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a-simple-gaywitch · 3 years

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Ohana

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer’s in love with his new neighbor- and her son that’s just like him

Word Count: 3234

Warnings: Typical CM stuff (Amplification specifically), Single Parent!Reader, slight angst

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” -Lilo and Stitch

Spencer remembered the day you moved in. He remembered you lugging boxes up five flights of stairs by yourself. When he saw you struggling with a heavy box, trying to find your key, he decided to be bold and help.

“You look like you could use some assistance,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I live right across the hall.”

“Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” you said.

“Here, let me hold the box for you.”

“Careful, it’s heavy,” you said, shifting it into his arms.

Spencer was jostled for a moment from the weight of the box, which was labeled (Y/N)’s Books. “So, MD or PhD?” he asked you as you searched for the right key.

“PhD, I’m too squeamish to be in the medical field,” you said with a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Spencer had ever heard. “What about you?”

“What? Oh,” Spencer shook his head, focusing back on the conversation. “PhDs.”

You stopped sorting through your keys and turned to face Spencer. “Plural? Holy shit, are you a genius or something?”

Spencer let out a small laugh before saying, “Yeah, technically. But I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You finally found the right key and sighed as you heard the lock click. “Um, you can set the box with the others by the bookshelf.”

Spencer turned to see a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, much like his own, with boxes upon boxes of books in front of it. Some were labeled Academics, some had the same label as the one he was currently holding, and some had Oliver’s Books scrawled across the top.

“So, uh, where are you moving from?” he asked you, following the maze of boxes to your kitchen.

You offered him a bottle of water. “Erie, Pennsylvania. I got a job at Georgetown as an Associate Professor in the history department.”

“Oh, I guest lecture there every once in a while. In the criminology department. Uh, what’s your concentration?” Spencer took a sip from the water bottle.

“Medieval and Renaissance history,” you said. “I get to teach fun classes like Medieval Weaponry and Warfare.”

“Well, maybe I can sit in on that class someday.”

You smiled at him and that was when Spencer knew, you’d worked your way into his heart and you were never leaving.

Spencer remembered the first time he met Oliver. It was 53 hours, 27 minutes, and 15 seconds since the day he met you. He was coming home from an exhausting case when he saw you trying to balance paper shopping bags in your arms while opening your door. A small boy, no older than 6, stood behind you with oversized headphones and a mobile gaming system. He had a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“Ollie, take the keys. Ollie. Oliver.”

“You need some help?” Spencer asked, setting his go-bag in front of his door.

“Spencer, hi! Um, some help would be great.” Spencer took the bags from your arms so you could open the door. “Oh, uh, this is Oliver, my son.”

“Your-your son?” Spencer asked. If you had a son, it was likely you had a partner.

“Yep, he’s my boy.” You tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to say hi. The boy gave a small wave before going back to his game.

Spencer cleared his throat. “So, uh, where’s-where’s his father?”

“California. At least, that’s where he went when he left us.” Your hand was resting on top of your son’s head. He looked just like you. “Here, can you just set the bags on the counter?” you asked after opening the door. Oliver started down the hallway when you grabbed the loop of his backpack. “Not so fast. You know the rules. Homework first, then you can play your game again.”

Oliver groaned and handed you his game. You set it on the counter next to the bags of groceries.

“So, you’re raising him alone?” Spencer asked you.

You nodded and started unpacking the bags. “Yeah. You know, it’s been hard, but I can’t imagine life without my Ollie. He’s my heart and soul.”

Spencer and you became friends quite quickly. He told you about his job as a profiler, and you told him about working at the university. He would come over after cases and watch movies with you and Oliver. He’d help you put groceries away and he’d help you with simple tasks.

He also picked up on Oliver’s eccentricities. He reminded Spencer of his younger self. He didn’t talk much about kids at school and he breezed through schoolwork. His interests seemed heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a kid his age. One day, Spencer decided to ask about it as inconspicuously as he could.

The two of you were playing a game of chess when he brought it up.

“So, Oliver seems to be doing pretty well in school. What grade did you say he was in, second?”

“Yeah, the school bumped him up a grade. They wanted me to move him up to fourth, but I know how important it is to have friends your own age. And he already struggles to make friends.”

“He does? Why?”

You sighed, moving your knight. “Check. He was diagnosed as autistic when he was three. He doesn’t quite get social cues so it’s hard for him.”

Spencer moved his bishop and took your knight. “I’m sure his dad leaving didn’t help.”

“Well, he, uh, he never actually met his dad. Leo left me when I was four months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. It was almost seven years ago. I moved on, and I learned to balance motherhood with college. I completed my undergrad when he was only a few months old and I worked on graduate school when he was a high-energy toddler. It just proved to me that I can do anything. Checkmate.”

Spencer was enjoying a rare day off on a Tuesday when his phone started ringing. He groaned, thinking it was Hotch with an urgent case. But when he saw your name on the caller ID, his face lit up.

“(Y/N), hey!” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ollie’s school just called me. He’s sick but I have classes and meetings all day so I can’t go get him and-”

“Are you asking if I can go get him?” Spencer said, cutting off your rambling.

“Yes! Could you, please? I’d be so so grateful.”

Spencer smiled, grabbing the spare key you gave him. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you so much. There’s a spare car seat in the coat closet. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be picking him up. Thank you so much, Spencer.”

When Spencer got to the school, he was fidgety. He’d never spent time alone with your son before. And he wasn’t even sure if the kid liked him.

He walked into the front office and said, “Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m here to pick up Oliver (L/N)?”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you were coming to get him. If I could just see your ID?” the receptionist asked. Spencer nodded and pulled out his driver’s license. “Great, if you could just sign Oliver out on the clipboard here, you’ll be good to go.”

Spencer scribbled his signature on the clipboard and the receptionist got up to get Oliver from the back office. Oliver followed the receptionist, his backpack on his shoulders and a paper bag clutched in his hands. His face was pale and he was swaying slightly.

“Hey, Ollie,” Spencer said.

“Hi, Spencer. Where’s my mom?”

“She got stuck at work, buddy. You’re gonna stay with me until she comes home, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.” He followed Spencer out of the school and climbed in the back of his car.

“Do you want me to put the window down?” Spencer offered, looking back at the boy in the mirror. When Oliver nodded, Spencer put his window down and pulled out of the parking lot.

After pulling into the parking garage, Spencer looked in the mirror again. Oliver was fast asleep, his head slumped against the door. Rather than waking the boy, Spencer unbuckled him and scooped him up in his arms.

Oliver wrapped his little, sweaty arms around Spencer’s neck as he was carried inside. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was how much he cared for the boy, but Spencer pressed a small kiss to the side of his head. Spencer dug your spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, setting Ollie down on the couch.

After covering him with a blanket, Spencer dug around in your kitchen for some ginger ale and crackers. After setting them on the coffee table, he heard a small voice say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Spencer noticed Oliver watching him from the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, handing Oliver the soda with a red bendy straw. “What do you mean, bud?”

“I know you like-like my mom. But you’re nice to me even when she’s not here. Matt didn’t do that. He called me names when Mom wasn’t around. He said I was weird.”

Spencer knew Matt was your ex from your time working at the Erie campus of Penn State. He was the first person you’d been with since Oliver’s father. And hearing how he treated Oliver didn’t sit right with Spencer.

Spencer sighed and looked at Oliver. “I’m nice to you because I like you, too. And I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“You were?” Oliver handed the cup back to Spencer to set back on the table.

Spencer nodded. “People still think I’m weird. But being weird is good. How boring would the world be if everyone was normal?”

Oliver smiled. “It would be pretty boring,” he said.

“Get some rest, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

You finally managed to sneak out of work and get home. When you opened the door, you saw Spencer sitting in the chair across from your sleeping son, reading a book.

“Hey,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hey. How is he?”

“He has a low-grade fever and he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his stomach. I’ve been having him nibble on some crackers but even that doesn’t stay down.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, for both of you.”

The team got back from a particularly rough case dealing with kids. Hotch gave them the weekend off to recuperate.

“Anyone want to go grab a drink?” Derek offered to the group.

“Or five?” Emily added.

“What do you say, kid? You in?” Derek asked Spencer as the younger man packed up his bag.

“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, I have plans,” he said with a smile before slipping out of the office. The team watched him hurry out of the building before sharing glances with each other.

“Spence has a girlfriend,” JJ realized.

“Pretty boy has a girlfriend?”

“Think about it. When does Spencer ever have plans? And when was the last time he didn’t stay to do paperwork when we were given the time off?”

“And he upgraded his phone out of nowhere,” Emily chimed in. “He went from one that had only the bare essentials to a smartphone he texts on all the time.”

“We need to find out who this girl is,” Morgan decided.

Spencer had been keeping you a secret from the team on purpose. Not because he was ashamed of you, or embarrassed, but because he knew the team saw him as the baby and they would be invasive if they ever found out. He didn’t want them to scare you away, he loved you too much to lose you. Though, he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

You and Spencer were walking down the street, Oliver asleep on Spencer’s back, snoring against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck.

“You have no idea how excited he is for you to see his science fair project,” you said. “It was all he could talk about all week.”

Spencer smiled and adjusted the boy on his back. “I think I’m just as excited to see his project, especially since he wouldn’t let me know anything about it.”

You reached the apartment complex and you dug your keys out of your bag. “Are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? I can wake him if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I got him,” Spencer whispered, moving so that Oliver was clinging to his front rather than his back. He followed you up the stairs to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, he went straight to Oliver’s room and put the tired boy in his bed. He kissed Ollie’s forehead before flicking on his nightlight and leaving the room.

“Oh, hey,” you said when Spencer came out of the room, “Is he still out?”

“Yeah. I think we might have put him in a coma.”

You laughed and kissed Spencer’s cheek. “Go get some sleep. I know you’re tired, too.”

“I’m not-”

“Spence, you nearly fell asleep at the movies tonight. Go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. But not without a kiss goodnight.”

You gave Spencer a kiss before shooing him across the hall. When Spencer unlocked his door and flicked on the light, he saw his team sitting in his living room.

“What the hell? What are you doing here? JJ, I gave you a key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency!” Penelope said. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!”

“Kid, please tell me she’s a single mother and you haven’t been keeping a family a secret from us for years,” said Morgan.

Spencer was still annoyed his friends broke into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist talking about you, especially when they’d already seen you. “Her name’s (Y/N), she moved in about a year ago with her son, Oliver. We’ve been dating for three months.”

“Spence, why didn’t you tell us?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked down at his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t want you scaring her off. I love her. I love both of them. And you guys can be intimidating.”

“Spencer’s coming to the science fair tonight, right?” Oliver asked you as you got him ready for school.

“That’s what he said,” you told him. “And you know Spencer likes to keep his promises.”

“I can’t wait to show him my mold project!”

“Okay, kiddo, we have to go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Meanwhile, Spencer was in the conference room at work, worrying about the latest case they’ve been presented. Someone was releasing a new strain of anthrax in public places around the DC area.

But under his stress over the case, he was worrying about you and Ollie. Maybe that’s why he worked so much harder on this one.

He and Morgan were sent to the suspect’s house, and Spencer entered first. Looking around, he noticed his mistake. When Morgan made his way to the door, he slammed and locked the door.

“Reid, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer was infected. He knew there was a large chance he would die, but he couldn’t stop working. He needed to find the antidote. HIs breathing was getting heavier and he felt sweat dripping down his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hey, Garcia?”

“Reid! Oh, my god, Derek told me what happened. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“That’s not important right now,” he said. “Um, can you- can you record a message for me? It’s for (Y/N) and Ollie.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He heard her typing. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, hi, (Y/N), it’s Spencer. Um, I-I wanted to let you know that, uh, I love you and…” he paused, taking a breath and blinking tears from his eyes, “and I’m so happy you let me into your life, into your family. And I want Ollie to know I love him, too. You- both of you- you’re my family.”

After that, things happened too fast. Spencer was being pulled out of the house and hosed down before being ushered to the waiting ambulance. He fell out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital.

When he woke up in a hospital bed, Morgan was sitting by his side.

“Are you eating Jell-O?” he asked, his voice cracking from being dry.

Morgan lit up with a smile. “Welcome back, kid.”

“Is there anymore Jell-O?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, there’s some people here waiting for you.”

“What?”

Before Morgan could explain, you and Oliver burst into the room.

“Oh, my god, Spence!” You ran over and hugged him the best you could with the various medical equipment attached to him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you scolded.

Oliver climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Spencer. “Yeah, don’t do that again,” he said. “How can I take you to Donuts with Dad if you’re dead?” He looked up at Spencer with his big doe-eyes and Spencer felt his heart break a little bit.

“You-you want me to go to Donuts with Dad with you? Even though I missed your science fair?”

Ollie nodded. “I don’t care that you missed my science fair. I just care that you’re still here.” He looked up and Spencer and wrapped his arms around his torso. “I love you, Spencer.” He gave Spencer a light squeeze.

Spencer smiled and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, Ollie.” He looked up at you. “And I love you, (Y/N).”

You smiled and gave Spencer a soft kiss.

“Ewww!” Ollie squealed, making you both laugh.

Spencer proposed to you about a year later. You’d both decided you didn’t want a huge wedding, just family and close friends. Rossi gave his backyard for you to use for the ceremony. It was simple and small, but it was special and wonderful. Spencer had flown Diana out, and you’d flown your parents out.

After the ceremony, Spencer announced that the both of you had a surprise for Ollie. He went inside Rossi’s house and returned with a manila envelope. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, in this envelope, I hold the most important document I have ever signed.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “This certificate certifies that Oliver B. (L/N) is the adopted child of Spencer W. Reid,” he read.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re- what?”

“Remember all those Saturdays Penelope watched you while Spencer and I went out? This is what we were doing,” you told him.

Oliver ran over to you and Spencer and wrapped you in hugs. The rest of Spencer’s team and your parents joined in. In just two years, your family had gone from just you and your son to more people than you knew what to do with. And that was more than okay with you.

“They may not have my eyes, they may not have my smile, but they have all my heart.” -Anonymous

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

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horansqueen · 3 years

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Stuck With You - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 : If Only

🡪chapter 1 🡪chapter 2 🡪chapter 3 🡪chapter 4 🡪chapter 5 🡪chapter 6 🡪chapter 7 🡪chapter 8 🡪chapter 9

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

Well every single time I see you I start to feel this way It makes me wonder if I am ever gonna feel this way again. Then I hear myself reply "You've got to hold it in" this time tonight There's a feeling screaming in the back of my head Saying it over and over

If only I had the guts to feel this way if only you'd look at me and want to stay if only I’d take you in my arms and say That I won't go cuz I need you

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What woke me up the next day is the sound of someone walking quickly but gently around the room. I felt a shiver cross my whole body, realizing I didn't have any blanket over me. I reached for one and pulled it over me, ready to fall asleep, when I remembered my evening. I had spent a good part of the evening locked in a bathroom with Niall, he drove me and Louis home, we lied down in the same bed but most of all, he had kissed me. I felt my heart flutter as I held my breath, living over the kiss in my head. His body was warm, just like his lips, and I whimpered low as the moment played over and over in my head.

"Shit!" someone whispered after a light sound.

It made me frown and I forced myself to wake up and sit in bed, my palm pressing and rubbing my tired eyes. Niall had kissed me, it was true, but he had also ran away right after, and that meant I had no idea what was going on in his mind, or what I could expect from him this morning. His mood swings, or whatever it was, were driving me insane.

"Niall?"

He turned to me suddenly, his eyes getting slightly bigger when he noticed I was awake, and held his breath. His eyes roamed on me and I immediately felt self-conscious. I probably looked like an idiot, but at the same time, it wasn't the first time he was seeing me in the morning.

"Hey uhm, go back to bed, I didn't want to wake you up." he let out low but a bit nervously. "I just needed to get changed and pick my stuff, I have somewhere to be."

I pressed my lips together, blinking a few times until I was completely awake, and started playing with my fingers.

"Niall, about last night-"

He kept rummaging through his stuff without looking at me. "Look, Devon." he cut me with a sigh. "I don't really have time to deal with that right now."

The first thing that hit me was how hurt I was that he hadn't called me 'Devie', the way he always does. I knew it was mostly to tease me, but it actually grew on me and I ended up liking it. No one else had ever nicknamed me like that before.

"What do you mean, 'deal with it'?"

"I mean I don't have time to talk, okay?" he grabbed his back pack, eyeing his guitar and finally sighing again. "I'll be back late. Or not at all. Hope you have a nice day."

My eyes followed him as he walked until the door, opening it and glancing back at me before leaving. The door closed behind him and that's when I realized I was holding my breath. I emptied my lungs and inhaled again before closing my eyes and sighing. It could have been worse. At least, he had acknowledged me. He had even talked to me, and looked at me, which were two things he didn't really do during the low moments of his mood swings, so that was something, right?

I brought my hand to my mouth, running two of my fingertips on my bottom lip, remembering when he kissed me once again. I never thought a simple kiss could obsess me that much but it did. There was something about Niall that I needed, something that I lusted, something that I wanted... and I couldn't explain it. But I had to face reality, even if admitting it, even to myself, seemed totally horrible. I liked Niall. I really really liked Niall. For the most part, he was the opposite of my ex boyfriend, at least when he was in a good mood, and I chuckled low when I realized it was probably his best quality, which obviously didn't mean that I liked when he'd ignore me. In fact, that was something I really hated, and that reminded me of my ex boyfriend, unfortunately. I had been played so much before and I had promised myself no one would ever use me that way again. There must have been something extremely wrong with me if the men around me would ignore me whenever they didn't feel like it, right? I was not a toy to play with, and I deserved so much better... didn't I?

I sighed again and my eyes fluttered open. Of course, Niall didn't owe me anything, and the fact that I desperately wanted him in my life was going to remain a secret. I just wished he wouldn't pretend nothing had happened, because something had, and clearly, it had meant something. It was not alcohol, since neither of us really drank, and that kiss couldn't be excused by an intoxication. Thinking about it made me feel ecstatic and I cleared my throat, trying to push the thought away.

All the thoughts, questions and memories in my mind kept getting mixed together, confusing me even more. I finally decided to take a quick shower and dress up before leaving my room. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go but I ended up walking around without a specific destination. It was no surprise when I ended up in front of my unfinished painting. I stared at it for a while, blinking as I focused on the navy blue slowly turning into black on my canvas, before finally sitting in front of it. I felt something twist in my stomach at all the feelings reaching me as I looked at my own painting and the pain inside me was sharper than a knife. To me, what was on this canvas was so obvious that I felt naked and somehow, it made me think about Niall and when I saw him write a song on the piano. I had seen him vulnerable in a way too when I spied on him as he composed a song, and even if I still felt guilty about it, it made me see a side of him that I probably would have never seen in any other circumstances. I felt like I connected with him because of that and as my eyes roamed on my panting, I realized perhaps he couldn't connect with me the same way. After all, I hadn't opened up to him and he didn't see any of my art either.

I sat in front of my half-done painting and without thinking, I grabbing my brush and started adding colors. I had done a few nature paintings before, and I did enjoy the techniques and dimensions, but throwing paint at my canvas depending on how I felt had always been my favorite form of art, if only because it was abstract and I didn't have to follow many instructions except those my guts and heart were telling me.

I ended up straining my pants and shirt but it didn't matter. After half an hour, I was done, and my lips parted when I realized I had never worked so fast before. I stared at my creation, immediately hating it even if I knew it would pass, and I closed my eyes. I breathed in an out for about a minute and finally opened my eyes again. My painting was still there and my heart twisted in my chest. It surprised me because I was pretty sure I had thrown all of it on that fucking canvas.

I got up and licked my lips, breathing in deeply and taking a step back. I decided to leave it there and perhaps, at some point, I could show it to Niall. Maybe I would have the guts to show him all the feelings inside me, all the things I had gone through, all the betrayal, rejection and fake love I had received before even knowing him... but it wouldn't be today.

I finally turned around and left, walking very quickly and randomly in the halls. I realized it was not so random when I heard the notes on a piano and a voice that I could recognize anywhere now, especially because it always brought a special kind of pain in my chest.

"Dear Patience If I pour my heart out, can you keep a promise? 'Cause the situation Is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience If I'm being honest"

I held my breath and only pushed the air out of my lungs when the notes and the voice stopped. I moved closer to the door and peaked inside, my heart jumping at the sight of Niall, scribbling in a notebook. Once again, he was sitting in front of his piano and when he brought his fingers back over the keys, I held my breath again.

"Hey, can you show your face? Can you see that I'm anxious? Can you hear what I'm saying, saying? Hey, 'cause I fall too fast And I go down blazing Can you hear what I'm saying?"

My eyes fluttered close and I pressed my lips together, the sound of the notes invading me as his voice made my whole body throb. I leaned against the wall but tripped on my feet, letting out a curse word. The piano and the voice stopped at the same time and quickly, I turned around and left. I felt like my heart was about to explode in my chest when I heard a "Hey!" coming from behind. I brought my shoulders up and closer to my cheeks but didn't slow down until he reached me. His hand touched my upper arm gently and swiftly, I turned around, coming face to face with Niall.

"Devie, hey."

My lips curled slightly at the nickname and I licked my lips. "S-Sorry Niall, I didn't want to spy, I just-"

"What are you doing here, Devie?" he cut me, frowning at me as he put his hands on his hips, staring down at me. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing I just, I felt like painting." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "So I painted. And then I heard a piano and a voice. And it was you. That's all."

"Pretty sure the painting class isn't around here." he pointed out, making me blink a few times.

I started playing with my fingers nervously and swallowed. "I know, I just walked around and ended here."

I glanced around us, noticing there was literally no one around. Everyone was probably doing something else with their sunday, something like relaxing, spending time with friends, or any other hobby normal people have.

"Okay." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and making me even more anxious.

"I thought there would be like ten of you, singing random songs together whenever you didn't have class." I joked with a chuckle, making him smile.

"This is not a Disney movie, you know." he pointed out, smiling more. "There's a lot of heavy curse words and throwing notebooks and pens around the room violently."

This time, I laughed and shook my head as he took a step closer, letting his arms fall on each sides of him. He frowned a bit and bent down slightly to look at me before bringing one of his hands up again. My heart threatened to get out of my chest when his face was only a few inches away from mine and I couldn't help but think he was about to kiss me again. Instead, I felt my eyes flutter as he brought his thumb right under my eye, on my cheekbone.

"You're got some blue paint here." he whispered before wiping it slowly.

I felt disappointed that I couldn't feel his lips on mine again, but the way he had touched me made me feel a bit dizzy and my lips parted.

"Thank you." I breathed out, staring at him.

"Don't thank me." he chuckled. " I think I made it worse."

I chuckled too and licked my lips before pressing them together. "Look, Niall, about last night."

"Dev, I need to go, okay? I'll see you soon."

"Wait, Niall!" I let out, taking a step closer as he took one back. "I just-"

"Sorry!"

He turned around and started jogging back to where he came from and I sighed a bit too loud. The truth was, I had no idea what I was going to tell him. That I liked the kiss? That I wanted to kiss him again, and maybe even more? That I actually liked him? That simple thought was ridiculous, no... I would have probably ended up telling him that it was ok, that I knew he regretted it, and that we could pretend it never happened. It was not what I felt, but what else could I tell him?

I could have just gone back to talk to him. After all, I knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, but I decided against it. I couldn't force him to talk to me and maybe it was better this way.

I stood motionless just staring in front of me for a while, until I heard my phone. I grabbed it from my pocket, almost dropping it, and noticed all the blue and black paint on my hands. Now I knew how some of it had ended up on my cheek. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I was happy it did, if only to have this interaction with Niall.

'Dinner. With me. Tonight.'

I smiled fondly at my phone and quickly typed a reply to Louis.

'How about now? I'm starving.'

He just replied with a thumb up emoji and I walked back to my room, smiling when I saw Louis leaned against my door, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed.

"Hey you!" I just said when I stopped in front of him. "How's your head today?

"Bad. My whole body hurts. It feels like I was ran over by a truck. How are you?"

"I didn't really drink." I admitted with a shrug. "You know, in case you needed someone to bring you back home."

"You needed to be sober to ask Niall for a ride?" he asked with a frown, a smirk gracing his lips.

I raised my nose in a grimace and groaned low, making him laugh. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a hug. His hoodie was soft and warm and I just closed my eyes, inhaling deeply his scent. It reminded me of how good Niall smelled last night, in my bed, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. I recognized this feeling, and I hated this feeling.

"So, how about chinese food?"

----

"Wait, he kissed you?"

We had decided to eat in his room, sitting on the floor, and I thought we would put a movie on but we just ended up talking together. I loved talking with Louis, he was pretty much my only friend here anyway. Hell, he was probably the only friend I had in the whole wide world.

"Mmhm, but then you were sick and he brought you back to your room and spent the night with you." I explained, my eyes locked on the noodles in my bowl at I moved my spoon in it.

Letting all that out was embarrassing but at the same time, I felt like Louis was the only one I could share this with. I was also extremely confused by Niall's behavior and by mine, too. What was I doing exactly? Why did I want to get closer to Niall so bad and why did it matter if he was nice to me or not?

"Ouch, sorry about that." he grimaced before I shrugged. It was not Louis' fault and I would never blame him for it. "Wow, I can't believe he kissed you." Louis added in a low tone before putting way too many noodles in his mouth and chewing. "Never thought he'd make a move so early."

"What?" I asked as my heart skipped a few beats. "Why do you say that?"

He stopped chewing and his eyes met mine as I remained motionless, my lips slightly parted. Did I really hear what I thought I heard?

"Dev, do I have to state the obvious?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as I frowned. "Niall likes you!" he added a bit louder before chuckling. "He's liked you since the first day he met you!"

My frown turned into a smile and I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. "Yea, sure, of course." I let out sarcastically, putting my bowl away and leaning against his bed. "Niall Horan likes me."

The thought was so ridiculous that I laughed a bit more and shook my head.

"He does."

"He's been an ass to me since day one. He's rude to me or ignores me. Just because he kissed me one time doesn't mean he actually has feelings for me."

Louis kept quiet and when I turned my head to look at him, he was staring at me with a smirk on his face, noodles in his fork up in mid-air.

"What?"

"You like him." he pointed out, making me suddenly embarrassed as I frowned again.

"No."

"You fookin' like him!" he repeated, bursting into laughter. "You should see your face!"

"Shut up!"

Louis pushed my upper arm slightly, making me tilt slightly as I groaned. I hated that he said that because I hadn't admitted that to myself just yet. Perhaps, the fact that I liked Niall was very obvious but I just hoped it was not. I didn't even know how to deal with that new feeling and I certainly didn't want anyone to try and analyze how I felt.

"You like him!" he added, making me groan low again before I turned and pushed him gently at my turn.

The cup of noodles slipped out of his hand and ended on my thighs. I let out a short yell and held my breath as the warm liquid soaked my pants and the bottom of my shirt.

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" Louis let out before chuckling again. "Sorry, this is way too funny!"

He got up as I remained still, trying not to make it worse. After a few seconds, he handed me a hoodie and I just stared at it. What would Niall say if I walked back to our room wearing Louis' hoodie? I knew it shouldn't bother me but Niall seemed to get pissed whenever I said something about Louis and I felt like it would make things worse between us.

"Thanks Louis, but I'll just go get changed." I just said, getting up, feeling how drenched my pants were. "It's not like my room was very far."

"Okay, I'll pick a movie while waiting for you, if you want."

"Mmhm, good idea."

I walked out of his room and reached mine with only a few steps and without thinking, I turned the knob and opened the door. Niall was there, completely naked, laying on top of the brunette I remember seeing at the party, the one he had his arm around. They both stopped what they were doing when they noticed me and Niall turned his head to look at me. I suddenly felt nauseous and dazed, so much that I had to hold the knob harder and lean my other hand on the door frame.

I could swear I saw guilt in Niall's eyes but I was probably just dreaming. I blinked a few times, swallowing the tears that threatened to come out. It was so tough to do that it started physically hurting and I just cleared my throat.

"Sorry, I just..."

"Why don't you just get the fuck out?" I heard the brunette yell.

I didn't send her a glance. I just kept looking at Niall, feeling my heart twist so hard in my chest I could swear it had completely broke, and the worse was that he stared back. He was deep inside an other girl and his eyes were on me, and all I could think about was that I hoped my pain was not showing on my face, because I didn't want him to know that I was fucking hurt by the fact that he was shagging an other girl after kissing me less than 24 hours before.

Like an idiot, I waited. I waited for what seemed like an hour, but was probably just about a minute. I waited for him to apologize. I waited for him to tell me it meant nothing, and that it was a mistake. But I waited in vain because after a while, his gaze just dropped, and I decided that I had seen enough. I had waited enough. I didn't know what I was expecting anyway.

"Fuck you."

My voice was low but firm and with those words, I took a step back and closed the door gently.

REQUEST

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan story #niall horan au #niall horan college au #niall horan enemies to lovers #my fanfics #swy #do you hate me now?#chapter is a bit longer but it had to be sorry :)

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rmtndew · 4 years

Text

Begin Again ~ Chapter 3

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff)

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @xxxkatxo, @musicartmayheminmyheart

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Hectic was the only word to describe the next morning. From the moment I stepped foot into Darcy’s office at Waverly, we were going non-stop. We had a massive delivery that had to be ready by eleven o’clock and even though we’d done as much prep work as we could the day before, it was still a huge undertaking for a single morning. Our saving grace was that the company was sending someone to pick it up for them instead of having it delivered, which meant we could work right until pickup time. And that’s exactly what we did.

We had all the orders boxed up and ready to go, and Nick and I waited in the front room of the store for the pickup guy. Nick’s sole purpose for being there was to make up for his mistake from the day before: his punishment was to help with the loading.

I was double-checking the order (just for my own sake) when I heard the bell above the door alert me to someone coming in. I turned, mentally preparing myself for social interaction, knowing that I had to greet the customer with a smile. But as I took in the man walking towards me, I felt like puking.

“Fiona? Is that you?” Ezra, my ex-boyfriend, was smiling and walking towards me.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I steeled myself and asked, “Are you here for the Mead-Holmes order?”

“Come on, Fi, don’t play like this,” he said, stopping far too close to me.

“Don’t call me that,” I said. “And what order are you here for?”

He put his hand on my arm. “Fi, I swear I didn’t know you worked here. I promise. Or I wouldn’t have come,” he said. “But maybe it’s a good thing.”

I took his hand off me, removing it completely. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me Fi. Just tell me what order you’re here to get,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could manage.

He scoffed. “Wow. I really thought you’d be an adult about it whenever we finally ran into each other, but I was wrong.”

Nick stepped up. “Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt but I’m here to help load the Mead-Holmes order, so if you’re here to pick that up, you can go ahead and sign off on it and show me where you’re at and I’ll get these loaded for you.”

Ezra kept his eyes on me while Nick was talking and then a moment longer once he finished. Finally, he looked at Nick and let out a breath. “Yeah, that’s my order,” he said. “Where do I sign for it?”

Nick moved behind me, taking the clipboard with the order form from the counter, then handed it to Ezra. He scribbled out something that was meant to be a signature, but I was sure that a brain dead parrot would have had more legible handwriting. Nick had his hand out, ready to take the clipboard back, but instead, Ezra thrust it at me. I took it, trying not to give him the satisfaction of letting him see a reaction on my face.

“Thank you. A copy of the receipt is attached to the order and will be e-mailed back to your company. We appreciate your business,” I said. “Now, if you would show Nick to your vehicle, he would be more than willing to help you load your order.”

He took a set of keys from his pocket, aimed over his shoulder, and pressed a button. The van parked right outside the door beeped and the lights flashed temporarily as he unlocked it. “You can load them in the back,” Ezra said to Nick, not bothering to even look at him.

“Have a good day,” I said flatly, then turned to leave. I didn’t even take a step before he put his hand back on my arm again. My entire body tensed up. “Ezra, let me go.”

“You’re really just going to walk off without talking to me?”

“I did talk to you, but there’s nothing left to say except let me go.”

He removed his hand, then circled around so he was in front of me. “I’m here on business and you’re supposed to be representing your company. Being rude to me isn’t a great way to treat customers.”

I placed the clipboard on the counter and crossed my arms, trying to keep them out of his reach, then took a side step, allowing Nick access to the boxes stacked beside me. “I’m not being rude.”

He smiled condescendingly at me. “Look, I know that we ended on some...rough terms, but I hoped that when we finally saw each other, we could recognize it was for the best.”

“It was for the best,” I agreed.

“See? That’s my girl.”

My jaw clenched as my hands balled into fists. “I’m not your girl. I’m not your anything,” I said. “The reason I think breaking up was for the best is because I didn’t want to waste any more of my time with someone so shallow, and cold, and selfish as you. And the moment you finally revealed that part of yourself to me, the moment you showed me exactly who you are, I was done.” I shook my head. “The one good thing about you being as heartless as you were, was that I never spent a single second worrying about what I did wrong, or how I could have fixed things between us. I never cried myself to sleep at night missing you. Most people who have toxic partners don’t get a clean cut at the end of a relationship like I did. But that day at South York, when you broke up with me all of ten seconds after I’d told you that Dad had been in a wreck, you cauterized that line between us. So yeah; it was for the best.”

Nick made a low whistling sound right before leaving the store, the bell overhead echoing him.

“You know, it’s a little irritating that you always bring up this crap about ending things after your dad’s accident, but would you have preferred me to wait until after you knew that he was dead? Would that have made it easier? No,” he said. “I did you a favor. It was like a Band-Aid. I pulled it off quickly and got it over with. But you don’t see it like that, do you?”

“I’m not sure if you understand the definition of ‘quick’ but talking about it for the full twenty-minute drive to the hospital, where you basically kicked me out on the sidewalk, isn’t it,” I said.

“Do you hear yourself, Fi? You’re happy that I broke up with you, but oh, I should have held your hand and walked you into the hospital? Why so your mommy could yell at me then, too? Even you have to admit that was embarrassing, having Ava yell at me for you.”

My fists tightened, my fingernails biting into my skin. I’d never been so tempted to smack anyone my whole life. “I didn’t have her do anything. She was plenty mad enough to do it on her own. It was her husband who had just died when you dumped all of my stuff on her front lawn because seeing it was ‘too painful’ for you.”

“Well, rumor has it, it’s your house again now.” He took a step closer to me. “That you got fired and had to move back in with her.” He smirked. “Is that what happened, Fi? I wouldn’t marry you so you had to move back in with your mommy so someone would take care of you?”

The bell over the door rang again. I was expecting Nick to come over for more boxes and give me a way to escape, but he didn’t.

“Stop calling me Fi!” I snapped. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. Now I suggest you take your order and leave.”

He frowned at me mockingly. “Aw, am I making you mad? You’re so cute when you’re mad. You finally do that red hair justice,” he said. “You know, if you’d shown this much passion when we were together, I might have actually considered marrying you.”

“Thank goodness I dodged that bullet then.”

The humor left his face. “Whoever gets you next, they better like broken things.”

I looked him in the eye. “Do you honestly think you were strong enough to break me, Ezra?” I asked. “The only thing you could break were promises.”

He sneered at me, then let his eyes drift behind me. I was sure that he was looking at Nick, wondering how much of his true personality he was going to let a stranger see, but then I felt a wall of heat behind me. I turned my head and saw Walter. Comfort flooded my body the moment he was at my side.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking down at me.

I nodded. “He was just leaving.”

Ezra took a step back. His mouth was in a thin, tight line as he looked Marshall up and down. “Are you the owner?” he asked. “Because I’m here for an order and your employee here -” He crossed his arms and nodded his head at me. “- she needs to work on her customer service skills.”

“I’m not the owner. But I’m fairly sure she told you to leave.”

Ezra looked confused. I watched in his eyes as he tried to work out what was going on. “If you’re not the owner, then our conversation has nothing to do with you. You have no reason to intervene.”

“I’m here for Fiona. And how you’re talking to her, it isn’t acceptable. She’s asked you to leave, so if you’re here for an order, I suggest you take it and go,” Marshall said. He spoke slowly and deliberately, but each word was laced with anger.

Ezra smiled. “Are you serious? You’re with her?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Good luck to you. You’ll never be able to please her.”

“From what I understand, you never really tried,” Marshall said.

“Is that what she told you?” Ezra looked at me again. “You’re always the victim, aren’t you? You poor little bird,” he said mockingly. “Maybe one day you’ll grow up and see the truth.”

“You know, this immature gas-lighting bull crap that you and Demi both pull, it’s getting old,” I said.

He smirked. “Speaking of Demi, the next time you see her, tell her that I found her earrings. They were in my couch.”

I knew what he was trying to do and I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of succeeding.

“So you had the audacity to dump my belongings on a dead man’s lawn, but you don’t have the guts to return some earrings that she allegedly left at your place?” I asked. “But I’m the immature one. Sure.”

He was angry that I hadn’t taken the bait. He pushed his hair back from his face aggressively and stepped back from me. “I hope your boss realizes that you just lost a big client,” he said, then started walking away.

“Did we? Because I’m pretty sure that the company is called Mead-Holmes, not Mead-Holmes and Williams,” I said, turning and calling after him. “And I’ve never heard of a partner or CEO fetching lunch for his company. It seems to me that you’re just an errand boy.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, then slowly turned back around. He opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak.

“Don’t say another word. Just turn around and keep walking,” Walter said, putting himself slightly in front of me. “Or I can escort you out. It’s your decision.”

Ezra looked from Marshall to me and I could see him trying to decide if he was going to back down and listen or try to get the last word in. Eventually, he made the smart choice for once and left, shoving past Nick, who was returning to the store, then climbed into his van, slamming the door hard enough to make his windshield wipers jump.

Marshall turned to me, blocking my view of Ezra. His face was softer, his eyes holding worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

I let out a breath. It was shaky. My whole body was tense. “No, actually. I’m angry. I can’t believe he had the nerve to come in here and act like that.”

“What do you need me to do for you?”

I blinked. It was a simple question, but it wasn’t one I was used to hearing. It felt like it took me a long time to unwrap it in my mind. Finally, I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You should take a break,” Nick said. He was loading another portion of the order onto his cart. “I’ll tell Aunt Darcy what happened as soon as I’m done. She’ll understand.”

I chewed my lip for a moment, mulling it over before finally relenting. “Okay. Thank you,” I said to Nick. Then to Marshall, “Would you come with me?”

He nodded. “Where do you want to go?”

I led him through the store and out the back door, into the employee parking lot. The moment we stepped outside, the cold air hit me. I gasped. I hadn’t thought to get my coat from Darcy’s office. Walter noticed.

“It’s cold,” he said, taking off his coat. “Put this on.”

I shivered but shook my head. “No, I can’t take it from you.”

“Yes, you can.” He placed it over my shoulders and held it on me until I finally put my arms through the sleeves, then he pulled it closed in the front. It swallowed me whole. He smiled at me. “Perfect fit.”

I smiled back. “It’s pretty cozy. Thank you,” I said. “But I feel bad that you don’t have one now.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stay close to you for warmth,” he joked. He slid his hands inside the coat and placed them on my hips. Instinctively, my arms went around his neck. We looked like we were dancing, even though we were standing still. His smile grew. “Just like this.” He kissed the top of my head before pressing his forehead to mine. “Do you want to talk about what happened or do you want to forget it?”

I let out a breath. “I don’t - I don’t know.” I let my fingers wander into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently playing with his curls. “That was my ex. I haven’t seen him in two years. Part of me...a big part of me, just wants to forget about him, erase him from my memory and never think about him again,” I said. “But another part of me wants to go yank him out of his van and throw him to the ground and stomp his stupid teeth in. And I hate it because he’s the only person who makes me feel that way.”

“Do you want me to talk to him? The gun and badge tend to make people listen to me.”

I smiled but shook my head. “No. I just want you to stay right here with me,” I said. “Please.”

He didn’t say anything, he only nodded, moving my head slightly with his as he did. Then I closed my eyes as I tried to breathe calmly and let go of the anger that Ezra had stirred up in me. With every passing second, Marshall took over and pushed out any lingering pieces of Ezra. The heat of his hands melted away all remembrances of Ezra’s cold, clammy touch that always had an ulterior motive. The scent of him, clean and full of coffee, chased away the smell of expensive cologne that had always been applied too liberally. His presence was comforting and enveloping, not demanding and suffocating. It was like I’d been trapped in a burning building, inhaling smoke, and Walter was my first breath of fresh air and my lungs were screaming for him.

I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me. I blinked and it suddenly hit me that there must have been a reason for him being there and I’d been so caught up in myself that I hadn’t even thought to ask. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I doubt you came here for all of this.”

His hands tightened, pulling me closer. “I came here for you.”

“What did you need me to do?”

He smiled, just the corner of his mouth turned up. “Nothing.” I must have looked confused because he laughed softly. “I just wanted to see you,” he said. “I thought I might be able to take you for coffee?”

I felt my heart swell. My fingers pushed further into his hair, sinking to his scalp. Lightly I scratched my nails against it. He closed his eyes and sighed. “How did I get so lucky to meet you?”

His eyes stayed closed as he leaned back into my touch. “I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”

“Mom, I’m home,” I called out as I walked through the door that evening. “I picked up dinner, too.”

“Already in the kitchen,” Mom called back.

I kicked off my shoes by the door, then went to the kitchen. Mom was at the table, papers spread everywhere in front of her as she wrote on a legal pad. One set of reading glasses sat perched on her nose, while another hung around her neck on a chain.

“So...what’cha doin’?” I asked slowly, standing in the doorway.

She looked up at me and over the rim of her glasses. “Last night, June mentioned that since I was sick on her’s, mine, and Aunt Rose’s birthday, it would be fun for the three of us to go away for the weekend and celebrate. So -” She indicated to the layers of paper in front of her. “I’m planning the trip.”

“A trip to where?” I asked. “What kind of weekend getaways call for this type of planning?”

She shook her head. “No, see, I looked up a few places, printed off a list of all their attractions, restaurants, hotels, what have you, and now I’m making a list of each with pros-cons and prices for them all, then we can decide from there.” She waved her hand dismissively over the papers. “This is all getting condensed. I’m not giving them an entire booklet.”

“So, when Dad said that you were a teacher’s pet, this is the kind of thing he was talking about. Right?”

“I wasn’t a teacher’s pet; I just like being thorough. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She stood and started clearing the table. “Those are pretty,” she said, nodding to the vase of flowers in my hand. “Where did they come from?”

“Marshall gave them to me.”

“He sent you flowers at work? That was sweet.”

“Actually, he didn’t send them. He took me out to coffee and bought them for me afterward,” I said, carrying the vase and takeout bag to the counter and setting them down.

“He saw you last night, and you have a date planned for Saturday, but he asked you out for coffee today?” she asked.

I turned to look at her and leaned back against the counter. I couldn’t help my smile. “He said he just wanted to see me.”

“I think this one might be a keeper, Fi.”

I laughed. “I think so, too,” I said. “Today was very nearly a dumpster fire and he extinguished it.”

She looked concerned. “What do you mean? What went wrong?”

“So, the big order we had today? Ezra was the one who picked it up.”

She paused her cleaning. “What?”

“Yeah. I was there to get the driver to sign off on the order, so I had to talk to him. I was hoping - a little naively, I guess - that we could just keep it simple and professional, but unfortunately that didn’t happen,” I said. “I tried walking away and he followed me, essentially saying that everything that had happened between us was my fault. He said that it was pathetic that you yelled at him after we broke up, making it sound like I’d had you do it for me. And then insinuated that he and Demi were having an affair, or they’re currently sleeping together now. I’m not sure. He was trying to upset me, but I don’t know if it was the truth or not. I didn’t fall for it and ask.”

“Well, if Demi is dumb enough to get involved with him after everything she saw him put you through, then she deserves what she gets,” she said. “And if he thought it was pathetic that I yelled at him, what did he think about throwing your stuff out on our lawn two hours after your father died? Is that not beyond pathetic?”

I shook my head. “I genuinely think he’s too narcissistic to even consider himself at fault. He said he got it over with quick for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “How kind of him,” she deadpanned.

“Then Marshall came in -”

Her eyes widened. “He came in while Ezra was there?” she asked, interrupting me. I nodded. “What did he do?”

“He told Ezra that how he was talking to me was unacceptable and that he needed to leave. Then he took me outside so that I could calm down, and once Ezra left, Darcy let me have an early break and he took me out for coffee and bought me flowers to cheer me up.”

“Oh, Bird. He really is a keeper, isn’t he?”

I put my hand over my chest and felt my heart speed up thinking about him holding me in the parking lot, telling me that he was the lucky one. I let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. He really is, Mom.”

That night Walter called me like he said he would. I’d always been rather bad at phone calls and even he had admitted that anything outside of work calls was out of his comfort zone, but for the three and a half hours that we talked, it didn’t seem that way. I lay in bed and talked to him like he was right there. Like we’d known each other forever. We only hung up because I started drifting off. He joked that he was boring me, but I tried to assure him that it was far from that. His voice was calming and soothing and every bit as warm as he was. Sleepily I told him that he was like sitting in front of the fireplace on a rainy day with a cup of tea. He laughed but said as long as he got to sit at the fireplace beside me, he didn’t mind the comparison.

I slept better that night than I had in months.

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #Night Hunter fan fiction #Night Hunter #Nomis #Nomis fan fiction #Henry Cavill fanfiction #Henry Cavill fanfic #Detective Walter Marshall #Begin Again

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

Text

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.16

a/n: ya’ll~ brace yourselves for this chapter xD ngl, i was blushing when i wrote this~ he might be a bit ooc here butttt i think it fits the story quite well ;)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, fluff

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 17

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito @meximorrita @awesomeee19 @celestial-kanzakii

“Did you actually tell Tsukauchi that you want me to be your partner for the stakeout?”

The day had now ended and Overhaul’s jacket rested on your shoulders. Your phone leaned on some stacked books as you typed away on your laptop. As the both of you were chatting, you were typing some reports that you had to pass in a couple of days. On the other end, he was busy scribbling notes and signing papers.

“Is there a problem?” His eyes were focused and glued to the paperwork.

“None that I can think of~” Your fingers stopped typing. Fiddling with your fingers, you chewed on your lower lip. “I just, uhh, wasn’t expecting that request.”

“Tsukauchi was no hindrance and cooperation was present.” He put his pen down and rested his chin on his palm. His focus now on his screen. This would have to be the 6th video call this week, something he lowkey didn’t mind. Though, he kept his voice low knowing the others might overhear. “However, your company is one I prefer more.”

“Or in short, you miss hanging out with me?” Giving him the finger guns, you saw how his face morphed into one with disgust and embarrassment. Watching how he picked up his phone and face palmed, you knew he was about to end the call. Not on your watch. “WAIT! Chill Overhoe, I was just kidding.”

“Excuse me?”

“Depends what you want the excuse for.” Gods, you loved teasing this man so much.

“What did you just call me?”

“I called you Overhaul.” You tilted your head and pouted. “Did I not? Are the paper works getting to you, Chisaki?”

“There are days where I wish to use my quirk over the phone.” Thankful his mask was still on, the lingering smirk was covered. His eyes gave it away but he could care less. This was one of the moments where he could feel vuln-whut? “Today is one of them.”

“I’m not into sadistic kinky shit.” By now, you were grinning from ear to ear. Seeing how the corner of his eye indicated the corner of his mouth curled upwards was a win for you. If only he wasn’t wearing that god damn mask. At least it wasn’t the bird beak. “I prefer them sensual and slow. The type who does the opposite when I tell them to go slower~”

“Isn’t that statement contradicting itself?” Not that he’d know. Sexual fantasies were something he couldn’t help but to actually touch a woman’s body? Be so intimate and actually exchange thousands of bacteria through your mouths? The thought made his spine shake with the amount of grossness he couldn’t fathom. But a new question crept in, were you pure in that sense?

“That’s the whole point, Overhoe.”

“I honestly wonder why I tolerate your behavior.” It was more of a mumble but loud enough for the conversation to continue. Absentmindedly fixing the papers, he found himself done for the day and headed back to his room.

“You tolerate me because I’m the only one who has the guts to act like this.” Twirling your index, you pointed at yourself. “But in all seriousness, if you want me to be professional around you, just say so and I’ll take a step back.”

“There is no need for that.” Now in his room, his tensed shoulders relaxed a bit. Sliding his tie off, he placed it on his man-vanity. “Your behavior is unacceptable if it were them but exceptions are made from time to time.”

“You make me sound like a guilty pleasure.” That was meant to be said in silence but your mouth moved faster than your mouth. Activating your quirk, you failed to stop the blood flow heading towards your cheek.

“You are.” Taking his mask off, Overhaul watched as you failed to control the blush on your face. The small hitch your breath took made him want to see just how far was he going to go to get reactions from you. Placing his phone on the dock, he sat down and began to unbutton his dress shirt. His peripheral focus was on you.

‘OH GOD OH GOD.’ Your leg bounced up and down as you tried to look unfazed. Sliding the tie off was hot enough, and now the possible outcome of seeing him shirtless was now coming into the light. Surely he was doing this on purpose, no doubt about it. With what little sense of pride you had, you found the will not to watch his gloved hand slowly revealing more and more of his skin. ‘GEI WHAT THE HELL DO I DO IN THIS SITUATION?!’

‘Ya go with the flow baby girl! Teasing is better when it’s two sided! Live in the sexual tension and see if either of you break!’ You could hear him in your mind. It was so loud it made you think if he were actually telepathically communicating with you.

Tease him back, huh?

Taking in a deep breath, you began to test the waters.

“Didn’t take you to be the stripper type, Chisaki.” Luckily, you paused at the right time for him not to notice how your breathing stopped when his golden eyes met the camera once more. “But, I can’t refuse a little show coming from THE Overhaul.”

“Are you suggesting something, my sweet guilty pleasure?” He stopped unbuttoning his shirt and leaned on the backrest. What he did not expect was for your camera to turn off. Chuckling at the little exchange, he proceeded to undress himself. “Still there?”

You were still there, physically. Other than that, you knew you lost the game. There was no way to recover from him calling you his, HIS, guilty pleasure. Fanning your face, you tried to regain composure before finding the courage to turn the camera on again. Placing your phone screen down, your mind thought about what it’d sound like if he whispered it in person.

‘Fuck. Damn it.’ Your grip on the hem of his jacket was astronomical. Patting your chest, you felt the heat in your face cool down. “Yes. My signal got bad all of a sudden.”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, (l/n).”

Grabbing your phone, you threw it back onto your bed. The holy sight of a shirtless Overhaul made you shriek in silence. Covering your face, you forgot about your quirk and felt all the blood rush to your cheeks. Peaking at the screen, you quietly observed as he was waiting for you to turn your camera back on. The teasing look on his features made him even more irresistible.

“Put on a shirt, Chisaki.”

“Later.” He stood up and good lord his V-line looked divine. “I have to end the call for now.”

“Whyyy?” Turning the camera on, Overhaul managed to see how your eyes went up and down.

“I’m filthy. I have to bathe.” Taking his belt off, he tossed it to his bed and walked towards his dresser.

“Any chances you can bring your phone with you?” Overhaul is the death of you but as of the moment, you didn’t care. He was shirtless and strutting his stuff. That’s all that matters.

“We haven’t reached that point yet, my guilty pleasure.”

“Stooop calling me that.” You hid your face with your free hand. Still peaking at the screen to find him smirking again.

“You are my guilty pleasure. I’m not going to deny that, (y/n).” Taking the phone from its dock. He stared at how flushed your face was. “You may not be pure but you always manage to plague my mind at the most random times. If I were to speak my mind, I would want to meet up and have dinner with you but those wretched heroes are starting to make a move.”

“We can always rendezvous here…” You offered without thinking. The words that came out of his mouth were intoxicating. “I doubt they’d think you’d actually drop by and watch Betflix in my unit.”

“Are you inviting me over?” He raised a brow.

“N-not necessarily.” Looking away from the screen, your mind began to come up with a plan as to how you could let him enter your apartment without being seen or being too suspicious. “I mean, the offer’s always up…”

“Heroes are trailing me, (l/n).”

“But the heroes don’t have a map of your base. They just have a rough outline of the area and that’s it.”

“Just say it, (l/n).”

“Pick you up in 30 minutes?” Your heart was beating rapidly. Was he actually going to do it?

“Give me 40.”

Ending the call, your jaw dropped and for a moment you were not sure what to do. Covering your mouth, you recalled the conversation and repeated his last words. 40 minutes. He would be arriving in your apartment in the next FORTY MINUTES. Jolting to the living room, you frantically fluffed the pillows and checked for any dust bunnies. Grabbing the vacuum, you found yourself cleaning your house at 9 in the evening.

After a good 10 minutes of rough vacuuming, the unit was now silent and clean. Scurrying to the supply closet, you grabbed a can of Kysol and sprayed the entire room. It wasn’t the best thing to inhale but if it meant sanitation, then so be it.

Heading back to your room, you quickly grabbed a pair of sweats and a shirt. Nothing too conspicuous you reminded yourself. Folding the jacket and placing it on the vacant side of the bed, you took your keys, wallet, and phone on the bedside table.

Now inside the elevators, you made sure to take a quick stop at the 3rd floor before heading to the basement. Closing the doors to your car, you took your phone and dialled Gei.

“A 9pm call.” Gei answered. “Either you’re bored as hell in a case OR somethin else boutta happen, hmm?”

“I’m getting Overhoe and he’s gonna chill in the unit.” You spoke fast but he took it all in.

“AAAHHHH!! QUEEN TODRICK! QUEEN BEYONCE! FINALLY!” Gei could hear you starting the car. Putting his wine glass down, he sat properly and took out his fluffy fan. “Are you gonna get some action, boo?!”

“No. We just…” What were you guys going to do? “It was a spur of the moment decision. I followed your advice and teased him and lived in the sexual tension and now here I am. Driving to pick him up.”

“So me sneezing really was you thinkin’ bout me~ Honey, you made the right decision by teasing that villain.”

“I saw him shirtless too.”

“OH?! Ya’ll be video callin now?!” His fingertips touched the tip of his chests. “Baby girl, you datin or nah? Cause that’s sumthing I can’t see him doin unless you special or some shit.”

Remembering what he called you, you held on tighter to the steering wheel. Seeing the red light, your car slowly stopped and that gave you enough chance to cover your heated up face once again.

“H-he c-called me his guilty pleasure.”

“(L/N) (Y/N)! I SWEAR TO THE QUEENS IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TONIGHT, YOUR LEGS AIN’T GONNA BE WORKIN FOR A WEEK!” Followed by shrieking and squealing, Gei finally cleared his throat and exhaled. “Are you ready?!”

“Gei, nothing is going to happen okay?” You assured him. “Overhaul thinks I’m filthy so there’s no way my legs aren’t safe. Besides, we were just teasing each other. It’s been a while since we last saw each other so I kinda offered my unit to just catch up.”

“My ass.”

Your screen lit up once more and his contact popped up.

“He’s calling. I gotta go.”

“Live for the moment boo. Show him why The Levi Ackerman fell for you!”

Hanging up, you put Overhaul on the line and parked by a dimly lit area.

“A block from the base, turn right and you’ll see a traditional looking house. Meet me there.” He gave instructions to which you followed. Telling him you were on your way, he hung up as well.

Making sure that you weren’t being trailed or followed, you turned to the corner and sure enough saw the mentioned house. Did he walk all the way here or was this some kind of hideout they used. Seeing the gates open, you saw him exiting the building.

Black sweats, jacket, cap, and mask. He looked like a quirkless burglar leaving the house respectfully. Stopping in front of him, you turned the door lights off and watched as he entered the car.

“Good evening.” He greeted.

“We didn’t really think this through now, did we?” Giving him a shy smile, you drove back to the main highway. “Is there anything you wanna eat?”

“It’s fine. I don’t think it is safe to linger.”

“I got that covered. Don’t worry.”

“Will we use the main elevator?”

“I will.” You pointed your finger at him. “You, my dear Chisaki, will be using the stairs.”

“Take me back to the base.”

“I’m joking~” You turned the vehicle to the left and saw the convenience store. “We’ll use the secondary elevator. Now wait here while I buy some snacks, ‘kay?”

“Don’t boss me around.” He raised his brow once more and he watched as you closed the doors and headed inside the building. Just in time, his phone rang with Kurono on the screen. “This better be important.”

“Are you with her?” Kurono asked cautiously. Making sure he knew what to call him in the next minutes to come.

“I won’t take long, Kurono. Keep the others in check.”

“What exactly is your purpose for tonight’s visit, Kai?”

“As you can recall, I’ve taken an interest in her.” He picked up a small lint from his pants and overhauled it. “We’ll just catch up and probably munch on some snacks.”

“Munch on some snacks?” He repeated slowly. “What’s next? Watch a movie?”

“If there’s nothing you need to inform me, Kurono, I’ll be ending the call now.”

For a second, Kurono felt the need to give some advice regarding what women like when things got intimate. Yet, knowing he’d end up dead and alive made him think otherwise. Besides, if you had a thing for Overhaul, what could possibly go wrong with ‘munching on some snacks’ with a yakuza boss?

“No. That’s all.” His voice was uncertain but left no room for questions. “Should I pick you up?”

“No need.” Before his right hand man could say anything, he ended the call. Just in time for you to exit the store with a paper bag full of chips and drinks. Remembering that scenery a few days ago, he had to wonder, was Ackerwacker still in your apartment? Probably not knowing he was invited.

Now that you were buckled up, the drive back to the apartment was surprisingly filled with small talk. Mostly about the Fukuo Kai case and the small behind the scenes activity Overhaul saw fit to share regarding the Shie Hassaikai.

Parking the car in its spot, you handed the paper bag to your companion. Following your lead, the both of you made your way towards the basement elevator. Things were relatively peaceful till the doors stopped closing and slid open once more.

“Evenin, (l/n)-san.” One of your neighbors greeted as he entered with his girlfriend. The stench of alcohol surrounding them. Staring at the man holding the groceries, he eyed him down and shrugged.

“Good evening, Sawada-san.” You nod politely. This was not looking pretty.

Elevator music played as the elevators went up. The elevator was quite cramped with 4 people in it. Observing the germaphobe, you were glad that he didn’t show any signs of breakouts or even just utter disgust at the sight beginning to unfold beside you two.

As if things weren’t awkward enough, the girlfriend began to become all touchy with Sawada. Her hands began to squeeze his butt as he pulled him in closer. Your eyes widened when said girl became bold and peppered kisses all over your neighbor’s neck.

The sound of kissing began to over power the elevator music. Despite Overhaul clearing his throat, the two did not mind. With only 3 floors left to pass, you were more than ecstatic when the doors slid open and provided exit. Quickly grabbing his sleeve, you pulled him out and scurried to your door.

“That was revolting.” He finally spoke up.

“It’s almost 11.” You unlocked your door. “That was bound to happen. I’ve seen worse.”

“Why do people even think such contact is pleasing?” Opening the doors, you let him walk in first. Telling him to place the food on the counter, the yakuza boss did so. Deciding to be a good guest, Overhaul began to unpack the chips and drinks you purchased. “You bought too much food.”

“One can never be too prepared~” Your back was facing him. Turning the TV on, you set it on Betflix and sat on the sofa. Stretching your limbs from the drive. Pointing to the vacant seat two pillows away from you, Overhaul took a seat and made sure that there was not a speck of dust. “So what movie d’you wanna watch?”

- - - - -

a/n: it doesnt just end here my fellow overhoes xD see yall in the next chapter!

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #chisaki kai x reader #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #chisaki kai #this fluff was ahhhhh #but i guess its fine #god i love me some overhaul

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pinencurls · 4 years

Text

Kiss In The Kitchen

hiii okay so I have a couple one shots hidden away in drafts that I’m not 100% in love with but i enjoyed writing at the time so I thought I might as well share them :) Here’s the first...

You couldn’t be prouder of Fine Line and all you want to do is support and congratulate him, even if it means ignoring the insecurities one song strikes in you.

4k Words

At first, you listened to it (almost) alone, Harry's large headphones covering your ears as his new album played for you - you'd heard bits and pieces of it over the last year but never every song in it's finalised form. The second time you listened to the album you quickly adored was at its release party; a contrast setting to the quiet of the Saturday sun sneaking into your bedroom with Harry's earnest gaze set on you as you spoil yourself in his words - you could almost forget the album was written entirely about the woman Harry devoted all his love to before you'd met, it felt so private between the two of you. You'd visited the studio several times, lending your own advice when Harry met droughts of no inspiration and begged for your musical experience; You'd been in several small bands in your formative years, playing bass or drums, but had paused that particular pastime to focus on the reality of your career - writing took time in this industry, supporting yourself whilst avoiding the well of tabloid work was tricky, so far you'd managed to find little nuggets of gold in genuine, thought-provoking magazines and had begun to make a name for yourself, something you'd doubted possible in the harder of times.

You'd chosen to keep your lyrical advice to yourself when Harry called to you for help, however. You knew who this album was about, it was clear it wasn't you and that was fine. You didn't expect Harry to dedicate a whole album about you after 11 months together, all of which dating after he began writing it.

In private, sat on your bed and grinning up at him as his music played to you and you only - you were proud. You'd accepted the difficulties that might come with listening to your partner's rawest emotions for a past lover and had come to the conclusion that you'd appreciate his work simply because of how much he'd put into it and how well it'd all come together.

That was easy in private. It's slightly harder to remind yourself to separate the songs playing loudly all around you in the busy L.A club from all the not so hidden meanings behind them. Everyone Harry had met within the last few years of his solo career and long before that had come to celebrate with him. Busting bodies filled the large room, many already taking advantage of the bar. Almost everyone found themselves, slightly slurring, by Harry's side at one point of the night to tell him how beautiful Fine Line was, and the topics of each song didn't seem to go unnoticed either.

As you made your own rounds, you overheard the loud discussions about the mix of provocative, solemn and affectionate themes. Some of the group were apparently too drunk to see Harry's current girlfriend standing by as they cheered on his yearning and passion for his previous one.

It only got worse with press. You were still unbelievably proud of course, but Harry had to do a lot of press. Each interviewer cut straight to the elephant in the album. Camille was discussed, if not named by Harry, at length. You adored hearing Harry speak about his own personal growth and becoming comfortable in himself - but for every question about identity and fashion, came three about the clear sexual undertones and soulmate ideologies.

You were rational in your discomfort. You listened to Adore You and your other stand out favourites when you wrote, you understood and trusted that Harry had moved on, you'd been together for almost a year and he's told you weeks before then when you were just new friends that he knew he was ready again after months of working on himself.

You just couldn't deal with one song.

Breaking up and having sex you could deal with, you could enjoy the final work. They were normal things that people went through and wrote about. But the first sign of love? The sweet, endearing start of a relationship that he was so clearly ardent about - as if his feeling were a lot fresher than you'd imagine for a relationship that started and ended months ago.

Sunflower Vol.6 was beautiful, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't just see it objectively. You felt it so concentrated, and it hurt like fucking hell.

- - -

"Do we have any mango?" Harry calls from the kitchen, the click of the fridge opening quietly behind him. "Never mind found it!"

You smile at his domestic charm as you work on you most recent piece; it's been taking up a lot of time, creeping into your weekend which hadn't gone unnoticed by Harry as he had returned from the morning run you usually went on as a couple. A few moments later, after the loud whirring of the blender stopped, a pinky-orange smoothie is placed beside you and kiss pressed to the side of your head.

"When're you gon'a be done?" He murmurs against your ear, curls flopping down onto your own.

He's just finished his last week of press, ending with Howard Stern who seemed eager to remind Harry, constantly, of all the women he could have. You weren't particularly public yet so you couldn't really blame him for assuming Harry would be starting a new relationship soon. It just added to the frustration you'd been careful not to disclose over the long period of promo for the album.

"I wanna finish this today so we're both free after we fly back, I'jus need a little time alone, yeah?" A low grumble and a "yeah" was the only response he gave and he removes himself to the other side of the big living room to lay down on the sofa and slurp his breakfast.

Your deadline is Monday but tomorrow morning you're flying back to London and driving up to Holmes Chapel to spend time with Harry's family before he was away on tour for months so you were eager to be free from work.

Hours tick by, you're stuck in the spiral of the final edit. There were a few words that you couldn't quite tweak how you wanted them, as always. You got up to make lunch.

As you pass through the living room you expect to see Harry's body sprawled across the sofa napping, but only a bundle of throw blankets lay where he had been. His journal sits abandoned on the side table, propped open by a loose pen. You can see the scribbling of new song ideas and the beginnings of a poem, smiling to yourself you walk through to the kitchen - still no Harry.

Humming to yourself you open the fridge door, moving your hips slightly as you retrieve all the ingredients of a sandwich for you and Harry. Domestic moments like these were hard to come by in the midst of album releases and pre-tour prep, but you're looking forwards to the month ahead of you. No doubt you'll need some alone time after a week at his mother's house so you're being careful not to take any assignments for the rest of the month to make room for as many simple moments like this as possible once you're back in your London home.

Over the rustle of the bread packet and the crunch the lettuce made as you slice it, you can hear Harry's voice approaching from down the hall.

"Well thanks, mate-yeah..yeah we've gotta get drinks sometime it's been too long." He has the smile on his face that tells you it was another old friend calling to congratulate him on his album, probably a fellow musician from the early days.

Harry makes his way to your side, watching as you layer food into your sandwiches and steals a shred of lettuce. You can hear the other voice now - a clear English drawl you recognise as Ed. You've met a couple times and he's one of the most genuine men you've met, you much prefer him over some of the industry people Harry has to mingle with.

"Oh, dude and the mushrooms!" You giggle as you hear Ed laugh down the line at Harry. "I can't say I didn't guess something was up."

"Thanks, man - like what?" Harry chuckles back, sneaking more sandwich scraps as you slice a knife through them and dish them up.

"Um, the whole end of sunflower - are you really gonna do that live?" At the mention of the song, you feel your shoulders tense slightly. You're really trying to be a good girlfriend and support Harry - but that song just hits different, you trust Harry's love but you can't help but wonder if he has any feelings left over for Camille...

"If I have to!" Harry continues to joke, not noticing your discomfort or at least not mentioning it."Look, Ed, I gotta go but it was great talking to you"...

Harry's voice drones into the background as you take your plate and make your way back to your laptop, huffing as you're reminded of your own frustrations with yourself; he told you months ago that he's moved on, why can't you just believe him?

You can hear a quiet goodbye from Harry as he sets his phone down on the sofa and sits across from you at the table. Your laptop is still acting as a barrier between the two of you. You type at the keys, trying to look busy as you write and rewrite the same line over and over, sighing - you save and close the file and set your laptop aside.

"Not going how you want?" Harry asks.

"No, it is just...there's a bit I can't get to work. I just want to get this over with already." Harry thinks about what you've said for a moment before getting up and leaving the room - he comes back a moment later, setting a glass of water bedside your lunch and kissing your temple.

"Take a break love, you've been working all week you deserve it." He hums against your hair. "And thank you for lunch."

He's so sweet and chipper, smiling at you as he takes his plate out to the kitchen and returns to perch across the table from you, hand wavering over his journal as you finish your lunch.

He worries about you a lot. Normally over you working too much and not taking time for yourself or the amount of pressure, you put on yourself being overwhelming. It was in his nature to worry you remind yourself, you're trying hard to push past the hurt you can't quite let go of and the last thing you'd ever want was for him to feel bad about what he'd written so you'd managed to keep it under wraps. There was no need for him to be suspicious.

- - -

Your alarm goes off at 5am. Your flight is in 3 hours.

"Turn it off." You grumble, burying your head deeper into your pillow. The mattress dips underneath you when Harry turns, the duvet shifts as he slips his hand under and wraps his arms around you. "S'too early."

"I know." You love how Harry's voice sounds in the morning - rough with a soft edge. It's one of the first things you fell in love with; the extra degree or two the morning adds to his embrace, he's always quick to loop his arms around your middle if they've come undone in the night. His untamed and often tangled curls bristle against the back of your neck and there'll be a few moments of warm even breaths against your ear before he bounces up. He's very much a morning person.

"I'm getting in the shower y/n, I'll be out in a sec - get up yeah?" You mumble a slightly coherent response as he leaves the room, a towel draped over his bare shoulder.

Following a few moments of deliberation, you sit up. Unplugging your phone from where it lay on your bedside table, you check your notifications. Sure you'll be up in time, you open twitter.

Unsurprisingly, nothing much is happening. You scroll through a few messages from the day before until you come across a video of Harry being interviewed, he's wearing the thick red cardigan he recently bought so it must've been from this week.

You click play to see him smiling tiredly at the interviewer - you remember this day, you'd stayed up later than planned watching old toy story reruns then he'd been running around frantically getting ready the next morning. You lazily watch him answer a few frequently repeated questions until he's asked about the stages of romantic relationships that inspired certain songs. You expect the usual questions about songs like Adore You and Watermelon Sugar but instead, the interviewer takes a turn and seemingly voices all the concerns floating around your head;

"And one of my personal favourites: Sunflower vol.6, really captures the first realisation of love in a relationship, what lead you to write that song in particular, did you write from experience?"

"Thank you, yeah..I think that first really overpowering part of a relationship when two people are just starting to have these intimate, lovestruck moments together stuck with me and I-" You turn your phone off sharply. Your mind is spiralling with insecurities enough on its own without Harry himself describing how he first felt about his ex-girlfriend.

You sit against the headboard, mulling over the topic that has clouded your mind the past few days. You don't hear the shower turn off down the hall as you let out an angry grumble - it feels so shit and mean of you to be this way and you just want the clarity you had before this all happened.

"What's wrong love?" You look up to see Harry standing at the end of the bed. His hair is dripping onto his shoulders and he's wrapped a light pink towel around his waist loosely, concern contoured his face as he peers down at your huddled form.

"Jus' tired." You crawl forwards to climb out of bed, kissing Harry's cheek lightly as he stood unconvinced before heading to your wardrobe. "Honestly, I'm good."

"Okay..what's the time?"

"Uhhum-" You mutter as you riffle through a pile of sweaters. "5.30ish I think..check my phone"

You slip on a comfy pair of jeans and socks before you walk into the hall on your way to make you both coffee, there's a long pause from the bedroom before Harry calls down to you - 5.42am.

- - -

By the time the plane takes off, you're almost asleep again.

- - -

It's 7pm LA time when you step out the taxi delivering you home to your London house. It's almost 2 am here so despite your lack of tiredness you shuffle through the door behind Harry.

All your heavy luggage is left in the entryway as you climb the stairs up to your bedroom, eager to be done with jet lag and normal again by the morning.

You've made the mistake of sleeping the first 3 hours of the flight and now find yourself wide awake under the soft covers of you and Harry's bed. He always falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, and with how quiet he's been all day you assume he's already tired. Between your early napping and him being engrossed in the book he was currently reading - there hadn't been much conversation between you on the flight over. As you snuggle further into the covers you realise things have been a little different these past few days, maybe being so caught up in your own head with work and worries of your own you haven't noticed but there's definitely been a...distance. You're just not sure which of it is creating it.

The next morning you wake to the radio playing from a few rooms away. Sitting up you look around the room; your suitcases are still downstairs by the look of it and Harry's side of the bed has been slept in and now deserted.

"Harry?" You call out. There's some kind of foggy sadness seeping around you as you hear no reply. Maybe you're just tired but you feel you might start sobbing any minute - it's a desperate feeling that you're not quite sure how to quench.

"Harry.." You call again as you climb out the bed, slipping a large jumper on over your head, pulling the braids you'd plaited for the flight that had come undone and frizzy with sleep, over your shoulders. "Love?"

There's still no response and you're now on the final step of the long staircase. You walk quickly through the house towards a quiet humming you can just about make out. You must have gathered speed in your anxious mission to find Harry because as you enter the kitchen you slam hard into the doorway as you reach out to balance yourself.

The movement in his peripheral makes Harry turn his head, slipping the bulky headphones off his ears and slipping his phone into his pocket. He'd previously been slumped against the kitchen counter, lost in thought as he skimmed through his phone, forgetting the kettle as it boiled beside him.

"Love- oh, careful." He chuckles slightly before he takes in your expression. You must have started crying by now because he rushes quickly towards you. "Woah- woah what's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"

The arm that had taken the full brunt of the doorway was now being carefully examined by Harry as his eyes scan you, searching for any harm. His hand comes to wipe at the few glossy tears on your cheek before he gently asks his question again.

"No I-I was calling for you..." You reply, equally confused as him by the whole situation.

"I didn't hear you love I'm sorry, what happened?" He's placed your arm back by your side now although his hands lingers around yours.

"...Nothing."

"Y/n, please just tell me. What's wrong?" He persists.

"No, I mean - nothing happened I just..." You mumble, how were you supposed to explain that when you woke up you felt terrifyingly alone and just needed to find him...to remind yourself that everything you'd let conspire in your head wasn't really happening.

"Y/n, I know something's up..the last week has been really busy I know but if something's wrong please just tell me, okay?" You think about it for a second before blurting out-

"Would you tell me if you still loved her?"

This doesn't seem to be at he was expecting, or you for that matter. The situation was uncomfortable - hearing your boyfriend sing about how intensely he loved Camille and how badly losing her broke him, but it was just music. You don't realise until you ask him the awkward question, just how much it had been bothering, or scaring you.

"What?"

"I just mean...Okay shit I don't mean that at all I'm just tired and I woke up and you weren't there and I just needed to find you I-"

"Is this what's been upsetting you?" His words aren't spoken forcefully, more...sadly. "T-this is what the phone call and the yesterday morning and...oh God the whole fucking flight! That's what you were thinking?"

"What phone call, what do you mean?" You don't know if he's angry at you or not, his hands are in his hair and he's got the mad look in his eyes that tells you he's either about to shout or cry.

"With Ed. As soon as he mentioned the album you left the room and, and! Yesterday, you were angry about something and then I checked the time and your phone opened on some video about the album and come on...you can't say everything was okay on the flight...we barely talked...we've barely talked at all this week." You're decided that the crying is a lot worse than the shouting. There's something cathartic that comes from shouting back at someone who's just as angry as you - but crying back at someone who's just as confused and upset? It makes you feel all twisted and uncomfortable.

"No..no Harry that's not it-"

"Y/n don't lie I-"

"It's not. I love your album and I'm so, so proud of you, and of everything you did to make it and I understand the importance of your relationship with Camille," Harry's huffing now, his fingers are tangled further in his hair and he's leaned up against the door frame close opposite you. "-This album is all about that time in your life and that's fine...Harry I love it, honestly, the album isn't anything to do with anything-"

"You just asked me if I still loved her!" He exclaims, staring wide-eyed back at you. "I don't give a shit about the album right now, you can hate it, okay? That's okay? But you asked me if I still love her...Y/n look at me."

Your eyes, tightly fixed on the kitchen tiles, tilt up to see his face. His eyes are red and splotchy and his hands reach out to hold you as he speaks again.

"I don't love her, I haven't in a long, long time. I had the ideas for all the songs about her before I even met you, you okay..you're the person I love and...I thought you knew that?" He sighs, hesitant before he starts again. "I thought you trusted me."

There's another pause between you as you mull your next thoughts over.

"I do."

He shakes his head, teary and angry.

"No you don't, if you did you wouldn't have asked-"

"It's just that fucking song!" You snap, you take a sharp breath in and swallow the lump in your throat - "I know that you don't love her, I know it but, when I listen to you sing - and talk, telling people about this wonderful honeymoon romance that even after years you remember so vividly and, and that means so much to you,I..."

"Track 9?" Harry questions, seemingly understanding everything you've just rambled. "Sun- oh baby no it's not..."

"I'm sorry I...It's a great song I just, whenever I hear it I'm reminded of how much you must have felt for her and, and remembered all this time to write about...what?" Harry's smiling now, he seems to be relived for some reason. His eyes are brighter, clearing slightly and he chuckles slightly.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry lovie I should have told you.." He scrambles. "I, I was embarrassed when I wrote it because we'd only just started dating and then you heard it a couple weeks later and it was too soon to tell you and then I just...didn't. I thought maybe you'd figured it out."

"What do you mean?"

"It's about...us."

"You told me you didn't write any about me though..."

"No, I said I hadn't written any you were going to see anytime soon...and that was, awhile ago." He smiles slightly, squeezing your hand in his. "There's another one about you actually too,"

"Harry you, you wrote it about us.." Harry hums a confirmation, bowing his head to press a kiss to your cheek. "I thought...what else did you write!"

Harry laughs now, catching your lips with his as you both feel each other relax - the tension and discomfort seeping away as you realise the reality of everything you'd worried yourself over in the last week.

You pull away, one hand on his chest and the other fiddling with the curls at the back of his head.

"Seriously what else did you write-"

"I'm not telling." He beams, leaning down against the firm push you send to his chest.

"I swear if you wrote a song about our sex life I-"

"Shhhh!" He presses a mocking finger to your lips to quiet you. "We better be going, don't wanna be late."

With that, he leaves the kitchen, you can hear his heavy steps rushing up the stairs and soon the house is quiet and the air around you is settled again.

There's a subtle hum of the shower upstairs that intrudes but nonetheless, the clarity's back.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fine line #fine line fic #harry styles #harry styles sunflower vol.6 #harry styles writing #idk what to tag i haven't been on here in YEARS #oop #well i guess that's it

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kimjongdaely · 4 years

Text

The Art of Sin [Chapter 6]

Gang!AU, Racer!AU, Tattoo Artist!AU

Pairing: Chen x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, sexual situations, vandalism

Summary: He’s an artist. He does it all for the ‘art.’ Tattooing. Racing. Sex. All because he thinks they’re beautiful. There’s no one here that doesn’t know his name, because it’s everywhere. On every graffiti-filled wall, every tattooed skin, every cheer of the crowd. His name is there somewhere, because it’s all his—this world. And when he lays his eyes on you—well, he’s never seen anything more beautiful. And he’s going to make you his masterpiece.

Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3 [M]│Chapter 4 [M]│Chapter 5 [M]│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8 [M]

The sun beats down on you, sweat dripping down the side of your face and you try to quicken your strides, eager to get to somewhere cool. Throwing open the doors of the garage, their AC is a blessed relief. Byun hangs half-way off the reception counter, his bored grin greeting you like always. “Hey there. Here for Chen again?”

You nod while fanning yourself, the tank top you wear practically soaked with your sweat. Summer days are the worst. Byun points to the tattoo parlor, “Well, you know where to find him.”

Chen is cleaning his tools when you enter, and he greets you with his usual smile. “Hey, princess. Visiting so soon? Well, not that I mind.” There’s a sly edge to his tone now, as he leans in to give you a peck on the cheek.

You grin back at him. All you want lately is to see him, every minute feeling longer than the last when you can’t. Being with him makes you calm and excited all at once, and you savor every second with him.

As if you’ve gotten addicted to him.

As if you’ve fallen in love with him—

What a dangerous feeling to have. You know how these stories end, all too well. You’ll fall head over heels in love with this mysterious person and you’ll be ripped apart faster than you can blink. He’ll rip you apart.

He’ll trample on your heart and you’ll be abandoned.

So you have to keep this feeling a secret, no matter what. Just keep smiling like you’ve always have, and you’ll be able to stay next to him. Never take him too seriously, that way you’ll never be hurt.

“Wanna go for a drive, princess?” Chen asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. Good thing the AC is blasting, or else you would’ve turned into a puddle by now. Still, the garage is much too hot.

“You sure? What if a customer comes?” You raise a brow at him as he begins to lead you out. Chanyeol isn’t here as he usually is, you notice.

“It’s fine.” He answers casually, dismissing it with a shrug. “They’ll be back.”

For the tattoo or for him, you wonder. You wouldn’t be surprised if he gets some returning customers just because he has a pretty face. “Alright then, your call.”

He leads you outside where his white Nissan Skyline is parked. His car is always polished to perfection, several of his designs drawn across the hood and doors. It’s a perfect display of his artistic skills, the white of the car acting as a canvas.

But...wait.

Something’s wrong.

As you get closer to the familiar car, you clearly see that the windshield glass had been shattered. Not only that, but there are several long, deep scratch marks that stretch over the side of his car.

You gasp at the sight, knowing how much this car means to Chen. You glance at him, afraid of his reaction.

You feel a icy shiver roll down your spine, your skin prickling in fear. You’ve never seen Chen look that way before. His face is calm, so calm, but it’s cold. His eyes are filled with a chilling anger, the silent kind, the most deadly kind. Like a snake bidding its time before it sinks its teeth into its prey. The kind of look that insinuates the calm before a world-wrecking storm.

He doesn’t move for what feels like an eternity and a second all at once. Then he carefully fishes his phone out from his pocket, dialing a number and smiles. “Hey D.O. When you’re done with your work, could you take the white Nissan Skyline away? Yeah, you know the one...uh huh...no, I want it destroyed.”

“What?” You gasp, clutching onto his arm to stop him. “But that’s your favorite car! It’s just a scratch, it can be fixed!”

He glances at you, such an frigid look that makes you swallow thickly, your grip on him loosening. He ends the call, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Fixed?” His voice is soft, but there’s a terrifying edge to it. He chuckles darkly. “No. Something broken can never be perfect again. I don’t need anything that’s not perfect.”

Then he walks away, hands in his pockets and humming a tune like he didn’t just destroy his most prized possession. Like nothing just happened.

You shiver—tremble—feeling your knees go weak. It’s only a matter of time before you, too, will be thrown away like that.

So you must hide these feelings.

Deeper.

“You know who did it?” Chanyeol asks taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Glancing at Kai, Chen nods. “Probably the guys from the last race.”

“Great.” Sehun sighs, rolling his neck, his dark puffy hair falling over his eyes. “I love dealing with sore losers. So what are we gonna do? Should we tell Suho?”

Chen wrinkles his nose at the thought, loathing the idea of a scolding. Hey, it’s not his fault this world works like this. You gotta live somehow, even if you break all the damn rules. “Let’s not. Suho’s been plenty busy himself. They just keyed my car, no biggie.”

“No biggie?” Chanyeol raises a skeptical brow, tapping his long fingers against his knee, the cigarette ashes falling onto the ground. “You loved that car, man.”

“Loved.” He repeats, the word quiet and heavy. A shadow passes through his eyes, a look the others know all too well to comment on.

“So what are we gonna do?” Kai asks, tilting his head at Chen. “I’m not about to let some fucker trample all over us like this.”

Chen grins, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “If they want a rematch, so be it.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kai scowls. “We don’t do rematches. Our turf, our rules and they lost.”

“Yeah, well, if they’re gonna be stirring up trouble, I’d rather you guys have a rematch rather than fucking each other up, you know?” Sehun grins. “It’ll make my job heck of a lot easier.”

“Fuck that.” Kai says, but Chen only laughs, slapping his back a few times.

“Chill man; I’ll do the rematch myself. I’ll take on a hundred of those bastards if I have to—I’ll still win, fair and square.”

“What a load of bullshit.” Chanyeol snickers. “But I’ll enjoy it for sure either way.”

“Keep it on the down-low, ‘kay? Don’t leave us any messes to clean up. Suho’ll be real fucking pissed.” Sehun says, earning an eager nod from Chen.

They’re still skeptical of this, of course. Chen’s been known to get into a lot of trouble—rather minor ones for sure, but trouble nonetheless. It’s rare to see him so excited about something when he’s usually so uncaring about anything. Still, it’s none of their business and they’re in no position to stop him.

“Alright.” Chanyeol shrugs, putting out his cigarette. “Go for it then.”

You walk into the tattoo parlor again, greeting Byun as per your usual routine now. This time though, Byun tells you that Chen isn’t here.

“What? Where is he?” Another race, perhaps? He doesn’t have his car anymore though...so did he get another one?

“Met up with some people.” Byun answers vaguely. “Don’t worry. You can wait here if you want, but it stinks like hell so I’d recommend you come back later.”

“Um,” you wring your hands against the skirt you’re wearing. “Who is he meeting?”

Byun let’s out a sly grin, looking up at you from where he’s sprawled over his counter. “What’s wrong? Scared he’s cheating on you?”

Your cheeks heat up immediately as you shoo away the very thought, appalled he would say such thing. “No! Of course not. I’m just...worried. He seemed really upset about his car, so...”

“Heh, I guess he is.” Byun shrugs. “He went to have a rematch with those jerks from the last race. He said they were probably the ones who keyed his car.”

You gasp, feeling a wave of anxiousness as you recall the faces of those racers. They didn’t seem to take their loss lightly—if keying Chen’s car is any indication. They’d probably do anything to win this rematch. “Where are they meeting?”

“Whoa there, calm down.” Byun waves his hand at you. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Please, Byun.” You grab his arm, unconsciously digging your nails into him. “I’m really, really worried. Please tell me.”

He winces, seizing your hands quickly in attempt to pry you off. You can see the boys in the garage start to take notice, stopping with whatever they were tinkling with to stare at you.

“Okay, okay! I can tell you, but it’s not where a good girl like you should go. And you can’t do anything even if you go anyways.”

“I’m really not a good girl, Byun.” You say, forcing out a tight smile. “I don’t care about anything, I just want to see him, make sure he’s okay.”

“Well,” he sighs, giving in. He rips a piece of paper from a notepad, scribbling down an address. “Here. Just...I warned you, alright? And Chen isn’t the type to change his mind easily.”

You clutch the paper tightly, thanking him.

You’re not the type to change your mind easily either.

“Well would ya lookie here.” The man from the race hollers when he gets out of his car. What was his name again? Damn, maybe Chen should’ve made an effort to remember their names before calling them up. “Who would’ve thought the cheater would want a rematch? Feelin’ guilty, boy?”

Chen smiles, swallowing the desire to laugh his ass off. Guilty? Him? It should definitely be the other way around, right? “You’re the sore loser here. Can’t take a hit and now you’re calling me a cheater?”

The man scowls, grabbing Chen by the collar. He’s as strong as he looks, but all brawn and no brain.

Chen quickly puts up his hands in a sign of surrender, the smile still on his face, unfazed. “Hey, now. Let’s just have a rematch fair and square. That’s the best solution, right?”

With a scoff, the man shoves Chen back, a confident grin growing on his face.

A red flag for trouble.

“Sure, pretty boy. Let’s have a rematch fair and square.” His friends start to giggle behind him, and Chen mentally rolls his eyes. Yeah, he knew they’d have some underhand tricks up their sleeves. He’s still confident he’ll win though and even if he doesn’t...well, he tries not to think of that right now.

“Rules?” He asks.

“None.” The man answers, gesturing towards the dusty road that stretches on into the distance. “Just get to the finish line.”

Well, his turf, his rules. Chen shrugs and begins to get into his car when he sees a taxi pull up nearby. Odd, he thinks, this place is pretty secluded.

But then the person that gets out makes him nearly choke on his own spit, and he gets out again, jogging towards you.

“Yo, where ya goin’?” His opponents yell after him, but he ignores them for now. He grabs your arm, pulling you to face him.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks shocked, and maybe even angry. It’s a stern expression you’ve never seen on his face before, but you stand firm and stare back at him. “I was worried.” You glance at the parked cars, and at the familiar men with several new faces. You turn back to him. “You gonna race him?”

“Of course.” Chen answers, scoffing. “No one messes with us and gets away scot free.”

“I’m coming too.” You say, resolute.

“No you’re not.”

“I am.” You pull your arm from his grip, storming your way towards the car you recognize from EXO’s garage. Chen follows you closely, a string of complaints that go unheard. You get into the passenger seat and slam the door closed.

“The fuck!” Chen yells, knocking on your window and tugging at the door handle to get it open. “Get out! This isn’t your race. Get the fuck out, now!”

You ignore him completely, turning away. Chen continues like that for a while longer before the opponents begin to grow impatient.

“You racin’ or what?” They snarl out, eyes narrowing on the two of you threateningly. “You makin’ fun of us?”

Chen stops, but continues to stare at you. Even without looking, even with glass between you, you can feel the heat of his glare. He takes a deep breath, perhaps to stop himself from breaking the car window, and finally slips into the driver’s seat.

“You’re going to fucking regret this.”

“I won’t.” You answer.

You see the race flag being raised, and the sound of the starting gunshot rings in your ear.

Previous Chapter [M]│Next Chapter

The Art of Sin Mini Masterlist

EXO Customs Collab Masterlist

A/N: After a bazillion years, things are finally kicking off now. And between you and me, I’d hang on real tight. :)

Tags: @ninibears-erigom @baekwell--tart @fairyyeols @suhoerections @kpop---scenarios @skjdln @yeoldontknow @kyungseokie @mint-yooxgi @loser-dot-com @writingstuffandmore @enchanting-exo @dear-fake-diary @weirdsofagirls @wongxiexie @lovebuginlove @noonaofjungkook @soondingieworks @joolsreadsfics @bluepsycopanda @sebootyforlife @yerimdaes @the-freefeather @xcharlottemikaelsonx @shxrl4747 @uminnies @mango-bear

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©kimjongdaely

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hoodharlow · 4 years

Note

Can you write something where reader is close to his mom and sister and cal is very happy but then after a while he gets low key jealous bc you spend all your time with them and not him

AN: Thank your sending in your request. 💕 It's 4 in the morning, so this is hella unedited and messy. Anyways, a quick plot: you and Cal go to Sydney, and you've been ditching him to hang out with Joy and Mali. He just misses you and gets jealous that you're hanging with the Hood girls. Enjoy!

AN pt. 2: Sydney looks good on Calum

“Cali? Menso?” You poked his cheek in hopes that he’d wake up. He mumbled something incoherently and reached over for Duke instead. “You’re hopeless.” You rolled your eyes as you quickly scribbled that you were leaving with his mom and Mali on a Post-it. You placed it on his forehead, so it would be the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

You knew he wasn’t going to wake up before sunrise. Last night you both went out with his old friends and got back a few hours ago. Your sleep schedule is a mess. It’s been three days, but you’re still in LA time and haven’t gotten used to the time change.

You grabbed one of his t-shirts and put on your black running shorts.

Downstairs Joy was cutting some fruit for your hike. She had some cheese and deli meats in containers ready to go along with a small jug of water.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” She smiled at me as she placed the fruit in a Tupperware container.

“Good morning, do you need help with anything?” You offered.

“No, I just needed to cut some fruit. Is Calum not coming with us?” She asked. Joy looked a bit disappointed.

“I tried waking him up, but he didn’t budge. It's fine. He needs his rest, him and the guys were gone for months touring before doing a few shows for the Jingle Ball. ” You were quick to reassure her.

“I’m back. Let’s get this show on the road.” Mali said walking through the backyard.

🌴🌴🌴

“This is so pretty.” You said to yourself every 5 seconds.

You try to take pictures of every plant and flower that you see so you can show your mom when you get back to LA. Y’all walked some more until you get to a river with a small waterfall. It reminded you of the waterfalls in Chiapas you and your cousins would go in whenever you would visit your family in Mexico.

You record a quick video and caption it ‘wish you were here’ and sent it to Calum. He sees it within seconds, but doesn’t reply. You’ve sent him a few pictures of the three of you and some of yourself that Mali took for you. He hasn’t replied to a single one. He usually replies to your spams with a picture of Kermit with a bunch of hearts.

You ate the food Joy had packed under a tree. You take a few more pictures of the waterfall.

“Has Calum replied to your messages?” Mali asked.

“No. He keeps leaving me on read.” You showed her your messages.

“Maybe they’re not going through? We are in the middle of nowhere.” She suggested.

“I guess.”

“Are you girls ready to leave? Traffic is about to start.” Joy said.

“Yeah. What about you, Sunshine?” Mali asked me.

“No, yeah. I’m good.” You said dusting off the dirt off your shorts.

The hike back to where Mali parked was a pain. It was all uphill and the shade was gone. Thankfully she had parked close. Another positive was that there wasn’t any traffic driving back home.

When the three of you got back, Calum was in the living room watching ‘Brooklyn Nine-Nine’. Sydney finally got it together and put up season 6 on Netflix. You guys were already caught up on all the seasons, but Cal really loved season 6. He thinks that Amy and Jake will have a kid next season.

“Hi, Cali.” You said walking over to him. You leaned down for a kiss on his lips, but he gave you his cheek.

“Hey.” He grunted, not even looking at me.

You sat next to him, and you began telling him about the hike.“Oh my god, you should’ve been there this morn-”

“I’m trying to watch this. Do you mind?” He cuts in. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh, sorry.” You mumbled and awkwardly scooted away from him.

After a few minutes he gets up, and goes back to his room. You heard him tell Duke something, but couldn’t really understand. A few seconds later, Duke wandered down the stairs and nudged you to pick him up. You gave him a quick scratch before going upstairs. It’s one thing for him to be mad at you, but Duke is just an innocent bystander. Hell, you don’t even know why he’s all moody and upset. 'Okay don’t go off on him. Joy and Mali don’t need to hear y'all argue so soon, or at all. But that’s besides the point. You’re going to have a calm conversation with him.’ You reminded yourself as you went up the stairs.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You blurted the second you walked into his room. You don’t even notice that you accidentally let the door slam. He’s laying in the middle of his bed with his arms crossed.

“What are you going on about?” He snapped. As if he really didn’t notice that he’s letting out all of this negativity pour out of his pores.

“I’ve been here for half an hour, y ya andas de mulo.” You pointed out.

“Exactly, you’ve only been here half an hour.” He crossed his arms.

“I know. I just said that. I-”

“This whole trip I barely see you. You’re always gone. You’re either at the market with my mum or hanging out with Mali. This morning I wanted to take you out for breakfast, but no. I had a fucking Post It stuck on my forehead telling me that you were going out. I guess I just got jealous that you were always with them, and not me. I mean, I haven’t seen you these past few months because of the tour with the Chainsmokers, and you being in school all the time. Then in a few weeks you’re going back, and I’m going to leave because of promos and tour. I just wanted to spend time with you before our lives get hectic again.” He pouted quietly, embarrassed that he let his jealousy get the best of him.

You stood there in silence, unsure what to answer. You just wanted him to relax and rest. You didn’t know that he missed you, missed you.

“I’m sorry. I was worried that your mom wasn’t going to like me. And I know how important she is to you. You’ve told me that some of your exes clashed with your mom, so I just went everywhere with her in hopes that she’d warm up to me. And she did, I think.” You tell him. Walking over to him, you uncross his arms and straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. Instinctively his arms went around yo.

“Well if you must know, she does like you. You can stop hanging out with her and be with me.” Calum jokes. He pulled you closer and squeezed your hips.

“You’re silly. But jokes aside, are we good?” You asked scratching his head.

“Yeah. I love you."

"And I love you.” You pecked his lips. “What if we go out for dinner later, solitos, and I can make it up to you.” You suggested in between kisses.

“You can make up right how.” He held your head in place as he kissed you. Your kiss got more heated as the minutes passed.

You were the one that pulled away the second you felt his hands unclasp your sports-bra.“We’re not doing anything sexual in your room. You still have your soccer trophies from when you were a kid.”

“You’re no fun.” He playfully pouted again.

“You know I can be, just not in your room.” You finger gunned him.

#calum hood #5sos #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #requested

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irphanfic · 7 years

Text

Moonshot - Chapter 8

Hey, I'm back! Yes, it took me a bot longer to update but I've been struggling with this chapter more than I expected because I had another ide in mind first but my mind went crazy and it took me another week to finish this one.

As always, hope you enkoy it and any feedback is welcome!

summary: Phil had a feeling that this Friday was going to be different.

That didn’t mean he was ready to meet his favourite baseball player, Daniel Howell, while he was cleaning the windows of a building.

or the au in which Phil is a shy window cleaner and Dan is a famous baseball player. This is their story.

words: 3.1k

no trigger warnings

Read on ao3 - (x)

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Only A Week

Dan woke up to his phone ringing on Saturday morning. His agent Estelle wanted him to come over to her office to talk to him about 'some secret project' that she had some information about.

''Why so early?'' he had asked over the phone, but Estelle just sushed him and told him to get ready.

So, still sleepy and with only a coffee on his body he took a cab and headed to her office, yawning as he knocked on the dark brown wooden door.

''C'mon in!'' Dan heard Estelle shout from inside of her office.

Dan opened the door and walked inside, finding a suit claded Estelle already standing up from her chair to envelope him into a big hug, ''Dan! It's so nice to see you!''

Dan hugged her back, ''Yeah, it has been a while, hasn't it?''

He felt Estelle nod against his shoulder before separating their bodies and walking back to her office chair, indicating Dan to sit in the one in front of her, a glass table being the only thing between the two of them.

After asking the informal 'how are you's', Estelle went straight to the point. ''Look Dan, I received a new email from the sport clothing brand we worked with a year ago. As you know, you being the face of their last clothing range was absolutely marvelous. Anyways, they plan on launching their new campaign soon and they want an immediate response since they had talked with another player but he turned the offer down last minute and they were planning to strat all of it next Wednesday so yeah, really last minute, I know.'' Estelle rolled her eyes but continued, ''The new baseball season is about to start but you have handled the promo stuff and games other years so it should be okay.''

Estelle handed Dan a few papers so he could see what kind of clothes he would be wearing and more stuff he didn't really understand about budgets, promo shoots and more along with the contract of this campaign.

Dan really had enjoyed working with this brand before and it had been a while since he had done it. This could be another good opportunity for him. ''I really like how it sounds...'' Dan said pensive, still trying to understand the papers Estelle had given him.

''Apparently, you will be modeling with Claire Vickard, the tennis player, and they want to take you both to Ireland for a few landscape shoots, nothing too difficult, but you will have to stay there for a week. I've already talked to your coach and said it's fine, you are doing great at practice so...''

Dan listened attentively, picking up every detail Estelle was saying. Wait, a week in Ireland without seeing Phil? It shouldn't be that hard, right?

''So, are you interested? It is secret till the campaign is revealed so you cannot tell anyone, okay? If someone know they could ruin you, you know that, right?'' Estelle asked, looking at Dan with her big eyes as he nodded in understanding. You wouldn't like to mess up with the contracts, oh no.

''I think it looks great, it's a good deal and you have already worked with them, you can think about it a bit more but I advise you that we don't have much time,'' she said.

''No, I think I'm ready to sign the contract,'' Dan said, trying not think much about what it would suppose not to see Phil in those days, ''as you said, I already know them, so it shouldn't be really different.''

Estelle handed him a black pen and Dan started scribbling his signature in the bottom of almost every page, giving the stack of papers back to his agent once he was done.

''Perfect! I'll send the papers later and I will call to ask about the travelli...'' but Estelle's sentence was cut off by Dan's phone loud and repetitive chiming, indicating someone had sent him a few messages.

''Wait,'' Dan said, taking out his phone and instantly smiling as he read Phil's name on the screen. Without reading the messages, he quickly turned the phone on silent and pocketed it back in his trousers, ''sorry for that Estelle, continue please.''

Estelle's face expression changed form serious to soft, making Dan frown, ''What?''

''Who has you smiling like that?'' she said, as if he had noticed Dan's wide smile.

''Wha- what smile? What are you on about?'' Dan tried to dismiss it, but knowing she wouldn't buy it. It was Estelle, for God's sake.

''That smile!'' she pointed at his mouth, ''Your dimples don't show for anyone! So tell me, who has the powers to make you grin at your phone, uh?''

Dan groaned. There was no way he was getting out of this, right? ''Okay, his name is Phil. He is the window cleaner of my new building and we started talking by writing messages to each other on papers, you happy now?''

''Tell me more, c'mon Dan! How is he like? Have you meet each other without a big ass window in between? Tell me!'' Estelle almost whined, dragging the last 'e' of 'me' for emphasis.

''Fine, I will.''

So Dan spent all Saturday morning at Estelle's office talking about him and Phil. How nervous he was of meeting him that first time, how the blue eyed asked him on a date first, their last trip to the bookstore, even showing Estelle the few pictures he had taken so she could see with her own eyes how 'attractive and adorable' Phil was, his smile getting somehow bigger at each detail he could remember about Phil.

''You really like him, don't you?'' Estelle asked once Dan had managed to tell everything.

''I really do, Estelle. I really do.''

______________

Phil was waiting for Dan to come to his flat so he was franatically tidying his living room.

He had been writing, well, trying to, since he hadn't gotten any responses from the publishing houses yet so he wanted to keep writing something else in case his last story didn't work, but his brain wasn't cooperating. Phil could swear he had spent around two hours staring at the blinking cursor on the document, as if it was moking him for not writing. Why was so hard to write something!?

In all his groaning he texted Dan, asking him if they could do something today. Apparently Dan had been on a meeting with his agent all morning, asking if it was okay to show up now, to which Phil answered it was okay, whatever to distracting form his responsibility of writing.

Phil had been wanting to go outside, but since it was pouring down, he invited Dan over to play videogames in some of the consoles Martyn had lend him a few years ago, not realizing his flat was kind of a mess.

He had just managed to arrange a few cushions on the sofa when he heard the doorbell, meaning Dan was here.

''Hi'' Phil greeted him as soon as he opened the door, breath hitching at the sight of Dan just standing there with his messy and somehow dry curls atop of his head, a maroon jumper with the sleeves rolled up his toned arms that he had combined with black ripped skinny jeans, letting Phil see a bit of his thighs.

Those ripped jeans were making Phil have some thoughts he prefered not to share.

Dan greeted him back and steped inside Phil's flat, surprisedly pecking Phil's cheek, which instantly turned pink as if he had some magical powers to make the blue eyed blush each time he touched him.

''Thanks for letting me come over this last minute, it was so sudden so I hope I'm a good distraction for writing.'' Dan said, chuckling and showing Phil a small smile.

''Nah, it's okay, I needed to detach myself from my laptop, otherwise I will end up with the keys glued to my fingerprints'' Phil said, making both of them laugh at his remark.

''So, which game you wanna play? I have a few...''' Phil started listing the videogames he had as he led Dan to his living room, where he had already put the consoles out and a few snacks on the table.

''What about I race you in Mario Kart? I'm gonna destroy you! Best of three?'' Dan said mischeviously, sending a smirk at Phil.

Oh, so it was a competition then, uh? If Dan wanted to play, let's play. ''And what do I get when I win?'' Phil said, copying Dan's smirk.

''So confident, Lester. I will think about what I want when I win.'' Dan said, sitting down and picking one of the controllers.

Phil hummed in agreement and also sat down next to Dan, their thighs grazing as Phil picked up the controller that was left and starting the game, ''Bring it, Howell. You are going down!''

Phil suddenly felt Dan's gaze on him, making him a bit nervous, ''What?'' Phil said, turning his body a bit to face the brown eyed, who was biting his lower lip as his eyes travelled up and down Phil's body.

''Believe me Phil, I would love to go down... in more ways that you can imagine,'' Dan said in a low voice. Phil flushed deep red but didn't say anything. He wanted nothing more than forget the videogame and jump Dan just right in his sofa but no, he was determined to win this and the 'lame' flirting from Dan wasn't going to get him to lose. Oh no. No way.

Phil pressed play and both customized their characters, bickering about 'how boring and bad' car choices the other made, playing rock-paper-scissors to decide which one got to choose the traks they would be racing.

They kept bumping each other's shoulders and elbows from time to time, losing their balance for a second, enough to send the other's cars few places behind, hearing a few swear words from Dan and Phil letting out a few child-like screams everytime that happened.

It was the last race and they were even. As Phil had won the first race and Dan the second, this last one would decide who was the ultimate Mario Kart winner. Oh, and Phil was so sure it was going to be him.

''You ready to get destroyed?'' Phil said, selecting the last track they would be racing.

''Ha! You wish! C'mon, press play, I cannot wait to win this already.'' Dan remarked, rearranging his position on the sofa pressing his body even more closer to Phil's.

He pressed play but the strong and nice smell from Dan's cologne was making his head heavy, wanting nothing more than to press his face against his neck and not move for hours...

''Oh, Phil, look at you, so far behind already, you aren't gonna catch me if you keep racing like this!'' Dan laughed, making Phil come back to reality only to realize that he hadn't been plying attention and was in last place!

'Phil, concentrate, please.' he said to himself in hopes that he could beat Dan, who was in first place already and there was only a lap left.

Trying his hardest, Phil raced as good as he could, managing to be on third place just seconds before Dan's car crossed the balck and white checkered line.

''Yes! I won!'' Dan exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa to make a silly victory dance that made Phil chuckle, not even bothering to stay mad at the fact that he had lost, appreciating the adorable Dan in front of him just dancing and carefree.

Phil let him dance a bit more before he decided to take revenge, also standing up to be at Dan's eye level, ''It's not fair! All or nothing!''

Dan stopped dancing and crossed his arms, frowning at Phil, ''How is it not fair? I won two out of three, that's what we decided, I'm not risking an 'all or nothing', oh no!''

''You distracted me!'' Phil said, not knowing what more to say.

''How did I even manage to distract you? I was just playing next to you!''

''With your good looks and nice smell and...'' Phil put a hand over his mouth as he realised what he said. Could the earth swallow him now, please?

He suddenly found himself in front of a smirking Dan who was slowly taking a few steps closer to Phil, backing the blue eyed against the sofa till his thighs touched the soft armrest.

Dan touched their noses together, brushing them against each other sweetly. Phil closed his eyes, enjoying this little feather-like touch and hoping Dan would just kiss him, but apparently the player had other ideas, since he moved his head to Phil's left ear, lips just caressing the skin ''You smell pretty good too, Philip.''

Phil shivered. He freaking shivered thanks to Dan's sensual and low voice.

He felt Dan's lips against his skin, but now on his surely rosy cheek. Then again on his jaw, multiple times, getting closer and closer to his lips, where Phil finally felt Dan's salted lips on his, moving them slowly but repeatedly till Phil finally got his thoughts clear and kissed him back.

Phil felt Dan push him backwards, till both of them ended up on the couch, he under Dan's toned body, enjoying how well their bodies fitted together.

They made out for a few minutes till Dan suddenly separated, smiling mischeviously at Phil.

''What?'' Phil asked softly, admiring the job he had done by messing Dan's curls even more.

''I didn't tell you what prize I want for winning yet,'' he said, pecking Phil once more on the lips.

Phil looked at him a bit scared. What was Dan thinking about doing to him? Was going to be something sexual!? He hoped not, it was too soon, right?

''O...kay. What did you think about?'' Phil's voice trembled a bit, but not enough for Dan to notice, who sighed deeply and looked at Phil's chest, were he kept fiddling with the top button of his shirt.

'Why is he suddenly so downcast?' Phil thought. He hoped nothing was wrong.

''So, I'm leaving for a whole week this Wednesday for a secret project I cannot tell you about yet but I was thinking you could let me read some story of yours? I mean, I will probably have a few hours spare so I thought it would be nice to know what kind of stories you write, but only if you want to, of course...'' Dan rambled, still not looking at Phil.

Wait, Dan was leaving on Wednesday? For a whole week to do a 'secret project'?

And also, he wanted to read his stories? Phil wasn't used to people asking him about his stories, and less when the publishers had always told him 'no'. It felt a bit like a failure to be honest.

He heard Dan sigh frustratedly before speaking again, this time looking up at Phil, ''It's just, I'm in the public eye and you know so much about me already and I don't know half of the things about you, and I think your stories will let me see more about you, but again, only if you want to.''

Phil showed him a tiny smile. Oh Dan. He wanted to learn more about him by reading his stories? It was a touching gesture to be honest.

''Dan, yes, of course I will let you read them. I can give you the last manuscript I sent a while ago if you want to.'' Phil offered. 'Why is he so sweet?'

''Yeah, you sure?'' Dan asked, eyes a bit wide Phil had agreed.

Phil hummed and nodded, smiling at him, ''Yes, I'm sure, let me just get it, okay?''

Dan smiled back at him and separated himself from Phil, who got up and walked fast to his office, picking up the stack of papers that had been lying on his table for a while now and putting them inside an envelope.

'But what if Dan hates it? Would he ever tell him? What if he thought Phil was a mediocre writer and laughed at him for wanting to be an author?' Many thoughts passed his mind. Phil had to admit he was scared of Dan's opinion on him, but dismissed them and walked back into the living room nonetheless, where he found Dan sitting on the couch instead of lying down.

''Here,'' Phil handed him the envelope as he sat down next to him, ''my last manuscript. It's a bit long, I don't know if you will finish it in a week but...'' he trailed off, realizing he won't be seeing Dan for a week.

Taking into account that they were getting used to see each other often, Phil didn't know what would happen with them. A week wasn't that long but they were just going on dates, not even developing whatever they had further or not, they were... stuck. No labels. Phil wasn't really sure where he stood with Dan and even though it might seem silly, it made him feel a bit insecure.

''Thank you. I'm sure I will manage to read it all, don't worry. I will tell you what I think about it, see if you are a better author than I already think you are,'' Dan chuckled.

Phil laughed a bit but changed the subject, ''So... this secret project... it's only a week long, right?'' he tried to keep the question casual, not really succeding.

''Yeah, from Wednesday to Wednesday... It was very short notice and it's such a good opportunity I couldn't let go to waste.'' Dan said, ''but I will text you or call you and we can skype if you are avaliable! I don't want to stop seeing you, I'm kind of used to seeing your face, and holding your hands... and... and kissing your lips.''

Phil could have melted right into his sofa but instead he leaned in and pecked Dan on his rosy lips, ''like this?'' Phil said in a low voice, smiling, knowing Dan would probably enjoy a bit more of... action.

''No, more like...'' Dan closed the small gap between them with a bit of more force, moving his lips as he had done a few minutes before, Phil's following him in sync, enjoying the little moment between the two.

''I'll miss you. It only a week but I know I'll miss you.'' Dan said almost quietly as he touched their foreheads together once they both felt the need for oxygen.

''I'll miss you too.'' Phil repeated, leaning in for another short kiss. ''Only a week, Dan. It's only a week.''

#moonshot #moonshot - chapter 8 #amazingphil #daniel howell #phanfic #phanfiction #phanfic au #phanfiction au #fic #irphanfic #phan

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chelociraptor · 7 years

Text

Zutara Week 2017, Day 3: Steamy

Barely made it in time -- 6 minutes to spare, ha!

@zutaraweek, Day Three: Steamy

Once again, this is crossposted to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11615397

Summary: Alternate imagining of the final scene of AtLA/beginning of “The Promise” comic. This may very well turn into a proper AU fic at some point, but for now, it’s a one-shot.

AU Note: In this, Mai was not able to talk to Zuko prior to the coronation and is not present at the Jasmine Dragon party, as a result…

Laughter had bubbled up around them as they gathered around Sokka’s scribbled ‘portrait,’ and passionate protests erupted in a flurry of debates about hair loopies, facial expressions, illogical bending -- yet just as quickly as it has risen, again the Jasmine Dragon had fizzled to a low and lively rumble of conversation as Team Avatar settled into their tea. Zuko’s gaze shifted from person to person, this mishmash of nations gathered in his uncle’s Earth Kingdom tea shop, and he thought them all to be the furthest from what he had expected from his life. The air nomad Avatar, two southern water tribers, a Kyoshi Warrior, a blind earthbender -- even his wise but kooky uncle, who he had pushed away so thoroughly for so long. Though anxiety still knotted in his stomach at the thought of leading his nation to peace after so many years of warmongering, he trusted these people more than he trusted himself, and the barest hint of a smile settled on his face.

“Hey, is there any more tea?” Sokka called out, waving an inky paintbrush in Zuko’s direction. “My creative process needs some more fuel!”

Katara snorted from beside her brother. “I don’t know that ‘more fuel’ is what your creative process needs.”

A fresh wave of conversation rose for a moment as Sokka exclaimed his offense at the pointed slight against his artistry, punctuated by the rustle of sniggers and laughs. Zuko set the tea to boil (with a firebending boost to set it on its way) as his eyes were drawn to Aang, who was slipping away from the group. The younger boy paused not far outside the doors, framed by the orangey glow of the setting sun and the scenic surroundings of Ba Sing Se’s Upper Ring. All of them had trudged through a long day of responsibility, marking the closing of one era and the dawn of another. They had changed so much -- all of them -- and when Zuko dared to imagine what kind of person he might be right now if it weren't for these experiences with these people…

(With a shiver, he thought of Azula, roaring blue flames like some mad dragon; his father, drained of his bending and a cruel smile twisting his lips.)

A flash of mint-green movement caught Zuko’s eyes as Katara rose to follow Aang outside, and no amount of effort could tear his gaze away. In Zuko’s chest, a sharp pang twisted deep and jagged. (Jealousy? She wasn’t even his girlfriend, and yet-)

And yet lurching terror echoed fresh as his mind flashed with a bolt of lightning zapping towards Katara. She had nearly died -- at the hands of his sister. He had nearly died -- but Katara had brought him back from the brink. It didn’t seem his place, somehow, to intrude on their dynamics when he had terrorized them for so long, but Katara...somehow she was different from the others; an unexpectedly cool balm to the deepest roots of his anger; a kindred spirit he could have never predicted.

Around Katara, he felt secure, understood, accepted -- and though he suspected he was just setting himself up for a world of hurt, his treacherous feelings were relentless. Somehow, he had stupidly managed to fall in love with Katara, and even as she stood beside the Avatar, he couldn’t help but stare.

“...ko! Earth to Zuko, the tea!” Sokka was calling out with a strain of distress in his voice.

Steam was shooting out of the teapot with a piercing screen, clouding around him angrily and successfully snapping Zuko to attention once again; when his eyes darted from Katara back to the shrieking tea, he saw that the bottom of the pot was charring. Hurriedly he bent away the fire in an extinguishing sweep, though the heated cloud of moisture lingered as he tried to wave it away with one hand. With the other hand, he lifted the spitting pot and poured some into a cup. The smell wasn’t quite right…But tea was tea, how bad could it be?

After setting down the kettle, Zuko picked up the individual cup and walked it over to Sokka. “Here you go.”

“A little distracted there?” Toph teased with a face-splitting grin -- a grin that grew larger still as he felt his heart jolt awkwardly in his chest. (Was Toph spying on his heartbeat right now?)

Leaning forward against the table, Sokka took a sip, made a face, and spit it back out. “Uck, it’s bitter -- what did you do to it?!”

Annoyance flashed hot and sharp and rapid as Zuko crossed his arms defensively, smothering the softened vulnerabilities from just moments before. “I didn’t do anything to it. It’s just tea!”

“I think you burned it. I didn’t even know you could burn liquids,” Sokka added with a little more drama than was entirely necessary, mirrored by Zuko’s huffing visage.

“Then make your own tea!”

“I’m just saying...” Sokka started with a shrug, leaning into Suki.

Though his friend was still saying something about the disappointing tea situation, Zuko shifted his attention outside again, running a restless hand through his hair. The steam was finally dissipating, and against the bright-orange sky, he saw Aang and Katara lean in for a hug. A painful hook tugged in his chest, but when Katara pulled back and pressed a light kiss on the top of Aang’s head, the young boy’s downturned face told of a story Zuko could only guess at but hesitated to hope for.

Aang was still standing outside, alone with his thoughts, when Katara came back into the shop and sat down at her table again, taking her lukewarm cup of tea between two hands. For a moment, Zuko’s feet stuck to the floor like the steel grip of some terrible beast was holding him in place, but as he watched her staring into the cup with unfettered intensity, he found that his feet loosened gradually, with some small internal nudge pushing him forward. One step in front of the other, stride by stride until he was standing beside her -- then sitting beside her.

“It looks like your tea cooled off,” he started conversationally, and he found he was rewarded with the immediate attention of those bright blue eyes. “Allow me?” Holding out his hands, he waited a beat -- and then Katara slipped the cup into his palms.

“But not too hot,” she clarified.

“I’ll be careful,” he said, and he meant it.

Wholly concentrated, Zuko gently blew into the cup, steam rising in soft billows around the stream of air. Against his palms, he could feel the cup warming, and for a moment he paused, felt to make sure it didn’t reach an uncomfortable temperature before handing it back to Katara.

She took a moment to breathe in the scent -- ginseng -- and smiled with a warmth that reached her eyes as the steam tickled her nose. After taking a slow, tentative sip for testing, she granted him a nod of approval.

“Perfect,” she declared, though her attention seemed to be drawn to something behind Zuko’s head. When Zuko twisted to see, Sokka was still blowing on his cup; Zuko couldn’t tell if it was the same cup or a fresh replacement, courtesy of their resident teamaster, but whichever it was, Sokka looked as though he hadn’t entirely given up on it.

As he twisted back around again, his eyes met Katara’s -- and she hastily looked down at the tea she was sipping, seemed to pause for a lingering second, then looked back up again with a small smile as she lowered her drink.

“How are you doing? We haven’t really had much chance to talk…” she ventured, reaching out a hand to touch her fingertips to the middle of his chest -- right over the burn mark left by his sister’s lightning. His scars had always been deeply personal, a source of discomfort buried beneath the implications they came with, but he did not flinch; rather, a different kind of electricity buzzed over him, creeping from his chest in every direction until his fingers tingled and his head clouded with a thin fog that pinkened his cheeks, if briefly. Zuko could feel his heartbeat against her fingers, and judging by the light flush that rose in her cheeks, he thought she probably could. As her fingers dropped, she added, “Does it still hurt?”

Zuko shook his head. Again, his mind flashed with memories he’d sooner forget. “Not the burn, no.”

Understanding flashed in her eyes as her expression sobered and softened. “We’re going to change the world, Zuko. And you’re a key part of that.”

This time, it was his hand that she grasped, and though he would normally be embarrassed by how quickly his fingers responded in turn, he could only think that she seemed akin to a rope thrown out to man overboard -- a hand he would be stupid not to hold onto.

“I know,” Zuko said, and he did know, yet his father’s shadowy smirk darkened the back of his mind, grabbed at his heels every time he thought he was out of reach from the thoughts and feelings that had plagued him all his life. What would his father do . “I feel stupid saying this because I’ve always wanted to be Fire Lord -- I’ve always known that was my destiny -- but right now, I just…” He paused, eyes flicking to make sure the others were still busy with their own conversations -- then again, he spoke, the words starting to tumble uncomfortable. “I just don’t want to be like my father. If I ever slip, if I ever fall-”

A hand covered his mouth, startling him silent. “Then I am going to catch you,” she said firmly, but not unkindly. “Don’t think for a second I would let you backslide.” If oceans could burn, he thought it might look something like color of her eyes at that moment, a beautiful blue reflecting the gold coloring of his own, steam still rising from the cup of tea set again on the table beside them. The words might have seemed harsh, once -- in fact, they were not so dissimilar from the echoing threats hurled at him during their admittedly rocky beginning -- but there was an enveloping sincerity that blanketed him, a sweet promise of security that made him ache. (For once, it was an ache that mended, rather than broke.)

It was then that Zuko realized he had been holding his breath, and as he slowly exhaled, Katara dropped her hand with still-flushed cheeks. “So trust me, okay? Trust in us.” The flush faded into a smile. “ We trust you. If you ever started acting like your father, we’re not afraid to knock a little sense into you,” she started with a wry smile before it gave way to sincerity once again, “but honestly, you have a good heart, Zuko, and that is not something the two of you have in common.”

“Hey, if you two are done staring soulfully into each other’s eyes, it’s apparently time for the fireworks,” Toph cut in, digging a pinky into her ear nonchalantly. “Yippee.”

“What- We’re not-”

“Whatever, Sugar Queen.” Toph turned to follow the rest of the group outside. “I’ll be getting ready for literally the most pointless way I could possibly spend my evening, so you should too. The things I do for you people…”

When Toph had passed the outside threshold of the tea shop, Zuko glanced down to see he was still clasping Katara’s hand, as if fused. He ought to let go, ought to pass this moment and move on to avoid the inevitable fallout, but subtly, slowly he leaned forward, eyes watching hers. Awkwardness and uncertainty flopped restlessly in his stomach, their breath a mingling call for the clash of fire and water.

Voices drifting from outside pulled him back, broke that pleasant haze floating around them, and though Zuko could feel the rush of embarrassment creeping over his features, the subtle flicker at the corner of Katara’s mouth and the cooling heat in her eyes steadied him. Though their hands unlocked wordlessly, thudding hearts were not so easily quieted, and her touch lingered on his skin well into the evening.

Theirs was an element of steam, and though Zuko knew he ought to focus on the fireworks and his brooding worries about his father -- he thought of little else.

#zutara #zuko #katara #atla #avatar: the last airbender #zutara week 2017 #zutara week #zkweek 2017 #zkweek

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joescreepystories-blog · 7 years

Text

Stalker

Amy sat alone in her new home. A 2 bedroom apartment in San Francisco. A rather modest apartment for someone who had just retired at the age of 30 with more than enough money in the bank to see her through life with enough to leave to her kids, so that they'd never have to work in their lives, not that Amy had any kids, work had always come first. Amy had started making mobile apps when she was 24 years old. Mainly apps that let people buy and sell things, but also games, including the one that made her fortune. Amy sipped her coffee that sat on the end table

"Shit" she thought "Still too hot"

She walked into the kitchen to grab some milk when she noticed a brown envelope hanging out of her letterbox

"That's odd" she thought as she walked over to retrieve it.

She pulled the letter free and turned it over, it just had one word on the front in scribbled handwriting

"Open"

As Amy walked back over to the sofa there was a knock on the door that made her let out a short, high pitched scream. She walked over to the door slowly and looked through the peephole, on the other side stood her friend Hannah who was looking back at her holding up a bottle of wine, Amy sighed and let her friend in

"What's the matter? Hannah asked

"You look like you've seen a ghost"

"Nothing" replied Amy hiding the envelope behind her back

"Long days that's all"

"Long?" Replied Hannah laughing

"You're retired for gods sake"

They both laughed and Amy led them into the living room where Amy sat on the sofa, pushing the brown envelope under the sofa cushion.

They sat, talked and drank wine for hours until Hannah said

"I guess I should get going, my cabs waiting outside"

They hugged and said goodbye. Amy locked the door and drew the chain across before walking back over to the sofa and retrieving the envelope. She sat down and opened the envelope. There was only one picture inside. A picture of her sitting in her car at the traffic lights. Taken from an angle that could only have been taken from the car next to her. She turned it over to find more scrawled handwriting.

"Boo!"

Amy sat on the sofa, it didn't really scare her so much as confuse her. "Why would someone do that? Could it be someone I know playing a prank?" Either way she wasn't taking any chances. She made sure that the doors and windows were all bolted shut and went to bed.

The next day seemed pretty normal, Amy woke up, showered and got dressed. She walked passed the envelope on the coffee table and then stopped. She turned around and looked at it.

"That's not where I left you" she thought walking slowly back over to the table.

She was right. The envelope had been turned over from being face down so the word "Open" could be seen again. She opened the envelope to find a picture. But not the same picture as before. It was a picture of her sleeping, she knew instantly that it was from the night before because she was wearing pyjamas that were only bought that day.

Amy felt sick, she ran around the apartment making sure the windows were still locked and threw the curtains closed. The front door. She ran to the door. Locked.

"So how...." Amy thought her mind trailing away.

She picked up the phone and called the police and within 20 minutes there was a knock at the door. Amy shouted

"Who's there?"

"Police" came the reply

Amy walked over to the door and looked through the peephole, two patrol officers stood at the door with stern expressions on their faces. She opened the door and invited them in.

They sat and talked for what seemed like an age. Amy showed them the pictures and they took notes in their little black notepads. After only twenty minutes the officers stood up and said they'd be in touch if they had any further questions.

Amy sat on the sofa and sobbed. She cried for only a minute before composing herself.

She had stuff to do.

Amy drove herself to the nearest hardware store and bought more locks for her doors and windows enough for all windows and doors in her apartment. She rushed home to start fitting them. As she approached her door she sensed something was off, she walked slowly to her front door and pushed, closed, she tried the handle which opened.

"Im sure I locked it" she said to herself.

She opened the door quickly and with a thump. She shouted in

"If there's anyone in there I've called the police" Hoping that whoever was in there would come running out.

After a few minutes she poked her head around the door. Amy then decided to go in, she walked gingerly through the hall and into the living room.

"Just how I left it" she thought

She then moved to the bedroom. She opened the door and immediately starting crying. On her bed was another brown envelope.

After she had gotten herself together she reached for the envelope, her hands shaking with fear.

She opened the envelope, this time no picture but a key. A key with a tag on it.

"KeepSafe Storage No.563".

Confused Amy set down the key and made sure nothing else was in the envelope. She then googled the storage facility and discovered it was only an hours drive from her home.

Amy got into her car and started to drive. After an hour she found the storage facility and parked her car. When she walked into the lobby there was no one there, so she made her own way and found the locker she was looking for. Number 563. Amy took a deep breath and readied herself for what was on the other side. She put the key into the lock and turned. It popped open with a clunk and fell to the ground and the shutter rolled up.

The room was dark and smelled musty, she look around and found a light switch. She flicked it and the light came to live with a buzz. The storage unit was empty apart from a small wooden box in the middle of the floor as if to say open me. She flipped open the latch and opened the box. Inside was a folded sheet of paper. Amy unfolded it and read out-loud.

"Boo"

Before she had even finished saying the word her whole world went black.

Amy awoke several hours later, the back of her head was throbbing and sticky.

"Blood" she thought

She tried to move but realised the was tied to a chair. She tried to scream, but she was gagged. She wasn't blindfolded, she knew this because she could see light under the door of a shutter. Amy's eyes teared up as a million and one thoughts ran through her head. But this time, this time she wasn't going to cry, this time she'd get angry. Rocking the chair back and forth trying to free her arms she managed to topple the chair

"Fuck" she mumbled.

Amy lay there for ten minutes before she heard the unmistakable sound of a key being put into a lock. She tried again to scream but the gag muffled her strained attempts. The shutter flew up, the light blinding Amy, she could make out only a silhouette of a man standing in the doorway, he stepped inside and turned to close the shutter. Darkness befell the room again before a light was flicked on.

The lights flooded the room, Amy was blinded, but as her eyes began to adjust she started to see things clearly. She glanced around the room from her position on the floor, pictures, hundreds, maybe thousands of pictures, she screamed again and tried to wrestle herself free but was hoisted back up into a seated position by the man. He stood behind her and asked in a low, forceful voice

"If I remove this will you scream?"

"No" Amy tried to mumble

The man removed the gag, as soon as he did Amy screamed at the top of her lungs

"Help me!"

Instantly the man hit her with his open palm from his position behind her and put his hand over her mouth. She could taste the saltiness of his sweat which made her wretch.

"Don't scream" the man said again taking his hand away

Amy didn't scream this time, looking around her she started to see what the pictures were. It was her. Thousands of pictures of her lined every available space on the walls. Pictures from her social media, pictures of her from her magazine spreads but then she noticed them. Pictures of her going about daily life, shopping hanging out with friends. With Hannah, with her parents. All aspects of her life photographed without her knowing. A stalker.

"Who are you?" she asked sternly

"A fan" replied the man walking from behind her into view.

The mans face came into view and he said crouched down in front of the chair giving Amy a first look at his face. He was handsome. Amy studied his face, she had never seen him before. He couldn't have been much older than Amy herself. He had baby blue eyes and neatly trimmed hair, a few weeks worth a facial growth and very chiselled features. He was about 6 feet tall and rather muscular which Amy feel even more afraid. She couldn't match him physically.

"I just wanted to meet you" said the man after sometime.

"I know everything about you. Where you were born, what schools you went to, who you've dated, where you go daily, where you go weekly, I know where you worked, who your colleges are, I know everything" he then turned to Amy and said

"Look around you, what you see here is years worth of research"

Amy looked around and saw pictures of her dating back at least five years.

"Why are you doing this" Amy asked with venom in her voice. She was trying to be intimidating even though she was terrified

"You'll find out soon enough" said the man as he turned towards Amy and pulled the gag back into her mouth.

He turned from her and walked to the shutter. Throwing it open, turning the light off and leaving. The click of the lock being closed made Amy jump. She was alone. Again.

In the dark Amy decided that she was going to escape. She used all of her limited strength to try and free herself. She was so dehydrated that she struggled to even move, but she managed reach her arm with her mouth and start biting at the bindings. She tried in vain to break the zip ties biding her hands to the flimsy wooden chair. Suddenly she had an idea, all she had to do was free her legs. She wriggled and writhed her legs in all directions and with one massive surge of effort, broke the first zip tie. Using her free foot she managed to wriggle the other leg free. Once both of her legs were free she stood herself up. The plan was to jump up into the air and land on the back legs of the wooden chair, hopefully smashing the whole thing. With one mighty leap she jumped up leant back and with a loud crash, the chair broke apart, one hand was free but still had the arm of the chair attached but the other was still attached to the chairs arm and seat. Using her free arm she managed to break the other arm free of the seat. Once both arms were free she pulled the arm pieces free and tossed them to one side. She was free. Amy found the light switch and flicked it on. The only other thing in the room as a fire extinguisher, standard for all storage lockers. She looked at the label, water. Not ideal. Amy hatched a plan to wait by the side of the shutter and hit the man over the head when he came back. Shouting for help would yield little to no results in a storage compound this big, no doubt she'd be far away from anyone. So she waited. And waited. And waited until finally, the sound of a key and a lock meeting. Then there was a click and the deafening sound of a shutter being thrown open

"Hey what the fu---" the mans sentence was cut off short by Amy's overhead swing from the fire extinguisher.

The man slumped forward onto the ground. Unconscious. In a blind panic Amy ran from the unit into the maze of storage lockers.

"Great" she thought, "No sign posts".

She started running wildly through the dense maze of identical metal shutters until she was stopped dead in her tracks by a blood curdling scream

"AMY! IM COMING FOR YOU!"

She took off running again rounding corner after corner trying to escape. Amy turned another corner and skidded to a halt, at the end of the long corridor he stood there, blood pouring from a wound in the side of his head, and a knife in his hand. Amy turned around and bolted the other way, the man gave chase. Corner after corner, shutter after shutter she ran, colliding with the cold metal doors after every turn, she could hear him getting closer.

"He must know this place like the back of his hand" she thought, standing still for a moment to catch her breath which was promptly knocked out of her by a forceful shove that hit her in the back.

She fell to the floor and the man got on top of her. He brought the knife down with lightning speed at Amy's face, she moved just in time for the knife to slice a chunk out of her ear, screaming she clawed at his face with her nails causing him to let up just for a moment. Long enough for Amy's knee to come crashing into his balls and send him rolling off to one side, dropping the knife that went skidding away. Both on the floor they clawed and scratched at each other while crawling towards the knife. Amy moved quicker. Kicking down with her heel she caught the man in the nose which exploded with blood, the man screamed and grabbed his nose giving Amy enough time to get to the knife. She grabbed it and rolled over onto her back, the man jumped on top of her and let out a low grunt, he just stared at her, blankly,

Amy screamed "Just do it already" but the man didn't reply instead a small trickle of blood escaped his lips and he slumped forward onto her body.

She realised what had happened. He had landed on the knife. She pushed him off her, stoop up and looked around and there in the distance was a small sign on the ceiling that read

"Exit this way"

This is the first story I’ve ever written, hopefully my writing will get better as time goes on

#horrorstories

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kimjongdaely · 7 years

Text

Façade [Chapter 4]

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Warning: Language

Summary: You thought you wanted fame. You thought you wanted this. But a part of you still yearned for that normal life, a normal love: finding someone that you love and will love you back with all his heart. So soon enough, this became too much for you.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Epilogue

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun wrinkles his nose as he enters his friend’s apartment. “You need to get someone to clean the house.”

“I will.” He yells from his room. Apparently he’s changing. “I just need to get done with filming before I have time to think about the house.”

“Right.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes before plopping onto the couch. Chanyeol comes out a minute later with fresh designer clothes, ready to get back on set.

“I need to go now. Just make yourself home or whatever.” Chanyeol scoffs as he spares a glance at his best friend. “Not like you aren’t already. Bye.” Baekhyun waves casaully before watching him rush to the door, pulling on his shoes as he double-checks his keys.

“By the way,” Baekhyun says loudly so Chanyeol could hear. “I know where she works. And I know that there’s a guy she’s really close to.”

Chanyeol sighs heavily as he opens the door. “Don’t care. And stop stalking my ex-wife.”

The door bangs shut.

“I don’t care, stop stalking my ex-wife.” Baekhyun mocks in annoyance, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “Right. So apparently now I’m the stalker and care more about my friend’s ex-wife than my friend does. Great.” He rolls his eyes before calling off the private investigator. He knows where you work, so nothing else really matters.

“Hey, looking pretty good.” Yixing comments with a large grin as he watches you make a latte after many failed attempts. “You’re starting to get the hang of it.”

“I have a good teacher.” You grin at him. He merely waves you off with a laugh.

A costumer comes up to the cashier and Yixing flashes her a handsome smile. “Good day, miss. What would you like to order?”

The smell of coffee and the quiet murmurs of customers as they fill the small café is really soothing. You find yourself easing into your new life, and it was much easier than you expected with Yixing’s help.

Occasionally, your thoughts drift back to Chanyeol and your old life. Acting was fun, to say the least, and it was all you ever wanted.

Right now, you’re not sure what you want. Maybe you’re still trying to test the waters, still looking for a right path to wander down.

Work ends smoothly and, like usual, Yixing waits for you outside the closed café before walking you home like the gentleman he is.

That particular night, you think it’s probably a good idea to tell him about everything. Not only has it been bugging you constantly, but Yixing is a good friend and you trust him. He’s not the type to gossip or pry into other people’s business, so you think it should be okay.

“Thanks,” you tell him with a warm smile once you arrive at your apartment.

“No prob,” he grins before waving you goodbye. “See you tomorrow!”

“Yixing,” you call just before he could turn around. He looks at you with slight confusion. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” He declines politely, not sure what to do with your offer.

You smile again. “Please?”

Knowing something’s on your mind, Yixing nods and enters your apartment for the first time. He’s extremely respectful and polite, only sitting when you tell him to. He seems a but uncomfortable in your house, but you suppose that’s normal since you aren’t really that close with him yet.

“Tea?” You ask as you enter the kitchen, and he nods, thanking you when you hand him a cup.

“So?” He starts slowly, sipping on his tea. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

You bite your lip. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Yixing smiles kindly at you, setting down his cup. He’s all ears. “I don’t mind at all. What’s wrong?”

“You know…” You start, but you’re not sure how to start. “You know about my divorce, yes?”

He nods.

“Chanyeol and I…” You force out the words. “We weren’t really married.”

“What?” Yixing spits in surprise and you quickly explain.

“Well, we were married legally, but we didn’t love each other. We just got married so we could borrow each others’ fame to be more successful.” You bite your lip and suck in a sharp breath. “So…eventually I got fed up with the fake life and decided to stop everything by divorcing him.”

Yixing falls silent, merely sipping on his tea as he stares off into the distance for a while. Then he finally speaks, “It’s your decision. I can’t really comment on your choices, but if I had to say something,” his lips curl up slightly. “I think you made a good choice. I don’t know about fame and all that, but if you think it’s right, it’s right. If you think divorcing is right, it’s right.”

You exhale slowly, feeling some weight becoming lifted from your shoulders. For some reason, his words made you feel relieved. “Thank you for understanding. I thought…I thought I should let you know because…”

You don’t know how to continue. Okay, sure you thought of him as a friend, but did you think of you as one? Is it okay to just go around calling him your friend?

“Because we’re friends?” He offers gently with a small chuckle. “We are, aren’t we?”

You smile widely. “Yes, we are.”

“Where does she work?” Chanyeol asks slowly as he scrolls through his phone in the changing room.

Baekhyun grins. “Curious?”

Chanyeol scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Rolling his eyes at the dishonest man, he scribbles down the address and hands it to him. “Here. So much for accusing me of stalking. I did it for you!”

“I got it.” Chanyeol grumbles as he takes the piece of paper. “I know you’re a good friend, for both of us. But maybe that’s not the best way to do it.”

“Give me back the paper then.” Baekhyun teases, but Chanyeol ignores him as he goes back on set.

The air is clearer, the sun is brighter. In general, life feels a bit better after you told Yixing everything. It really helps to have a friend who knows what’s happening to you. Jongdae, Baekhyun and Sehun are good friends, but they’re more of Chanyeol’s friends, so you don’t really want to bother them.

You practically skip to work, letting the warm smell of coffee fill you.

“Morning,” Yixing greets you once you’ve changed into your uniform. “You look happy.”

“Very.” You grin at him, silently giving him your thanks. He understands as his smile widens before grabbing a cup and pouring a cappuccino for a customer.

You hum lightly as you wipe down the cups, putting them onto racks to dry. It’s around mid-afternoon, and only a few people are in the café, sitting in corners minding their own business.

The bell chimes and you glance up to greet the new customer along with Yixing.

The world stills as you recognize the tall frame.

Chanyeol is wearing sunglasses and a hat, trying to hide his face from the public, but there’s no doubt it’s him. Your eyes follows him as he grabs a seat in one of the corners, casually.

Is it possible that he doesn’t know you’re there? Did he not see you?

There’s no way. Why is he even here? This is far from the studio and his house, so there’s no way he just ended up here.

He must know you work here.

You furrow your brows as you try to figure it out, the reason as to why he’s here, but you just can’t seem to find a logical reason.

Maybe because he misses you?

The thought almost had you snorting.

“You okay?” Yixing asks you quietly, seeing your sudden change of behavior.

“Uh, yeah.” You mumble, biting your lip as you wonder what you should do. Should you just ignore him? Yeah, that’s probably the best, since he didn’t acknowledge you either.

You continue with your job, your eyes hopelessly glancing at his figure every-so-often.

After about half an hour, you let out the breath you were holding. It doesn’t seem like Chanyeol’s here to cause a scene (he’s not the type in the first place), so you relax and carry on about your day. He’ll leave soon.

That’s when the bell chimes again, and another person you recognize comes in.

It’s Chanyeol’s manager.

He spots Chanyeol in the back and quickly hurries over. From what you can see at the counter, it looks like his manager is scolding Chanyeol for running off on his own.

He pulls Chanyeol up and tries to escort him out, but his eyes land on yours and you let out an involuntary squeak because you know he recognizes you.

“What do we have here?” His low voice holds a hint of mockery, his eyes judging. “The famous actress ended up washing cups at a café?”

This time, it’s Chanyeol who grabs his manager’s arm and tries to pull him out. You were offended by what he said, and you weren’t afraid to show it with the frown that was growing on your face.

His manager scoffs at you before he exits with Chanyeol, and you breath a sigh of relief. Yixing raises his brows at you in concern, but you merely nod at him.

You weren’t really sure what just happened yourself.

Like usual, you change back into your casual clothes and make your way out the closed café.

Yixing is waiting for you like always, and you smile at him before another voice calls your name.

Turning to the voice, you’re surprised to find Kim Junmyeon waving at you with a smile.

Kim Junmyeon is a famous director, and has worked with you on several occasions. Slightly perplexed by his visit, you smile and wave back as he makes his way over. You glance at Yixing apologetically, and he merely smiles back.

“Junmyeon, what brings you here?” You ask the male.

“It’s been a while. But let’s not talk here,” Junmyeon says with a smile. “Shall we find somewhere to sit?”

“Oh, sure.” You turn towards Yixing, prepared to say goodbye to him, but Junmyeon shakes his head.

“Mister, would you mind coming with us?” Junmyeon says, much to your surprise. The both of you follow him to a nearby restaurant.

“So…is there something you need?” You ask slowly as you finally sit down.

“I came to offer you a deal.” He starts. “I know you retired and all, but I can’t think of a better protagonist than you. Please, just film this one movie? You can go on and retire after that.”

You force out a smile. “Junmyeon, I really don’t want to go back—”

Junmyeon cuts you off by raising a hand. He leans in so only you could hear. “I know about you and Chanyeol. The marriage. What do you think will happen to both of you if I leak it to the media, hm?”

Your eyes widen as he pulls away, still with that infuriating grin on his face. “Are you threatening me?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’d hate to go there. I like to think we’re good friends. If not friends, then at least partners. We’ve worked together so many times, I’m sure you know my personality.”

“Um, may I ask why I’m here?” Yixing intervenes timidly.

“Oh yes,” Junmyeon flashes Yixing a friendly smile. “Your name?”

“Zhang Yixing.”

“Splendid. Yixing, would you like to become an actor?”

“What?” Both you and Yixing exclaim together, eyes wide as you stare at Junmyeon.

“Hm?” He hums casually as he leans back in his seat. “Am I not clear enough?”

“Ok, stop.” You snap as you cross your arms. “You want me to film in your movie, fine. I get that, and you have dirt on me so I can’t say no. Fair enough. But Yixing isn’t an actor. You can’t just drag him into this!”

“I’ll decide who acts in my movie.” Junmyeon tells you flatly. “Look, I really don’t want to go into threatening or whatever. You love acting. I can tell.”

You bite your lip as you avoid his eyes, knowing he’s right. His tone becomes softer.

“I need your incredible talent. Please. And him,” he gestures towards Yixing. “I can tell he’ll be great. You can just come and try. You can leave if it really isn’t suitable for you.”

You exchange glances with Yixing. Honestly, it’s not a bad deal. You’ve worked with Junmyeon a lot, and you really do like him. He’s nice and professional and his movies always become a big hit, so you earn a lot of money from it. And also, it’s not like you can say no.

“I’ll do it.” You tell him with a defeated sigh.

“Me too.” Yixing pipes up to your surprise. You look at him with furrowed brows.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him. “Don’t agree just because of me or anything—”

“Of course not,” Yixing waves you off before turning to Junmyeon. “I’ve watched all of your movies and they’re absolutely wonderful! I think you’re a great director, so I definitely want to try if you give me the chance.”

Junmyeon lights up with joy at your answers. “Great! You know the drill,” he hands you a contract for you to sign and you skim through it. He then turns to Yixing. “I’ll give you a temporary contract. It lasts for about a month. After that, you can decide whether to continue or quit.”

The both of you skim the contract and agree to all its terms. After signing, Junmyeon stands up to leave.

Just as he’s about to go, he stops abruptly and turn around with a sheepish smile.

Your stomach churns at his expression.

“By the way, um, I forgot to mention.” He bites his lips. “You’re going to be working with Chanyeol.”

Why did he have to tell you right after you signed the damn contract?

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Façade Mini Masterlist

A/N: Yay! So the plot is moving forward~~ Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and please tell me what you think about the story! Thanks for reading~! P.S, I have now added character profiles in the mini masterlist

©kimjongdaely

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