never heal at all.

After every bit of information he asks you if you are still seeing him the same way. You always say yes.

You open up to him too. You tell him more about Obihiro. Your parents that are married and that there’s no love in that marriage anymore. That you believe your dad has a mistress and that your mother knows and that this is a reason she is so attached to her garden full of roses. She tends to flowers and loves them in a way she can’t care and love her husband.

One evening when Rindou stops by your apartment and sits on the bar stool watching you cook chicken katsu you tell him about your sister. How she got involved with a guy who was in a local gang and that your parents blame him for her drug addiction. It’s a touchy subject and he is the first person you ever discussed this with.

“You don’t think he is to blame?” He asks in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

“No. I think my sister knew better than this. She was her own person before she met him and after she met him. You can’t blame somebody for a decision you solely made.”

Rindou senses your anger. He thinks [knows] you’ve never been in love.

part 12.

It’s November when you are introduced to Ran.

By this time he’s heard about you [and you yourself albeit muffled by thick glass of balcony door] numerous times. The occasion to meet you never presented itself. Even though it would be a lie from his side if he says he wasn’t dying to meet you. His interest was as high as Fugaku. Not because of you as of you, - he didn’t know you and he’s hardly a curious person - but because of his brother’s soft demeanour and lack of usual disdain he presents around other people. Never you.

It nags Ran more than he would care to admit.

The absence of interest in him from your part was a bit suspicious. It depended on what Rindou had told you about him so it might be just his brother's fault and not your mere disregardless of Ran. Who in their right mind would purposely ignore him?

Their cupboard where they store instant noodles are empty and Ran groans when his palm touches the dusty wood surface. He is tired. And sleep deprived. Too many responsibilities weighed heavy on his shoulders. Last night he returned home around five in the morning and went immediately to bed. His only meal of the day was tuna onigiri he bought at 7/11. It tasted sloppy and rice was not cooked the way he liked it to be cooked. He complained about it all to Rindou who just clattered. To him, onigiri seemed fine. Not the best he had and certainly not worthy to whine about the whole night.

Ran was just being Ran. Now he was starving. His empty stomach churning.

“What did you eat today?” He turned around and suspiciously eyed Rindou who was sitting back to him on their newly bought white sofa watching TV. The show running there was unfamiliar to Ran.

“Rice, two eggs and plum pickles.”

The last time Ran had plum pickles happened a long time ago he couldn’t even remember when exactly, less alone the taste. His mouth watered all the same. The non-bothered expression [he could sense even while looking at Rindou’s nape] on his brother's face only added to his starving agony. “You went out?”

“No. Well… technically yes, but not really.”

Whatever the meaning of Rindou’s answer, Ran doesn’t catch it. He thinks of asking for an explanation, but senses Rin furrowing. Too focused on the jumping screen of the TV. His whole attention focused on a documentary about wildlife of South America. Ran’s mouth sprawls into an oh-i-know-what-you-are-thinking-of-now sly smile when he goes around and catches Rin bite his lower lip. It makes Ran forget about his minor problems. For the next couple of minutes if so.

Teasing his little brother about his new female friend is more important. And fun.

“Why are you being so defensive when it comes to our new neighbour?”

The question is simple, but the devious tone it's being asked suggests it’s more than this. Rin wants to punch his brother, but instead he sighs. He can’t understand why he is being so protective over you too.

“I am not fucking being defensive. It’s your way of asking about her that makes me angry.”

“My way of asking?”

“Yes. It’s like you wanna ask me if we fuck or not?”

“Do you?”

“For fuck’s sake, Ran. No. She’s just a friend.” Rindou rises from the sofa and storms off to his room. He doesn’t forget to slam the door so Ran understands the level of the anger he feels towards him now.

He does.

So, Ran sprawls on the white sofa. Pillows here are so fluffy he might fall asleep for an hour or so. After he wakes up he’ll knock at Rindou’s door and together they will go to the convenience store. Rindou won’t be angry anymore. He’ll whine and complain and maybe won’t speak with Ran for fifteen minutes or so, but eventually he’ll put the whole conversation about you aside.

After all they are brothers and Rindou can’t stay mad at Ran for long.

It goes the same for Ran too.

part 13.

When Rindou warned you about the dark alleys of Roppongi you should’ve listened to him.

But as all people, you too, you believe you are invincible. You believe it won’t happen today or with you. Anybody, but you.

When you go out that night to meet your best friend at Kagurazaka, there’s not a slightest worry in your bones. You chat freely, drink two cocktails on an almost empty stomach - your impromptu dinner with Rindou happened around four and now it was approaching midnight - and politely decline your friend’s invitation to stay over. She doesn’t live nearby, but her house is relatively closer than yours. It doesn’t matter to you.

You want to go home.

You catch the last train. It’s empty. The night is clear and beautiful. The glimmering lights of Tokyo are more than mesmerising. They are surreal. Nothing around you suddenly is real. You have an urge to draw the scenery. You dig into your bag, but there’s no pencil there nor there’s a piece of paper. It's almost like a lost chance, but instead of giving up, you memorise the view. How houses look, their lights, neon banners and small nooks.

High on Tokyo you arrive at Roppongi station. With a picture before your eyes you don’t notice three young men following you home. If you would, you probably would’ve thought better than cutting your way home and instead would've chose the main road. But you don’t and they feel incredibly lucky.

A beautiful girl and a purse with money.

Firstly, they yank your bag and when you don’t give it up easily they push you hard to the ground. You fall on the wet pavement utterly confused. Sharp pain goes through your ribs. You try to stand up, not hearing their mocking laughs and your keys falling to the ground.

It should be humiliating, but you don’t feel humiliated at all. Not even when the hands of one of them goes under your dress. It’s cold and wet and your body starts shaking with anger. You are silent when your first crashes onto his face. The stench of blood is suffocating and the skin on your knuckles brakes with a loud thud.

You doubt they hear it or care about it because one of them slaps you across your face. Your nose bleeds and blood plops down. It brings a salty taste to your mouth. It covers your collarbones and stains your dress. At this moment you know that there’s nothing you can do and that it is better to give up so you run to the convenience store. It’s two blocks away and there’s always a cashier inside. They won't dare to do anything in somebody’s presence won’t they?

It’s a fact that those who attacked you are cowards. Nobody else, but a coward would attack a girl in a dress returning home.

part 14.

Rindou sees you first.

He is without glasses - forgot them somewhere between arguing with Ran and forgetting to grab keys from their apartment - but he can clearly see the blood on your face and clothes. He drops the iced peach tea bottle and storms off past confused Ran.

It’s too late for Halloween parties and he knows you well enough to know that this is not some trickery. It’s the real blood coating very real you. He puts his palms on your shoulders, you are stiff underneath him, but you don’t cry and he takes this as a good sign. “What happened?”

“They…” You stutter, confused expression on your face, you don’t look at him, but between your bodies, at his nike shoes. They are white. As expected. You don’t want to stigmatise them red. “Somebody just attacked me. Three of them.”

“Who and where?” The voice is unfamiliar. He sounds similar to Rindou’s, but is more high and persuasive. Rindou never speaks like that. It might be somebody else.

This somebody else lingers behind his brother. His gaze never leaves your face and despite the situation he finds you very beautiful. There’s something about you that knocks him off immediately and when you raise your eyes at him he knows he is doomed.

Ran being Ran he shows none of it. Neither do you.

“Down the street to the left then again to the left and then to the right.” You explain, ignoring the intensifying grip of Rindou’s fingers clawing at your shoulder blades. “There were three of them.”

Ran flashes you a smile. It’s genuine and you are confused at what exactly is here to smile. “Rin take her home. I’ll be back soon.”

“Do you have it with you?”

Ran smirks. He follows the directions you gave him and disappears under the blue lights of lamps.

Not without showing his baton to worried Rindou. He makes a whole show of it, taking the weapon out of his sweats’ pocket and raising it up so it is visible. He doesn’t turn to look at you to see if you are watching him. He knows you both do.

part 15.

It’s your first time being inside their apartment, but no matter how much you want to tour it, Rindou shows you into the bathroom. It’s tiny and you pass a small dressing room to get inside wondering why there’s a sink in it, but you don’t get to ask because Rindo tells you to wait a second.

He brings you a change of fresh clothes. It’s black sweats and a grey oversized t-shirt. You want to ask to whom they belong, but somehow you understand they are Rindou’s. He wouldn’t just pass his brother’s clothes like this.

Before getting into the bathtub you examine your body. There are bruises on the left side that mark your skin from where your breasts are and all the way down to your leg. It’s almost like Rindou’s tattoo. You smirk and try not to move much, because once you see the damage it starts to hurt as if your brain only detects what can be seen. Fucking fascinating.

The door to the bathroom is not locked. You remember it when the first drops of hot water fall onto your aching body. You doubt Rindou or his brother would barge in though so you aren’t worried. Methodically, you wash your face, clean your scraped knee and watch blood mixed with water disappear through the drain. Once again everything feels out of place. Your blood, your black painted toenails, scratches and bruises it feels like they aren’t you. Like they aren’t yours. But the hurt reminds you very vividly that this is simply not true. It’s all you.

What happened today happened to you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

You look around yourself searching for the soap or something else that will scrap this day off you. On the white plastic shelf you notice two soaps, one shower gel and god knows how many hair products. There’s no way to tell what belongs to whom so you take whatever smells better to you.

Inside your head it’s silent. No replaying of the events. Nothing. It’s not that you do that deliberately. You are not sure you possess that kind of will. It’s extremely hard to choose what you want to think about. Thoughts are not like trains. You don’t get to miss some and then hop on the next, because you like it better. You’ll board every single one and live it thoroughly.

Want it or not.

“Did they smack you in the face?”

It’s the first thing Rindou asks when you emerge from the bathroom. He observes you carefully from the bar stool. Better than anybody else he knows what it’s like to deal with strong emotions and unpleasant situations. He is surprised though when you roll your eyes at him and laugh. Shouldn’t you be crying? Or is it that bad you numbed yourself? The sudden alert in his eyes sells you to him.

“They did. And they also pushed me to the ground. I have a huge bruise right here.” You show him where, pointing your hand from breasts to your leg. “Nothing to worry about though.”

He doesn’t understand why you are trying to comfort him when it should be the other way. He sighs. “Get on the sofa I’ll bring you an ice pack and this cream Ran got at the pharmacy the other day. Works like fucking magic. It’ll stop swelling and the colour won’t be so bad.”

You don’t ask him why they have this cream or so many other medicines. It’s pointless. It's common knowledge to you now what they are doing. You sit on the sofa where earlier today Ran took a short nap before he and Rindou went to the convenience store. Just at the right time to meet you. Coincidence or not you are really grateful you saw them there. You tell it to Rindou.

He shrugs. A small smile breaks out on his lips and he sits next to you handing you ice wrapped in two towels. “You would’ve come to me anyway. Even if we weren’t there. Right?”

“Probably yes. I dropped my keys and the trains stopped by now.” You put ice on your face. Gently. It hurts nonetheless.

“Probably.” He mocks you. And then silence feigns over you as he spreads cream for bruising between his palms.

It’s an unusual silence full of words and noise. Neither of you disturbs it. Each listening and hearing what they need to. You take this as a chance to observe the living room and small bits of kitchen. It’s behind you so you don’t turn and look at it afraid Rindou might find it noisey. He obviously wouldn’t.

“Is this your DJ booth?” You ask pointing at a huge table with what looks like a small laptop, DJ’s setups and so many other things you don’t know the proper name of. “I’ve never heard you using it. I bet you can hear it from my apartment”.

He turns around looking at and you find his gaze amusing. He looks at it like a man in love. Then an annoyed expression where his blonde eyebrows are furrowed and lips shut tight grace his features. “It’s because Ran is not allowing me to bring my friends home. Says we are too loud. He only likes it when Kakucho or Sanzu are here. He is not even letting me bring girls home. Says there are love hotels across Tokyo for a reason.” You laugh and your laugh is contagious because in a couple of minutes Rindou laughs too. It is rare to hear him laugh so wholeheartedly. He is usually most reserved and tries to keep everything to himself. You always wondered if it has to do something with how he was raised and how his older brother affected him? Keeping emotions stocked up inside yourself isn’t a biggie. The problem starts when they are too much and with them you too are getting too much.

To Rindou a way to loosen up and let go is a fight. You suspect just as much, but he never says it out loud. It’s an awful thing to say, he believes.

“Do you mind lifting your shirt up a bit? I warmed the cream for you.”

You do as he asks.

The situation would’ve been awkward would it be insinuated under different circumstances, but neither of you twists the meaning of what he is doing. He just tends to your wounds. In a very moderate and tame way. This is how you learn that despite his harshness and violent commitments, Rindou is a very kind - soft-hearted for his people even - person. It’s a shame you think of him like this only now when he was being like this all the time.

When everything is set and done, Rindou brings you a pillow and a patched velvet blanket. The blanket looks out of his style. All bright with knitted flowers it’s like a white spot was placed on Malevich’s “Black Square”. You realise, there are a lot of details and things you don’t know about him. Today’s events, however damaging they are, bring you closer to each other. Another milestone. And you finally met his brother.

Speaking of whom.

“Would your brother be okay?”

Your sudden question takes him by surprise. He goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on the stove. He intends to make a green tea for both of you. It will help him calm his nerves down and hopefully ease your headache and stress. The wave of it still hadn’t hit you. It is always the same for most people going through traumatic events. We all postpone the inevitable, bottle up emotions inside us, and on the second day or third week - it doesn't really matter when - do we accept that whatever we went through was real and valid. It happened and we need to live it through one more time before we let it go.

For some people, like Rindou, it never goes away. It builds him. It becomes one with him.

He hopes it won't happen to you.

He hopes you eventually forget all about it.

“Yeah. He is Ran Haitani.” You are yet to comprehend the meaning of the weight Haitani surname carries around Tokyo. Gangs, criminals, delinquents and their world is still uncrossed territory. Whatever you know you know from Rindou and your best friend. Both don’t say much. “Those who attacked you, did they want something else from you too? Did they try to do anything?”

Rindou settles a hot water pot and two cups on the table in front of you. Inside the cups there is dried tea. It smells delicious. Calming and reassuring.

“No. Even if they wanted to, I ran away before they could.” You lie. The print of the hand of the other man on your thigh is one of the few things you could recall. “By the way, these shower gel and shampoo you have, they smell amazing. I’ll buy the same.”

Squinting his eyes, he leans towards you and putting his hand on your head brings it closer to him so he can smell it. “I swear… Don’t tell Ran about it. He is already more cocky than he should be.” He sits back, relaxing on a plush sofa. “Mine is good too. It’s like a…”

“Like a mint.” You tease him.

He scowls. “Drink your tea and try to get some sleep.”

You bite another smile to yourself and do as he says.

Before you fall asleep you see those mesmerising lights of Tokyo.

You remind yourself to draw them.

part 16.

You and Rindou fall asleep before Ran comes home.

It’s almost dawn. The sky is shrugging off the black of the night and dresses in pretty pink, yellow and baby blue. In the city, one needs to go somewhere high to meet the sunrise or sunset. In Tokyo there are numerous locations for city viewing that usually attracts tourists. Because of that Ran hasn’t been to any of them. He thinks, going out for stargazing or to watch sunset or sunrise is stupid, anyway. He prefers to stay in and sleep.

He doesn’t like to be up all night either, but now, returning home he looks up at the sky and for the first time in his life, he might agree he was wrong. It’s gor-ge-ous.

The baton in his right hand is stained with blood. At first when he arrived at the alley where you were supposedly assaulted he got disappointed. No one was there. Drops of blood and your keys along with other stuff like lip balm, spiral hair tie and empty wallet with discount cards and coupons proved to him that he has not been mistaken. It was exactly where everything happened. Just no one was there anymore.

Carefully he picked everything up, checking twice, just so he didn’t miss something. Then, Ran called Sanzu. If you ever need to find someone, Sanzu is your choice.

He and Sanzu found them in an hour. They begged for forgiveness, but Ran was so tired and Sanzu was already so high. Nothing they could’ve said would be of any help. By the end of it all, they gave all the money they took from you and even more. Ran made sure they apologised enough. Pity, you were too far away to hear.

Now, the solemn apartment greets him with background noise only TV could make and Rindou’s soft snoring. Ran takes his shoes off, neatly puts them in the shoe box, places your bag on top of it and goes straight to the bathroom. It reeks of blood and his shampoo. On the tile floor lays your bloody dress. It’s pretty and stylish. Not too girly in his opinion and he likes it, but thinks you chose just the worst day to wear a beige short dress.

He lifts your dress and throws it in the basket where they store their dirty clothes. Doing so has a strange feeling to it. It shouldn’t be that natural. He should be weirded out by your presence in his sanctuary where he is at his most vulnerable and he knows you are here because he feels tiny little needles poking at his body.

Maybe he is just tired.

Or maybe - and Ran is sure it is the real reason - there was something so gut wrenching sweet about your face covered in blood under the neon sign of a convenience store, it was all he could think of since.

The immediate attraction he sensed towards you was now giving him hard times. You were Rindou’s friend. No. You were a very good friend of Rindou and while Ran couldn’t know if his brother liked you - like liked liked you - he could clearly tell that he cared about you so much he didn’t want you to meet Ran.

He fills the bathtub and slides into hot water. His skin is burning but it is a pleasant feeling. From the bathroom he can’t hear if he woken you or Rindou and he hopes he didn’t. He doesn’t have any energy to talk or look presentable or do anything really. What he desires is to fall asleep right here in the bathroom in warm hugs of water. He wishes someone could hug his tired brain the same way.

On his way to his room he can see the glimpse of you. He stops. It’s funny how you sleep where he slept not so long ago today and just now he was taking a bath where you had been taking it. Too, not so long ago.

He shakes his head.

Sometimes he thinks about the weirdest shit.

It’s crazy.

part 17.

Rindou wakes up first. He lets you sleep well past afternoon and when you open your eyes and emerge in his room he gives you back your bag and keys to your apartment.

He says he can’t find your dress anywhere.

He asks how you feel.

“I feel like my body was put through a meat grinder.” You shrug. “Other than that it’s fine. I am gonna go home now and prepare something to eat. You and your brother are welcome to crash at my place later.”

“Ran would appreciate it.”

You nod at him. With a bag in your hands you go home.

part 18.

It’s peculiar how yesterday evening another you was going out of your apartment and now this different version of you crosses threshold again like it’s nothing. You hang your key by the screw near the door, you take your shoes off, sit your bag on the backless stool right by the entrance and go inside.

You don’t lock your door. You doubt bad luck would strike you twice. And to be honest after what happened you don’t feel afraid at all. [Not that you were before.]

The image of night Tokyo is still in front of your eyes and it jumps in your heart alive demanding to be painted right this second. It’s very difficult to tame your creative urges, but you do your best and go straight to your bathroom. To shower and see how much bruising has progressed.

In the pale white light, with purple splotches and scratches your body looks different. It’s you and at the same time it’s not. You observe your reflection closely trying not to miss any detail. You want to remember this version of you. Harmed, but not beaten. But all there is is a strong sense of alienation. You lift your right arm up and the person in front of you does the same. You do the same with your left arm, then you stand on your tiptoes and then you jump and then you turn turn turn until your head feels fuzzy and you fall to the ground.

Afraid, you sneak a glance at the mirror. What would you do if there’s a person in the reflection? The mirror is clean. There is nothing that shouldn’t be there.

You let out a breath.

Everything is good.

Everything is going to be okay.

part 19.

The washing machine is half way through its programme when there's a knock at your door.

“Oi. Why didn’t you lock your door?” It’s Rindou. You can hear him taking his shoes off and making his way to the kitchen. By now he knows your apartment like the back of his hand. “You should be more careful.”

You shake your head, disapproving. “I doubt someone would break into my apartment.” In your hands you form a ball of rice. Large handful. Your already made onigiri lined up on the kitchen table look perfect to Rindou. You however see every bit of essential rice poking out. You sigh and add. “Besides, what would they find here? My canvases? My pastels? My collection of coloured pencils? I don’t even own a TV.”

“You.” He deadpans, stealing a mouthful of shredded tuna mixed with mayo. “Just lock your door. That’s all. Two fillings? Is this one salmon teriyaki?” The spoon he found in tuna goes all the way to the - indeed - salmon with teriyaki sauce and spring onions. He doesn't bat an eye that he is doing something wrong when he puts the spoon back. Instead he looks around. Almost anxiously. He raises up from the table and goes all the way to the pots sitting on the stove. WIth one swift motion he lifts lids and checks what’s inside. He gasps. “Did you make rice with eggs and spam? It’s Ran’s comfort food. He would eat anything now though. He hasn’t had a proper meal in days.”

“He doesn’t seem like a person who would skip a meal.” You mumble, contemplating between taking a new spoon or continue using the one Rindou had so nonchalantly put in his mouth, devouring onigiri fillings.

“I said a proper meal. He was surviving on ready-to-gos.”

“Still better than salt and vinegar chips, I guess.” You shoot him a teasing smile which he warmly accepts with a mocking scowl.

You choose not to change the spoon.

While you continue to prepare dinner Rindou disappears somewhere inside your apartment. Judging by his heavy loud footsteps he is in your bedroom.

There is only one thing he could do there and it’s checking your sketchbook. Earlier today after the quick shower and getting laundry set up you sat down on your bed wrapped in a large towel that felt like a cloud and drew for an hour. Creativity, that art provided you, eased your mind. Soon enough the ache in your mind and body started to fade. In that urban drawing you were sketching, events of yesterday never happened. There, you were never assaulted. You were still on the train going from Kagurazaka to Roppongi. Thinking about nothing and feeling everything.

There, you still haven’t met Ran.

Why you think of him at that moment is confusing. There is no logic behind it. Something somewhere inside of you just brought his being out. Thinking about it, you didn’t even have a chance to properly introduce yourself to each other. You never planned on meeting him so you never thought about how it would go, but still there’s a hint of disappointment that the first time he saw you, you were covered in blood.

The painting in your lap is unfinished. It’s half way through. Or even less. Urban sketches demand a lot of time because of all the tiny details they consist of. Pursing your lips, you look at the drawing, not sure if you like it or want to rip it apart. Abrupt throw - which is Ran Haitani - halt the whole process to an end. You won’t draw a single line today. That much you understand.

Now, sitting on your bed, gazing at your sketchbook, Rindou for whatever reason it may be recognizes not the Tokyo or its lights or its small alleys, but his older brother. Yes, it’s buildings. Yes, it’s street lamps. Yes, it’s hundreds of windows and lanterns of the small alley where in the morning merchants will sell fresh fish, vegetables and street-food. And yet, all he sees is Ran. It’s so evident it knocks him off. He almost has trouble breathing and he so wants to ask you if you did it deliberately. Knowing what you are doing and still doing it on purpose.

He is afraid you might find it stupid because it’s a landscape. And more than anything Rindou doesn’t like to put himself in a situation where someone would think he is stupid. He hates the feeling.

Silently, he closes your sketchbook and places it on your nightstand where he notices a manga. It’s the second volume of “Kagen no Tsuki” by Ai Yazawa. He grabs it and brings it with him to the kitchen where he sits across from you. You are still making onigiri.

“Don’t read it. It’s a really sad story. I cried for days. And every time I reread it, I still cry like the first time.” You warned him noticing the manga in his hands. “I am almost done. Will your brother come soon or do you wanna go fetch him? The food will go cold.”

The reminder of Ran coming from your mouth unsettles him. There is no reason for him to feel this way, but he still does. He clenches the book so much his knuckles go white. If you notice you don’t say anything. “Why do you keep reading it time after time if it’s sad and makes you cry?”

“I guess I love sad stories.” You say simply, licking your lips after. You finish the last onigiri, put it on the plate and rise from the chair. Your body aches, but you stretch anyway. “And it’s Ai Yazawa, Rindou. You can’t help, but return to her stories.” All of a sudden, a thought that you would never find him stupid, flashes through his mind and eventually he relaxes.

The book slips from his grip.

part 20.

Ran is wearing a dark grey loose knitted sweater - it has the same colour as pavement outside your building - and a pair of baggy black sweats. His hair is tied into two neatly done braids. If you thought Rindou has long hair it’s just because you haven’t seen his brother’s yet. Yellow tails of his braids reach just below his thorax.

They are probably hella long undone.

Ran looks cosy and sleepy. His downturned eyes scan the room almost curiously, but there’s no lively emotions just yet. Until he stumbles at you and Rindou. The corner of his lips tug upward. Just a bit. Then his lips form a shape of “o” as he sees Rindou helping you set the table. Something he hasn’t seen in… forever? Domesticity was a foreign concept to them both.

“The door was unlocked.” He says, leaning on the countertop with his elbow.

Ran looks as if he hasn’t spent a single thought on his looks and came right away as he was. Rolled out of bed and emerged in your apartment. This however couldn’t be true. You’ve seen the enormous variety of shampoo, gel showers and other cosmetic necessities [totally unnecessary for Rindou though] in their bathroom.

Hearing about the door you shoot Rindou a smug glance which immediately sparked an interest in Ran. He has never been with you two together and now seeing you interact so smoothly, in a familiar way, naturally created a lot of assumptions. Were you and Rindou that close?

Despite yesterday's question he could now admit that there was not an ounce of romance between you and his younger brother. Ran almost felt sorry for asking.

“I didn’t lock it because I am here and Ran was coming too.” The tone of his voice is flat like he is explaining the most obvious thing in the world to a two year old. You raise your eyebrows at him and grin, handing Rindou a disk with different kobachis on top of it. It has pickles, onions, and sauces.

“First of all, he could perfectly open it even with it being locked. Secondly, do you always cook so much or is it just because we are here?”

He wants to say something else, but Rindou is quick to interrupt him. “Nah. She’s always like this. She just likes cooking.” You nod at this because it’s true. You do like cooking. Very much. “She also likes drawing. And reading. And flowers.”

These all are true too and you are amazed that Rindou is quick to tell all of your interests. It’s either you are blant or he is very observant and caring.

Unlike his younger brother, Ran doesn’t wander off around your apartment. He stays at your side at all times quietly observing you. The truth is in the small details and that’s why he doesn’t take his eyes off you, noticing every single little one. Those that stood out and those that were well hidden. His act is impulsive and he is not very well aware of it. Rindou is and he thinks that this is why he wanted to keep you off his world. To Rindou it’s like his brother is tainting you.

At the table they sit across from you. By this time it’s mostly you and Ran speaking. He properly introduces himself and you do the same. Even if there’s no need for you too because Ran is not hiding that he heard about you before. Still it’s a polite thing to do. So you tell him your name, your age and that you came from Obihiro to Tokyo to study law. He jokes that he is good at breaking the law and you both laugh while Rindou rolls his eyes.

“Did you paint it?” Ran asks, showing the picture behind you. It’s an oil painting of Kyoto Temple. There is a lot of green from the trees in front, but even with that the painting looks solemn. Grey stormy skies and dark facade of the temple carry something ominous in it.

“No. My late grandma painted it. I don’t use oil paints. I actually never got to work with them so I don’t know how to control them. I am more into dry materials. And I’ve never been to Kyoto.”

“Like pencils?” Ran is on his second portion of rice with spam. It’s delicious and though he is not a big on eating like Rindou, he can’t stop himself. Everything you cooked melts on his tongue. “I wanna see your drawings.”

“Yeah. Like pencils, pastels, charcoal. Something like that.”

“Since when do you know anything about art?” Asks Rindou. He puts his chopsticks aside and steals onigiri. You assume he took the tuna one, but you can’t be sure because when you were arranging them, Rindou volunteered to help, then mixed up the plates and put everything together. A total mess.

Ran shakes his head as if he is laughing. No sound comes out of his mouth though. He turns to his brother, eyeing him. “I don’t know anything. But! I like fashion and contrary to you Rin I have this natural feeling for…” He stops talking and carefully chooses his next words. “For beautiful things.”

Rindou groans in frustration and covers his face with his hands. Ran laughs. For real this time. His laugh is elegant and light. You can’t decide if it suits him or not. Ran is like a closed book. You can’t read him and you have no idea what is going on inside of his brain. He doesn’t seem like a dangerous person to you and despite knowing that in fact he is pretty much dangerous you have this feeling - call it a premonition - that he won’t ever hurt you. Nonetheless his closeness bothers you. Not to the extent of keeping you on your toes, of course. But still, it’s not the most pleasant thing.

While they bicker you slip out of the table and go to your bedroom. There you grab your recent sketchbook and some older ones. You also bring out the last canvas you’ve done. On it is a half-way finished forest with a shrine. The only coloured part of this drawing is a forest. Everything else is still a sketch. You think you might return to it today. If you aren’t that tired, that’s all.

In the living room Ran polishes off what seems to be another portion of fried rice and spam. Rindou didn’t lie when he said his brother was hungry. They both raise their eyes at you when you enter the room. Munching on the food, Ran is quick to stand up and offer you some help. This is a mere polite gesture from him. Few sketchbooks and a canvas aren’t that heavy. You and him both know that.

And so does Rindou.

He also knows his brother well enough to understand that this action was spontaneous. Something Ran wasn’t really expecting of himself either.

It’s already past ten when Ran finishes looking through your works. He doesn’t compliment them or actually say anything at all. His long fingers skip page after page going through months worth of drawings. When something catches his attention he rests his sleepy eyes on it and studies it for some minutes. Besides furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lower lip, Ran's face remains impassive. Once again you can’t even imagine what goes on inside of him.

Does he like your art or not? Anxiety crawls inside of you.

“When I am rich enough, like a multimillionaire kinda rich, I’ll buy every single one of your art.” Ran says it without raising his eyes at you so he doesn’t catch how you nervously swallow, your throat doing a bulb motion, fingers locked. Instantly after his word the tension evaporates from your body. Why were you so jittery? Opinions of other people rarely touch you in an important way. Let alone about your art. “What is this drawing about?”

Between his thumb and an index finger is your latest sketch. The one you started today. You tilt your head so you can see it better. As if trying to see it through his eyes. [You obviously fail at it.] You take a deep breath before explanation pours from your lips - or your heart. Rindou next to Ran stiffens. He is too interested in this particular sketch. For a different reason than Ran. “When I was returning home yesterday I took the train and I saw this view outside. The train was going slow so I could take a mental picture and I just liked it, I guess. You know, all those lights and side streets, stars. Looked quite memorable.”

He hums presumably agreeing and positions the sketchbook with the drawing on the table, leaning it against your glass full of grape soda. Then, Ran puts his elbows on his knees and props his chin on his intertwined fingers; they look like a bridge. He observes the drawing delicately before he sighs and turns his head to you. “It reminds me of something, but I can’t tell what it is. Can I have it?”

It’s out of character for him to ask permission when the whole evening he was doing what he wanted and giving dismissive orders.

“It’s not done yet, but when I finish I’ll give it to you.”

“Wait a damn second. Why did you never offer me some of your drawings? I want the one with cats.” Rindou is quick to reach out for the old sketchbook of yours. He gives the impression to have memorised their insides by heart as almost immediately he finds what he was looking for. It’s an A4 vertically turned sketch of various cats in the grass. He angles it and pokes at it. “This one.”

“I never offered because you didn’t ask.” You laugh. “You can have it, Rindou. Do you want me to give you a frame for it? I think I have one just in the right size.”

The rest of the evening goes steady and slowly. You cut out the ‘cats sketch’ out of the sketchbook and frame it; indeed you have a frame that fits like a glove. Or does the sketch fit the frame? You have no clue. It doesn’t really matter when for the first time you feel so calm and at peace.

None of you mention yesterday’s event.

None of the boys eye your peeking through your spaghetti strap tank top bruise. Neither of them addresses your slightly discoloured face and an evident rip of the skin under your nose.

They go home at two in the morning.

You give them remaining onigiri for breakfast.

part 21.

You sit on your sofa, legs prompt under you, pencil in hands when you hear the doorbell ring. It’s dark outside, even though it’s barely five in the evening. Winter is almost here. And day by day it gets colder and colder.

Apparently, the chill air eats the daylight away. The allegory appears funny to you.

Today you missed the classes and declined the invitation of your best friend to go on a double date with her brother to Hamarikyu Gardens. You said you might have caught a cold yesterday on your way home. You haven’t told her about the assault and you don’t think you will.

Nothing really bad happened and she would worry in vain. Right or wrong, it is what you believe in the moment. So you keep your mouth sealed tight.

The bell rings the second time. Impatiently. You sense that if you won’t open the door immediately the person on the other side of it would break in regardless. Groaning, you stand up from the sofa and pad to the entrance. Pencil and sketchbook forgotten on the floor.

It’s Ran. When you open the door without asking who it is on the other side you see him, wearing a light coat over a green sweater and black jeans. His outfit looks expensive and well composed. In his hands he holds two paper bags. Those are from the nearest supermarket. He grins when he sees you.

“Do you know how to cook tonkatsu?”

“Did you buy eggs?”

“Yes. Pork, eggs, flour, cabbage, some sauces…” He lowers his eyes down and peeks inside the bags. “Oh! Sangaria Hajikete for you. Mushrooms too. Green onion. I think I forgot noodles.”

“I have noodles and rice at home. Come on in.”

He grins again when you invite him inside your apartment and you can’t help it, but smile back. He hangs his coat near your jacket, takes off his sneakers and follows you to the kitchen where he places bags on the countertop. You help him take out groceries noticing midway how relaxed he is. The confidence might run in Haitani’s genes because Rindou is exactly the same.

As if reading your mind - you can’t be sure he doesn’t possess such power - he informs you on Rindou’s whereabouts. “Rin is with Kaku at the gym. You know those guys that would rather live at the gym than at their house? Those are them.”

“Rindou told me he likes exercising. I mean at least it’s healthy, right?” You take the meat out of the container and rinse it in the sink. From the corner of your eyes you see Ran reaching out for the plate where you could put the meat later. Somehow it didn’t cross your mind. “Thank you. And what do you like to do in your free time?”

“Sleeping. Napping. Shopping.” He helps you lay the meat by bringing the plate closer to you. “And barging into apartments and making girls cook for me.”

“Funny.” You do actually find it funny. Not as a poor joke itself, but rather as a lame excuse for flirting. If he even considers it flirting. “Okay, now while I'm doing the meat would you take over chopping vegetables? It's not hard at all.”

“Do I look like a person who can’t cut vegetables?”

He raises his eyebrows at you and for the first time you notice their colour. Blonde. You almost ask him about why he decided to dye his hair half-half, but hold yourself back. Even if he welcomed himself into your house, even if he is acting as if you know each other for a long time and even if he is Rindou’s brother, you can’t just ask him whatever you want.

Ran, of course, thinks otherwise.

He thinks the silence you keep is because of his eye colour.

“They are amethyst like. Rindou’s are more on the lavender side.”

“What?

“Why were you staring at me?”

“Your eyebrows are blonde. I was thinking you would look good with blonde hair.”

His eyes go wide and then he grins for the third time this day around you. Ran shakes his head in amusement and fishes out of the drawer long silver knife. He checks it with his finger to see if it’s sharp enough. He takes his time to choose the right knife. One might think he has an opinion on them. You give him the cutting board. He probably knew where they were stored too. You are not worried about it. He might have memorised everything from yesterday.

“I don’t think I’ll ever go fully blonde again.” He confesses after some time. You turn to him waiting for what he has to say. Ran’s full focus is on cutting green onions - you must admit he does it easily, every chop is neat and of the same size - when he resumes. “When I killed that guy my hair was blonde and long. They shaved everything off at juvy. I hated it. Gladly my hair grows out fast.”

There’s almost nothing to say without probing further on this unsettling topic. Rindou told you about it just once and then you’ve never returned to it. There was no need and it was evident that Rindou didn’t like to talk about it. Nor did he particularly speak a lot about their days at juvy. Everything was brief. But one thing you remember clearly. Rindou said they killed them when Ran said that he did it.

Despite your attempt to remain neutral you frown.

“Rindou told you we did it together, didn’t he? He always presents it like we did it together, but in fact it was me. I knocked out the captain with one blow and then I killed the vice. You couldn’t recognize his face. It was Rin who told me to stop. All he did was just hold him down and maybe dislocate one or two joints. Rin is hella strong.”

“Yeah he likes to prove it all the time. Opening all jars, bottles. You know.”

In fact, Rindou is a caring person and he does all of this not to validate himself, but to help. Nonetheless, the warmth spreads in his chest everytime you tease him that he likes to appear strong.

But today it’s not about Rindou. It’s about Ran and so he asks the obvious. “Aren’t you scared of me?”

“No. Why would I?” You bring out three small bowls and fill them with flour, eggs and breadcrumbs. Thoughtful Ran brought them made so you didn’t need to crumb the bread. “And my point still stands. I think you’d look good with blonde hair.”

She’s unbelievable, he thinks, and the feeling he had the night before only intensifies. This small premonition of love haunts him, but try all he wants, he can’t shake it off. It’s already made a nest inside of him. Like a little lost bird who neglects his lame excuse of a heart.

“I have old pictures. I’ll show them to you.”

“Sounds good. Now grate the cabbage. I’ll deal with the meat.”

He only hums in response.

In thirty minutes everything is ready. Ran is more helpful in the kitchen than Rindou, who leaves you alone and spreads on the couch going through your manga or book, is. It might be because Ran is older and he needed to take care of his younger brother all this time. It’s unknown since when they started to live on their own and where their parents are and if they had them in their lives at all. Rindou had never breached the topic so naturally you thought that he avoided it. Those memories got to be the most painful ones.

You set the table alone. It’s a monotonous task. Bring the cutlery, plates, place all the food and glasses. Nothing too difficult. It bores you a bit. From the living room you can hear Ran speaking on the phone with Rindou. He told you he’d give him a call to tell him everything is ready. His voice is muffled and you have no desire to eavesdrop on them. Privacy is privacy even inside your apartment.

The steam coming off tonkatsu makes it appear all the more delicious. You contemplate stealing a piece to try if it’s as tasty as it looks, but assume it will ruin the whole composition of nicely laid out meat you spent a good ten minutes arranging. Shredded cabbage seems fresh and savoury too. You wonder if you are just too hungry or it’s been ages since you’ve had tonkatsu and that’s why it looks so delicious.

You are glad Ran stopped by.

“You know how I wanna name this sketch?” He stands at the entrance of the kitchen - a place where the living room and small dinery are connected; a safe-zone - holding the sketchbook you left on the floor when he rang the doorbell. “Koi no yokan.”

“A premonition of love?”

All of a sudden it seems fitting. The best name anyone could think of. Honest and raw. Just like your sketch. Just like you. Just like Ran. In front of each other without embellishments.

“Yeah.” He nods, coming closer with a sketchbook still in his hands. His eyes widened in surprise as if he wasn’t preparing dinner with you. “It smells too good. Let’s eat. Rin said he will be late. They just started on the second set of whatever the name of that machine was.”

At the dinner table you sit in front of each other and just like yesterday Ran devours everything he lays his eyes upon. You both chat freely and effortlessly. It’s you who does most of the speaking and he who asks all the questions. Ran learns a lot about you. He discovers he loves it even.

At last, he asks. “Do you wanna know what happened to those guys?”

“No, but thank you. You didn’t need to do that, but yet you still did.”

“Sanzu was with me.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind. Maybe I’ll introduce you one day. Do you like burgers? We could make some tomorrow. What time will you be at home?”

“I am not planning to go anywhere. So anytime. And yes I love burgers.”

He winks at you. “Noted. I’ll bring everything you don’t need to buy anything.”

Smile graces your face and you take a sip of grape soda he bought just for you.

It tastes more delicious than ever. You can’t help, but wonder why.

part 22.

Of course, the very next day Ran is at your door again. As promised.

He carries grocery bags and behind his rather broad shoulders, you can see Rindou’s blond hair pulled up in a messy bun peeking at you. Ran grins, pushing forward as he welcomes himself in your apartment. Rindou rolls his eyes, fascinated at both - how cosy and comfortable Ran is with you just after your second meeting and how cosy and comfortable you are with him.

But then, there’s nothing too unanticipated. Ran’s charisma and charms are well-known all over Tokyo. He is very handsome too which only ever worked in his favour. And, more importantly in Rindou’s opinion, Ran’s is not gloomy. If anything, his usual expression is a beautiful mixture of melancholy and sadness that seems to make every girl fawn over Ran.

Not that Rindou ever had any problems with girls. He is Haitani after all. They will always remain popular.

What you don’t know and haven't seen yet is that Ran is an absolutely vicious person. He can be cruel without limits. A lot of times, in fights, it’s Rindou who stops him. He believes - and rightfully so - he is the only one who can. Once raged and challenged Ran doesn’t know the limits.

Not that Rindou is any better.

They just maintain control over each other like brothers should.

After burgers, comes mentaiko pasta and after it ramen and then gyoza - which Ran surprisingly can seal very well and Rindou once again for the thousand-ish times in his life feels lesser than his almighty older brother is - then some other western dish and then it’s just an insanely delicious food carousel neither of you can remember.

Once Ran brought some old photographs he had. Looking at them Rindou had a vague disorienting ache that transmitted that he was looking at strangers. There were their old friends. Them before juvie. Other people and the same places in Roppongi that now were again theirs. All his life everything Rindou was dreaming was to be like Ran and then own Roppongi, a place they called home. But as Ran passes pictures to you, explaining what is forever imprinted on them and who all those people are [some of them are dead despite being so young; and now they’ll forever remain so] Rindou feels sudden abruption of everything he holds dear to him.

Was it all really worth it? Does he like what he does? Aren’t all his goals and envisions for the future of those small bulky boy in the picture, but not him as of now? Would he always follow Ran?

Yes. Yes. No. Yes.

He chants as a mantra.

One day, late at night, after another delicious dinner at your place, Rindou is sprawling on the sofa when Ran wrapped in a towel shows up from the bathroom. They look at each other and the excruciating thoughts going on inside Rindou’s head are so evident they appear to Ran like neon signs. Bleeding. Ran loves his little brother so he asks first knowing that Rindou would never dare to approach the topic first. At least not today. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Fends off Rindou sitting up. His glasses slide down over his nose to his lips and Ran bites down a laugh.

His little brother. His own flesh and blood. “I know what you want to ask so ask away and stop tormenting yourself.”

“What is the point of me voicing it if you know what I wanna ask anyway?”

Ran sighs and sits opposite of him, spreading his arms on the sofa’s back and crossing his legs. He rests his head on one of his arms, tilting it at an awkward angle that just looking at him makes you feel uncomfortable. “Because I want to hear it from you.”

“Can you promise me not to do anything with her?”

Who is her goes without saying. It’s you.

Before answering Ran shrugs, licking his insanely perfect white teeth and tilting his head backwards, he closes his eyes, sighing. “Why?”

“Because we don’t have a lot of trust-worthy nice people around us, Ran. I don’t want to end up choosing between you and her, because the choice is fucking obvious. Let’s keep it friendly coded.” Rindou sounds desperate. His words are crude and raw and honest. He calls out to his brother, already knowing, that whatever plea he invokes it’s lost in the vast void of Ran’s feelings. Rindou is confused, but he wouldn't be who he is today, if not for his ability to stand his ground. So he takes a deep breath and continues. “Listen, Ran, do you think it’s safe to date? Like we are not what we were before when it was just fucking around and punching randoms outside. Tenjuku is serious. Izana is fucking serious. Shion is a mad fucking dog and Kanji is crazy. Sanzu is only behaving when he sniffs a line. Out of them only Kaku and Koko are the only…”

“Rin.” Ran raises a hand to stop his brother. He sits straight and for a very long time looks at Rindou without saying anything. He searches for the right words and then his mind is going blank because all he knows is that there’s something rotten inside of you. And Ran wants to carve it out. He saw it the first time you two met face to face the night you were assaulted. From that day all he wants is to tug at your insides, clean what hides behind your ribs, reach your soul and make it his. Make you pure and perfect again. He has no idea how to communicate all of this to Rindou so he says the most blatant shit neither of them believes, but they both eat it up anyway. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything. And most definitely I wasn’t planning on dating her or anybody else.”

“Good.” Rindou purses his lips and his face loses all its colour. His tan is not helping him a bit. “Thank you.”

They sit not moving or speaking for a little bit, settling in a comfortable usual silence. Ran looks at the table in front of him and Rindou stares at the huge floor to ceiling window. He can’t see shit from his place. Just a bit of neon lights and the building across. Better than nothing. Those simple things keep his mind occupied until he hears Ran standing up. He turns his head in his direction and catches a towel slipping down Ran’s hips. Rindou screams.

“Why. Is. This. Shit. Always happening to you? Are you doing it on purpose?”

“Why are you always reacting like you’ve never seen it? We go to sento every other week.”

“Doesn’t mean I wanna see your dick! It was a fucking jumpscare!”

Ran grins. “Big and scary?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Go put some clothes on.”

The atmosphere shifts and suddenly everything is back to normal.

They both love each other very much.

part 23.

The desire not to let his world incorporate you fails. The fall is sudden, not expected at all and Rindou thinks it was him who jinxed you all, because once you get obsessed with something - in both ways, negative and positive - it will for sure crawl its way into your life.

That’s why when Ran points at your back asking Rindou if his eyes are not lying to him and it’s really you, he is not surprised. Perhaps he was even expecting something like this to happen. Just not so soon.

It’s the middle of December. The weather is so cold and windy you feel it in your bones. At least it’s not snowing and roads are walkable. Not that Rindou or Ran walked. They both arrived in Ran’s new Honda NSX-R he bought second-hand not long ago. Though he never cared for cars, his white slick Honda became his obsession. He doted on it more than he ever had on any other thing. Besides Rindo, that’s it.

The small, but still spacious club in Roppongi is full with people. Loud music hits every wall and then gets back to the middle of the dance floor, shaking everything that gets in the way. The floor is constantly vibrating and the smell of alcohol is so sharp it intoxicates even those who aren’t drinking, boosting the wild environment. People dance and drink, most of them being underaged, but because they are part of one or the other gang, they are in.

You are not the one to complain though. You got in only because of your best friend’s brother.

From where they stand - a VIP zone - Rindou can’t really see if it’s you, but his gut feeling tells him yes. He knows for a fact that you were supposed to go out today and now he regrets he didn’t ask for details. Maybe somehow he would've talked you out of it or not show up himself. Half of the Tenjiku are here and what is the worst of all S-62 generation too. Except for Izana, but he was never big on clubs or parties.

Would it be too impolite to not greet you? Would you even notice that? Have you noticed them at all? Neither of them can say. Communicating only with their eyes, Ran urges his brother to follow him. He is both intrigued at what are you doing at famously delinquents only club - not that ordinary normal people are never here - and why are you doing chatting up Toman members. So he pushes forward to you through the crowd. Rindou is closely behind him.

When they approached your group, the smile from everybody’s faces vanished. Haitani brothers are never good news. It seems everybody knows that, but you, because you grin and a bit tipsy you give your hand out to Ran. He laughs, his laugh is velvety as usual, and shakes your hand for longer than needed. Now everyone's eyes are on you.

“I didn’t know you would be here!” You say surprised, clearly happy to see him. Much to his delight and your friends' confusion. “Is Rindou here too?”

“Yeah, of course he is. I saw you from there.” Ran slightly turns his body and shows you where he and Rindou have been up most of the night. You listen to him attentively, focusing really hard on what he says and lean a bit closer when you can’t hear him. “... decided to say hi. For how long are you gonna stay here?”

The answer is lost on your tongue because Rindou, clearly pissed, shows up right in front of you. His cheeks are slightly pink. It might be from alcohol or from the heat of enclosed space with so many people in it. That you too can feel.

Rindou waves at you and glares at Ran. You laugh at their interaction. You’ve never been out with them both before rather than at your convenience store near the house and seeing them behave exactly like you are used to when they are at your place or you are at theirs is pretty relaxing.

“Those are my friends. My best friend is here and this is her brother.” You introduce your company having no idea that they already know each other. “And this is Ran and Rindou. We are neighbours and really good friends.”

Neither of them shake hands or smile at each other. The tension that fills the air is tangible. It’s slicky and warm. You want it gone. Puzzled you look from Ran to your best friend’s brother and then to your best friend who shrugs her shoulders. Lastly you look at Rindou whose eyes are not angry anymore, but sorrowful. You frown and step closer to him, wanting to ask what’s going on, but Ran speaks first.

“It was nice to meet you. You all have fun.”

With that he waves at you and disappears into the crowd. Rindou, not saying a word, goes after him, throwing a haste look at you.

He thinks what just happened was fucking embarassing.

part 24.

This club is a neutral territory - it’s in Roppongi so informally it’s controlled by the Haitani brothers - but misunderstandings still happen.

Neither of your friends said much to you after Rindou and Ran left. Two questions asked were how did you know them and if you were close. That’s all. The party continued and the gloomy face your best friend’s brother wore for a short time dissolved under the influence of alcohol.

You tried to search for either of the brothers scanning with your eyes the dance floor, the bar and the DJ booth. Nothing. The VIP zone was closed off and no matter at what angle you looked you couldn’t see past its dark curtains.

Sudden encounter left you with a bitter taste. You felt like you did something wrong. Said something that you weren’t supposed to say or acted in an unexpected way that everybody hated. The cruel flavour of iron is strong in your throat. Distress doesn’t depart from you the whole evening.

The fight that happens that night inside of the club is almost fatal. You didn’t see much of it starting, but music comes to a halt and then lights are on and it’s blinding and the shouts and sound of skin being ripped and crushing bones are speaking for themselves. Some people rush out of the doors which causes a massive panic. Somebody is calling the police and then when this fact is made public the panic intensifies.

You freeze clutching your best friend’s hand. She hurriedly speaks to her brother, nodding her head when he responds. There’re shouts from everywhere and people are rushing by you to the exit. Everything and everyone falls to silence when a guy jumps off the stairs to where the fight is happening - in the middle of the dance floor. He is around the same height as Ran and might be the same age or close. What catches your eyes is his tattoo. It goes all the way from his temple to his neck. The V-neck sweater he wears is perhaps on purpose so everyone can see it. Just as the shaved left side of his head.

“It’s Shion Madarame, one of the Heavenly Kings.” Now that it’s so silent you can hear your best friend’s brother whispering it. “We need to get out. It’s gonna get really violent.”

That is when you notice that the entrance is blocked. Nobody’s moving or speaking or perhaps even breathing. Everyone’s attention is on Shion.

“Whatcha you guys think you were fucking doing?” He spits at the floor before pulling out metal brass knuckles. He puts it on his right hand almost teasingly. So lazily, his every move seems to be captured in slow motion. He laughs when he raises his head and sees pure animalistic fear spreading on the faces before him. Adrenaline is kicking high.

Those two guys that started the fight are no longer opponents. They might even forget what they were fighting about.

When Shion without any warning lands a fist to the first guy's chest, the poor creature flies to the wall behind him hitting people standing there. This guy is taller and more muscular than Shion, but still he doesn’t fight back even when Shion straddles him and punches his face. Nobody really does anything. They all watch and watch and watch. Violent smell of blood evaporates every other.

Somebody cries.

The fight - which in all honesty is not a fight at all, but a massacre since no one stops it or intervenes and neither of the boys show any resistance - turns into killing. From where you stand you can’t see the details and now you wonder what those two unlucky boys looked like. You can’t tell and probably none will in two months or so; the damage Shion has done to their face is beyond recognition.

You spot Rindou sitting on the stairs. Ran stands next to him twirling the baton in his hands. He is talking to some guy you see for the first time. They all are unbothered by what’s going on beneath them. Rindou is the only one who intently observes every move of Shion. But it doesn’t seem like he is regretful or anything like that. He scrutinises every move with a purpose of remembering it so he can use it against someone else later. That much is evident.

The guy next to Ran has a buzz cut and huge peculiar scar that you think he might have earned in some fight. Receiving it for sure hurt like hell. It doesn’t make him appear ugly though. This guy looks almost gentle. Especially when he smiles at something Ran said. You wonder what in this situation might seem funny to them, but then you have no clue what they are talking about.

Soon, another guy with long white hair shows up on the stairs. He wears a mask and you can’t see his face, but he seems young. Younger than you. He too is obviously in a gang. Masked as he is, he shoves himself in between Ran and the guy with a scar and says something. Rindou hears it as he turns his head into their direction.

“Shion! That’s enough. Let them be.” Ran gets down the stairs and stands behind Shion’s back who continues punching the guys as if he is not hearing Ran. Probably he is not. The excitement in his body is too much; it clouds every other feeling. “Shion! Stop! Police are on their way. Come on. It’s enough.”

Still, nobody moves. Nobody tries to escape. The next thing you know is Ran raising his baton and the sharp sound of air sliced in two fills the club. He strikes a couple of times. That much you counted, but it got to be more, because blinded with rage Shion throws himself at Ran.

Rindou is quick to assist his brother as well as the guy with the scar. The only one who remains on the stairs is the guy with the mask. You hear the baton working again and then Shion is screaming. Ran laughs.

“Come to your fucking sences, Madarame.” Spits the guy with the scar and then he turns to the crowd. “What are you all still doing there? Get those two to the ER and… Shit!”

His last words are lost in the noise of the police siren and people shouting. Whatever that paralysis was, it's now gone. Everyone is pushing and kicking again. You hold your friend’s hand for dear life. It’s easy to lose each other.

Somebody’s hand is on your shoulder when you are halfway to the exit. You think that someone mistook you or was just grabbing you to remain on their feet. However the person tugs you at them and annoyed you look back to see who it is.

It’s Ran.

He says something and you shake your head indicating that you can’t hear him. Not with what’s going on around you. It’s a mess. He visibly sighs, his chest going up and down. He then steps forward and says something to your best friend’s brother. They exchange some words quickly and then you all are led back from where you came by Ran.

Hand in hand he takes you through the personnel area to the emergency exit.

Outside it’s colder now than when you came. You shiver and he looks at you. His eyes inspect every bit of you as if he wants to make sure you are okay. You are. He seems satisfied by it.

“We all should be going. How did you come here?” He again speaks to the brother of your best friend.

“By car.”

“Good. Get your girl and friends and get going.” Ran turns to the left where his own car is parked in the distance. Your hand still lays in his. Without second thought you go after him.

No one thinks of correcting him that the girl is his sister not his girlfriend. No one cares.

Police sirens are getting closer when your best friend speaks up. “Isn't she coming with us?”

Ran stops, confused, he looks at you and then at your friends as if he doesn’t understand why she is even asking that. “No. We are neighbours. I’ll take her home.”

“Did you even ask her?” It’s your friend’s brother. There’s irritation in his voice. You’ve never heard him speak like that to anyone.

“Are you trying to pull this Toman noble cavalry shit on me now?” You see the baton for the second time today. It has red stains on it. He stretches his hand with it pointing at your friends. “Cause I am really tired and not in the mood to…”

“It’s okay.” You intervene by putting a hand on Ran’s wrist. “It’s okay. I don’t mind going with Ran. I trust him. You have nothing to worry about.”

There’s another smug expression of satisfaction on Ran’s face. His body relaxes and he drops your hand. Without saying anything he lazily goes to his car, unlocking the door for you first. You get inside.

As you pass by your friends you give them a wave and they nod at you.

Everything seems to be okay.

part 25.

After fifteen minutes in Ran’s car you notice that he isn’t in fact taking you home.

You were busy looking at his car, its leather interior, the busy lights of Tokyo and Ran himself.

“I am taking us to my favourite ramen place. It’s a bit too far, but they serve the best shoyu ramen and are open 24/7. Me and Rin are regulars there.” It’s Ran who breaks the silence first. His voice is soft and he is back to being Ran you are used to hanging out with. Confident and firm, and almost a little bit gentle.

“How is Rindou going to get home?” You ask what worries you the most. “Will he be safe?”

“Totally. He’ll stay with Kaku. You probably saw him today. The guy with a scar?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“He got it in an accident when he was a kid. Kakucho is the coolest. He might seem scary, but he is very loyal and even kind.” You stop at the red light and Ran looks over at you, you who is staring at him. “Were you afraid today?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Were you afraid when you met those bastards in the alley?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?”

“Yes.” He is clearly waiting for more explanation, because it’s not normal to not being afraid. Everyone would be afraid. You both understand as much. You sigh, crossing your hands around your chest and straighten up in the seat. You look at the road ahead when you start to explain. “My sister’s boyfriend is in the gang. They aren’t just simple motorbike gangs that are fooling around, throwing punches and you know the rest. They are full on criminals. He got my sister on drugs. She overdosed five times. He got her pregnant too. She aborted the kid. And I’ve seen him and his people doing worse than Shion did to those guys today. These all are not new for me. I’ve seen it before.”

Ran hums. His long fingers caressing the leather of the wheel. He accelerates, rushing forward before traffic lights change. A few cars that are on the streets at this hour irritatedly honk after you. Inside the car the outside world gives the impression of decorations. Nothing seems real. You get this feeling for the second time.

Once on the train and now again. With Ran in his car.

“How’d you know Shion’s name?” Ran asks, his attention again on you. Whatever he was thinking shoved aside.

“Everybody was whispering his name when he jumped on the dance floor. Are you in the same gang?”

“You can say so.”

“And the guy with the mask too?”

“His name is Sanzu and yes he is in Tenjiku too.”

“He seemed young.” “He is sixteen. Two years younger than you and Rin so don’t brag.”

You scoff and Ran smiles. Then he gets serious. You sense it with every pore of your body. His car is a sport type - or so you think - and there isn’t much space. It’s comfortable though. You aren’t feeling confined or trapped. But that must be just Ran. His mood is transmitted well enough. That too, however, must be just Ran.

“I might come off as a hypocrite, but they are toxic to each other. I don’t know how it’s in Obihiro, but here in Tokyo every other guy in a gang I know, treats his woman well if they have one. Those who aren't, they don’t have a girl. Shion for once. He fucks around, but nothing serious. Girls who are with him know they aren’t forever. Are they still together? Your sis and that guy. What position does he hold in the gang?”

“They are or at least they were when I left. She doesn’t speak about him much, because I hate him and throw my hands at him every time he is in my way.” You stop, suddenly remembering how once you slapped him in the face in front of everyone in your school. He didn’t lay a hand on you, said some stupid shit about how fierce you are, hopped you sister on his Kawasaki and left. You were small and that’s why you believe he didn’t hit you. You weren’t sure he wouldn’t now, but maybe you just never knew him at all. You roll your head on the headrest and look at Ran. “He is some kind of executive or so I heard. I have zero clue about hierarchy and how it goes in the gangs. What position do you and Rindou hold?”

“I am one of the four Heavenly Kings and Rin is my second-in-command. Kakucho and Shion are the other two and then we have Mochizuku, but you haven’t seen him yet.”

Yet.

Ran parks the car outside of the small shop. You have no idea where you both are. You’ve never been to this part of Tokyo. It’s very peaceful here. There are no people outside and the buildings around show no sign of their inhabitants being awake at this late hour. In front of the shop, just a couple of metres away you spot a middle aged man with bright red tenugui tied around his head. The man is smoking sitting on his hunches. When he sees Ran’s car he smiles wide and stands up, waving his cigarette at him.

The conversation is lost and you are somewhat happy about it. Discussing Tenjiku with Ran, you crossed the line Rindou so carefully built and guarded. It almost feels like a betrayal of some sort. You still were much closer to Rindou than to Ran. Wouldn’t it be more right to discuss all these with him and not Ran?

Whatever is right or wrong doesn’t matter anymore. You all don’t belong in the world where it does.

Inside the ramen shop it’s warm and the smell of broth fills your nose helping you realise how hungry you really are. What alcohol you had at the club is out of your system, but the after starvation it always brings is here. You wonder how amazingly our bodies work and how it can sober up and get rid of any influence when a dangerous situation is inflicted upon it. Amusing.

The man happily chats with Ran and you follow them both to the distant booth in the back of the room. It’s closed off and has a curtain for privacy. Another VIP zone.

“You sit here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

With that you are left alone. Not for long. After a couple of minutes Ran returns with a menu, a bottle of sparkling water and a grape soda. He puts soda and a menu with a pencil in front of you and sits on the red and brown leather couch opposite you. The menu is one of those where you need to check what and how you want your food to be done. You take a pencil in your hand and read, your eyes following different variations of ramen they have here.

“Order tonkotsu ramen. You’ll like it.” Recommends Ran. He opens the bottle of water and takes a very long sip. “Even the water here is god-like.”

“Isn’t it Suntory?”

“It is, but it’s more delicious here. Wait until you try their ramen and you'll understand what I am saying.”

Naturally, when ramen arrives and you make a first sip of the broth, Ran is looking at you expectantly. You try noodles, pork belly, onions and enoki mushrooms - you put those additionally because when you came upon them in the menu you suddenly realised you were craving them - on its own. And then you try everything together. The taste is rich. It is delicious.

You look at Ran and nod your head, smiling.

“Told you. The best ramen in Tokyo. It’s sad they do not make Mont Blanc here. The Mont Blanc I like is in another part of Tokyo.” He pouts.

“We can try to make it at home if you want.”

“Really? You can make Mont Blanc at home?”

“Ran, you can make anything at home. Like literally anything.”

He grins at you thinking he might marry you right here on the spot.

He doesn’t say it out loud. Instead he closes the curtain and indulges in his shoyu ramen. And your company.

part 26.

On the 24th of December you leave for Obihiro. Your parents are excited you are coming and for once they seem like a proper family when you call them beforehand to inform what time you’ll arrive home.

Rindou is the one to take you to the bus station. “You shouldn’t have made all this food for us.” He tells you when you sit on the bench near your bus. Your small luggage at your feet. “And you went out and made this insane dessert for Ran. He is totally not worth it.”

You laugh, but your laugh is sad. You don’t wanna leave. “I made twelve of those. Each day I’ll be missing. And I made all this food so it won’t smell like salt and vinegar chips on our balcony. You gotta eat normally, Rindou. And I also left gifts for you two.”

His eyes widen. He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You are way too kind to us. Do you know when was the last time someone gifted us something? Never. You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s in the small bag. I wrote your names on top of it. Shoot me a message if you like it.”

The lady on the speaker announces boarding for your bus. You stand up, take your small bag and together with Rindou you stand near the door not ready to say goodbye just yet. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and whatever he wants to say stays imprisoned inside of him. [Forever]. You hug him and he hugs you back.

Without saying another word to each other you get inside the bus.

He doesn’t leave until your bus is out of sight.

part 27.

You celebrate New Year with your parents and your sister in the warm family house in Obihiro. You all exchange gifts, watch fireworks and take a lot of pictures. Your absences united your family the way your presence never could.

After the dinner, you and your sister go to visit the shrine as you do every year when your phone beeps.

It’s a message from Ran.

my favourite place to eat mont blanc is now your place. can't wait for it to be open again.

haha. i’d say you are cute if i didn’t know you.

i think i am pretty much cute and handsome

btw i like the drawing you did of me

rin is so jealous

tell him he should take me out somewhere and if the atmosphere is right i’ll draw him too

can i message you later? me and my sister are visiting the shrine

i won’t tell him that

ofc. be safe. happy new year.

happy new year ran

Rindou calls you later. He says you shouldn’t listen to Ran and he liked his sweater all right. He says he bought you something too, but no matter how much you begged him to say what it is he wouldn’t tell you. You promise to message him the time you arrive so he’ll pick you up and then he hangs up.

You miss them too.

[Ran messages you exactly fifteen minutes after Rindou’s call. You are still at the shrine and your sister isn’t happy you are on you phone again, but you still reply to him. Every time he messages you do.]

#ran haitani #ran x reader #ran x y/n #ran x you #ran #haitani x reader #ran haitani x y/n #ran haitani x reader #ran smut #haitani ran imagines #haitani brothers #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokrev #ran scenarios #ran haitani scenarios #ran fluff #rindou haitani #tokyo rev x you

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chuuuvi · 3 days

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Alright I’ve avoided saying anything about the new Taylor album but I think I’ve spent enough time thinking about it now to give my opinion. As a lifelong fan of her music TTPD has been the weirdest experience of any album of hers for me.

First listen was just basic front to back while doing some nonograms and my immediate thought was that this is the worst thing she’s ever released. Like I for real had to take a break to go listen to some 1989 to double check that I don’t just dislike her music as a whole now. (False alarm 1989 is still one of my favorite albums of all time). I spent some time trying to figure out what wasn’t working for me. Most obvious was that the songs feel really dull and samey? They aren’t fun pop songs but they also aren’t the beautiful folksy ballads of folklore/evermore. They felt like they went on forever but also didn’t go anywhere.

All that to say that I was really fucking bored. Thats not enough to make me give up on an album though. I made that mistake with folklore and I wasn’t about to do it again. (I found folklore kind of dull at first listen and just wrote it off as “not for me” before coming back months later and finding a real appreciation for it) What was more concerning is the writing though. I had already seen people joking about the lyrics on this album before I listened and yeah it’s not great. It feels at times like someone doing a parody of Taylor Swift’s writing style. Some of these lyrics are undeniably cringe and thats coming from someone who can withstand a lot of cringe. It’s truly bizarre to listen to because I do think she’s a talented songwriter and she has proved that in past projects but it rarely shines through here.

I was feeling really negative about this album and overall just kind of bummed out that we got a new album from literally my most listened to artist of all time and I didn’t enjoy it with the exception of like 3 songs: Down Bad, Clara Bow, and, the immediate standout for me, I Look In People’s Windows. Heres where things take a turn though. I get a call from my dad (shout out to him! He’s the best ever and I love him) and he was telling me that he listened to the album and wanted to share our thoughts. In case you’re interested his favorites are Fortnight and So High School. I felt kind of bad because I wanted to be excited but I couldn’t give him more than lukewarm opinions on anything.

He then asked me if I could explain to him what certain songs were about with my swiftie knowledge and that kind of perked me up because I realized that I hadn’t done an in depth look into the lyrics yet. I had only listened to it very passively. I basically told him that and said I’d get on it and I could answer any questions he had the next time he called. So with that I went headfirst into listen number 2! I was ready to go with genius lyrics open, taking notes, checking twitter and tumblr and googling stuff. I built a case for my interpretation of every song to present to my dad. And the thing is I was having an absolute blast. It was a complete turnaround from my depressing first listen. I felt like a detective and I spent almost all night on this. I went to work the next day on like 4 hours of sleep but I felt nothing but pure joy and excitement.

I had to ask myself though.. is this a good way to engage with music? Is it possible to say you enjoyed a piece of art if you can only find that enjoyment through picking apart the personal life of the artist? The fun I’m getting from this isn’t the fun I feel when listening to good music it’s the fun I feel from watching reality tv. I mean yes I also have felt the same satisfaction from other Taylor Swift albums but it’s a secondary feeling. Like for example my favorite song of hers is All Too Well 10 Minute Version. I think that song being autobiographical gives it a lot of power but I think it would still be a masterpiece if the whole story was entirely unrelated to Taylor’s real personal life. On the other hand I think most of the songs The Tortured Poets Department would be entirely uninteresting to me if it wasn’t for the clues into her personal life and feelings.

And that brings us to my subsequent listens. This has just been me listening to it in my regular life. In the car, at work when I was away from the counter doing some pricing, at home doing laundry, etc. I haven’t been able to feel the joy I felt during my deep dive into the lyrics again but I also haven’t felt the misery of my first listen either. Theres still more skips than the average TS album but a lot of the songs have grown on me especially after going in depth into the lyrics. The cringe lyrics are immediately obvious but after going line by line like I did I realized that theres still plenty of lyrics that feel like the old Taylor Swift I’ve loved for so long. After all the emotional ups and downs I’ve landed at a fairly neutral position. It’s not a very good album as a whole but I’ve made my peace with that. It’s not as bad as some people are saying it is either. In the end I’m moving my favorites to a playlist and the rest I will not be going out of my way to listen to again. If you are considering listening to TTPD and haven’t yet.. you would probably have a better time with one of her other albums instead. I’d recommend 1989!

#cyn talking #music review #taylor swift #sorry swifties I promise I’m one of you

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trikeyaredilfs · 2 years

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Michael Realizing Trevor is Autistic:

“He just does this-!” Michael mimicked the hand movements of Trevor before returning his elbows to the countertop.

“I don’t know, Mandy, I think he finally fried his brain.”

Amanda swirled the wine around in her glass a few times, seemingly lost in thought.

“And you said he was asking you to sit on him?” She asks returning her gaze to him.

“Maybe he’s got a fetish for it, I mean, it’s Trevor.” He wraps his hand around his whiskey glass, quickly downing some of it before setting it back down. He rubs the bridge of his nose, groaning.

“Have you ever considered the man might be autistic?” Amanda asks, taking another sip of wine. “Autistic?” Michael parrots, furrowing his brow. “Like that thing kids get? He doesn’t exactly fit that criteria, Mandy.”

Amanda considers downing the rest of the wine in the bottle, dumbfounded yet absolutely unsurprised by his response. “No, jackass.” She almost laughs. “I mean, he doesn’t understand social cues, his moral compass is nearly nonexistent, he definitely does not understand societal norms, he wears the same clothes…for however long that is, he doesn’t understand gender expectations, he is obsessed with that stupid superhero figure-“ with each observation she holds up a finger. “And above all of that, he was so obsessed with you, he literally spent 10 years, knowing you were supposedly dead trying to find you. He cannot keep focus on a single thing and yet the one thing he can, and somehow did better than the actual FIB was finding you.”

Amanda stares at him blankly, this time popping the cork on her wine bottle and picking it up before taking a long swig. She swallows noisily, setting the bottle back down before walking out into the other room. Bringing a large book back with her. “My kid has autism; the guide for parents” was plastered in obnoxiously colorful letters on the front.

“Here. Take this and read it, Michael.” Amanda said holding it toward him.

“This whole book?” He whines slightly.

“Could you actually try with Trevor? The one person who genuinely loves you more than they do themselves and you’re whining over a book. The least you could do is help him.” Amanda retorts.

Michael clenches his jaw but exhales. “Alright, Amanda. Thank you.” He looks at the book again. “Wait, why do we have this?”

“There was a shrink back in North Yankton that thought Jimmy had it. Never really seemed to respond to anything abnormally, so I just decided to let him be Jimmy.”

“Thanks, Mandy, y’know,I think I like this arrangement. Just talking.” He says,half smiling. Taking another drink of his whiskey.

“Just wait until we can manage it sober.” She snorts.

“I’ll drink to that.” Michael says, raising his glass.

Michael glances to the clock, 2 am.

He had been reading this book for nearly 3 hours now, making notes off to the side. He yawns, pulling off his bifocals, something that never left the office because he refused to reveal further evidence of his age.

He rubs his eyes with his palms, before standing up to stretch his stiff legs. From the corner of the room, Trevor emerges. “Whatcha been readin’ there, Mikey?”

Michael nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus! You’re going to give me a fuckin’ heart attack, T. How the fuck did you even get in here?”

“Window was open, I climbed in. You’re avoiding the question though, what were you reading?” Trevor approaches the desk. Michael moves in front of him. “It’s just a…history textbook. Jimmy was curious about a war and-“

“Jimmy has an IFruit. He could just look it up on eyefind. I don’t really appreciate the shadiness, Mikey. I thought we were over secrets?” Trevor pushes past him and flips the book’s cover closed a moment, reading it.

“Who the hell is autistic?”

Michael stays quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a good way to phrase what is in his mind.

Trevor picks up the notebook beside the book, reading through Michael’s neat handwriting. Specifically one set of lines caught his eye.

Stimming, a method of self stimulation: Trevor’s stims: rocking, nail-biting and hand-flapping

Trevor stares at the paper, his eyebrows furrowed but his expression ultimately blank. He flipped through a few pages.

“Listen, T… I wanted to sit and talk-“ Michael starts, Trevor simply puts his finger up, still reading the pages intensely.

After a few moments he sets the notebook down, looking at Michael. Michael couldn’t tell what was going through Trevor’s head, he seemed way too calm at the moment. “Talk.” Trevor hisses.

“I-“ Michael starts, his mouth feeling suddenly incredibly dry. “I just wanted to understand you better, Trevor. I noticed all of these things that you do and I didn’t understand why they were happening. Then Amanda gave me this book, and I’m trying to read it because maybe it is what’s happening, but I didn’t want to just assume.” He explains, finally looking away from Trevor. “I’m sorry, T, really.”

Trevor’s once deadpan face breaks with a slight grin. “Mikey, that’s sweet.” Trevor laughs. “But I know I’m autistic. I could’ve told you that. I figured that out when I was going to that shrink after you died.”

“…and you didn’t tell me?” Michael looked more hurt than confused.

“You never asked, Mikey. Plus it just kind of slipped my mind.” Shrugged Trevor. “But, I do like that you tried to understand my fucked up mind, sugartits, it’s actually pretty hot.”

“And there goes the severity of this conversation.” Michael chuckles, pushing past Trevor and getting into bed.

“Are you gonna finally lay on me now?”

“Not a chance.”

#trevor philips #michael de santa #amanda de santa #it’s not great but hc #autistic trev

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kaladinstormsblessed · 11 months

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i am in boston which means i am nearly home! scotland was good but i am. exhausted mentally physically and emotionally. since april 24th i have returned to pa, gotten violently sick with a stomach bug, taught my silly little pompeii class, attended more end of semester events than i thought possible, socialized so much, started working in the library again, agonized over my conference paper, gave my conference paper, and spent 10 days in scotland. i am ready to. calm down and relax, especially since things will be picking up soon. i think my dad's death is finally starting to set in (my mom and younger sister are on a vacation that they had planned with him and my mom said he had actually seemed excited about it and was making plans for it, which he rarely did) and june is going to be a rough month (in 18 days, my dad's birthday, father's day, and my parent's anniversary) in addition to my regular summertime sadness etc. the exhaustion is really existential and bone deep at this point - i'm so tired and yet i have so much work to do. so i'm going to try and keep! it! simple! i give myself permission to be sort of a hermit for the next several days as i recover (except for therapy tomorrow :/ and maybe sunday bc m did offer to do something for my dad's birthday). i think i will use tomorrow as a reset day - therapy in the morning then laundry and maybe groceries/cooking. i may then sneak into campus bc i want to see if i can set myself up in a different study space on campus - our library is open stupid hours this summer and so i want to see if i can find another place to work. i will unfortunately want to move all of my stuff 🙃 after that, it's down to work.

prelim stuff

focus needs to be on finishing my notecards and essays. sacrifice is in pretty good shape, so it's really the other three: need to add some stuff to my homer essays and finish going through both commentaries for all seven books; need to tweak my pompeii essays; and then need to finish my flash cards for jerome. i will then want to spend a little bit of time each day studying.

i am also eyeing the possibility of renting a place in like. maine or connecticut while i'm taking my exams. this may be literally impossible but i want to explore the option. it would be so nice to be unreachable and have a nice little place on the water somewhere cool.... august is such a disgusting month.

diss stuff

going to ease into this! will reread all the letters in english and make a reference doc with notes and decide which to tackle in the latin first. i should also go back and look at my prelim notes for this and start getting some questions rolling. i need to remind myself that i only have two months since august will be all prelims. goal is to have something to my advisor when i touch base and confirm my prelims in early july and then right before i dig into my exams in august. ideally this would be the bare bones of a proposal.

american school

ugh a whole lot here. need to confirm i can sublease my apartment and find someone to take my place (fingers crossed j has found someone for me). need to confirm that my birth certificate is getting its apostille. need to do a whole bunch of paperwork some of which is probably going to be late (i don't have a pcp like a clown...if i die i die). i also need to confirm my visa appointment and what all i need (big things will be my letter and my flight). i will also need to completely redo my wardrobe which i hate but it'll be a good excuse for me to get rid of a whole lot of shit. don't need to go too wild but need good hiking boots and pants etc.

professional development

my only goal here is to have something for oxford patristics since it only happens every four years. that abstract isn't due until the end of august and i'm hoping something will spark in my diss research. i can also tentatively look at the roman baths and agency conference although that might be a bit much. i also want to keep an eye on a couple other things. i realized that i count as a medievalist in some circles (which...why) but means i should keep an eye on imc and kalamazoo. i might also want to submit the paper i just presented to naps (the hard thing is i will be in greece and am unsure if i'll be able to get away - but it's probably worth applying for). also pay attention to vagantes and see if i qualify for that.

there's also a conference at penn june 20th-22nd that touches on a lot of my research interests (and has multiple people i know and/or are getting cited in my sacrifice prelim) that i should attend.

mlsn

python class starts next tuesday! i cannot forget that! i need to email and ask a couple questions but hopefully this will be a more relaxed class bc i will not be lecturing the whole time.

exercise

i need to start doing yoga again! maybe i'll start at 3x per week. i also want to do physical therapy and walk for 60 mins every day. this is tricky bc it's already so hot. doing it after dark makes sense but when i'm home i'm home. i want to try and start getting up early (like 5ish?) so early morning maybe? idk to think on.

other stuff

i am feeling very socialized and overstimulated so i need to make sure i don't completely bury myself in the sand here. i have an invite from one of the first years to grab ethiopian food next week and plans to work out daddy issues with a couple of other folks on father's day. and i should keep up with trivia and try and make sure bingo with s happens. i would also love to get down for a phillies game and some other fun stuff in the city! i can think about this more but rn it's okay if i ignore people for awhile! i am feeling very overwhelmed!

this is. a lot. but it'll be okay! i will be glad to be back home and getting into some sort of routine.

#personal

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cinemacentral666 · 9 months

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The House That Jack Built (2018)

Movie #1,082 • Ranking Lars von Trier #10

For the sake of changing shit up, I decided to watch the Lars von Trier filmography out of order. I formulated the order somewhat randomly, keeping the trilogies intact but otherwise jumping from era to era. Having completed his most recent work, 2018's The House That Jack Built, I can definitively say that this was a terrible idea.

[Ed. Note: In fact, it was such a bad idea that I quickly reverted to a mostly chronological viewing schedule.]

For starters, similarly to Peter Greenaway's later work, the director specifically references his own earlier work in this, inserting actual clips of films I've yet to see in the middle of the chaos. This is self-indulgence in its purest form and I am here for it, but damn if I could do it over again.

That being said, just as the enigmatic UK post-punk combo The Fall were famously described by DJ John Peel, I already feel you could ascribe the saying "always different, always the same" to Mr. Sunshine Lars von Trier as well. There are seemingly no parallels to his earlier work–aside from his devotion to utterly bleak and unending human pain — until, that is, you start seeing them everywhere: the handheld camerawork, his stark and repetitive use of non-diegetic pop music, period pieces that somehow feel like they don't belong to any timeframe, and so on and so on...

The House That Jack Built is actually the third major motion picture to have that title, The House That Jack Built. The first, a short silent drama film from England in the year 1900 clocking in at 54 seconds long, and the second, an 8-minute Canadian animated movie, are both direct adaptations of the nursery rhyme "This Is the House That Jack Built." The House That Jack Built (2018), if you can believe it, is not.

This is a 2.5-hour film about a serial killer played by Matt Dylan recounting his crimes to Roman poet Virgil as he descends the layers of hell. It's absurd by design but what's even more audacious are the sheer amount of themes LVT attempts to hit on here. Art, life, gender, death, just to name a few. Every pathway isn't a winner, but damn I kind of loved this for the effort alone. For as barebones as Dogma 95 attempted to be, the bulk of his career has been full-on maximalism. I've yet to feel bored watching any of his films.

From the opening of the New York Times feature piece, "Is Lars von Trier Trolling Us?"...

Near the end of my interview with Lars von Trier, I asked if he was trolling women in his latest, “The House That Jack Built.” He said he didn’t know what trolling meant, so I explained, even as I wondered if he was feigning ignorance and actually trolling me.

As if you couldn't take a man who looks like this at face value?!

This question is certainly related to the thread in The House That Jack Built about how only men are the ones who are born guilty. And it is 100% a troll move. The troll is that he's baiting people into wanting to think that this is also, somehow, an idealization of that sentiment. But I don't know how you could watch this and actually think that men are innocent? Matt Dylan is LITERALLY a serial killer. I never felt a shred of sympathy towards him. That some ideas are offensive does not mean that you need feel offended by their existence.

On some level, I might agree with you that Trier is a master pilot… who can't land the plane. I think he excels in the ultra longform because he needs the room to try. There are so many big ideas at play and so many different styles, risks and tactics that there's nearly no chance of it all coming together. The beauty, in my eyes, is in the attempt. And if his films are filled with hate, it seems like a self-hate, for having the audience soldier on in the face of all these miserable thoughts and compulsions which he's brought to life. I can kinda relate. Life is confusing and weird and full of sadness. That checks out.

SCORE: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I’ll be counting down all of Lars Von Trier’s movies right here at @cinemacentral666 every Thursday through September 2023

#9 #lars von trier director #matt dillon #uma thurman #2018 #bruno ganz #horror #siobhan fallon hogan #sofie gråbøl #riley keough #jeremy davies #🇩🇰

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livingwithlosingyou · 1 year

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Living with Losing You - 11/18/2022

It’s Friday! It’s Fri-YAY!

Today was pretty good. Started off early because work meetings and I had to take Sadie to Cassidy’s so she could take her to Mary’s/ Funny story though, she forgot that we had agreed on that and left her house before I got here. I felt pretty bad actually, but luckily she was willing to turn around and come and grab her.

Um. I went to SEVEN locations today. You read that correctly. And look, I probably didn’t have to do that, and some things could have likely waited, but a lot of the locations are within proximity of each other as you make your way on he 5 north. So, I went to Mission Valley, the warehouse, Sorrento Valley, Del Mar, Encinitas, Oceanside, and then San Marcos. It was wild. I will spare all the details of every location because it would be the longest blog post I’d ever write, and quite frankly I am tired. But, just know that today was successful. I brought locations calendars and cookies. The only “unsuccessful” one was the warehouse. I left my key at home, so I couldn't unload anything from the job fair. It’s fine, I will just do it on Monday.

After traveling for literally hours to everywhere I needed to go, I went and picked up Sadie. I had to skip practice today since I was going to be up north until at least 3:30pm. The other coach was fine with it. Sadie was certainly happy to see me. She is the cutest.

I also had bible study today (what we call our house churches). I was so glad that I went, despite being exhausted. We review the sermon that we are going to talk about on Sunday, and discuss what our thoughts are on it, and how we interpret it. I think that is still honestly my favorite thing about this church is the ability to “unpack” what is in the bible, and have open conversations about it. I feel grateful to have found this community in this time in my life. I know that you are happy for me too.

What was interesting about this sermon is that it was talking about Mark, and how the blind man was calling to God and the people (likely the disciples) were rebuking him. He called for God twice, and then god asked him what he wanted. He said sight, he gave him sight. (This is obviously the quick summary version, just wanted to provide context). One of the questions was why does God not immediately hear us / solve our problems? I thought hard about this, because it has felt like at times God waits forever to answer my prayers, doesn’t (so I think in the moment), or what feels like does the opposite of what I am praying for. When I think of you, I think that way. I loved you so much. It can be hard, and they say it can be normal to feel a little resentment toward my faith at times. It has felt very tested over the years, and this is a big one. I struggle. That’s okay.

After bible study I went and got some Mexican food. It really hit the spot!

It’s hard to not feel envious of those around me at times. I realize that isn’t healthy, but I also am human. I got some super exciting news today, but I can’t share it quite yet. It isn’t happening directly to me, but honestly I wish that was where you and I were. Insult to injury.

I love you, James. I know you love me too.

Rest in Peace, James Burton Nichols

10/1/1993 - 7/16/2022

Side Notes - I saw a UK car and got excited!

Also - My buddy JReez is missing, and has been for a month. If you could say a prayer for him, that would be greatly appreciated.

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plotholefragments · 2 years

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Full story today's cw: self harm mention (not action)

It's evening. Almost 24 hours since Red started broadcasting their senses, and about 10 since Green pulled a falcon dive on the way to breakfast.

You haven't been able to trigger your own broadcast yet. There's no intense physical stunt you can do on short notice, at least not in your city. There is a theme park about 2 hours away, but that's too much to do on a weekday. Especially since your connections to Red and Green have only just now stabilized.

You briefly considered stepping on a nail. Red and Green instantly shoot that idea down. Hearing voices isn't a good sign in any world, especially if they tell you to hurt yourself. They're not going to play into that trope. And you have to agree.

But that still leaves the question of what to do. You don’t have enough time off saved up to devote a ton of time to this, and none of you want to wait the couple of days to the weekend before trying something. You feel unbalanced as it is.

A part of you is still awed by the desire Red and Green have to see what you have to show, to connect with you. The doubts that they are anything but genuine with you don’t last long, but they still come.

Red notes that they doubt too. Green points out that it takes the better part of a year for new ideas to make their way that deep into one’s mind.

Shaking off that train of thought, you hop back in your car. Your thought is that a week ago, Red tried crawling into your head to hear your music. Maybe now they’ll succeed. Maybe the combination of their desire and the heightened emotions of the music and the physical sensations of singing along and the movement of the car can all add up to a jump start.

Your reliable but budget-friendly car doesn’t have an aux jack, just a CD player. So you burned a CD of the most emotional, loud songs could you could fit.

You consider heading back toward the interstate, but that’s a road recently traveled. Literally. So you head toward the mountains.

You’ve got more of an emotional connection to the mountains anyway.

So you drive. You're waiting until you hit the open road before you start the CD. As you hit the outskirts of town (which is actually a town in its own right) you grab another drive-thru sandwich. It's sustenance food; you'll save the major culinary experiences for when you can share them.

You hit play. The first song comes in with its slow buildup. And then it goes. The first song was mostly there for its bridge. It arrives. You belt it out, your voice cracking. The last chords fade.

You check in with Red and Green. Not yet.

Track two. A ska band's revival; an admission that you can't go it alone.

Still nothing.

Track three, the orchestral version of a video game song. But lots of hope for the future?

Not enough. You're starting to wonder if you prioritized volume over emotion.

Track four has overtones of a long-distance relationship. But it doesn't connect.

Track five is a certified bop, but you don't feel a connection to it. You give your voice a rest halfway though.

Track six is one of the EDM songs you connect the most with. But you wonder if you could have picked better.

Track seven you give a real go with. It's a powerful song with a powerful arrangement. Looking back, you wonder if the green color of the album (plus the wickedly green color of the musical) influenced your choice: why wouldn't "Defying Gravity" remind you of Green?

Track eight is one you have high hopes for, despite the slow buildup (and the fact that you're afraid the band's name might be racist). It's about coming together after being apart, about two becoming one.

...It was a mistake. It just makes your heart ache more, makes you more frustrated with the process. Red and Green try to send calm and affection to you, and you have to consciously force yourself to accept it.

You're too discouraged to try track nine. You just listen, letting the bittersweet duality of existence wash over you. You make a note to play the song again later. After this works. Because it's going to work.

Track ten is the halfway point, time-wise. You've fully reached the sadder part of the CD, punctuated by you trying to find a safe way to turn your car around. You crossed the state line a while ago, but you've got to get back.

This was a mistake.

You're trying, but it's not working.

Red and Green try to send encouragement, but you can also feel their frustration. It's not with you, that's obvious. It's with the whole process. This strange bond that you're trying to exploit even though you barely understand it. The fact that the rest of the world won't stop long enough for you to figure it out without having to worry about daily obligations.

You've pulled off on a side road. Car idling, lights off. You rest your head against the steering wheel, feeling tears at the sides of your eyes.

The opening guitar notes of track eleven hit. And a sob escapes.

"Everyone dies," you sing. "Everyone loves a fight." You feel Red recoil even as the feelings resonate in them.

The song continues. Your frustrations all fall into it: the bond that won't do what you want, the job you wish you liked more, the politicians that pretend to listen to you but just don't care, the rich and powerful that are literally watching the world burn...

"Happy is a yuppie word..."

The people that won't clean up their work, that think that hooves are impervious to nails, the fact that plants take so long to grow, that the stuff you fix keeps breaking, that some days it’s so much work just being alive…

“Nothing is new…”

That “your ancestors slept under the stars” is an excuse to not house people, that you’re never completely sure if you’ll make enough from week to week, that the attention you have could disappear as soon as you try to use it for something good…

“Looking for a bridge I can’t burn down…”

The bridge hits, and you choke on the words. Of looking forward to things that matter, relationships that last, of finally being free of all your faults. The song holds that against the world you are in, stuck in this place, separated from your companions…

And you yell the refrain at the top of your lungs, head back, tears streaming, “Nothing is sound!”

You drop your head against the steering wheel and try to steady yourself for the drive back. Red asks what kind of material could be so soft and yet so hard. Green asks what’s poking your hip.

You make a sarcastic observation about plastic before you realize what it means. With a bark of laughter you sit up straight and adjust your seat belt so the buckle isn’t poking you.

You look out your windshield at the dark, rural side street you’ve pulled off onto. “Well,” you say to your new audience, “this is what it looks like.”

Red is fascinated by the mechanical aspect of your car. You make a note to watch some videos on them later.

Green wants to feel it go, and at this point so do you.

Before you turn back onto the freeway, though, you change out the CD.

Something tells you the last song, a fun peppy anthem of togetherness, would just make you sad right now.

#writing #sketch #rgb

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jigencaps · 3 years

Photo

#jigen #red jacket #ii098 #this was already in the queue but i just wanted to say hello i have my physics lab final in like 5 minutes #it's literally an hour for 10 questions and open note and yet? i am still shitting my pants #goodbye jigen appreciators i will see u on the other side

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mxchellesworld · 3 years

Text

Discuss!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis; Where the team discusses the question ‘do you kiss after head’, you find out Spencer has too little experience to answer the question so you help him out

Warnings; smut, oral (male receiving), sub!spencer, praise, slight degradation

a/n; LMAO im so sorry for disappearing again life has been actually kicking my ass but anyways lately i’ve been thinking about subby early season spence so here we go,, hope you enjoy!

***

Another Friday night and the team was out bar crawling after an easy case. But this time all members were there as it reached 11pm which was rare. Usually Hotch and JJ would have been home by 10:30 and Spencer wouldn’t have been there at all. But there was something light in the air which had all parties concerned sitting packed in a booth, laughing after each sip of their drinks.

Since it wasn’t your first rodeo together you knew how the night went. It started off with Rossi offering to buy the first few rounds, always whiskey but he made an exception for Penelope. Then again who would deny her anything.

Once the drinks were flowing and lips got a little loose, the questions would start popping in at the top of your heads. However these were not your run of the mill, ‘hows so and so doing?’ ‘done your taxes yet?’ oh no. The name of the game was discuss where you would all think of a question which would help you dig just a tiny bit deeper into your coworkers sex lives.

Maybe if you were all sober then you’d avoid thinking of each other in such positions, pun intended, yet in this state your prying minds were open and your stomachs were ready to grow abs from bending over in laughter.

You raised the margarita glass up clinking it with a fork to get the tables attention. Everyone including Aaron had a smile on their face, ready to hear the intrusive question for the night.

“Ok my fellow profilers, doctor, and tech genius,” you added pointing at Spencer then Pen, “Do you kiss your partner after they give you head? Discuss!” you finished in your most formal voice.

Right as you took a swig of your drink the mixed responses of yes and no filled your small space.

“Why wouldn’t you? You guys especially, if someones willingly trying to swallow then you damn well owe them a kiss,” Emily finished earning nods and ‘exactly’s from JJ, Pen, and yourself.

“Ok but thats weird. I just can’t explain it but its a no go for me,” Morgan finished. This only gained him a scoff and raised voices, “Hotch man help me out here,” he said looking over to the man hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid.

“I have to agree with the ladies here Derek,” he said curtly.

The girls yelped and hooted at Hotch for siding with them while Morgan sat with his arms crossed being the singular person left out as even Rossi agreed. Meanwhile you noticed the presence next to you had shrunk back and wasn’t too active in the conversation.

“So Spence do you kiss your partner after they,” you trailed off shaking your fist by your cheek and poking your tongue in the side.

He coughed as he instantly sat up quicker. Even under the dim lights of the bar you could still see the blush creeping up from his neck to his ears and the slightest tint on his cheeks.

“Oh I uh- I never-” he said looking anywhere but your eyes.

“You don’t kiss them?” you said raising your brows.

“No! I-i mean yes. I would I think b-but I haven’t had the chance to actually partake in such.. activities,” he finished finally taking a look into your eyes.

You could tell he was waiting for you to laugh in his face for being so inexperienced but you felt far from it. If anything you wished you could be the one to show him things.

That sweet boy had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. Maybe it was his naivety considering how exceptionally smart he was. Or maybe it was the cute sweater vests he wore and now he nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. All you knew was that you wanted Spencer Reid and tonight was your night to make it happen.

You hummed taking in the information, “Well that’s not a bad thing Spence. Everything takes time,” you said putting your hand on his arm for comfort and giving him a smile.

Going to turn back to face the table you almost didn’t hear Spencer go to speak again, “Do you?”

Got him.

“Why don’t you find out pretty boy,” you said with a wink as you downed the rest of your marg. In the corner of your eye you could see Spencer shifting in his seat, subtly moving his bag to cover the slowly growing tent in his slacks.

As the night went by you couldn’t help but really give him a show. You had popped open a button or two on the long sleeve you had on, since it was getting stuffy in the booth. Though when you leaned forward and jutted your chest out, the soft inhale of a breath from the man next to you was just serving as motivation to get bolder.

For the last hour you called it quits on the alcohol and drank a few glasses of water before you drove home. Spencer had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since your little interactions.

The team had all gotten up to say their goodbyes. Rossi going by and giving everyone a kiss on each cheek. Derek having to quite literally rangle Penelope from talking to passing by groups on their way out. Then there were two.

You turned to the side where Spencer was nursing on his coke, “Hey pretty boy, it’s late, let me give you a ride home,” you said grabbing your belongings.

“Y-yeah ok. Thanks Y/n,” he said getting up. You’d noticed how he still had the burnt orange bag over his crotch. He couldn’t still be hard could he? Well you’d love to find out.

As gentlemanly as he was, Spencer opened the door for you to exit the building first. The whip of fresh night air cooling on your exposed chest and legs under your skirt.

You unlocked your car and stepped in, Spencer waiting to hear the little beep signaling his side was open. As he sat down you heard him let out a little whimper. Your head shot over to look at him, you could tell from the flush on his cheeks he didn’t mean to let the noise out.

Holding in your chuckle you started the ignition and pulled out of the lot, “Can I put on some music?”

“Yeah I don’t mind,” he said looking over at you with his lips in a line. If it was anyone else, they’d probably think he was uncomfortable but you loved his tiny awkward smiles.

The ride to his apartment was mostly silent besides a rare quip from Spencer about paper work or fact about an older building you had passed by. It fascinated you to no end hearing him talk. Spencer was a hand speaker, meaning he always used his hands waving them around and making gestures. The pale digits had you captivated. Probably a driving hazard but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

You pulled up into one of the visitor spots and put the car in park. You looked over to see Spencer almost contemplating something. You’d seen the look on his face before when he was looking over puzzles.

“Somethin on your mind Doc?” you said with a small smile. As cute as he looked when he was nervous, you’d never want him to feel uncomfortable around you.

“Would you-,” he cleared his throat, “Wo- Would you maybe want to c-come inside?”

“Of course Spence I’d love to,” you finished with a reassuring nod.

As he led you upstairs you were giddy with anticipation. So what if nothing happened. He was your friend first and you were glad he was letting you into his personal space. Even if you wanted nothing more than to have him writhi-

“Y/n?”

The door closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were in his living room. The dark green walls and shelves bursting with books put a grin on your face, “Sorry Doc, just caught up in my thoughts. What did you say hun?”

His brows practically raised to his hairline from hearing the pet name. While he was used to the names coming from Garcia they took a whole different light coming from your lips.

“I was asking if you wanted water or something,” he said fiddling with the keys in his hands. Eyes darting everywhere but your face so you wouldn’t be able to see the flush rising on his cheeks.

“No I’m fine thanks for asking though,” you said taking a seat on the worn leather couch.

You reached for the tv remote making a face at Spencer to ask for permission. He nodded and you settled back turning on an old sitcom that played late at night.

As the episode ended you both sat in silence. Again you didn’t mind but you could practically hear the cogs moving in Spencer’s brain.

You were about to speak when he cut you off before you could even get a word out, “What did you mean by ‘why don’t you find out’.”

Gaining confidence you moved closer to where he was on the couch, slow enough for him to stop you in case he wanted to back out.

“Well you have options pretty boy,” you said moving a leg to straddle him. Your hands instinctively going to his brown locks. You could’ve sworn you heard a little moan leave his chapped lips. Noted.

“W-what are the options,” lust blown eyes looked up to yours.

“One, you can put that mouth to good use on me,” you said trailing your finger over his bottom lip, “and let me cum over that pretty face.”

His eyes shut hearing your words and you weren’t having it, “Nuh uh eyes on me honey,” instantly they were back on yours.

“Or number two. I can suck you off and let you cum down my throat, but,” you paused making sure to roll your hips on his growing length, “ you have to give me a nice big smooch after.”

The hands on your hips pulled you closer as he bucked his hips into you as you finished the sentence. It was clear which option was preferred.

You moved to slide down in between his legs. You let your hands trail down his clothed thighs, causing him to jump.

“Tsk such a needy boy,” you said mockingly, “Am I not going fast enough baby?”

“Please Y/n,” he all but whimpered. It was like music to your ears.

Your hands went to his belt, looking up in his eyes for a final sign of permission. Once he nodded you quickly undid it and he lifted his hips to help get his pants down. You palmed him over his boxers, feeling the wet patch where he was already leaking pre cum.

“Is this all for me Spence? Does the thought of my lips around you make you this hard,” you said taking him out of the striped confines.

“Oh god please just,” he cut himself off. You could see his hands curling fists besides his legs.

“Please what baby? I can’t give you anything unless you ask.” Your hands continued their task of leisurely stroking his length.

“Fuck please put your mouth on me,” he rushed out, hips bucking to prove his point.

The answer was good enough for you so you wasted no time in leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. Both of you let out content sighs as you tried to take him further.

You looked up to see him with his head leaned back, eyes scrunched closes in pleasure.

You pulled off with a pop, letting your hand work him over. “Better keep those pretty eyes on me before I decide you can’t finish.”

He looked down with a flash of worry, that was quickly replaced by a loud moan as you spit down on his cock before taking him in your mouth again.

For a germaphobe, Spencer loved how nasty it was. He was thanking god or whatever higher being there was for giving him his eidetic memory because the sight below him was something he’d never wanna forget.

Your eyes were teary and you had spit dribbling down your chin but he wanted nothing more than to give you more than just a kiss after you finished. Or well after he finishes.

You could tell he was close by the way he was throbbing on your tongue. Again taking him out of your mouth you used both hands to jerk him off.

“You’re doing such a good job baby. So good for me. You wanna cum in my mouth pretty boy?”

“God Y/n I’m so close please please please,” he whimpered out.

“Cum for me baby, be my good boy Spence,” you said before taking him down your throat. He was big, not girthy but long and it was a struggle but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to take him all.

Hollowing your cheeks you bobbed your head quickly, egging on his release further. His hands finally found a place in the back of your head. Pushing you down further as he came.

“F-fuck Y/n I’m gonna”

His moans and whines were a symphony of sounds you’d have on repeat in your head forever.

You swallowed the salty release but before you could even wipe your lips you were being pulled up by Spencer placing his lips on yours. You moaned into the kiss, his hands gripped the sides of your face not wanting to let you go.

The need for air made you both pull back. You looked at one another, chests heaving and looking like you ran a marathon.

Then a sad look came across his face.

“Spencer what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t get any pleasure,” he said looking like a hurt puppy. Oh your sweet boy.

“It’s ok baby, I can take care of myself,” you tried to shrug off.

He was quick to push you back on the couch, taking the spot you were previously in. His warm lips trailing down your exposed thighs.

“I wanna do it, but only if you kiss me after.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid fic #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg x reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #sub!spencer #chellewrites

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widowbitessting · 3 years

Text

Sugar Mommies Pt.3

I am so sorry for the stupidly long wait! I didn't think it would explode this much and I've not had much confidence in my writing for months.

Hope you enjoy this even though it is rubbish haha

If you want to be tagged, comment below and let me know ❤️

Warnings: Erm, bad writing?

When you told MJ you had given your new mystery women your phone number...she was, safe to say, thrilled for you.

Her feet literally skid to a halt in front of you.

“You gave them your number? You never give out your number!”

“Yeah. Well…” God, you can feel the exact moment when your blush slams onto your face. “I dunno. Thought it would be a good time to try it.”

MJ continues to run around the apartment, throwing her books into her bag as she goes.

“I am so proud of you Y/N. So proud!” She fumbles around for her keys, finally finding them half hidden under the couch. “Promise to tell me the second they text you?”

You nod, letting out a small laugh.

“I promise, MJ. Now go on, you’re already late.”

“You better tell me when they message you!” MJ throws open the door and is halfway down the hall when she adds, “Get your flirt on, Y/N!”

“Bye MJ!”

You hear her faint, “Bye!” as you shut your door.

When you check your phone, there’s no new messages and you let out a sigh.

“Better get ready for class.”

30 minutes later and as you’re walking into your local, and quite frankly favourite coffee shop: Coffee Bean & Brew, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Natasha R (10:43): Good morning, Y/N. Did you sleep well? x

You bite your bottom lip to try and calm down the smile forming on your face, as you join the line to order your drink.

Y/N (10:44): Morning, Natasha. I did, thank you. How’re you three doing?

Natasha R (10:44): I’m perfectly fine, thank you sweetheart. Wanda and Carol however are rather moody. If I don’t get back to you then you know they turned on me. Xx

Y/N (10:45): Uh oh. I’ll prepare my statement for when I’m questioned shall I? :) Is there anything I can do to help?

“Hi there, can I take your order?”

You quickly look up to the lady smiling at you and order your go to drink. She continues to smile politely at you as she writes down your order on your take out cup and takes your payment.

You look back at your phone as you move down to the end counter.

Natasha R (10:46): They’re moody because I’m the one talking to you and they haven’t had the chance to yet.

“Ah.”

Y/N (10:48): Sounds like you’re in for a rough time there. I’m just getting my drink before class. Xx

You take your drink and leave the coffee shop, walking your well known route to your college campus.

It’s a ten minute walk, give or take and as you make it onto the college grounds and beeline for your classroom; Natasha replies.

Natasha R (10:59): You definitely have the better end of the stick, Y/N. They really want to talk to you, before we meet up. Am I okay to set something up so they don’t try and kill me? I’d like to meet you too.

You manage to take your seat just as the clock hits 11 dead on and sigh in relief. Unlike MJ, you have yet to be late to any of your classes.

You set up your things on the table as your lecturer begins taking the register, saying “Here,” when your name is called.

You’re just about to pick your phone up, to try and sneakily tell Natasha you’re in class and that you’ll message her later, when it begins to buzz like crazy and you all but throw it into your bag; apologising to your lecturer with red cheeks.

Although now, your attention is focused entirely on the messages you’re receiving and not on the power point being shown in front of you. With a small tap on your iPad, it lights up and you open it before pausing over your usual note taking app.

The iMessages icon is there, with 4 unread messages that are just screaming out to you to read them.

No. No. You’re here to learn. Natasha and...her partners can wait. Yes. They can wait two hours.

To your credit, you make a whole page of notes before giving in.

You block the left side of your iPad with your elbow, letting out a small bored sigh before saving your work and quickly clicking on your iMessages.

If you were having a drink, you would have spat it out.

If MJ saw your messages, you’re for sure her head would explode.

You’ve been added to a group chat: Sugar Baby❤️

Holy fuck.

You tear your eyes from the unread messages on the group chat and see Natasha’s unread message.

Natasha R (11:00): I hope this is okay, Y/N. If it isn’t, tell me and I will delete the group chat and Wan and Carol can wait to meet you. Xx

You chew on your bottom lip again as you open the group chat.

Natasha R (11:01): Happy now ladies?

Wanda M (11:01): Couldn’t be happier!! Hi, Y/N x

Carol D (11:02): It’s about time, Romanoff. Hello Y/N x

Y/N (11:34): Hey guys, it’s nice to finally be able to talk to you! Xx

To keep yourself occupied while they reply, you make yourself take more notes. Only, they reply quicker than you anticipated and your note taking gets quickly forgotten.

Wanda M (11:35): Thought we had scared you off there, sweetie. Are you okay? Xx

Carol D (11:35): Yeah, now Natasha has stopped hogging you to herself.

Y/N (11:36): I’m fine. Sorry for the late reply, I’m in class! It just started when you made the group chat I think xx

Carol D (11:37): You’re in class still?

Wanda M (11:37): Tut tut are you texting in class? Xx

Natasha R (11:37): Is this true, Y/N?

Wow. You really regret telling them about class.

Y/N (11:38): Would you believe me if I said we were taking a small break…?

Wanda M (11:38): I like this one, Nat x

Carol D (11:40): Doesn’t mean she should be texting in class.

Natasha R (11:40): Oh sweetheart, if only we had discussed everything. I’d have you over my knee for this. But until then, stop texting us. Concentrate on your class and message us when you’re finished. We will still be here x

“Oh my God.”

Wanda M (11:40): Nat’s right x

Carol D (11:41): We will x

Y/N (11:41): Sorry! Okay, I’ll text you when my class is over! Xx

Carol D (11:41): Until then sweetheart x

Wanda M (11:41): Can’t wait x

Natasha R (11:42): Speak to you later, sweet. Don't be long x

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

TAG LIST:

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#natasha romanoff #marvel #wanda maximoff #reader insert #wanda x reader #imagine wanda maximoff #spiderbites #imagine avengers #fanfiction #archive of our own #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #carol danvers x reader

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thesolferino · 3 years

Text

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!”

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.”

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.”

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet?

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend.

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes.

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you.

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?”

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed.

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up.

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks.

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought.

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him.

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in.

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him.

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well.

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you.

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend.

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?”

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister.

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!”

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you.

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out.

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him.

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else.

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though?

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place.

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room.

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home.

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls”

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right”

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait.

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend.

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin.

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones.

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?!

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown.

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream.

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway.

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive.

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it.

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people.

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?”

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?”

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.”

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.”

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should.

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well.

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.”

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.”

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good.

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good.

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you.

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you.

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand.

“What?”

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it.

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty.

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it.

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was.

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it.

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning.

“Kiss me.”

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.”

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good.

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes.

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad.

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

#dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken angst #dream x reader #dream x you #dreamwastaken x y/n

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strawberryspence · 3 years

Text

A Dinner and A Future

Fluff | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer just wants your first date to be perfect and surprisingly, it goes really well.

Word Count: 3,7k.

Warnings: some cursing, first date nerves, but that's it. just pure mindless fluff.

Writer’s Note: Hello! I've been going through a writing dry spell and the thing that solved it was writing this. I've been seeing a lot of edits on tiktok about Spencer's traumas and I just wanted to give him something simple and happy. I was also listening to Kodaline on repeat while reading this, so yeah it's going be hella sappy. Enjoy! <3

Gif is mine. Lesley Smith-Juniment, you have my heart.

Spencer is nervous.

Wait no, scratch that, nervous is not good enough. He was brimming to the edge with worry and queasiness. What other synonyms does nervous have? Spencer was antsy, anxious, perturbed, uneasy, at this point he can recite the whole thesaurus.

Spencer closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. He can do this. He has waited for this for a long time and he won’t waste it because of burnt pasta.

Okay, he looks back at the note that David Rossi himself wrote in his own special handwriting.

1. Cook 1 pound pasta until Al Dente. Boy Genius, Al Dente should be firm when bitten. You cook it on a boiling water with salt and oil. SALT AND OIL.

2. While that’s cooking, do nothing. LITERALLY DO NOTHING. Watch it. Do the sauce later. In some miraculous way, if you don’t watch the pasta you’ll burn it.

A grin spreads across Spencer’s face as he puts down the paper and reaches for the fettuccine pasta and dropping it on the boiling water (which he measured with measuring cups he borrowed from JJ)

“Okay, now I wait for it to boil.” Spencer stares at the pasta as it cooks. Did he buy enough parmesan cheese? or enough pecorino cheese? Oh no. He looks over the other side of his counter where all the (complete) ingredients sit and he sighs in relief as if he hasn’t checked it 15 times since he started.

The pasta was still cooking and isn’t going to be firm anytime soon. Spencer ponders if he should just cook the sauce while waiting but he knows he’s going to mess it up if he doesn’t give it his undivided attention.

He looks at the watch on his wrist as it ticks to 5:21. He has one hour, thirty nine minutes and forty six seconds. He still has time before the date. The date with you.

It took him nine months, Derek and Emily annoying him to death to just ask the pretty librarian out, one extensive background research from Penelope, two separate talks of the “You deserve to be happy” advice from JJ and Hotch and one lecture about marriage from Rossi to finally ask you out.

He’s kinda annoyed really because he spent so much time thinking about you and thinking of the perfect way to ask you out but he shows up at the library you work at one day with a cup of coffee in hand and his heart on the other.

You didn’t even hesitate. There was no pause to process what he asked, there was no questions following the embarrassing stumbling of the words, “W-will you go have d-dinner with me? L-like a date... Date?” You immediately said yes with a small hop and the biggest smile on your face.

This date has to be perfect. He asked you to come to his apartment at 7. Spencer would’ve picked you up but he was making you a home made dinner and the date was taking place on the rooftop of you apartment, which Penelope and Derek helped him decorate with lights.

He tries the pasta and when its finally firm to the bite, he takes this as his queue to read the paper again. Of course, he can remember all of the instructions but Rossi still wrote it down and reading it calms his nerves.

3. If its cooked, drain your pasta water but leave a little pasta water on the side. Then you can continue.

4. In a pan on MEDIUM heat (just around 2-3 on the stove setting) cook one pound diced pancetta and 1 cup chopped onions in olive. Put this down and chop chop!

Spencer puts the paper down as he follows the instructions to drain the pasta. After he was done with it he puts the pan on the stove and starts chopping up the ingredients he needs.

Cooking is strangely calming. He never thought he’d find it calming. He always found himself burning stuff. So he sticks to the microwaveable meals and fast foods, even if he knows the statistics about these kinds of food.

After finishing the chopping he reaches over the paper and reads it again.

5. Are you done? Okay. Put the chopped stuff on the pan with olive oil and cook it until the pancetta is browned and onions are soft.

He immediately follows the instructions written. The onion and pancetta create a silent hiss as it hits the pan. As it cook he looks down again.

6. That’s going to take a while, so leave it but stay by its side. I am giving you permission to do two things at once. Dr. Reid, please be mindful of it.

Spencer rolls his eyes before proceeding to #7.

7. Combine the two cheeses. Then divide it in half. Then pour the half into 4 egg YOLKS. Just yolks! The yellow ones! Then beat it lightly until its really combined.

He has already separated the egg yolks from the whites (a job he didn’t think would be that hard but was surprisingly very hard) before he started cooking. He adds the combination of cheeses to the eggs and lightly beats it as he watches the pan of onions and pancetta sizzle.

When done with the egg and cheese combo, he gives the pan a stir before looking back down.

8. Is the egg done? Yes? Good. Is the pancetta and onion good? Yes? Good.

9. Okay, now you put your pasta in the pancetta pan.

10. REMOVE IT FROM THE HEAT! REMOVE IT!

Spencer follows the instructions to the T. He puts the pasta on the pancetta, gives it a stir and immediately removes it from the heat. He sighs in relief. He hasn’t burned anything yet.

11. You haven’t burned anything yet? I am proud of you.

12. Now, pour the egg mixture into the pan and toss the pasta until coated. TOSS IT GENTLY. If you’re scared use tongs.

13. Pour about 1/4 cup of the pasta water I told you to set aside earlier. You don’t have to pour all 1/4 cup, just until you get the creaminess you want.

Spencer reaches over the nearest tongs. He’s not going to toss anything tonight that involves pastas or pans. He’s taking the safe road because he wants everything to be perfect.

14. Add the rest of your cheese! Toss some more and then add salt and pepper as NEEDED!

15. You can serve it with parsley.

16. Now, go take a shower and change into some cleaner clothes.

17. Just be you and have fun, Spencer. Goodluck! :)

Spencer smiles as he puts the paper down and makes the finals touches to the pasta. He starts doing what was instructed and it surprisingly, ends up in the perfect texture. Just like the one he tasted when Rossi had a pasta night.

He was proud of himself as he takes it off the stove and makes sure that all the stoves are turned off. There was this report he read in 2018, that cooking and leaving the stove open was the leading cause of home fires.

He takes the food, puts it into a fancy tupperware (another thing he borrowed from JJ) and puts it in the microwave. He cleans up a little and stuffs the pans and pots to the dishwasher, because you are coming in his apartment even for a second.

He starts getting himself ready for the date with a shower. As the warm water glides through his body he thinks of how funny life could be.

Spencer first meets you in the library. He has not slept well in weeks so instead he opts to go to the library to get some reading done. But as soon as he sits in one of the (surprisingly) comfortable leather chairs, its as if sleep knocks him out. It wasn’t until the closing time that you wake him up and he thinks that you were an angel sent for him. This elicits a giggle from you.

“I am sorry, I am not an angel. I am just the librarian and we’ve been close for over an hour now. I just didn’t want to wake you up. You looked like you really needed that sleep.” Spencer immediately jumps to his feet as he apologizes profusely to the kind librarian, “Oh, it’s okay! Don’t say sorry. I was also reading so I didn’t mind the peace and quiet.”

That’s how Spencer meets you. He comes back a few days later after a case with coffee, croissant and an apology. You immediately become friends and thats how all of this started. Spencer finds himself falling in love with the kind, gorgeous, clever librarian faster than he expected.

Every week after that, Spencer comes to the library with pastries and coffees for his favourite librarian and every week, you welcome Spencer with a warm smile and a new book for him to read. He can read it in one sitting but he reads it in the slowest pace he could so it can last for a week.

Spencer comes out the shower and stares at his closet. Should he go casual or formal? Casual or formal? Its just dinner, he’s chill and casual is the way. He picks one of the few plaid shirts that he has and puts it on with a white shirt underneath. He tries to brush his hair, it sits for a moment before it starts curling again. He cringes but leaves it be.

Spencer proceeds to the kitchen to start packing the food into a wicker basket (that he also borrowed from JJ, he basically borrowed her whole kitchen). He packs the utensils in a table napkin that comes with the basket. The main course for the date was the carbonara, and the dessert was a tiramisu Penelope made.

He reaches over his sofa where the bouquet of paper flowers are. He made it a few nights ago with Penelope’s help. He stayed up to make more of it with old books he found in the BAU.

Because what kind of flowers is the best flowers for librarians? Origami flowers made with old book pages.

He shouldn’t be nervous. You’ve been friends for all the months that he didn’t have enough courage to ask you out. You’ve taken trips to old bookstores together for book hunting. This shouldn’t be different from your other trips.

The pitter patter of rain against his window takes him out of his thoughts.

“Shit! Is it raining!?” Spencer yelps, before opening the closed curtains. Beads of water runs down his windows and if its any other day he would love it. But not tonight, when he planned a rooftop date. He cringes as he thinks of the fairy lights hanged up and the table set up that is probably soaked now.

“Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Think, Spencer, think.” Spencer thinks fast. He finds the extra table cloth that JJ gave him because “Just in case.” He reminds himself to buy her a bottle of wine as a thank you. He places it in his small kitchen table before taking the utensils out of the basket and placing it on the table in a fancy way.

Candles. Does he have candles? Spencer scrambles around his kitchen, like a chicken without its head, looking for candles and he finds it underneath the kitchen sink. He lights some of it up and props it into some glasses (he doesn’t have a candle holder he realizes after lighting it up).

With the lights dimmed down leaving the light from the window and the light from the candles, his dark apartment gives off a romantic, kind of comfortable, vibes. It was kind of perfect because with the books on his shelves and the lighting, it actually has the same vibes a library gives off.

He was ready now, bouquet of paper flowers in hand. He can’t believe how smooth things are going, minus the damn rain. Only thing that’s missing is you.

A knock comes to the door and he instantly opens it. There you were, hair a bit wet and messed up from the rain.

His future was bundled up in a cozy cardigan and a pair of jeans right in front of his eyes and he didn’t even know it.

“Hi.” Spencer smiles.

“Hi.” You smile.

“A little to the right. No. No. Too much right, now give it a little bit to the left.” You sigh, your hand under your chin, “No, no, baby, its crooked.”

“Love, can we do this later? The pancetta is going to burn.” Spencer laughs as he climbs down the ladder with the frame.

“But you said you’ll help me with putting up the frames!” You pout at him, Spencer chuckles before kissing your nose, “I know but you also asked for my famous carbonara and I can’t do both at the same time.”

“Hmmm. I still don’t think you can call it yours when its originally Dave’s.” You follow him to the kitchen, zigzagging through the boxes of books you’ve both barely opened.

“What he doesn’t know, won’t kill him.” He winks at you before giving the pancetta and onions a stir.

“It already smells good, love.” You snake your arms through his waist and lean your head on his back. Spencer lets go of the spatula and spins around to face you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Go unbox some of the books and I’ll call you when its cooked so we can fix the frames. Okay?” Spencer kisses the top of your head and lets you go.

You walk out of the kitchen to the hallway full of boxes full of books. You chuckle as you open the nearest box and its just full of chemistry books. You push it to the room where Luke, Derek and Spencer has built shelves for all of your books. An olive green couch sits in the corner beside the built in fireplace.

Hmmm. This is your home library but as a former librarian the dewey decimal is calling you. But then again, the books you and Spencer have doesn’t have classifications on them. You began unpacking the chemistry books and placing it on the shelf. You can hear the distinct hiss of the pan and Spencer humming Kodaline’s The One.

You push in another box from the hallway to the room and its another one of Spencer’s, this one full of philosophy books. You start unpacking it to the shelf below the chemistry books before stopping as you pull out a book that doesn't belong with the philosophy books. A smile graces your face as your hands glides unto it. It was the book Spencer bought for you on your first anniversary.

The Peter Pan cover is a bit tattered, it was an older edition he found in your favorite old bookstore. You open the book and Spencer’s messy writing greets you with nostalgia.

“We are most alive when we are in love. Thank you for making me feel alive everyday for the past year. Happy Anniversary, love. I live a full life as I love you fully.”

You smile at the book before hugging it to your chest. You sigh deeply as you looked around the room and how it felt so surreal to be in the new home you share with Spencer.

“Love, I am finish. Come meet me in the hallway!” You leave the book on the shelf as you hear Spencer calling you.

“Are you helping me with the frames?” You clap, excited to finally put up the frames. Spencer smiles as he sees you excited to put up the pictures.

“Yes, okay you need to tell me if they’re straight okay?” He instructs before climbing the ladder.

“To the right, just a bit. Oh! Perfect!” You scramble to reach for another frame as he comes down the ladder to move it, “Here! This one.” He climbs again and you instruct him with directions for the frame again.

After a few more frames, he finally comes down and looks at the frames you asked to be put up.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Spencer smiles down at you and gives your cheek a kiss as he wraps his hands around your waist, “It is. Thank you for framing them.”

The frames comes in different shapes and forms, the biggest one in the middle is the picture of your wedding day. Your wedding took place in a library you immediately fell in love with when looking for places to get married at.

In the picture, you were smiling, your head rested on Spencer's shoulder as he reads a Harry Potter book he found in the kids section. It was a candid moment, both of you running to the back of the shelves to get a moment to yourselves after the wedding and the photographer snapped it before leaving the two of you in peace.

Beside it are pictures with the team on the wedding day, some on thanksgiving, christmas, new year with the BAU team, some with your family, some with Diana and in the corner is a shadow box containing the paper bouquet that Spencer gave you on your first date, the same exact flowers that was in your hands as you walk down the aisle to him.

“So, how's the first six months of officially being a Reid-Y/L/N?” Spencer teases as he lets you go from the back hug to face you and you roll your eyes at him, “Oh very hard. They hear Reid and they immediately expect greatness.”

Spencer laughs, “Same as the last name Y/L/N.” This time your the one who laughs at his statement, “Uhhh. I am not the one with 3 PhDs and 3 BAs.”

“And I am not the one whose a New York Times best selling author.” Spencer laughs even more when he sees your nose crinkles, making his heart dance and swell in glee.

“Hey, let’s dance.” He takes your arms and leaves it on his shoulders as he wraps his arms on your waist.

“We don’t have music, you silly goofy boy.” Spencer rolls his eyes at the endearment used, “I’ll sing.” He hushes you down.

“You make my heart feel like it's summer when the rain is pouring down.” Spencer’s singing voice was soft and sweet in the edges. Most nights you lull him to sleep with your humming to keep the monsters at bay and some days, his better days, he’s the one who sings and these were the days you treasure the most.

“You make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong, that's how I know you are the one... That’s how I know you are the one.” He sways you to the gentle buzz of his voice. You close your eyes as he sings the same song he sings to your ears on the dance floor for you first dance as a married couple.

“When we are together, you make me feel like my mind is free and my dreams are reachable hmmm.” Spencer hums as he runs his hands on your back. Your head on his chest and your ear listening to the way his heart is beating for you.

“You know I never ever believed in love, I believed one day that you would come along and free me.” Spencer feels at ease as he sways and sings, knowing that he’ll have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

The song ends but you and Spencer continue to sway to the music of silence.

“Can you believe its been 4 years since our first date?” Spencer asks, in disbelief of how fast time is running when he’s with you. You pull away from his chest so you can face him. You find a small spark in Spencer’s eyes as he thinks fondly of the night.

“Really? 4 years since our first date got rained on and Penelope cried because we broke all her fairy lights?” Spencer laughs before protesting, “Hey! I paid for that!”

"4 years later and I still can't get enough of that damn carbonara." Spence cackles, like an evil villain, "Don't tell Rossi that I stole his recipe for my beautiful partner."

"4 years later and I am still completely in love with you." Spencer smiles as he leans down to place a small kiss on your temple.

"4 years since I almost completely lost my mind because I was so nervous about our date." You roll your eyes, "Love, our first date was perfect. We've had this debate how many times now?"

"19 times." Spencer answers and you pinch his nose before looking around the room that’s still full of unopened boxes, “See. We should probably eat lunch and unpack. Why do we even have so many boxes of books?”

“Honey, you were a librarian and you are a writer. I am a professor and FBI agent that can read 20,000 words per minute.” Spencer answers as he looks around the unpacked house.

You smile fondly at him before standing on your tiptoes a bit to reach him and give him a kiss and he immediately steadies you with his hands. Kissing you was intoxicating and Spencer loves every bit of it. You only pull away when the kiss finally takes away your breathe.

“I love you, Spence.” You smile as you hold his face in your hands, “I love you more, sweetheart.” He smiles at you as you untangle yourself from him.

“Let’s eat your famous carbonara and unpack the rest of our house. It doesn’t really feel like home when all we can see is boxes.” You giggle before dragging him to the kitchen, making Spencer sit on the island as you prepare the pasta he cooked. Spencer watches you as you sing and dance through the kitchen in one of his old cardigans.

He doesn’t say anything but you were wrong. Home is not four walls with unpacked boxes and hundreds of books.

Home was when you showed up bundled in a cardigan, wet from the rain for your first date with him and home is still you, four years later, bundled up in his old cardigans and singing songs that magically fills and heals the crevices of his heart.

the recipe i copied for the famous carbonara!

taglist (if you want to be added, please message me 🥰): @all-tings-diego @shemarmooresfedora @averyhotchner @samuel-de-champagne-problems @bingereid

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