#WHEN I TELL U THAT BOTH OF THESE PIECES WERE A LABOR OF LOVE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd

Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, physical cheating]

[AN: i love angst too]

The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.

It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.

She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.

“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”

“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.

“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”

Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.

Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.

“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”

Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”

Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.

“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.

Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.

Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”

Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.

“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.

Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.

She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”

Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.

And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.

Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.

When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.

Tim stayed the night.

The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.

It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.

Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?

He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.

Excuses, excuses.

The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.

He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.

It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?

A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.

“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”

“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.

He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.

The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.

You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.

“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”

“I wanna go home.”

Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.

A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.

You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”

“What? No-”

“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.

Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”

“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.

“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do.”

“Reader, baby please-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”

Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.

The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it’s full again.

271 notes · View notes

wispvial · 3 years

Link

So I finally posted my Franklin/Nubbins fanfiction, lol. Shout out to the three or so people who might enjoy it, I just had fun writing, even if I’m not confident! I wasn’t so sure about tagging, but there are allusions to violence and animal death, the kind you’d see in the movie.

#texas chainsaw massacre #nubbins sawyer #franklin hardesty #franknub #tcm #mine

70 notes · View notes

bruh--wtf · 3 years

Text

Butterflies

Remus Lupin x Reader

Main Masterlist

Part 6

Previous Next

Summary: You're Lily Evans' little sister. She isn't the only witch in the family.

Remus Lupin Masterlist

You walked back into the common room after lights out that night. Purposefully. You hoped that your friends wouldn't be there. But of course, nothing was in your favor.

Remus sat on the couch, his leg was shaking, and he watched the fire intensely. You tried to sneak past him but he looked up as the portrait closed. He quickly stood up, walking over to you, letting out a breath.

"Thank Merlin, you're back. I was getting worried. And-" you just walked around him. It was physically painful to do so. A part of you knew Lily and the boys were only looking out for you. But a much bigger part was mad at them. "Wait, Y/N, please talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, Remus," you say, still not turning back to him. He stops infront of you, causing you to stop. He puts gentle hands on your arms. A big contrast to how Seb touches you. You look down at his hand on your arm for a second. That feeling in your stomach coming. You were still confused for a second. A split second. Butterflies. No. No, wrong! Wrong person!

"Please, you're my bestfriend," he says. "I just don't want to see you feeling like that. It's painful, Y/N." You finally meet his eyes again, your eyes still wide from your realization. That good feeling in the pit of your stomach. The one that started causing nervous, yet comforting waves through you in third year. You felt them around Remus. Only Remus. And you barely registered his words.

"I'm with Seb," you say, more so to yourself. But he doesn't see that. He rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I know. But he's not good for you, Y/N," he says. You meet his eyes. Now, that registered.

"And who would be good for me, huh? Nobody else has shown any interest in me, ever! I'm happy with Seb," you say. You were partially trying to convince yourself of the last bit.

You walked past him, not noticing the sad, hurt look on his face as you did so.

And the next day when you were in the hallway with Seb, his arm was slung over your shoulder. He was talking mindlessly to his friends while you were lost in your thoughts. Your gaze went to the side while you thought about what Dumbledore told you last night. And what you felt around Remus. Dumbledore couldn't have been talking about Remus, could he? You mindlessly chewed on your lip while you were thinking. Seb leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Keep your eyes off other guys if you know what's good for you," he says. Was that a threat? You snapped your gaze to Seb. You glanced over, realizing your eyes had landed on where the Mauraders were talking across the field.

"They're my friends, Seb," you say. His gaze hardens.

"Not anymore." You roll your eyes.

"You can't tell me who I can and can't be friends with," you say. He raises an eyebrow, his arm leaving your shoulders. He grabbed your arm. This time was tighter than usual. Visually so, according to his friends reactions. The girls who you were friends with seemed a little surprised, staring at Seb as if he were going mad.

You just met Seb's eyes, not flinching. Not wavering. He pulls you away from his friends, towards the castle. You followed, him going faster than you would have liked.

He pushed you against the wall, your eyes never leave his. And you don't show a single sign of weakness.

"Gryffindors," he says, rolling his eyes. He lowers his lips to your ear. "So brave." His grip on your arm felt like it'll bruise. He pressed a kiss to your neck. You rolled your eyes, trying to push him off of you. But he didn't budge. You kept hitting his chest.

"Get off me, Seb!" You say. He grips both your arms now, glaring at you.

"You're my girlfriend. You'll behave like it." You showed weakness now. You were scared. Your eyes widened, and he seemed satisfied with your visible fear. You hated that. You glared right back at him.

"Then find yourself a new girlfriend. Because I don't want anything to do with you," you hiss. His grip somehow tightens.

"You're not breaking up with me," he says. You winced slightly.

"Except she is," you hear from down the corridor. You and Seb both look over. Mauraders. You couldn't help but smile slightly. But you didn't see Remus. Where was he?

"You guys stay out of this," Seb says, rolling his eyes.

"I don't think so," Sirius says, walking closer to Seb. Taking hurried steps.

"Just stay away from my girlfriend," Seb says. Sirius chuckles.

"I don't think you heard her correctly," he says. He glances over Seb's shoulder. You looked just as Remus tapped Seb's shoulder. Seb turned around, and was immediately met with Remus punching him.

"She's not your girlfriend," he says, looking down at him. He was taller than Seb. You'd never seen Remus look that mad. You were shocked. When did they have time to plan this? Did they plan it? Seb looks back at Remus, glaring back at him. He goes to punch him, but Sirius grabs his arms. Remus barely glances at him again, looking at you.

"Are you alright?" He asks. You were still in shock. You simply nodded. He grabbed your wrist gently, lifting your sleeve to look at your arms. You could see hand shaped bruises forming. His jaw tightened again. James noticed and looked at Seb.

"Well, we already abandoned the 'avoid the face' plan," he says, punching Seb. Sirius lets go of Seb, smirking. Probably thinking it'll be more fun. The boy was a year younger than them after all. A small group had formed at this point.

Sirius kicked Seb's legs from behind him. Remus put a hand on your elbow, going to make you turn away. Then Seb pulls his wand out. You could tell by their expressions they didn't want to pull their wands out. The didn't want to go expelled, after all. Peter goes to grab the boy's wand, and gets throw against the stone wall. Not by strength, by magic. Your eyes widened.

"Seb!" You exclaimed. He turned to you, still glaring. The mauraders that weren't on the floor were fuming at this point. James punched Seb again, and Sirius went for the gut. Remus was holding himself back, and you could see it. It didn't help that he had to physically hold you back from the boys. Finally, Seb blasted James into the crowd. He slid on the floor, landing infront of Lily. She quickly got down to make sure he was okay. Mary and Alice were with Peter. They were both holding their ribs. He sent Sirius by turning quickly, and Marlene ran over to him. Remus had clearly had enough. Finally letting you go. He went to go at the boy, but he pointed his wand. Not at Remus, but at you. The next word from his mouth caused you the worst pain imaginable. And beyond that, too.

"Crucio!" He exclaims. You instantly fell to the floor, crying and screaming. It felt like a thousand years. It was probably only a few seconds, though.

"Expelliarmus!" Remus shouts. But you don't really hear it.

"Stupify!" You hear Lily yell. Again, you couldn't quite hear it. Your breathing was labored and your knees had given out. You were on your back, your legs uncomfortably folded beneath you. You whimpered slightly when the torturing spell stopped. You felt tears leave your cheeks, and pressed your lips together. That definitely wasn't what he did to the boys. Because that wasn't send you flying and curl up that was torture.

You heard footsteps running into the circle, but didn't open your eyes. You heard Dumbledore shout something, but still couldn't focus clearly. Your breathing was still labored. You felt someone lift you up slightly.

You whimpered again, curling in on yourself. You felt someone gingerly move the hair out of your face. "Y/N, c'mon look at me," you hear. Remus. You knew it was Remus. You managed to pry your eyes open slightly. He was holding you like a fragile piece of glass.

You turned your face into his chest, letting your small sob escape you. Not only was the magic still radiating through you, and you had to wait until the waves deminished, but you realized you had dated that boy for almost a year. A boy so willing to hurt your friends. And you.

"It's okay, love, it's okay," Remus says. Your hand found his shirt, gripping onto it. You closed your eyes again, but held your grip to show him you were still there. You heard the voices fading around you though. You were going to pass out.

Y/N's grip started to loosen on Remus's shirt as Mcgonagall told him to get her to the infirmary. He quickly stood up with her in his arms. His friends were getting up now. Still clearly in pain. Lily helped James walk, but they all made their way towards the infirmary.

When he placed you on the bed, he was told to walk away for a minute. But neither he or Lily would do that. So, they waited. When the boys had been checked up on, they sat around the bed too.

Dumbledore came in that night with Mcgonagall. "You all need to get to the dormitory," Mcgonagall says.

"Professor, she's just been cursed," James says. She nods.

"I know. And she needs rest. She's young. The effect will be worsened on her. And that also means, the chances are she'll still be asleep when you come back in the morning." Dumbledore looked at Remus who still gripped Y/N's hand. Looking very unwilling to leave her side.

"The girl should have her friends here when she wakes up," he says. He still made eye contact with Remus. Not even glancing at the others.

"Albus-" Mcgonagall starts.

"I'm quite tired, Minerva. I think I'll go to bed," he says. She glances at the group again then she sighs, following Dumbledore out of the room.

"Minnie's mad," Sirius says. The boys all smile slightly, looking back down at Y/N. They each found their way to one of the beds in the infirmary at some point during the night. But Remus stayed by her side. He layed his head down next to her, on her bed.

At some point in the night, you started shaking. Not from something medical. But the cold. You looked colder than anyone else. Your teeth were chattering in your sleep. And Remus noticed. He woke up, feeling your body shivering. He looked up at you, seeing if you were awake. You looked paler than normal. His eyes widened and he grabbed blankets off other beds, quickly putting them over you. That only seemed to help a little.he looked over at his friends. James had woken up to his frantic movements. He got up, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. He looked at Y/N.

"Give her your jumper or something," he says, gesturing to her. Remus looks down at the jumper he was wearing. James rolls his eyes.

"Come on, Moony. It'll warm her up. She's freezing. If she keeps shivering like that we'll have to get Pomfrey. Besides, we've all seen it before," he says, winking at his friend. Remus glares at James, then sighs, taking off his jumper. He walks over to Y/N, carefully putting her into the jumper. She made a small noise that made him stop for a second, scared he'd either hurt her or wake her up. Or both.

Once she was in it, James and Remus both watched her teeth chattering stop slowly. But she was still shivering.

"Body heat?" James suggests. Remus glares at him. He gestures to Remus and then Y/N. "I didn't mean me, I meant you!" Remus looks down at her. He pressed his lips together for a second before finally peeling the blankets away and climbing into the bed beside her. Y/N instantly turned and curled up into his chest. He looked at her, then over at James who yawns.

"Goodnight, mate," he says, walking back over to the bed between Lily and Sirius. Remus looked back down at her. She was perfect. And he was glad thinking about the crack he heard when he punched Seb.

Both times. He'd punched him after he had disarmed him and right before Lily got her wand out. The second punch was much, much harder.

#young remus x reader #remus x you #young remus imagine #young remus lupin #remus #marauders era #james potter #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #peter petigrew #lily evans

130 notes · View notes

i8jisoo · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ⇉ skz with pregnant!reader

hyunjin x reader | part four of dad!skz

↬ genre; fluff

↬ warnings; pregnancy, lots of cursing (i have a streak), birth, n kkami bein a meanie

↬ notes; ok this might be my fav in the series | 1.5k wc

u and hyunjin actually were broken up when u found out about the pregnancy

u waited (stalled fuck off) until five months since u really didnt know what to do with the news

u kinda feel like ur insane, playing your ex-boyfriends music constantly and watching interviews of him but it kept u company and gave u a reminder that u still needed to tell him

u got this rly cute popped out bump, just rly kinda like those movies but u know its gonna get bigger and grow to have stretch marks

one day ur just sitting on the sofa of your apartment n the next thing u know ur door is being opened and hyunjin is barging in

ofc ur in a sports bras and a pair of basketball shorts cause they r comfortable and shirts r overrated

ur there with set out marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate, as well as peppermint sticks on the side just eating them together

ur in the middle of eating a smore u had put together

u swallow ur smore slowly, sucking on ur fingertips n just staring at him

“oh my fucking god- and it’s true?”

ur honestly so confused until u remember u dont have on a shirt n ur bump is showing

ur standing up in a millisecond, hyunjin getting more upset by the second just looking at u

“why— how? how could you just not tell me?”

baby boy has those angry tears and the strained voice hes just so upset and the guilt is setting in for u

“i’m five and a half months.”

fuck hormones cause next thing u know ur crying and u cant do anything to make it stop

u guys really can’t be mad at each-other, ur relationship was filled with nothing but kindness and it ended only because u two felt it was going no where

ofc u two argued about it and in the end hyunjin was the one who walked out

“we can try again. you can move back in right? we can stay together and put back the pieces.”

u agreed n by the next morning he was there to help u pack ur things up n take them back to his place

he ends up seeing the box of baby stuff, with unopened bottle packages and sonograms, as well as a disc that was labelled as your 3D ultrasound

u find him just sitting there, staring at the black and white sonogram with tears freely falling down his cheeks

he doesn't even notice u next to him until ur thumb swipes the tear away from his cheek

u two just smile at each-other, his arm wrapping around u n pulling u in to his side

“that’s our baby?” he asks, not removing his eyes from the little white blob that barely was the size of a jaw breaker n u just whispered, “yea, it is.”

ur relationship doesn’t exactly get back into what it was at first,,

ur both nervous and cautious around each other

at first he insists he can just sleep on the couch so u can take his bed but u insist u both can sleep together

hyunjin doesn’t mean to but he somehow always winds up with his arm around u n ur bump every morning

he will talk to the bump n tell them how they r gonna have the best mommy n daddy 🥺

“did u know ur mommy is one of my favorite people to be with? i know ur gonna hear the story one day of how we became parents but i have always loved her, even when we weren’t together i loved your mommy. i hope one day you will love someone as much as i love your mommy, i hope you get your mommy’s personality bub.”

ur fake sleeping wbk but u dont move so u can let him talk

around eight months u two are way more comfortable n are getting closer

he lets u borrow his clothes because u used to do that even when u weren’t pregnant and he figured they were more comfortable & better looking than ur maternity outfits 😣

he rly goes the whole nine yards, buying anything u can think of for the baby n he’ll sometimes wake u up from ur sleep (if he’s rly excited) just so he can show u what he bought

hyunjin is in love with u and kkami cuddling together

also when ur due date got closer u both def went out for walks with kkami or played in the dog park with kkami

(u couldn’t really be as active as hyunjin but it was fine with u just watching)

something within hyunjin changes n he just gets so shy n flustered around u ^.^

he’s crushing so hard on u and u can guess he is but then again u two were just living together for the pregnancy

it’s probably three in the morning n hyunjin had just came home

ofc u were crying

a rly cute dog ad was playing with a baby in it as well :(

u explain n hiccup while doing so

hes so s o f t at this moment

he presses a soft kiss to ur lips n ur like wow thats um—

he doesn’t even care how shocked u r this man goes back in for more kisses

“i want you, i wanna be a real family. i wanna one day marry you, have more babies or get other dogs, that’s all i’ve ever wanted since the day we met.”

enywayz u two r dating,, a g a i n

spooning half of the time during ur last few weeks of pregnancy, but the boys come over frequently n for some reason jeongin is always bringing presents?? its cute but u guys RLY didn’t need anymore toys for the baby

u guys r just cuddling n he’s got one hand on ur bump before ur like

“ow,, fuck that hurt.”

“hey don’t swear around the baby!”

u just suppose it’s a hard kick since the baby had been active a lot recently n the pains had been occurring often

kkami is very cuddly today n he’s giving u kisses

hyunjin lowkey jealous cause kkami doesn’t ever give him kisses like that ⸜( ⌓̈ )⸝

yall ever seen the thing where dogs know pregnant people the best n they can like SENSE something goin on??

well kkami was on it

baby kkami is sniffing u n just restless in ur lap n its a lil weird cause kkami is ALWAYS sleeping or sitting still cause kkami has turned as lazy as u n hyunjin

u have this feeling but instead u just tell hyunjin u gotta pee :P

newsflash: u didnt n as soon as u got up, boom, theres ur water breaking and running down ur leg

“it feels gross.”

ur literally whining about ur pants while a baby is coming out of ur ... hooha 😳 n hyunjin is freaking out

he’s rushing around the rooms n making sure everything is in the bag and nothing gets left behind

last thing on his mind is changing ur clothes

though he does, putting u in his baggy sweatshirt and a pair of his shorts

hes freaking out lets be honest the thought of u giving birth is fuckin scary

hyunjin is so out of it and spaced out while ur cool n talking normally with pauses everytime theres a contraction

“aish, why are you so worried? i’m the one that should be worried!!”

ur not cool after an u hit the four hours in labor mark

u do not want to be t o u c h e d

touching u is off limits ur so sweaty n ur body feels like its crumbling u cannot deal with someone holding ur hand or holding u

hyunjin just sits there

hes kinda in a different realm while he stares at the clock on the wall

hes so ready to meet the baby but apparently ur body was exactly 4 centimetres not ready :(

hes just trying to distract u by talking with the boys n his other friends, all of the face timing to talk to the parents to be 🥺

yall r wrapping up a call with jeongin when u have the built up pressure feeling again

he doesn’t even explain to jeongin hes so quickly to hang up n ask u whats wrong

“i— it feels like i have to push.”

he’s already pressing the pretty lil white button on ur bed for the nurses n doctors

they confirm that u indeed r ready to push and that the baby is in position

hyunjin trying to take a peek WHAT A WEIRDO

yall hearing ur baby has a head full of hair and u just give hyunjin this look

like WTF no wonder why u had so much heartburn its because of ur fuckin rapunzel baby daddy

here comes the cries, loud n u just heard the quietest sob from beside u which was hyunjin

“it’s a baby boy, congrats!!”

his lil puppy baby boy 🥺

he had a lil pout like his daddy n his brown locks on top of his head

it was kinda creepy how similar they looked

anyways u dont care ur lil boy is p e r f e c t and nobody could dare tell yall different

u would disagree anyways because thats ur lil pouty baby boy n hes so cute 🥺

“we got a pretty good break-up story right? one for the books.”

he’s got baby boy in his arms bundled up but that doesn’t stop u from smacking his arm before kissing him quickly

“yea, we do.”

1K notes · View notes

twiceinadream · 3 years

Text

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”

Requested: Yup

Request: Mina and her wife celebrating their first Christmas together as a married couple.

a/u: Merry Christmas Eve for everyone who celebrates. I hope you enjoy my newly added addition to “Jiwoo can’t have Christmas without Mina” one shot collection. I hope you all have a great day, I love you all!

Category: Fluff and NSFW

Word Count: 1.9k

Having time off was rare for Mina, but since the company had granted her some extra time this Christmas as a marriage present for you and her. Which you were both determined to make the most of, since it was only seven in the morning and Christmas music was already blaring from every speaker in your house as you and Mina dragged the Christmas tree in from the garage. Letting out a sigh as you set down the tree in the living room, wiping your brow as Mina poked your side playfully.

“Out of shape already Y/N?” You pouted at your wife.

“Am not! You made me carry the bottom half of the tree, which is heavier from the top.” Your small outburst brought a smile to the Japanese girl’s face as she hugged your side.

“I’m teasing baby, you know I love you.” You rolled your eyes in an attempt to feign annoyance but gave in the second you saw Mina’s puppy dog eyes.

Sighing as you melted into her arms, placing a peck on her lips as she smiled, “I love you too. But we should get to work, this tree isn’t gonna decorate itself.” Your wife nodded in agreement as she started heading back to the garage.

“Right you are Y/N-ah. Now set up the tree while I get the ornaments.” You shook your head as you began setting up the stand for the pine that was now going to occupy your living room for the next few weeks.

“Yes ma’am.”

—

-Later that Evening-

Most of the day had been filled with hanging and even breaking a few ornaments in your guy’s haste to win decorating your sides of the tree the fastests which ended with Mina coming out on top since she never backed down from a challenge. Even if it was you, her wife. It only made her ever more competitive.

But she made up for it by tackling you in a hug and pressing fluttering kisses along your cheeks as she murmured how “close” you were to beating her. Which just seemed as her excuse to continue to gloat on her win.

“I could still divorce you, you know.” You said jokingly as you and Mina stood side by side in the kitchen, cookie dough between the both of you as you kneaded it carefully.

Your wife let out a scandalized gasp, “You would never L/N Y/N.” You quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Wanna bet L/N Mina?” In response your wife threw flour at you as you reeled back in shock, “You are so on!”

Mina giggled as she danced around the kitchen island, avoiding your attempts at returning her flour attack as you both painted your kitchen white. Flour and cookie dough laid in splotches all over the counter and cabinets as the food fight finally settled down. Laughter filling the room as you both finally got the cookies in the oven, “We’re a mess.”

You rolled your eyes at your wife’s blatant statement, “Well you started it.”

“And I also finished it.” She stuck her tongue out as you washed your arms in the sink, “I think we should shower.” At the mention of shower your eyes were immediately drawn to your wife’s butt making her shake her head. “Separately, Y/N. I don’t want our house smelling like burnt cookies if we get...side tracked.”

You purse your lips in thought, “Then just wait for them to be done. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” The teasing glint in your eyes was more than enough to have your wife convinced as she sighed in defeat.

Leaning next to you on the island as you both watched the cookies bake, “I’ll hold you to that.” You turned as you placed a kiss to her temple.

“I hope you do.”

—

-Half an Hour Later-

You tried your best to keep your hands to yourself for the rest of the twenty minutes it took for the cookies to bake. The timer on the oven going off was a godsend as you and Mina carefully set the cookies out on the rack to cool then hastily making your way upstairs to the bedroom.

Before either of you could put a lot of thought into what was happening you had already taken Mina’s sweater off and threw it to the floor as she was working you out of your sweats. Laughter filling the air as the two of you undressed each other, stumbling into the bathroom as you turned on the shower.

You wrapped your arms around Mina’s waist, reaching one hand out to grab the rag that sat on the side of the shower caddy. Lathering it in soap and began passing it along Mina’s body, down to her hip, stopping to gently massage the area. Mina sighed softly and leaned her head back against your body, reaching a hand up to play with stray strands of your hair.

A teasing smile took over Mina’s face as she turned around in your arms, “You should follow up on that promise.”

“Now? In the shower? Where we could slip and die?” You asked dramatically, causing your wife to laugh. A sound you don’t think you could ever hear enough of.

“Please, Y/N. You promised.” Mina pouted as she gave you her best puppy dog eyes as she pressed her lips to yours, her arms crossing behind your neck to bring you closer into the kiss. You gladly returned the kiss, your hands finding their way to the Japanese girl's waist after you tossed the rag back on the caddy.

"Tell me what you need," You whispered the moment Mina pulled back from their kiss. The Japanese girl chewed on her bottom lip, eyes darkening with desire as she took your hands and guided them just below her breasts.

"I need you to stop playing games and just take me already."

That comment alone made you growl, your blunt nails digging into unmarred skin as you gently dragged them up, over her nipples, and up to her neck.

"Are you sure?"

Mina nodded and next thing she knew, she was being pushed against the wall, lips hungrily finding their way across her skin. She let out a choked gasp at the pleasure that danced along her neck and collarbone. She felt the lips begin their descent to her chest before she felt teeth gently tugging at her pink buds, each getting equal amounts of attention.

You kept her eyes on your wife’s face the whole time, watching her reaction with each action you performed. Noticing the small details, the way her eyebrow twitches, the small hitches in her breath whenever you passed a hand over her abdomen, and even the twitching of her fingers as if she itched to hold onto you. As you stood back up and turned Mina around, slowly pushing her forward until the Japanese girl was bent over, hands braced against the glass shower door.

She was about to ask what you were gonna do until she felt a hand snake its way between her legs, gently petting her between her legs, while the other arm wrapped around her middle. A soft moan left Mina as a small wave of pleasure coursed through her body. You smirked and bent over Mina as you began rubbing Mina's clit with varying speeds and pressure, each gesture earning a different sound. Mina whimpered, moving her hips in an attempt to get you to touch her further.

"Tell me what you want, and I might give it to you, babygirl."

Your wife sighed softly and quietly begged. "Y/N, please. I need you in-oh fuck...right there, yes!"

You had taken the moment to swiftly slide a finger into her girlfriend, immediately curling your finger to reach the one spot that made Mina cry out. It only took a few more thrusts for Mina to quietly beg for another finger to be added, to which you gladly obliged.

Mina's back arched and her moans became louder as she panted and gasped at the feeling of her lover's fingers inside of her. It had been a good while since she felt like this. You leaned down and bit down onto Mina's right shoulder, your free hand coming to run your fingers along Mina's lips.

"You're being so good for me, Minari. You feel amazing around my fingers. I bet it feels even better for you, doesn't it, babygirl?"

"Babe...I..I’m about to cum...harder, please, Y/N!"

You chuckled and gently pressed your middle and ring fingers to Mina's lips, slipping between them the moment the international star parted them. She had to bite down on them when a particularly hard thrust against her front wall almost made her scream. She was close and you could tell, as you doubled your efforts. You could almost see your guy’s reflection in the glass, barely making out the blush across Mina's face, her eyes closed as she moaned.

It didn't take too long for Mina to go quiet before she cried out your name as waves of pleasure rocked her body. She hung her head, one hand gripping the arm around her waist, the other forming a fist against the glass; she would usually have some piece of fabric to grasp. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes with how hard her orgasm had hit her and she was glad you were there to catch her when her legs gave out.

Your fingers running through her hair carefully brought her back to her surroundings. As you had moved the two of you to sit on the floor of the bathtub while she recovered from her high.

“Earth to Mina. You okay?” Your voice was laced with concern as you moved to turn off the water raining down on your bodies from the shower. Your wife’s labored breaths slowly evening out as she rested her head against your chest.

“Wow, that was just...wow.” Mina let out a dazed laugh as you placed a kiss to her crown.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it baby. Now let me get you cleaned up.”

—

The night’s activities had finally died down as you and Mina cuddled on the couch. Wrapped in too many blankets as a Christmas movie played on quietly in the background. Neither of you were really watching as your guy’s attention was focused outside the window, watching the snow flurry down as the fire roared in the hearth.

In that moment you suddenly felt your heart swell slightly, like this was one of those moments in your life that felt too perfect to be real. And sometimes you had to pinch yourself to be sure as you glanced down to the weight against you, Mina’s back on your front as you suddenly wrapped your arms around her. Nuzzling your nose into her neck.

“What’s gotten into you Y/N-Chan?” Her tone was soft as she turned her head to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Nothing. I’m just happy.” Your wife smiled at your words as she leaned back further into your embrace. Her right hand subconsciously played with the band she promised to wear on her left hand for as long as she lived.

“I’m glad, Y/N-ah. It’s beginning to look a lot more like Christmas now that we’re together.” Mina grabbed your left hand out of the blanket as she placed a kiss on your ring. “Officially that is.”

You smiled softly as you moved back holding your wife, the lights of the tree danced in her eyes. It looked like billions of unexplored galaxies that you would spend your lifetime searching through, “I couldn’t agree more my love.”

#fortwice #twice #twice imagines #twice prompts #twice oneshot #twice fluff #twice smut #myoui mina #twice mina #myoui mina x fem reader #myoui mina x reader #christmas eve #anonymous #twiceinadream

244 notes · View notes

elena-reina · 3 years

Text

First Love Part 2 - Harry Potter x Reader

Request: Would u write a part 2 to first love? more angst but her and harry end up together? - Anon

Warnings: none

Part 1

"Are you going to the celebration?”

You lifted your gaze from the book you were reading and locked eyes with Harry. You tilted your head to the side, lightly raising an eyebrow. Sitting in the library for the evening enjoying any random book that caught your attention, the room was dimly lit.

The smell of parchment paper lingered around the room, almost comforting in a way. You were situated near the window so that you could look outside and watch the trees sway through the stormy night before heading off to bed.

“Celebration?” you questioned.

Harry took your response as an invitation to sit next to you. Uncomfortable, you shielded yourself by subconsciously shifting to the side; however Harry didn’t bother to notice this.

“Now that it’s Christmas Holiday, the other Professor’s are throwing a small get together for all the staff tomorrow at the Three Broomsticks.”

He gave you a thoughtful look with furrowed eyebrows, his hands pressed together as he twiddled his thumbs back and forth, and an unreadable face. You set your book down on the table in front of you, and pushed your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat.

“Oh, no I don’t think I am. It’s already pretty late.. I should head to bed,” you dismissed, standing up. His head followed your trail. You pressed your lips together, looking from side to side before bowing your head and turning away to walk out the room. You hadn’t realized that you sped walked until you were in your room in only a matter of seconds.

You had been running into Harry more times than you could count on your fingers. Were they coincidences or synchronized. You couldn’t tell.

Collapsing onto your bed, you grabbed a pillow and threw it on top of your face. You let out a scream that was only muffled by the pillow and slowly lowered it to expose half your face. Your eyes stared up at your ceiling.

You were confused by the communication between you and Harry. In moments you felt like there was a lot left unsaid- but it was also for the better. Some things were better left unsaid. You drifted off to sleep, awaiting for the next morning to come along.

“Love?” He said to you softly. You looked up at him swiftly with a quiet questioning hum, “I appreciate everything that you do for me deeply. I wish there was more I could do for you. Is there anything you need?”

“No,” you smiled warmly. “I’m okay, you’re all I need.”

Was it easy dating Harry? No, not really. Rumors would spread like wildfire, but neither you nor Harry chose to engage in any of it. However sometimes you would overhear such ridiculousness that you couldn’t help but be upset sometimes.

He frowned, feeling as though you were holding something back. “Are you sure?”

You brought your face closer to his. You brushed your nose with his, grinning.

“Kiss me.”

He smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips on yours, slowly.

A booming clap of thunder jolted you awake from your deep slumber. The deafening sound rattled throughout the room, sending vibrations through your bones. You instinctively flew up into a sitting position, clutching your thick, warm comforter to your chest, looking around the room. Your breath labored, coming in quick, shallow pants as the haze of sleep dispersed from your mind. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. As you try to maintain your breathing, you rub your eyes, repositioning yourself to lay on your side, the pillow beneath your cheek cooling your warm skin.

Looking at the clock, your eyes were still blurry from just waking up, it was morning, but the dark grey clouds outside made the sky dark. Another roar of thunder rumbled throughout your room as the outside stormed. Rain hit your window, endlessly running down the glass.

“What is wrong with me,” you mumbled, pushing your hand in your face. It’s like your dreams want to torment you. Yawning, you decided it was best to get ready for the day.

Brushing the hair our of your face, you went for your daily stroll through Hogwarts. You loved taking in the scenery of the, now, remodeled school. You remember the Battle of Hogwarts like it was yesterday. The crumbling of the classrooms you’ve spent so long studying in, the countless meals eaten in the Grand Hall, and spending time with everyone overall.

Walking through the open halls, you examined all the potted plants. One of the plants was hidden far back away from the others, dying from a lack of water. The rain outside created an atmosphere of calmness.

Bending over, you grabbed onto the potted plant and stood up, examining a place you could possibly put it down. You lightly grabbed one of the brittle leaves in your hand, feeling it’s leafy-veins.

“What’re you doing?” Harry said, coming out of the blue.

Startled, you jumped accidentally loosening your grip over the plant in your hand, causing it to fall to the floor and break.

“Shit,” you sighed, bending over to clean up the mess from the plant you dropped.

“I’m so sorry, here let me help you,” Harry rushed, bending over with you to help pick up the broken pieces of terracotta.

“No, it’s alright. I’m the one who dropped it-”

Your hands accidentally brush past each others, sending electricity through you. You lift your gaze pulling back, stood up, and pulled out your wand.

“Reparo.”

The pot began to fix itself back together. Slipping your wand back in your pocket, and put the plant near the rain.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized again.

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismissed, “Now, if you’ll just excuse me.”

You began to walk in the opposite direction of his presence. You knew it that your relationship had ended a while ago, but this didn’t mean you wanted anything to do with him. You tried denying yourself the truth, but deep down you were still bitter about how the breakup ended. And now that you two were both Professor’s at Hogwarts, it’s even harder to forget about everything.

“Y/N, wait, please,” he breathed, catching up to you. “I need to say something.” Annoyed, you stopped and huffed.

“What, Harry? Why do you and I keep running into each other, I’ve got things to do. Why don’t you go and hang out with your best friends, Ron and Hermione,” Your tone sounded more harsh than you had intended. You almost regretted it, but it was too late now. You stood your ground. He was taken back by your outburst.

“Are you avoiding me?” he said, his green eyes searching for any sign of emotion behind your blank ones.

You scoffed, looking to the side at the rain falling. “Yes, Harry! Gosh, how can you be so dense!?” you exclaimed, “Clearly, I’m not over what happened to us-”

“Years ago.”

“I know it was years ago, but I’m still hurt! I loved you for fucks sake, don’t you get that. It took me a while to get over you and erase you from my brain and here you come involving yourself in my life again,” you voice trailed off.

“And you don’t think I haven’t been hurting as well?”

You sneered. “You? Hurting?” you bitterly chuckled, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You ended things with me.”

“To protect you!” he shouted, running his hand through his hair, scratching it. He did this when he was stressed.

“Protect me?! Stop acting like you did it all for me, it was your own selfish intentions. If you weren’t ready for a relationship, you should’ve just said so instead of that bullshit you told me that night.” You were pissed. Your sadness was being masked by your rage.

He mumbled under his breath too quiet for you to hear. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “I can’t hear you.”

“Things were just different that night,” he whispered.

“I agree, it’s when you finally let your true colors shine through,” you began. He opened his mouth to immediately interject, but you beat him to it.

“I meant nothing to you. You said it yourself, Harry. You valued your friendship with Ron and Hermione than your own relationship with me.”

“Stop saying that!” he shouted, raising his voice this time, “It isn’t true! You meant everything to me! EVERYTHING!”

“NO, I DIDN’T!” You yelled back, matching his energy. “YOU ABANDONED US!”

His eyes glossed over, he was on the verge of tears. This normally would have brought you tears as well, but it was like all your emotions were cut off and replaced with anguish.

“I LOVED YOU AND STILL DO!” He licked his lips.

“Then why did you end things so easily like I hadn’t given you my all.”

He took a breath, his voice wavering.

“I couldn’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else in my family, Y/N. Everyone in my life I loved always ended up dead- and if you died because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” he paused, “I thought it was better that you be mad at me than dead.”

You were at a loss for words. “All I ever wanted was you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take back what I said, but can we please try again?” he pleaded, taking your hands in his. You looked up at him, unsure.

“I can’t get hurt again,” you whispered.

“You won’t, just give me one last chance. I promise.”

Thinking about it for a bit, you shifted on your feet.

“How about this, once you prove it to me first, I’ll let you know how I’m feeling.”

You weren’t ready to completely let your guard down, the truth of the matter is that you were still scared.

“Deal, now. Will you join me for the celebration later or is that still a done deal?” he said with a small smile forming on his face. You bit your cheek, to hold back your smile, but it evidently came through. Nodding your head, you walked the rest of the way through Hogwarts having a heartfelt conversation with him.

Maybe happy endings do exist sometimes.

140 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 4 years

Note

oooof i need some oberyn angst. like something abt how the reader would get revenge for him against cersei...but maybe not poisoned like tyene was...but u know something angsty

***Sooo this deviates HEAVILY from GoT....but damnit, if Oberyn had to die, I wish this actually had happened!!!!

Mourning

You could pretend in the very first moments of waking that Oberyn is beside you. The scents that reminded you of him surrounding you. The spice and musk combined with your favorite wines and berries. But it is just the scarf that he had worn before boarding the ship with Ellaria. The last time you had seen your lover, felt his arms around your or his lips on yours.

Dorne is in mourning. The bright colors and happy sounds of your realm had given way to muted silence and dark clouds. A reflection of the fact that they had lost a favored Prince.

Your eyes are red from crying, your face puffy as you walk around the silent halls of Sunspear. Your swollen belly under the black silk you wear is evidence that a piece of the prince would live on. Just as he did in his eight daughters. However, you know that your womb held Oberyn’s son.

You had married in secret. Ellaria and Doran were your only witnesses. After your vows, you had retired to your chamber with Ellaria, his paramour as much a part of your relationship as anyone else you both had brought to your bed.

Because of your pregnancy, you had been left in Sunspear as Ellaria and Oberyn had gone to attend the wedding of King Joffrey. Ellaria had come home alone, broken by the death of your husband and her longtime lover. The maesters had worried that grief would cause you to lose the baby or go into premature labor, so everyone had been watching over you like a hawk.

You slowly climb the stairs of the tower, making your way to the roof. It had been a ritual you had performed every morning since Oberyn had left for King’s Landing. You turn and look over the water, the last place where you had seen your husband. His ship slipping out of sight and away from you forever.

Doran had a bench placed for you so you didn’t stand. Your brother in law had a small heart attack when he found out you were still sitting on the wall, legs dangling over the side of the tower in your advanced stage. Twilight is giving way to the first bright rays of light washing over the horizon. The colors were blooming before your very eyes.

Ellaria slips onto the bench beside you. Gently picking a hand that is resting on your knee and bringing it to her lips for a gentle kiss before stroking your belly affectionately.

“I am so sorry, my love. I begged him to reconsider.” Ellaria’s words are laced with the grief she tries to hide from you.

“Did he tell anyone of me in King’s Landing?” You ask.

Dark eyes watch you carefully. “No, he kept your involvement and the upcoming birth of his heir a secret. Not wishing to place you in the Lannister’s sights.”

You nod as you look over the horizon, the small smile gracing your lips the first anyone has seen in months. It makes Ellaria wary of whatever that clever brain is plotting.

Lady Arryn of the Vale had come to Dorne at a young age. You were often overlooked by your lady sister, and is all but forgotten in the eyes of most nobility. Your maiden name will get you closer to the Lannisters than the name Martell.

You strok the stomach that houses Oberyn’s son, soothing the baby as he kicks and fights himself in your womb. “Soon little one. Your father will be avenged.” You murmur

Ellaria’s eyes are wide as she looks at her lover. “What are you plotting sweetheart? Oberyn would want you safe and healthy to raise the little one.” She cautions.

Your eyes flash with unsuppressed rage. “Cersi Lannister will bleed out in front of me as she begs for her life. My husband will not have died for nothing!”

You pause and look down at your stomach again. “After I have given birth, Lady Arryn will travel to King’s Landing to swear fealty to the bastard Lannister that occupies the throne. And when her back is turned, the spear of Dorne will be shoved through her black heart.”

A chill runs through Ellaria as she realizes that you are serious. You would show no mercy to the family that had taken your husband and the father of your son away from you. If she cared for the Lannisters at all, she would have felt back for them, but those golden lions deserved every wound they would receive.

****

You smile viciously as you stand over the body huddled on the floor in front of you. The wound seeping the deep red of a fatal wound. Cersi’s shocked expression is muddled with confusion.

“Why?” She asks, hands trying to hold the wound closed, but it was no use. She has only mere minutes left of this earth.

You kneel down, running the bloody dagger down the side of the Queen’s face, smearing it with her own blood. “The Martell’s send their regards, you Lannister bitch.” Your grin is wicked as you plunge the dagger with the sigil of the House Martell into the Queen’s heart, just as you had promised.

MasterList

Permanent Tag List:

@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @roxypeanut @thisis-theway @thewaythisis @readsalot73 @little-ms-fandom @ah-callie @cable-kenobi @arrowswithwifi @badassbaker @javierpenaspinkshirt @wickedfrsgrl @lilangeldevil006 @fioccodineveautunnale @jade10077 @getinthepoolkeanu @the-baby-bookworm @kirstiehenderson29 @fleurdemiel145 @thirsty-flygirl @sirianfromsixties @random066 @pascalisthepunkest @pedrosdoll @earl-01 @whataenginerd @tangledlove27 @pedropascalisadilf @gamingaquarius @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @jaime1110 @yamaktaria @perksofbeingivyy

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #prince oberyn x y/n #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn fanfic #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x y/n #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell #the red viper x y/n #the red viper #the red viper x reader

228 notes · View notes

hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

The Exam (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Exam Rating: PG-13 Length: 1800 Warnings: Medical procedures (female physical examine, mentions of procuedures related to reproductive health) and discusions of miscarriages, infertility, and other topics related to conception and pregnancy. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in July 1996. I learned something new about Reader today. So that was cool. Summary: Reader goes to the OB/GYN for an exam.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @cinewhore @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110 @katlikeme

You chewed at a hangnail on your thumb as you perched on the edge of the exam table, looking between Javier and the door. “You know, I ran out of a doctor’s office in a hospital gown once.”

Javier’s brows rose upwards as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, “That sounds like a story I haven’t been told before.”

“Oh, the stories I could tell.” You laughed, though it didn’t quite reach your expression. “My mother was being… her usual self. I got fed up with her bullshit and decided to peace out. In the hospital gown.”

He snorted, “Somehow I can see you doing that.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth as his eyes wandered around the room.

The walls were covered with anatomical posters of uteruses and Fallopian tubes; gleefully pregnant women and their partners. You watched the way Javier’s face sobered — and you wondered if he was thinking what you were thinking.

A quick knock gave you a moment’s notice before the doctor and a nurse stepped into the room.

“I do apologize for the delay,” the doctor remarked as she introduced herself to the both of you. “We had a mother going into labor during her exam. Never a dull moment.”

“Lucky her.” You offered wryly, brushing your hands over your lap, straightening out the hospital gown.

“Indeed.” The doctor chuckled as she washed her hands, before slipping on a pair of gloves. “Mr. Peña, you’re welcome to wait in the waiting room while we exa—“

“I’d prefer it if he stayed.” You interjected with a shake of your head.

Javier scratched at his jaw, “I don’t want to be in the way.”

“We’re in this together.” You reminded him, before looking towards the doctor. “There’s nothing we’ll discuss that I won’t tell him later.”

“It’s nice to see a supportive partner,” The doctor remarked with a smile. “If you don’t mind laying back, I’m going to begin the exam while I ask you a few questions.”

Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you laid back on the table, the paper crinkling beneath you as the doctor loomed over you.

“How long have you been trying?”

“Two months.” You answered as the doctor examined your breasts, before moving towards your stomach. “But we’ve never really used protection outside of birth control.”

“And you’ve been pregnant before?”

“We have a daughter.”

“Any history of miscarriages?”

You nodded slightly, “When I was fifteen. I didn’t even know until I went to the hospital.” You tilted your head, your eyes meeting Javier’s. There was nothing but compassion in his gaze.

The doctor’s fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your stomach as the examination continued. “Any history of sexually transmitted diseases?”

“We’ve both been tested over the years. We’re clean.” You winced a little as she pressed down hard on a spot.

“Is that tender?”

“Yeah,” You shifted under her touch. “But I’ve got a bruise there.”

The doctor’s brows rose upwards skeptically.

“We’ve taken the trying very seriously.” You admitted with an awkward laugh, “Javi, do you have that chart?”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ as he passed the piece of paper to the nurse, who handed it to the doctor.

She bummed curiously as she reviewed the past two months. You’d charted out the last day of your birth control, your period, temperature changes, and indicated the days and times of intercourse. If you were thorough in your professional work, you’d gone thoroughly overboard in your pregnancy planning.

“Now that we’ve completed the external examination, I’m going to do an internal and external ultrasound. Just to ensure that everything looks normal and healthy.” She looked towards Javier then. “I usually recommend that the male partner be tested as well. It’s a simple procedure to check semen count.”

Javier shifted uncomfortably, “I read the leaflet.”

The nurse stepped out of the room and returned a moment later with a cart that held the ultrasound machine.

“Did you have any complications during your first pregnancy?” The doctor questioned you.

“Our daughter wasn’t planned.” You admitted. “Birth control, but no other protection. Easy pregnancy, aside from morning sickness.”

“Beginner’s luck,” The doctor said lightly as she adjusted the stirrups at the base of the exam table, helping your feet into them. “We’ll start with the internal ultrasound. It will feel a bit uncomfortable at first, but hopefully it will help us figure out what’s going on.”

You gave her a thumbs up, turning your head to look at Javier. “Be glad you don’t have to do this part.” You remarked.

“Trust me,” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, nodding towards one of the posters detailing an external cephalic version. “I’m already in awe of what women go through.”

There was nothing wrong with you. Everything looked healthy and functional. By all accounts — you should’ve been pregnant. But you weren’t.

The doctor ran a panel of blood tests that would take a few days to get the results of, but she doubted that they’d reveal anything. Javier scheduled an appointment to get his swimmers counted.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Javier questioned as he settled into the passenger seat.

“It’s a nice distraction,” You retorted, reaching across the center console to steal his sunglasses off his shirt. “What’s the process?”

Javier huffed, picking you the sheet of instructions he’d been given, “Three to five days without activity.”

“Glad it’s next week then.” You rubbed your thumbs over the steering wheel, staring straight ahead for a moment before starting up the car. “I’m supposed to start ovulating at some point in the next forty-eight hours, if things are running smoothly.”

“It seems like I’m the problem here,” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed as he stared at the sheet. “I figured this was coming. You know, Steve had to go through a whole gauntlet of tests when they were struggling.”

You nodded, “I remember. They both went through the ringer.”

“It says I can bring a guest.” Javier remarked as he turned the piece of paper over and continued reading.

“I’m sure Steve will be honored by the offer.”

“Really?”

“I feel like there’s a testy joke in there somewhere.”

Javier snorted, “You’re lucky I love your bad humor.”

“I’m lucky for a lot of reasons.” You told him with a smirk. “I’d be happy to help.” You reached over and patted his leg. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you either. It’s just a matter of timing.”

“Maybe.” He sighed, folding he paper in half, and then in half again before tucking it into the front inner pocket of his jacket. “How are you feeling?”

You made a face as you stopped at a red light, “A bit violated, but that’s pretty normal once the stirrups come out. You should see what happens during a pap smear.”

Javier glared at you, “I read the informational poster. I’d rather not.”

“It’s fun.” You said dryly as you started through the intersection, making the turn onto the highway. “Thank you for coming today. For staying.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Javier told you. “Even if it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.”

You grimaced, “I should’ve told you before—“

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”

“True.” You scraped your teeth over your bottom lip. “There was never a time to casually bring it up.” You pointed out, “Hey when I was fifteen I had a miscarriage and I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“When you were fifteen,” Javier rocked his jaw, “I would’ve been already in and out of college, and settled into the job at sheriff’s office.”

You nodded, “Sounds about right. Twenty-three?”

“Probably twenty-four.” Javier rubbed his hands together as he stared out the passenger window. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You told him honestly. “That was the first time I’ve thought about it since..” You thought for a second. “Maybe since I was a teenager. It never came up with Josie.”

“I wish this were as easy as it was with Josie.” Javier sighed. “It’s gotta be me. I’m not exactly young.”

“You’re not exactly old either.” You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t Hugh Hefner just have a kid at sixty-five?”

“True.”

“Okay, then it’s probably not you.” You flipped onto the turn signal and merged into the lane for the off ramp that led to your condo. “You’re only forty-five Javier.”

“I know.” He sighed heavily, sinking back against the seat. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the way he was clenching his jaw.

“Hey,” You reached over and squeezed his leg. “I think the doctor was pretty impressed by our chart.”

Javier snorted, resting his hand over yours. “We’re gonna have to break our streak when I’ve got to go without you, baby.”

“But that’s not for a couple days.” You reminded him, squeezing his leg three times. “You should’ve seen her face when she touched the bruise.”

“I’m sure she had a few thoughts on it.”

You laughed, “I’m sure.” In reality — you both knew that that was what happened when you got fucked into the side of your kitchen table. “You know what I don’t get?”

“Hmm?”

“When the doctor tells you that they’ll give you some privacy to get changed…” You said as you turned into your condo parking lot. “As if they haven’t just had a full look at your most intimate parts. Inside and out.”

“It didn’t look fun.” Javier’s brows rose upwards as he tilted his head to look at you. “You wanna rest? I can handle Josie this evening, when Steve drops her off.”

“I’ve been through worse.” You shrugged, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “It’s mostly just awkward. I mean, you saw the process. Mostly my stomach’s just a little sore because she prodded at me like it was a deep-tissue massage.”

“We’ve got a couple hours before he drops her off.” Javier tilted his head to look at you.

“I know.” You smirked at him. “And we’re home just in time for General Hospital.” It was no telenovela — but damn if you weren’t hooked.

“You know we don’t have to do this, right?”

“But I want to.” You met his gaze. “It’s probably just a matter of timing.” You wanted this to work — for him. You saw the way his eyes lingered on new mothers with their babies sitting in the waiting room. The way he made conversation with the anxious dads waiting for their partners to come out.

He’d missed all of that with Josie and you wanted to give him that one thing, after he’d given you everything.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

84 notes · View notes

ojoboy · 4 years

Text

han seungwoo babyfever au

genre: han seungwoo x reader, fluff, domestic bliss

word count: 4k

plot: Your cousin asks you to babysit his children (14 y.o. Dongpyo & 13 months old baby sister Dohye) to celebrate the anniversary with his wife. Your boyfriend volunteeringly helps you out. Oh oh looks like you two are about to catch baby fever.

a/n: I finally decided to watch Broduce during quarantine although I already knew the outcome because I was too moved by some videos of Yunseong and Jinhyuk :( Anyways when Seungwoo said that if he had a son he’d like him to be like Dongpyo, I was like: say no more! (I hope you don’t mind that I made Dongpyo younger for this)

from: capt. seungwoo <3 [3:17pm]

wanna do something later? i miss u :(

to: capt. seungwoo <3 [3:19pm]

it’s been only two days... but i miss u too :(

and i don’t know if i have time today. i’m babysitting Jaesung’s children tonight because they are celebrating their anniversary and might come back late

from: capt. seungwoo <3 [3:19pm]

i could come by and help you out?

i’m meeting seungsik now but i definitely can come right afterwards!

to: capt. seungwoo <3 [3:20pm]

yeeess, i’d love that!

—

5:07pm. The streets are filled with cars rushing home and it almost looks like they are following the sun, eager to come home and finally rest. You just finished stowing away things in your small apartment that could be possibly dangerous around babies, now lazily scrolling through your Instagram feed and liking every other post. Then the doorbell finally rang and you rushed to the door to buzz them in. Almost a minute later there was a family of four standing in your living room.

“Sorry for being late,” your cousin said as he carefully put his bag down, “traffic, you know.” “It’s fine,” you replied and crouched down and shook little Dohye’s hands, beaming at the baby in the stroller. “Well, someone’s in a good mood today, aren’t you little sunshine?” Whether she did understand you or not, the little girl simply responded with a cheerful giggle that could melt anyone’s heart.

“She’s been energetic all day long. I hope she won’t give you a hard time,” her mother told you while undoing the buckles and taking the small child in her arms. Dongpyo was already sitting down on the couch next to the big black bag, seemingly busy on his phone.

“Everything you need for Dohye is in the bag. Diapers, baby food and even some toys to keep her entertained.” Your attention diverted back to your cousin who was going through the bag to check all items. “All right, thank you.”

After checking the final things with you, Hyejin took your hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. “Thank you so much for doing this!” “Yes, thank you. You are the best!” Your cousin engulfed you in a hug and then walked over to his children. “Behave well and help Y/N out, okay?” he playfully ruffled Dongpyo’s hair and bent down to kiss the little girl on his lap, followed by his wife showering the two with affection. A little annoyed like most teenagers in puberty the young boy told his parents off.

Halfway through the door Hyejin turned around to say, “Call us if there are any problems!”

“Don’t worry, Seungwoo is also coming. I’m sure we’ll manage,” you reassured them while ushering them out, “Just enjoy your anniversary!” "Oh, say hello from us then, yeah?” Jaesung waved one last time before the door closed.

“Finally!” the fourteen years-old exclaimed, making you chuckle. Seeing how his sister started squirming in his lap and hitting his face, you offered to take her while Dongpyo dutifully laid out her blanket on your floor and set up a few toys. “So, your boyfriend is also coming?”

“Yup, I think you’ve only met him once. Remember when we picked you up from dance practice because your mom was in labor? He drove us to the hospital.”

“Oh yeah, but isn’t he too cool for you?”

“Hey, wouldn’t be the other way around?” You played along. “Dohye agrees with me.”

“Nah, he really looked cool driving with one hand and calming you down while you were nervous as a cat.”

Just when you were about to retort the doorbell rang again as if your boyfriend knew you were talking about him. “Dongpyo can you get that, please?” Without further ado the boy got up from the comfy spot and buzzes Seungwoo in. A few moments later he enters, dressed in black ripped jeans and a white tee which was mainly covered by the purple The Rolling Stones hoodie (you got it for him as a birthday present and he claimed it was his favorite piece of clothing ever since).

“Hey guys, I brought some cake!” Seungwoo proudly lifts the white bag with his usual endearing smile. He fist-bumped Dongpyo and walked over to press a chaste kiss on your cheek before he set the cake down on the kitchen counter.

“You should marry him,” Dongpyo’s ogling eyes followed your boyfriend first, then his body. Eager to have some cake, his hands were already reaching out for the white bag when you stopped him. “Dongpyo stop. Let's save the cake for dessert, alright?”

With a pout, the boy looks up at the older guy in hope of him being able to convince you otherwise but the latter apologetically shook his head, “Sorry pal, you heard the boss.” He then proceeded to carefully stored the cake in your refrigerator as Dongpyo dramatically put his head between his hands.

—

About half an hour into the babysitting you were sitting down on your floor, watching Dohye grabbing colorful wooden bricks and stacking them on top of each other. Sometimes she would even chuck them in your direction as if to tell you that you should do the same.

Meanwhile the two boys sat comfortably on the couch as Dongpyo showed some of his dance covers on his phone but also a few viral video clips he saw on social media, both unable to hold back their laughter. By now they have become close mentally - as well as physically. They were leaning onto each other, leaving no space between them, and Seungwoo had one of his arms draped over the boy’s narrow shoulders. It was a position you were very familiar with.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen this video of a ferret dancing? It’s soooo cute,” Dongpyo leaned down from the couch to show you his phone screen whereas Seungwoo held onto his shirt so he wouldn’t fall down. Mimicking the ferret’s movements with Dohye’s rattle in your hand, you answered, “Yes, I replayed it so, so many times and even sent it to Seungwoo.”

Enticed by the rattle, the little baby dropped the blue brick and started crawling towards you. With open arms you welcome the girl as she climbed in your lap, willingly handing the rattle over. Immediately Dohye aggressively shook the toy and filled the room not only with rhythmic rattling but also joyous laughter.

Feeling your lower back starting to hurt from sitting on the ground, you scooted over to lean against the couch with Dohye safely pulled against your front. “Wow, this is funny haha!”

When you craned your neck to see what Dongypo was laughing about, you realized that Seungwoo’s eyes had been set on you. It seemed like he was in a daze, the way he smiled so fondly at the sight of you holding and playing with the baby.

The image of you and him having a baby of your own crossed his mind ever since he walked through the door today and saw you two together and truth to be told he liked it - a lot.

His hand then slowly reached out for your head and gently stroked your hair, careful not to get any strands tangled with his rings. Enjoying the calming feeling, you returned his sweet gesture with a genuine smile that made his heart flutter like the first time he met you.

This intimate moment didn’t last long, though, as Dohye suddenly began to cry. “Oh no, what’s wrong, Dohye?” You picked her tiny body up and smelled her diaper. “Well, it doesn’t seem like you need your diaper changed.”

“I bet she’s hungry, Y/N” Dongpyo said as he put his phone down. “Can you get the baby food from bag, please?” You slowly got up from your place and rocked the girl back and forth in hope of calming her down. “Shh, don’t cry. Your big brother is getting your food right.”

“I got it! It says that it needs to be heated up in the microwave for a minute to a minute and a half,” the boy read the instructions and walked over to your kitchen. However, he struggled to open the glass so Seungwoo offered to help him, “Here, let me.”

He then opened the little glass on his first try and proceeded to put it in your microwave as he already knew his way around your kitchen. “Oh, I think this might be a little too hot?” Seungwoo worried after taking the glass out and rolling it between his hands.

“Let’s stir the heat out and wait a little then... Dongpyo, is there perhaps a baby bib in the bag too?”

All of you made your way back into the living room, you sitting down on the couch with a still crying baby and joined by Seungwoo while Dongpyo looked for the baby bib. Tying it around her neck turned out to be a bit harder than expected since she started to squirm around.

After finally succeeding, you decided to switch with Seungwoo so you could feed the little girl. You carefully blew on the small spoon as Dohye watched you with big eyes and drool coating her mouth already. Ten minutes later the glass is empty and a big content smile grazed the girl’s lips.

“Wow, you eat really well, huh?” You wiped her mouth with the bib and booped her little nose. “You come after your dad, I guess.”

—

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help you cook?”

“I’ll manage. Just watch the kids, honey” You couldn’t help but giggle at your own cheesy words and squeezed his muscular arm before sending him back into the living room. As soon as you calmed Dohye down, the next kid started to complain about being hungry. This whole situation made you feel like it was your little family.

Before you could indulge further into your imagination, you diverted your attention to the ingredients in front of you to cook pasta. While the noodles were boiling, you were busy cutting onions and carrots for the sauce when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle. Shortly after his head hovered next to yours, “Looks good, babe.”

“There is nothing to see yet,” you playfully nudged him, yet he pulled you closer against his body. “Wasn’t talking about the food,” Seungwoo then cheekily pressed his lips against the side of your face and proceeded to steal a few slices of carrots, running back before you could stop him.

Looking over your shoulder you saw that he was sharing the stolen goods with none other than Dongpyo, both a giggling mess. In your eyes the two were like a real father-son duo and you began to wonder what it would be like if you two were to start a family. A blush bloomed on your cheeks, yet you pushed the thought back to focus on cooking again.

As soon as you served the pasta, Dongpyo came rushing and very eager to dig in. You left the TV on and put on a children’s show to entertain Dohye while the rest of you enjoyed dinner.

“I’m so fuuuuull! Thank you for the meal, Y/N,” Dongpyo said as he lazily rubbed his tummy and closed his eyes for moment. “Too full for the cake, though?” Seungwoo asked the boy across him, raising his eyebrow. At his words, Dongpyo’s eyes opened with a twinkle in them, “Never!”

While you put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, Seungwoo was already taking out new plates and of course: the long-anticipated cake. “I hope you like cherries, Dongpyo,” your boyfriend presented three chunky pieces of cake covered in pink and white frosting with little cherries on top. “Voila, the cake is really delicious. I tried one piece with Seungsik today,” he winked at you and forked a bite-sized piece, raising it to your mouth.

You welcomed the sweet taste as the frosting melted on your tongue, humming in agreement. Just when the three of you sat down on the couch again, the baby started crawling towards your boyfriend and grabbed his sturdy leg to pull herself up, her eyes set on the pink and white delicacy. Seungwoo quickly put his plate on the coffee table and picked the girl easily up.

“Aigoo, do you want some?” You two only laughed when she stretched her short arms towards your plate and almost lunged at it, only to be held back by your co-babysitter. You scooped a small amount of the frosting on your pinky and placed it against her plump limps which she gladly took.

“Oh Y/N, be careful of her-”

“Ouch!”

Dongpyo’s warning came a little too late as you massaged your poor finger, while Dohye somehow managed to giggle innocently yet diabolically at the same time (in that moment she reminded you a lot of her brother).

—

“Do you want to see my new dance routine?”

“Weren’t you too full to move just now?” You questioned the young boy.

“It’s all good now. I don’t think I will throw up.”

“Well, that’s very reassuring.”

Soon your small living room turned into a stage as Dongpyo prepared several dance covers of girl groups. His little sister started to jump up and down on the couch, with Seungwoo holding her arms, to cheer him on. He even managed to persuade Seungwoo to join him who acted hesitant at first but matched the teenager’s energy once he got up.

You and Dohye clapped as soon as the little showcase ended. The two guys plumped down on the couch, slightly out of breath. Seungwoo wasted no time to strip himself off his purple hoodie, leaving him in his loose white tee. The tattoos adorning his milky skin caught the younger one’s attention, “Wow Seungwoo, you have tattoos? Y/N, your boyfriend is soooo cool!”

He then put his index finger under his chin, “I think I’m getting tattoos, too, when I’m older. They look so cool on you.” At this you two couldn’t stifle your laughter, earning a confused look from Dongpyo. But who could blame you? It was very hard to imagine such a sweet, baby-faced boy to get tattoos inked on his skin.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Seungwoo ruffled the boy’s hair, unable to hold back his smile.

“Oh, but it hurts a lot, right? Maybe I won’t get any after all...” Dongpyo leaned back against the couch, hugging the cushion tighter.

—

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you took care of the mess in your kitchen but when you returned to your living room, you discovered a sleeping baby lying on top of your boyfriend’s chest. Your heart melted at this sight and the corners of your mouth immediately tugged upwards. Wanting to capture the sweet moment, you took your phone out and wasted no time to get a few shots of the two, careful not to disturb them.

Just when you crouched down next to the couch to get an up-close shot, your knee joints betrayed you. The pop seemingly woke up your boyfriend from his slumber as his eyes slowly opened and you were met with warm, brown orbs.

Catching you red-handed, Seungwoo cracked a smile and whispered, “What are you doing, babe?”

“You two look so adorable, I just couldn’t resist!” You smiled sheepishly and began to stroke his hair with your free hand, pushing a few strands away from his eyes.

“Mh, as much as I’m enjoying this, I think my back might kill me soon,” he softly spoke with his eyes closed again, welcoming your gentle touch. “C’mon, let’s put her in my bed.”

Seungwoo clutched the little girl closer to his chest and slowly got up without making any noise. He pushed her a little upwards so she could rest her head on his shoulder. You walked ahead, opening the two doors for him, and pulled the blanket aside to let him put Dohye down. Then you tucked her safely in and placing your stuffed bunny, which Seungwoo had won for on your first arcade date, next to her.

The two of you sneaked out of your bedroom, leaving the door ajar just in case she woke up. Now standing in the small hallway, Seungwoo wrapped his arms around you from behind, putting just a little bit of his weight on you. “My back still hurts from your small couch; you should carry me like this,” you could basically hear his pout above your head.

“Shut up, my couch is not that small. It’s just because you are stupidly tall!” You hushed him as you wriggled in his arms to turn around and playfully pinched his cheeks. There was a shift in his eyes; usually he would retort that you were ‘stupidly small’ but this time he just gazed at you, eyes filled with adoration.

With your chests pressing against each other, you were not quite sure whether it was your heart that was racing or his. Maybe it was both of yours but it didn’t matter, anyways.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in a small voice, your index finger now tracing his dimple instead.

“I was just wondering, what it would be like if we had a baby,” Seungwoo confessed and smiled innocently at you. Heart skipping a beat, you were slightly flustered by his unexpected answer and felt your ears heat up.

“You would be a great dad.” Before he could react, you got on your tiptoes and simultaneously pulled his face a little bit down to meet him with a brief, yet sweet peck on the lips.

Once you released his face and let your hands slide down to the juncture between his shoulders and neck, you felt his arms tighten around your body and tugging you even closer to him. Being not satisfied with the peck, he leaned in for another kiss.

His warm lips melted against yours and you felt the butterflies erupt in your stomach like it was the very first time. As your lips moved against his, you could feel him smiling into the kiss. There was still a faint taste of cherries lingering on his lips adding to the sweet and addictive kiss. For a moment you forgot about everything because being in his arms just felt right.

“Wow, it’s like my parents never left,” a sudden voice exclaimed from behind you. The two of you shyly pulled away from each other and looked at the intruder. “Don’t mind me, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

With that being said, Dongpyo quickly disappeared into your bathroom. You were slightly embarrassed by getting caught but to make you blush even more, Seungwoo then said, “I want to have a kid like him later, haha.”

—

Their parents came back around 9pm. Dohye was still fast asleep in your bedroom, by now cuddling with your stuffed bunny, while the three of you watched an episode of Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bokjoo.

“You guys came back early! How was your dinner?”, you asked them as you let the couple in. “Oh, it was wonderful and the food was really delicious. You two should check out the restaurant sometime,” Hyejin gushed. “Anyways, we called it a night early because I missed my babies too much.”

She wasted no time to pull her son into her side and ruffle his fluffy hair, eliciting a soft whine from him.

“Ah, I almost forgot! We’ve got you a little gift,” the woman nudged her husband who pulled out a small white box from his paper bag. “It’s from our favorite chocolatier. But it’s only a small gift so whenever you have time, come over and we will make you a nice meal to thank you properly, yeah?”

“Alright, let’s go home now. I think we’ve bothered you enough for tonight,” your cousin chimed after putting his little girl in her carrier and giving the two of you a hug.

Once you closed the door behind them, Seungwoo pulled you into his arms again. Just before he could say anything, a yawn escaped his mouth.

“Are you tired?”

“Mhm, just a little bit.”

He rested his forehead against yours, eyes lovingly gazing into yours again like earlier.

“Do you wanna stay the night?”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Seungwoo rummaged through your closet, looking for a comfortable shirt amidst all the t-shirts that you’ve either got or stole from him. Finally, his eyes set on a grey oversized tee which you actually could wear as a dress. Stripping off his slightly sweaty shirt, he welcomed the new soft fabric that no longer smelled like his cologne but by now had picked up your sweet scent.

When he joined you in the bathroom, you were already brushing your teeth whilst scrolling through your Instagram feed. He made his way behind you, smiling at your reflection in the mirror because the pink shirt that he’s been missing for the past week just happened to be engulfing you in that moment. But how could be upset when you looked like an angel to him?

Before you could grab your hair yourself, Seungwoo gently pushed them back and held them for you so they wouldn’t get in your way until you were finished with your routine. Once he started with his routine, you sat down on the edge of your bathtub. Waiting for him, you went through your gallery and took a look at the photos from earlier again.

“What’chu shmiling at?” He asked you with a mouth full of foam, watching through the mirror.

“Just the pics of you and Dohye sleeping together. They are really cute, I think I’m gonna post one of them!” You excitedly stood up and stayed by his side, holding your phone in front of him whilst swiping and showing him your favorite snapshots.

After he was done with his own routine, the two of you wasted no time to snuggle up in the comfort of your bed. Like every other night you rested your head on his shoulder with his arms secured round your frame as if you could easily slip away anytime. A pleasant silence fell over you, only your shallow breaths were audible.

Your eyes were fixated on a sliver of light that shone through your blinds, unable to close your eyes and succumb to the sweet promise of sleep yet. The image of Seungwoo and the kids wouldn’t leave you alone. Sure, you’ve seen him plenty times playing with his own nephew already but today felt different.

“I was just wondering, what it would be like if we had a baby.”

His words kept repeating and repeating themselves in your head.

“What’s on your mind?” Seungwoo spoke so softly, it was barely a whisper. He started gently stroke your hair as he slightly turned his head towards you, his lips now almost brushing your temple.

“Just thinking about what you said earlier...” You tilted your head, meeting his eyes in the dark. “You know, what it’d be like if we had a baby, and I can’t stop thinking about it – but in a good way!”

If you had looked a little bit closer, you would have seen that his gaze softened even more at you rambling about how he would spoil the baby to death or you two dressing up your child like a model, making it the most fashionable baby out there.

“The thought of a baby really doesn’t scare me anymore. Especially when I have you by my side,” you confessed. Instead of teasing you for corny confession, he pushed his body off the bed and hovered above you, his head already diving in to claim your lips.

Seungwoo didn’t say a word during your ramble but he put all his feelings into the kiss and you knew – he didn’t need to say it aloud because you knew he felt the same. His right hand caressed your face, thumb going over the apple of your cheek.

“I really like the sound of that,” his lips stretched into a smile before the landed right on your temple.

Suddenly his smile turned smug, “We could try making one right now.”

“Oh, shut up!”

—

The next morning you checked your notifications only to find yourself chuckling at them.

ssunhwa: oh I didn’t know I was an aunt already

pyopyoson: huh is that black mob of hair mine? anyways, I want pics with him too

seungsmile_: just get married already

128 notes · View notes

skribbz · 3 years

Note

i know im sending u tons of these but ELLIE

Oh boy here we go

First impression

I actually didn’t know anything about TLoU before I played it except for it being a zombie game. Since zombies have always been a super special interest for me, I had to play it. So actually playing it was like being smacked in the face with emotions.

But I didn’t even know about the existence of Ellie, so my first time seeing her was when Joel meets her. I thought she seemed cool, but a little abrasive. She did make me laugh though.

Impression now

Oh god where do I even start.

I’m not even exaggerating when I say Ellie helped me become who I am today. I related to her in so many ways. Not just in the way she's so nerdy, but also in how she treats others. She was just a kid who was let down by the world around her, yet she still wants to do what she thinks is best for everyone. She's sentimental, holding onto keepsakes from the people she's lost. She can have a bad attitude sometimes, but is just a complete sweetheart. She goes through so much, and even when Joel gives her the option to just go back home, she decides to keep going.

Ellie came into my life when I needed a role model. The way she had gone through so much, but didn't let it break her soul, the way she always found a way to "endure and survive", meant so much to me at the time, and even now. She also helped me accept the fact that I wasn't straight. Seeing a character who I already admired so much, kissing another girl made me just break down crying.

When they said that Ellie was going to be the main character of the second game, I cried again. I think the second game just really expands on the reasons I loved her in the first one. She still tries to do what she thinks is best. It's not always the right thing, and sometimes it's very much the wrong thing. But she has so much guilt over Joel, yet still loves him so much she's willing to do whatever it takes to give him the justice she thinks she deserves, even if she knows it's not at all what he would want her to do. (There's so much more to her thoughts and actions in the sequel of course, but I feel like this is one of the most important ones.) It's just like the first game where she's willing to go to any ends to do what she thinks is right, no matter how much it may hurt her in the process.

I think in the end she has realized that her life means more than just being the cure. Her life matters just because she’s alive, is loved, and loves others, and that message means a lot to me, and I’m sure to many others, too.

I think Ellie is such a wonderful character, and one of the most well written characters I've ever seen in any media. She really changed my life, and because of that she is my favorite character ever.

Favorite moment

HOW am I supposed to choose just one.

Does the entire winter section count? It shows much she loves Joel, and how strong she has become by that point, and how determined she is to survive. She sees just how truly awful some people in the world can be, and despite it she still wants to do whatever she can for the cure.

It’s our first look into what would become a major theme of the second game. While David’s town is an enemy to Joel and Ellie, and we as players hate them, they were doing what they thought was best to survive. Cannibalism isn’t right by our standards, but that’s because we haven’t been pushed to that point. But would we be willing to turn to it if we were pushed that far? Is it more acceptable to kill innocent people to feed a whole community that’s depending on you, or is it more acceptable to just let all of those innocent lives that are depending on you die?

I think we can all agree on one thing though. David is a piece of shit and deserved to be chopped up into teeny pieces.

Idea for a story

I have many ideas. But I'll go with where I think her story can go from here, AKA my TLoU3 idea.

The story starts 12 or so years later. Putting JJ around 13. Dina, Ellie and Abby 32-33. Lev around 25. Tommy and Maria probably late 50s-early 60s

Ellie is back in Jackson. She works her ass off doing whatever manual labor she can because all she wants to do is just work herself into exhaustion. She's dealt with her trauma and she’s in a better place mentally now. Now her reasons for shutting everything out is that she’s too scared to try and really reconnect. She wants companionship but is afraid of the pain of losing it all again.

The exception is when she has JJ. He is still the light of her life. She takes him hunting and camping and plays video games with him and they geek out over comics. She has taught him to draw. She wants to teach him guitar like she promised, but hasn’t been able to yet.

The only time she sets foot outside of Jackson is with JJ.

Dina is of course doing something that uses her skills. Maybe the lead electrician at the dam. They've kept JJ very innocent. Obviously he knows of the infected, and has seen his moms kill them before, but he doesn’t know just how bad it really is, he’s never seen another human die.

Her and Ellie are amicable. They are happy to be co parenting jj but there's nothing between them (for now).

Maria holds a lot of guilt. Over sending Joel and Tommy out that day, over not giving Ellie and Dina help in Seattle, which got Jesse killed, over letting Tommy get as bad as he did after Seattle. She blames herself for the way Ellie is. She tries to spend time with Ellie, but Ellie is very elusive when she wants to be. She adores JJ though. That's her little great nephew. His auntie is the leader of the whole town and he uses that to his advantage every chance he gets. And she lets him.

Tommy has a little guilt. He doesn’t know Abby is alive, Ellie only ever told him she “finished things” and didn’t talk to him much after that. But he sees how she is a complete mess and lost her fingers. He knows that guitar was special for Ellie, plus any kind of disability is a huge disadvantage in their world. Dina doesn’t let JJ near him. JJ doesn't understand why and no one will tell him

Tommy and Maria never worked out their differences and have stayed separated, partly because of their guilt toward what happened with Ellie. They cared about her like she was their own and they both let her down

Jackson is now huge. They’ve made contact with other settlements, and have trade routes. But Maria is getting older and the town is getting too much for her to run on her own. Tommy is getting up there in age as well, and despite his injuries he still does patrols. But alone. He’s not actively trying to get killed, but he isn’t always as careful as he knows he should be.

Story starts out and you're playing as Tommy on patrol. He gets ambushed by a small group of people. And lo and behold Abby (and Lev) is there. Tommy is shocked when he finds out who it is, and he asks if she came to finish the job she started. She says no they tracked him since he left the town and were waiting to get him alone because she has news for him. The fireflies have rebuilt stronger than ever and now they’re back out for the cure and are coming for Ellie, because she is the only known source, but also as a form of revenge for what Joel did all those years ago, destroying what the Fireflies once were. They were able to get there first because they only brought a few people and set out before the main squad. Tommy asks why he should believe her, and she says that Ellie saved her life years ago and it's the least she could do to pay her back. (just like. Assume that there was enough info stored with the fireflies that Abby could work out who Ellie is). To keep Tommy from attacking or following him, they knock him out and untie him then leave.

Control switches back to Ellie who is doing her chores around town. You get to nail fences, chop wood, and carry hay bales. Fun. Later that night, as Ellie is getting home, standing on her porch, Tommy rolls up and confronts Ellie about Abby being alive. They get into a huge fight and Ellie tells Tommy that he fucked up her life. It's his fault she lost Dina. His fault she only gets to see jj when Dina allows it, his fault Jesse was killed. And its his fucking fault Joel died.

He storms off. But then Ellie notices J standing on the street coming to stay the night. She had forgotten this was her night with him. He’d been told his whole life that moms had a peaceful break up, and that dad and grandpa Joel died being heroes, but now he’s upset about what he's heard so he runs back home to Dina.

That night Ellie is woken up by fighting in Jackson. She runs out to try and find what's going on. All she can get is that fireflies are attacking. She eventually finds out that some travelers shot Maria and a fight broke out. Ellie fights through the town to Maria. She's injured with a gunshot in the arm, but alive still and kicking some ass. She tells Ellie that fireflies came asking for her, and would leave peacefully in return. She told them no and they shot her. Maria says she’ll be okay and tells Ellie to go find JJ and get him to safety.

She fights through to the other side of town. Because of the commotion, infected have broken in so there’s humans and infected running around killing. She gets to Jesse's house and JJ is hysterical, Dina is holding him down and he's like screaming and crying. His grandpa fought off a firefly who was trying to get in their home and was shot and killed. It hits Ellie that this is all her fault. People are dying because of her again. Anyway she tells dina and robin that they need to leave. Dina says she's not going anywhere without Ellie. Ellie wants to stay and fight, but JJ is more important right now. So the 4 of them sneak out and near the gates they meet up with Tommy. He’s helping get people out and sending them to one of the patrol lookouts that is secure and can fit everyone.

Ellie sends Dina, Robin and JJ off. Ellie gives JJ Joel's revolver and tells him to keep mom and grandma safe for her. She goes back to Tommy and the two get back to Maria. When they are very close to her, an infected ambushes them and Tommy gets bit. They get to Maria who is losing blood fast and doesn't look well. After a lot of arguing from Ellie, the pair decide to stay. They tell Ellie they’re old now. Maria wont last long with her wounds, and tommy has no chance of surviving his. They apologize to Ellie for the way things turned out and how much she has meant to them all these years. They give her all their ammo except for one bullet in each of their guns, because that's all they need now. Ellie begs them to come along, and she’ll figure something out for them. But they eventually convince her to go. Ellie leaves crying, and Maria and Tommy maybe get a cute moment before cutting back to Ellie.

Ellie makes it back to where the survivors are and is depressed that there's way less than she was expecting. JJ has cried himself to sleep and Dina notices Ellie is acting strange and pulls her away to ask her. Ellie tells her what happened and Dina holds her while she cries. It's the first time anyone has really been physically affectionate with her in a long time so Ellie clings to her as she lets it all out

The last survivors decide that Jackson isn’t safe. It's too damaged, filled with infected, and no one can figure out what the fireflies were doing. Ellie can't bring herself to say anything about it.

The next morning, everyone wakes up and is discussing what to do. JJ is still inconsolable. Ellie decides to take him away from the group to get some fresh air. She tells him to hold on to Joel's revolver. They chat and JJ asks what happened to auntie Maria and Tommy. She decides to be honest with him. She expects him to cry, but is shocked to see him become angry instead. He basically swears revenge for them and for his grandfather. This of course stirs up a lot of very negative thoughts in Ellie, but she decides to let him grieve in his own way for now.

That’s everything I have written out in detail for now. But the main idea would be Ellie becoming a leader to the few remaining survivors as they make contact with the other settlements that Jackson is allied with. She would take responsibility for all of these lives. They would be her reason for fighting now.

Over the course of the game, Abby would come back and her and Ellie would be forced to team up. There’s no more animosity between the two though, they’re both over it and don’t want to go back down that road. Over the course of the story they would come to understand each other’s actions. They wouldn’t become friends, but they can at least rely on each other.

JJ would find out that Abby is the person responsible for Joel and Jesse’s death, and she came from the group that killed his grandfather, Tommy and Maria. He’d go into a rage and try to attack her and Ellie would have to hold him back. He wants to know why Ellie is defending the person who hurt everyone they loved. Ellie would have to finally tell him the whole story, and try to keep him from giving into his anger and sadness like she did in the second game. She won’t let her son become like her. She wants him to stay her innocent baby boy, but she knows that’s just not possible in their world.

Other stuff that I have yet to flesh out:

More about Dina’s backstory. Or at least her last name.

Lev being a big brother to JJ.

Dina and Ellie falling in love all over again as Dina sees Ellie doing so much for the rest of the community. It’s gonna be emotional.

Ellie teaching JJ how to play guitar, and tearfully singing Future Days to him.

Unpopular opinion

I’m not sure of what people’s opinions on her are. I know most people love her and anyone who doesn’t isn’t entitled to an opinion.

I guess one is I’m not a fan of her farm hairstyle. Her Seattle look was just so cute. Why did you do that to your head, girl.

Favorite relationship

Dina of course.

I feel like Dina represented what Ellie could have if she wasn’t stuck in the past. Joel represented her violent past, and her traumas. Dina represented her future, her home, her family. Ellie was so stuck in the past, that she couldn’t see the future standing literally right in front of her.

It’s a great representation of how she holds onto the people she loves, but also how PTSD works. The past keeps coming back to haunt her.

Favorite headcanon

I hc her as autistic! I kinda feel bad because everyone else hcs her as having ADHD. But I’m autistic so I say she is too *sunglass emoji*.

Why I think she’s autistic:

Obviously her special interests would be space and dinosaurs, and the way she talks about them reminds me of how I get when people let me infodump about my SIs.

The way she plays with her fingers looks hella like stimming to me. In fact, that’s one of my stims!

Her interest in art and music.

Her interest in general nerdy stuff like comics and video games.

She collects cards, and collecting is a big autistic trait.

The way she’s sort of untidy and cluttered, yet labels all of her boxes of shit. The ordered mess is such an autistic thing.

#apocalypsebutch #this is 2861 words

13 notes · View notes

re1d · 4 years

Text

there comes a time to say goodbye | spencer reid

→ summary: pt.2 of different lifetime // “but i have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. it is a lovely and unique thing in the universe.” - john steinbeck, east of eden → warnings: mentions of maeve’s death, mentions of murder, ptsd, and anxiety, some solid angst, but also fluff (DEF NOT proofread lmaO) → word count: 6.8k [overall, this is the longest fic i’ve ever written n the whole thing (+pt.1 is over 11k)] → a/n: based on prompt no. 40 from the list ; “it’s true. i’ve loved you ever since i got to know you - and even if you don’t feel the same, i’m willing to accept it.” // can u guys tell me if my writing’s showing up in the tags?? // istg if this doesn’t show up in the tags eye—pls be sure to rb pls n thanks!! // loosely based on ‘in the blood’ 9x06

Battery powered candles flicker on a loop in the corner of Spencer’s bedroom. Although he’s come to terms with his puerile fear of the dark, his mind still doesn’t trust his body enough to fall asleep without some presence of light. Some nights—nights like these—he needs more than one. Warm candlelight kisses his tear stained cheeks, and his thoughts wander to you, sleeping in his guest room on a mattress that he never bought a frame for. Of course, he imagines that you’re already tucked away in the land of dreams, but he can’t help but hope that if he called out to you in his head, you’d answer.

The faint glow of his alarm clock is the only thing that he looks at for a while. Red numbers begin to fade into blurry mixtures marred by exhaustion, but his body, no matter how tired, won’t let him submit. Spencer’s eyes land on the texture that coats his ceiling next. Oh, how easy would it be for him to just reach up and slice his finger open. Humans are so fragile, so delicate—it makes him wonder if he is even human, himself. Every day, having to smile, to converse with his team as if nothing five months ago had even happened kills him on the inside, but he doesn’t find himself trying to stop it. Part of him wants to integrate back into normal life, but another part begs him to stay, to wallow a little longer.

“[Y/N],” Spencer calls into his dimly lit room while placing his mismatched sock-clad feet on the wood of his floor. His legs lead him into where you are sleeping, and he takes a moment to soak in the sight of you. Blankets are strewn across the memory foam, drool is dripping out of the side of your mouth, and your arms twitch every so often. He thinks you look calm; it makes him feel like he’s in the place he needs to be.

A strained whimper leaves your lips, suddenly making the erratic movements of your arms much less adorable. Spencer recognizes the sound. It’s that of fear—fear that cannot be extinguished by merely waking from the nightmare, but by destroying it completely. He watches you for a few seconds, debating whether or not he should shake you awake, but you seem to beat him to the punch. Your misty eyes shoot open only to see a dark figure in the corner of Spencer’s guest room. The locked drawer next to you is unlatched almost instantly as you point your gun at the shadow.

Spencer sputters whilst raising his hands high into the air, “[Y/N]! I-It’s me, it’s Spencer!” He comes closer and reaches out to tug on the lamp’s pull chain. The yellow gleam of the light illuminates the highest points of his features while simultaneously casting darkness onto the lowest. Squinting at him, you’re able to see his mouth quirked into a slight smile, and it makes you snort while lowering your weapon.

“Jesus Christ, Spencer. I thought someone was here to kill both of us.” Your breathing is labored as you place a clammy hand over your heart, trying to calm its incessant beating. “But, now that we’re both awake—you have to tell me what you’re thinking about. Remember our deal?”

Yes. He does remember it—just like he remembers every other small occurrence that’s ever happened to him. Your words come back to him in the small room; they resonate within him, and push him to tell you how he’s been feeling ever since you had helped him fix up his apartment five months, three days, and 43 minutes ago. After he had confided in you about his guilt and asked you to stay with him, you made a pact: if he was ever to feel restless or wake up from a nightmare, he had to talk to you about it. At this point, you’ve practically moved into his guest bedroom, wanting to be there for him whenever he needed.

Spencer nods as you pat the spot in front of you on the mattress. While bringing your legs together to sit crisscross, you shoot him an encouraging grin. “C’mon, Spence,” you say, “tell me what’s on your mind. Did you have another nightmare?”

“No. I just ... couldn’t sleep.” Spencer’s voice is soft, almost like it would disintegrate if it were to be touched, “You know, [Y/N]? It’s been five months—five months, and you’re still here for me. Watching, waiting, comforting ... I guess I was thinking about how I’m never really there for you.” He can feel your gaze perforating his nonchalant exterior, trying to pick him apart, to locate the loose stitches in his heart. Before you can make up a response, he opens his mouth to speak once more, “[Y/N]. When I, uh, agreed to the deal—I know it wasn’t obvious in the moment—but, I want you to know that it goes both ways. So, please, let me listen. Just this once. Please.”

As you hesitate, he catches you retreating back into yourself. Your posture shrinks even further, and his body surges forward, taking your hands in his much larger ones. His eyes plead with you silently, begging you to surrender. With a sigh, you slip out of his grasp and stand from your place on the bed. “Spencer. I really don’t think I should tell you. It’s pretty—.”

“God, [Y/N]—it can’t be anything worse than what we see on a daily basis.” His statement is exasperated; it comes out much harsher than he meant, and he waits for you to snap back at him. However, nothing happens. Your silence is deafening as you turn back to face him. There’s no malice, no agitation, present in your stare—only a slight edge of panic. “I—[Y/N], I’m—.”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you pause before continuing, “I just ... I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The dream—it’s, uh, it’s pretty dark. But, I guess I could fix up a bowl of cereal and talk to you about it.”

Quickly, he scrambles up, his long legs causing him to tower you. However, you have total control over the situation. He follows behind you to his kitchen and twiddles his thumbs as you try to decide between Honey Nut Cheerios and Frosted Flakes. Eventually, you’re sitting across from each other, a cup of coffee in his hands and Honey Nut Cheerios in front of you. Glancing up, he meets your eyes, but immediately ducks away from your gaze. Shaking your head with a weak chuckle, you push the cereal box towards him, urging him to snack while you tell him your story.

Inky blackness surrounds the two of you as you crunch down on your early morning snack. Quietude hovers above the island, ready to be shattered to pieces. Once you finish chewing, you offer him a smile, but he can see your bottom lip quivering before it disappears between your teeth. An unsteady breath tumbles from your nose as you place your spoon in Spencer’s ceramic bowl.

“So,” you begin, “I’m sure you know that before I transferred to the BAU, I worked in the Crimes Against Children with Katie and Amanda. I was young, the newest member of the team, and headstrong about going into the field. Of course, I had field experience, but I just wanted to show Katie what I was made of, how much I could handle, you know?” He nods along with a furrowed brow. “Well, a few weeks after I got settled, she called me to her office and asked if I would consult on an investigation into this boy named Jaime ...”

Scribbling in your day planner, you glanced longingly up at Katie’s office. Her forehead was creased with concentration and her eyes were clouded with something that looked like doubt. She fumbled around her desk for her glasses, diving right back into the file she was working on. However, it seemed that as soon as you went back to the paperwork on your desk, the floor was bustling with a new case. Katie’s voice sounded from behind you, and everyone’s heads snapped up to stare at the woman.

“I need to see Agents [Y/L/N] and Gilroy, please,” she paused, inhaling deeply while pushing up the plastic resting on the bridge of her nose, “it’s urgent.” All of the air in the room had ceased its movement. Amanda’s eyes met yours, both excitement and a hint of fright evident in them. You two bolted out of your chairs, heading side by side up the stairs and through the door to Katie’s office.

Once inside, Katie gestured for both of you to have a seat. Her smile was weak as she looked at the her two newest recruits. It was the kind of smile that burned itself into your memory—one you would never forget. Opening to a picture, your boss pushed a file in your direction. In the photo, a little boy grinned back at you. His front two teeth were missing, but the brilliance that emanated from his beam was undeniably bright. “[Y/N], Amanda—you are my freshest eyes and some of my sharpest minds. I know you’ve only been here for a month and a half, and we’re swamped with chatroom cases—but, I want both of you to go up a floor and consult on a BAU case.” With raised eyebrows, you pointed an incredulous stare at the woman in front of you. Being that she was one of the first members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, she noticed your apprehension. “Listen, you both have the knowledge, the talent, and fairly empty schedules—which is something I wasn’t awarded the luxury of. It’s a big proposal, but I need to know as soon as possible whether you’re up for it or not.”

“Katie,” you began, tip-toeing on the tight rope of the subject, “you’re talking about, like, the BAU—like, the unit you worked with before you transferred here?”

“Yes, [Y/N]. The BAU,” she replied, “but agents, I need an answer. Now rather than later would be ideal. Their team needs you up there ASAP.” Her inquiry was met with ferociously nodding head and determined gazes. “Excellent. Grab your go bags and get into the elevator ... Agent Hotchner is expecting you.”

Warm tears are already rolling down your cheeks, but Spencer does nothing in the midst of his confusion. You had consulted with the BAU, but he can’t remember meeting you before you officially transferred. It had been around the time he turned 30, and they went to San Francisco to investigate a Zodiac copycat. You had shown up an hour and a half early to your interview, having already ingested four cups of coffee. Spencer had been so nervous around you, considering that you were going to be a new addition to his team. He didn’t like change—he still doesn’t. But, the moment your jittery hands slipped away from your empty mug, effectively causing it to shatter, you had laughed and said, ‘oh well.’ Right then was when he felt a certain tug in his heart, but he chose to ignore it.

“Spencer, I—I need to take a break. It’s too much. I don’t know if I can tell you about it,” you choked out a sigh, trying to fight back more tears, “Jaime ... when, we found him ... he-he was scattered. Everywhere.” The man across from you snaps from his memory induced haze while rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. Against his chest, you feel extraordinarily fragile, almost as if he squeezes too hard, you’ll crumble into dust.

Oh, how ironic role reversal truly is.

Spencer never would’ve pictured himself giving solace to someone in his apartment at the wee hours of the morning. However, he finds it much more rewarding than he previously imagined it to be. As he cradles your body in his hold, Spencer’s insides churn in the same way they had when he first laid his eyes on you. Maybe—just maybe—there was a small part of him that had fallen in love with you first. “[Y/N],” he murmurs, “it’s okay. We can be done for tonight.”

Sniffling, you move to get out of your chair, but to Spencer’s surprise, you never let go of his forearm. He walks next to you, leading you past his guest bedroom and to his personal room. Halting just before the threshold of his door, you tighten your grasp, pulling him to stop alongside you. “Spencer,” you start, a wave of uncertainty welling in your voice, “what are you doing?”

“I-I want you to sleep with me tonight. You know—just in case one of us has another nightmare.” A sheepish look defines his features as he scratches the back of his neck. Waiting for your response feels like wading through a pool made of peanut butter. The silence is thick as you think about the meaning of his gesture. It seems simple—merely a warm sentiment shared between two friends who agreed to stay with each other in their separate times of need. Nothing less, nothing more.

However, your heart’s unabating pounding tells a different story. It pleads with every nerve ending in your body to let go, but your brain won’t allow it. Glancing up at Spencer, your shoulders tense and you take a hesitant step away from him. Terror floods your veins, sending cold blood coursing through you. Chills travel endlessly down your spine as you back into a wall. Thoughts of Maeve, thoughts of Jaime, thoughts of Spencer—the cloud your vision, distorting it. You feel as though you’re staring out of a fish-eyed lens. Trying to take deep breaths is no longer working because your throat has closed in on itself. Putting your hands out to keep him at a distance, you watch them shake like they’ve been dipped in ice water. Spencer’s voice echoes in your ears and makes you want to vomit.

“I ca-can’t. No,” you mumble through choppy breathing, “it’s no-not fair.” Truthfully, you have no idea what you’re saying. Words slip from your lips carelessly as you fumble with the doorknob, shutting the plank of wood in Spencer’s face. When you reach the sanctuary that is his guest room, you allow yourself to sink to the floor, a steady flow of tears cascading down your cheeks.

The trajectory of your night had plummeted. Never in your life had you expected to be sobbing in your coworker—who you just so happen to be in love with’s—apartment. However, the reality of the situation you had created sets in quicker than you hope. The soft gleam of the lamp next to the mattress in enough to put you to sleep in your position, and you feel as though you’ve been transported. You’ve gone back in time only to be sitting on the outside once again, but this time, you had done it to yourself. Spencer hadn’t shied away from you, instead, he opened up to you—offered you comfort, and you pushed him away. Just like he’d done to you five months ago.

Being alone is much different than feeling lonely. Being alone is more intense, more daunting. Currently, you’re a heavy mixture of both. A puddle of heartache and misery that—with one sliver of sunlight—could evaporate into thin air. As you ponder the contrast between the two ideas, you unknowingly plunge into a land of darkness and horror. Dreamscapes don’t treat you well tonight, and despite your earlier apprehension, you unconsciously wonder if Spencer’s arms around your nightmare-battered frame would ease the pain.

────

A knock to the tune of ‘Shave and a Haircut’ jerks you from your slumber with an unceremonious snort. Throbbing pain shoots through each part of your body as you stretch your cramped limbs. Sleeping curled into a ball while leaning back on a door was evidently not going to aid in keeping you young and limber. Stand up, you hear your bones crack and pop, and you register the drool that had pooled onto your bare knee. With a grimace, you wipe it off and open the door.

Spencer stares down at you, concern clear in his gaze. His chestnut orbs rake over you, and his mind doesn’t attempt to compare you to the woman he was once in love with. It’s at this moment, at 7:29AM on a Thursday morning in October, where he realizes that you are you and only you. Spencer drinks in the sight of your plush lips, your vibrant eyes, and the beauty held within your brain with a newfound fire in the pit of his stomach.

“Uh, Garcia asked us to help her unload her groceries for her Day of the Dead party this weekend.” Spencer coughs, casting his gaze to the wall behind you, “She said she should be home from the market in an hour.” Your coworker seems to be acting like last night never happened, his normal demeanor appearing like a rabbit being plucked from a hat. While gently tucking your previous panic attack away in your mind, you glance at him with a reluctant smile. Deciding to follow suit, you choose to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach for the time being.

With a scoff, you shake you head, “What? Morgan was out of commission this fine morning?” He laughs at your remark, retreating further into his hallway. “Let me take a shower, and I’ll be ready to go, okay?”

Spencer nods and waits for you to close the bedroom door before making his way to his living room. The sun peeks through his sheer curtains, warming his feet as they sit in its gentle rays. While sitting on his couch, he runs his fingers over the violet afghan that Garcia had knit him over two years ago. His thoughts meander through memory after memory—none of them are lucid enough to elicit any type of reaction, but each and every one is the slightest bit painful.

First, he thinks of you. Although he doesn’t remember you consulting on a child murder case, he does recall the events that came after you had dropped your coffee mug. He had stared at you for a long while, just watching as you cleaned up the mess whilst humming along to a song he didn’t recognize. His heart rampaged in his chest, the constant thrumming becoming too much for him to handle. Spencer had stood up quickly, almost knocking over his chair in the process, and he does the same now—without the added mess of toppling his couch over.

As he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, he spots various pictures of Maeve that his mind captured unintentionally. She smiles at him, and it seems encouraging—like she’s telling him personally to move on. Clawing at his cheekbones, he drags his fingers along the expanse of his skin, creating vicious red lines. He’s done so well for the past five months, being that his once daily nightmares have lessened to be sporadic and intermittent. However now, Spencer can’t seem to get the though of her out of his head. Over and over again, he rubs at his cheeks, causing them to burn, itch, sting—.

“Spencer, I’m ready if—are you okay?” Your voice sounds from around the corner, stopping his hands in their tracks. Furrowing your brow, you walk over to him, and gesture for him to take a seat on the plush cushions. His face still tingles from the torture it was subjected to, and the feeling intensifies when he realizes that your gaze isn’t going to go away any time soon.

Sighing, Spencer replies, “I’m fine, but we should go, [Y/N]. Garcia’s probably waiting for us.”

“Right.”

Following him out of his apartment and into the cool, Virginia air, you sniff as the wind nips at your nose. Spencer’s Volvo chirps as it’s brought to life for the first time in about a week. Noticing his reproachful stare, you register the dense sheets of ice coating the previously vibrant sky blue paint with a laugh. He pouts while jiggling his handle, not enjoying your blatant amusement. Ignoring his glare, you crack open his car door whilst blowing another cloud into the sky.

“I didn’t think it would be this cold,” he mumbled, rubbing his arms, “it’s only October and it’s freezing outside.”

Humming an acknowledgement, you shift your eyes to analyze the intricate ice patterns that had formed on his windows. The car rumbles as it starts, similar to a cat’s purr. It’s a comforting sound—something to fill the somewhat awkward silence. As soon as Spencer turns the key in the ignition, you’re searching for a radio station to perforate the quietude, and much to your chagrin, the only music that plays from his speakers is Chopin. The composer brings back the bitter memory of what you had said to him so long ago.

You had meant what you said. You truly would wait for him until time itself no longer existed. However, listening Nocturne in E Flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 now ... it makes you feel sick. Your stomach froths against your insides like an angry ocean beating against the base of a lighthouse. Staring out at the expanse of the highway, you attempt to distract yourself by counting deserted construction sites on the side of the road. By the time Spencer parked in front of Penelope’s building, you had reached 26.

Different hues of orange and purple virtually punch you in the face as the woman you two have come all this way to help stands outside her door with countless bags at her feet. Her smile sends hot waves of cheer surging through your veins. As she calls you over, you find yourself becoming less focused on Spencer and more on the plastic skeleton hanging from her window by a single hand. Laughter spills from your body when Penelope sulks at your amusement.

“So, uh, does that gentleman have a name, Pen?” Your tone is lighthearted, but a scowl is still etched into her usually jolly appearance. Glancing from her Halloween decorations to her guests, Penelope’es sour look eventually dissipates.

With a harrumph, she answers, “I like to call him Fabio. I think it works nicely with Sergio.” Holding back an outburst, you slap a hand over your mouth. Garcia’s presence proves to be just the thing you need to forget about Spencer, even if he’s right behind you. “Okay, okay—ha ha, very funny, [Y/N]—but at least laugh while you’re taking as many grocery bags as you can upstairs. You, too, Boy Wonder—this is a team effort.”

You and Spencer collect paper bag after paper bag until both of your arms are full of various party foods. Garcia grins at the two of you with a clap of her empty hands. Cocking a brow, you shoot an accusatory glare at your closest colleague. However, before you’re able to get a word out, she begins to usher the two of you up to her apartment.

“If this is a team effort, then why aren’t you doing any work?” Spencer grunts, coming very close to letting the bag with the eggs slip from his grasp.

“I am working,” Garcia chides as she walks up the last few steps, “someone had to be in charge of opening the door, and that someone just so happened to be me. So, don’t drop the eggs, Genius.” You start to laugh, but the sound is caught in your throat as you marvel at the sight of her altar.

Pinks and oranges and light blues explode in your face as you gape in awe. Countless pictures already stood on different tiers of the shrine. Recognizing them, your bottom lip quivers at the photographs she had placed. Each face that stares back at you is a victim of a case that had been previously closed. Feeling a gentle pressure on your shoulders, you reach up to grab Garcia’s newly manicured hand. She squeezes and a sniffle can be heard from behind you. Spencer joins the two of you, standing on your right. The atmosphere, although containing a heavy layer of sorrow, is strangely peaceful.

Turning, you meet Garcia’s gaze with a smile. “Pen,” you murmur, “it’s gorgeous.”

“You think so?” Her voice trembles a bit.

“Absolutely.”

Wiping the tears that had inevitably fallen from her eyes, Penelope lets a small giggle escape her. “God—I wasn’t planning on crying today. I wanted to go scary this Halloween, and since we’re officially off for two weeks, I thought I would have plenty of time to make everything super terrifying. But, I told JJ and she laughed at me and said I didn’t have a scary bone in my body.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Spencer interjects while shoving food into the fridge, “you probably do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied, and multi-faceted. It's essential to one's mental health to want to express these hidden personalities, and it's a fact of nature that everybody has one—even me.” You chortle at Garcia’s intrigue as she fawns over the doctor for a few moments. He cocks a brow while turning his gaze back to you. “What’s so funny, [Y/N]?”

With a chuckle, you reply, “I’m not sure you should be talking up your dark side when it’s really just a bad Clint Eastwood impression.” The interaction is still the slightest bit uncomfortable as Spencer’s deadpan stare bores into your face. Garcia’s gaze flits between the two of you, worry painted across her features.

“So ...” she begins warily, attempting to navigate the residual tension left from last night, “Clint Eastwood, huh?”

────

Night befalls the both of you once more as you sit in silence in Spencer’s living room. His eyes are racing down one of the last pages of East of Eden, and you recognize it from the first time you were invited into his apartment. As he curls further into himself, you feel a sharp pain and look back down to be met with blood pouring from your finger. The tomatoes you had been chopping are going to have to wait. Rushing to the sink, you begin to rinse your wound, cleaning it with cool water whilst muttering various profanities under your breath.

Spencer forces himself to ignore your winces and harsh intakes of breath and continues to read. Truthfully, he’s jumped so far over the hurdle that was last night that by now, it’s merely a distant memory. His therapist—one that you recommended—had been educating him on how to move on from the past and forgive himself. He’s been trying to give you space to do the same. Spencer aches to help you clean up, to chop vegetables, and to do mundane things with you, but he thinks it’s more important that you know that he’s willing and able to give you the room you need to heal. Everyone needs time for themselves. At least, that’s what his therapist said.

“Spencer?” Your voice echoes in the quietude that his apartment provides. Waves of relief crash into him, and it feels as though he’s the embodiment of a shipwreck. After a few moments of still air, you speak again. “Can you ... can you come help me, please?”

Those are the words he needed so desperately to hear. Sure, they didn’t mean anything in this context, but his imagination urges him to go further with the interaction. It pushes him forward, pleading with him to act. He yearns to talk to you; he wants to acknowledge the amount of time you’ve been pining him. He’s beyond ready to move ahead to a new horizon made especially for you two.

When he reaches the counter top, he glances down at the viscid liquid still turning the water an unnerving shade of dark pink. Without thinking, he digs in a cabinet that you thought held wine glasses, but apparently held an extremely large first aid kit. You bite your tongue, having to resist the impulse to tease him about it. Yes, it would’ve been acceptable a week ago, but now, you’re not entirely certain how to act around him. Your panic attack, although lasting for only a few minutes, had felt like a lifetime. And, no matter how hard you had tried throughout the day to forget—you came to the conclusion that not even Penelope’s sunny disposition could break up the storm that clouded your mind.

As Spencer wraps yet another strip of gauze around your cut, you find him to be unexpectedly dexterous. Staring at his furrowed brow, you’re able to see a little part of his tongue that sticks out from between his lips. Shattering the sheet of silence that had settled over the two of you, you murmur, “You’re surprisingly good at this.”

“Bandaging people up or being quiet?” He asked, a slight air of humor in his tone, “Because, I’ve pretty much mastered both.”

Soft laughter sounds, and Spencer allows his eyes to graze over your features. When your gazes meet, you don’t make any attempts to break the contact. It’s refreshing—the feeling of falling in love with someone all over again. His pupils are practically as big as saucers as he stares back at you with an unfamiliar intensity. Although this is what you’ve always wanted, the idea of getting choked up and having another panic attack terrifies you. With a cough, you look down at your mismatched sock-clad feet, and the man crouched in front of you turns his attention back to your injury.

“So,” you start after a long period of quietude, “I heard Garcia’s making that altar come one, come all, and she told everyone to bring a picture to put on it.” Your words, albeit sounding like an ordinary statement, are more of a question. Spencer glances back up at you, his eyes glazed over with caution. “Are you gonna bring Maeve?”

Spencer doesn’t detect anything other than sadness in your voice. However, it’s not the type of sadness he expects. The emotion makes his heart wrench in his chest because it reminds him of himself from five months ago. So in love, yet in such, unimaginable pain. He nods, not finding it in himself to look up at you. Placing the last piece of gauze tape on the dressing, Spencer stands from his spot on the floor. In that moment, everything feels a little too real.

Taking a step back, he seems as though he’s about to head back to the living room, but he stop to say, “We should probably leave in about thirty minutes ... Garcia said she wanted everyone there by ten.” You acknowledge him with a tight lipped smile, turning back to dicing your tomatoes and green onions, being careful to work around your damaged finger. However, his presence still looms behind you; you can almost hear his desire to flip your question around. Without looking at him, you nod while placing your vegetable mixture into Spencer’s blender.

Before activating the blades, you pause, giving him an opportunity to shatter you. “[Y/N] ...” he trails off, uncertain as to whether he should ask the question or not, “are you—are you bringing Jaime.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Jaime and my mom.”

Finally, a comfortable silence engulfs the space between you both. Spencer retreats back to the couch, discarding East of Eden and replacing it with a Russian classic that you couldn’t make out. The only sound is that of the mechanical whirring of the blender as you finish up your salsa for Garcia’s party. In the midst of the quiet, your mind wanders from topic to topic and it makes your heart pound—granted, half of the thoughts are of Spencer. Homemade movies play on a loop in front of you as you pour over your concoction.

It’s a few Halloweens in the future. You and Spencer are living together. You’re hanging up fake cobwebs while he does a bad job at trying to scare you with his Frankenstein’s monster mask. Joking, you mention that you hated reading Frankenstein in high school, and he retorts with a quip about your taste in books. The night is still fairly young, but the stars are clear in the sky. He gives up attempting to frighten you and comes over to the window where you’re staring up at the cloudless infinity. Spencer rambles on about different constellations and their histories, but all you can think about is him. The way his eyes mirror the mystery of the darkness above you, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips after a particularly interesting tidbit, the way he looks at you with nothing but pure adoration in his gaze. You’re in love with him. You’ve been in love with him.

“I’ll grab my coat, and you can grab the keys and get the car started. Okay, [Y/N]?” Snapping you from your daydream, is his voice. It’s evident that he’s been talking for quite some time. It’s also evident that you haven’t been paying attention. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said? We’re already late!” The frantic, flustered doctor scurries around his apartment, cleaning things to calm his nerves. Even before Maeve’s death, you had known that Spencer was a stress cleaner. Whenever a phone call came about his mother, he would dutifully straighten every open desk he could before Hotch called for him to stop.

“Yes, Doc. Grab keys. Get car started. I’m on my way, right now.” You pause, almost forgetting about your hard work, “Also, Spencer—my salsa’s on the second shelf in the fridge!” You hear him mutter an exasperated, “salsa?” before closing the door.

Unlocking his car and diving into the driver’s seat, you immediately turn off the radio to sit in complete silence. For once, it is a comforting feeling. As you mull over certain ideas, one jumps out at you in particular. Both the devil and the angel on your shoulders urge you to mention your panic attack, and you’re forced to make an executive decision—confront Spencer or sweep the incident under the rug.

The sound of ice clattering against the concrete alerts you to the man’s presence. Glancing over at him, you turn the key in the ignition, allowing the cold fingers of fall to slither up your back once more. With a shiver, Spencer sends you a confused glare, making an effort to start the car by himself, but you smack his hand away. An unknown source of power compels you to push forward, to keep going.

“[Y/N], what’s going—?”

“I know that you already know, but I have to say it. Out loud and in person.”

“[Y/N]—.”

“Spencer,” you collect both breath and courage before barging ahead, “I’m in love with you. I fell for you three months after I joined the team. I didn’t know if-if it was just a stupid crush or not, so I decided to ignore it the best I could.” Tears muddle your vision, and you reach up to wipe them away even though they haven’t fallen yet. Just barely, you see Spencer restrain himself from touching you. A sob is wrenched from the deepest part of your body, but you choose to continue. “And then—and then, you found Maeve and you were so happy. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be ... to be happy. But, God—,” a wail escapes your throat as it threatens to close in on itself, “I’m so selfish. I wanted you to be happy with me!”

Spencer feels numb as he takes in the severity of your confession. Watching your body fold and crumple in front of him freezes him like liquid nitrogen. With a single puff of air, he would fragment into millions of pieces. As you try to hide your face, he sees your hands tremble. He wants to help you, but he doesn’t know how. Should he cry with you, should he hug you, should he stay silent? Too many thoughts race through his brain. The big cogs steam and smoke as they are overworked, attempting to come up with too many solutions at once. He manages to choke out one word. Two syllables. But, it’s the question that needed to be answered.

“Really?”

With a strangled cry, you nod, “It-it’s true. I’ve lo-loved you ever since I got—got to know you.” Another sob is ripped from your chest as it heaves with exhaustion. You feel like vomiting. At this point, everything is nauseating. Your fingers dance over lips as you’re debating whether or not to press on. “And ... and even if you don’t feel the same—I’m willing to accept it. Because, I love you, and I want you to be happy. With me or without.”

He hums. It is neutral, neither bad nor good. Spencer Reid—teenage college graduate, human encyclopedia, objectively the smartest man in the FBI—is at a loss for words. You love him. He knew that. He knows that. But now, everything is real. Colors burst at the edges of his eyes, and his view of you is flooded with light. His heart pounds wildly against his sternum; it’s powerful enough to feel in his stomach. Spencer does what comes naturally to him. For once, he follows his heart instead of his head.

His head shrieks that this—what he’s about to do—is a terrible, no good, very bad idea. But, his heart screams the opposite. His heart shoves him forward and tells him to cup your face in his hands. Brushing over your tear stained cheeks, he thinks back to yesterday morning, when he woke you and asked about your nightmare. Staring into your eyes, he begs you to let go, just as you had begged him so long ago. Leaning forward, he tells you that he will always be here for you. Kissing you, he lets you know that he has moved on.

It takes a moment for you two respond, but once you do, the atmosphere surrounding you two is on fire. Spencer’s touch is gentle and rough simultaneously as your lips move together with a shared fervor. His fingers move to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss while you tangle your hands into his hair and tug. A mixture of tears make him taste salty, but the water is seemingly burned away by the heat that radiates between the two of you. Although you two have found each other, nothing disappears. Nightmares will not go away, memories will still invade supposedly healthy headspaces, discovery will not change the past.

However, in this moment, everything is the right amount of real.

The desperate need to breathe tears you apart, but neither of you move far. Spencer’s forehead rests on yours, and he leans in to touch his your noses together. In his mind, nothing is moving; it is still, and it is exactly what he needs. Your fingers smooth different patterns into his scalp as you try to catch up to your own heart.

“We’re so late,” your hoarse whisper slices through the quiet. Glancing at the clock, cerulean numbers blink back at you. 10:53PM—almost an hour late. Knowing Garcia, she’s waiting to put pictures on the altar until you two arrive. Her kindness sometimes goes unrecognized, but she doesn’t do it because it’s what looks good—she does it because it’s what’s right.

The picture of Jaime in your pocket suddenly feels like it’s searing through the fabric, and remorse courses through you as you close your eyes. Spencer holds back laughter, but when he backs away and notices the regret painted over your features, he grows solemn. Grabbing your hands that are still placed on the back of his head, he pulls them off and cradles them to his chest.

“Look at me, [Y/N],” his voice cracks, but the authority is undeniable. You shift your gaze to him, and you are captivated by the way his eyes resemble the inky blackness that lay millions of miles above your heads. Constellations shimmer in his hazel orbs. “Tonight, we say goodbye. No more compartmentalization, no more fear, no more guilt. Are you ready?”

With a quivering smile, you murmur, “More than.”

The Volvo purrs to life—a symbol of not only the past but new beginnings as well. You’re positive that both you and Spencer look like complete disasters, but not even that fact is able distract you from the feeling of his warm hand atop yours on the gearshift. A dull throb replaces the burning sensation Jaime had ignited earlier. It dissipates the longer you drive until it’s merely a tingle. A goodbye will be shared between two people and two memories because waiting for those who will never come back doesn’t serve as a surrogate for real love.

It is difficult to say goodbye, but it is necessary.

It is difficult, but it is love. And, you have waited long enough.

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

157 notes · View notes

twdeadlysins · 4 years

Text

coming soon

here is a list of pieces i am or will be working on in no particular order. some have titles and summaries. things are subject to change.

UPDATED: (05/03/2021)

request = ☆ wip = ✎ sequel = ✚ series = ☼ mini series = ♡ my idea = ♔

criminal minds

☆ derek morgan x penelope garcia x reader // if you do would you do a Derek Morgan x Penelope Garcia x Reader where the reader has a bad day and gets hurt and the team finds out that they’re all together and it ends fluffy lovey?

☆ emily prentiss x adopted!daughter reader // Hi, could you please write an angsty/fluff Emily Prentiss x reader where the reader is her adopted daughter and is having nightmares about losing her mom and is worried about telling Emily because she doesn't want to look weak an be sent back to the system because of it? thanks.

☆ hotch x teen!reader // hey! i know you're working on a lot rn, but i was wondering if you'd take a request for a hotch x teen!reader? something where maybe the team is trying to interrogate her for information on an unsub but she isn't helping much, until hotch profiles and realizes that it's because she's being abused at home? so then he's the one that's get thought to her (bc he understands bc of his own past)? if you can't or don't want to write it that's totally alright!!

the 100

✎ ☆ bellamy blake x reader // Hey, if you're still getting a request, Can I have a request? For Season 5, Bellamy and the reader are married and when they come to the world, Mccreary and Diosa Abby and Kane take the reader with them. Mccreary threatens and harasses the reader by harming his friends (like Raven). After a while, the reader manages to escape. When the reader returns, Bellamy finds her bruised, withdrawn, having bad dreams. Then something happens and the reader tells them to cry. Angst, fluff and maybe smut. 😘

the walking dead

✚✎ dixon x reader // i’m not alone (part two) ✚✎ daryl dixon x reader // wildflowers (sequel to despair)

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: no matter what // summary: when daryl begins to act abnormal, especially towards you, you decide to confront him about it.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: calm // summary: daryl is having nightmares from his stay with the Saviors, and you’re there to help him.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: abandoned // summary: daryl left you heartbroken when he chose to be with his brother instead of you and the group. when he comes back during all the chaos, you’re forced to face him and make a decision.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: i miss him too // summary: after you’re reunited with daryl, you tend to the wounds he received when he was a prisoner. you expected him to be scarred from the experience, but you didn’t think he blamed himself for your best friend’s death.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: breathe // summary: a panic attack occurs after you have a vivid nightmare. daryl is right by your side to coach you through it and comfort you.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: right here // summary: the reader is in labor and is terrified, so she asks daryl, the father of her child, for a simple favor.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: a new beginning // summary: you and daryl have known each other since you were kids and survived through the abuse you encountered. now you have to survive in a world infested by walkers. when feelings are confessed one night, you share an intimate moment on the farm that is the first for both of you.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // title: safe and sound // summary: you hear daryl crying in his trailer, so you decide to check on him

☆ daryl dixon x adopted daughter!reader // #12 “Are you okay?”, #13 “Who did this?”, #6 “No one’s going to hurt you.” & #5 “You’re safe now.” - Daryl goes on a run and found an injured reader (M/F). He slowly puts his crossbow down, to show the reader that he means him/her no harm. He then slowly gets a little closer and says #12 & #13. When they don't answer, he moved a little closer. Scared, they moved away. "Hey, hey, hey. #6 #5." He tells them his name and they say theirs. He takes them to Alexandria and takes care of them. The reader could be his adoptive son or daughter.

☆ daryl dixon x single mom!reader // can you please do a Daryl Dixon x female reader. Like the reader is a new person to the prison that Maggie and Glenn brought back with them from a run. The reader has a son and daughter, (u pick the ages) from a previous marriage and Daryl watches her from a far, falling for her. They go on a run and have to hold up for a while (u pick, storm or herd of Walkers) and Daryl finally admits his feeling to the reader. SMUT in the end.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // sparring with daryl (like aaron and jesus in s9)

☆ daryl dixon x reader // daryl stops you from chewing on your fingers all the time

☆ daryl dixon x reader // giving daryl a goodbye letter

☆ daryl dixon x reader // there is a blizzard and you don’t come back, causing daryl to freak out, but he can’t go out and search for you. Despite how much he loves you and willingly he’d die for you, it would be impossible to find you. You come back a few days/weeks later with a grin on your face.

☆ daryl dixon x reader // you are a savior that’s brave and tough, but keeps to herself. You don’t have friends and are kinda isolated. It’s not that anyone’s mean to you, but they remain at a distant. Over time it starts to hurt

☆ daryl dixon x reader // you feel ignored, feeling like they don’t love you anymore

☆ daryl dixon x reader // Hello !!! Can I have Daryl x reader? Reader has been so caught up in her work that they forget to eat. They get extremely lightheaded and stumble a little. Daryl steadies them and he is worried when he finds out they forgot to eat. While he is making food they faint and land (luckily) on something soft. When he's done, he comes back,at first he thinks that they're just laying down but he kinda freaks out when he realizes that reader is unconscious. ( I forget to eat sometimes) THANK YOU🥺💚

☆ daryl dixon x reader // Hey! I love love LOVE your work and I was hoping you could do a Daryl x reader based on the song “Strawberries and Cigarettes” by Troye Sivan? If you do, thank you so much!! Love your work!

☆ rick grimes x reader // Hi! Could you please write Rick Grimes x Reader with prompt “Listen to me very closely! You. Are. An. Idiot.”. Where Rick does something reckless and his wife Y/n has to remind him that he can't do dangerous stuff like that because he has family to come back to. Thank you ❤️

♔ ☼ rick grimes x oc // title: outsider // summary: coming soon; trust me, it’s gonna be GOOD

☆ unknown pairing x reader // Hi I Seen Your rules I Was wondering can I Send A Request Where Fem Reader Is The Last WereWolf and saves Glenn and Abraham From Getting Killed by Negan. You Can Decline If You don't want to do it it's no problem :)

marvel

♡ ☆ bucky barnes x reader // you had to fight to survive everyday with a group of strangers who over the years became your family. when things go awry, you’re transported into another universe where superheroes exist. how will you adapt to a new world without walkers, but most importantly, your family? // crossover with the walking dead

♔ bucky barnes x reader // “that is a staggering amount of parmesan cheese.” “there’s no such thing.”

♔ steve rogers x reader // “my shield is glowing. why is my shield glowing?”

✎ ♔ steve rogers x reader // title: expensive escape // summary: steve gets an unexpected phone call from bucky and y/n

♔ thor x reader // “that’s definitely not true.” “of course it is. i read it on wikipedia.”

bbc sherlock

♔ sherlock holmes x reader // “will you be quiet!?” “i didn’t say anything!” “well stop thinking so loud!”

♔ sherlock holmes x reader // “stop that!” “stop what?” “doing that thing with your face when you’re happy. it’s making me nauseous.”

miscellaneous

✎ ☆ sherlock holmes x reader x stephen strange // title: double the strange // hey, I hope your requests are open! i was yearning for some strange x sherlock x reader where the smart arses were attempting to one-up each other to win said reader's favour? thank you x

#basically the crown means no one requested it #i either came up with it #saw a prompt or a post and decided to create it into a fic #hope that makes sense #upcoming fics #there are some i didn't add cause idk if ill be able to write it #f.

64 notes · View notes

dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. I)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own.

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

“You’re not the first painter to come here,” the ferryman said. Actually, it wasn’t the first time Bokuto had heard that. And now, he was sitting in the middle of tiny, fishing boat, clutching his tattered suitcase and the thin, wooden box where he kept his canvases for dear life. Mostly due to the fact that if his suitcase or canvases found their way overboard, Bokuto would have no choice but to jump after them.

“Is he a terror?” Bokuto asked, deciding to make conversation with the ferryman anyway.

“A terror? No, none of the painters who came back looked scared. Maybe frustrated or lost is the right word,” the ferryman said. “He never leaves the manor but they say that he’s more beautiful than his suitor.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Bokuto muttered as he gazed over the horizon to the shore where the boat was headed. He wasn’t particularly fond of the job he had to take: a portrait commission. Bokuto would much rather work on the commission from the church in his hometown with his master, painting bodies and landscapes were his specialization. On the other hand, Bokuto was not as confident with drawing the human face, specifically, capturing emotion in the eyes. Which were very, very important for a painter hoping to make his own way into the world. And because of that, his master sent him off to the Elysium Estate, a secluded piece of land nestled along the coast of a provincial town owned by the Akaashi family, to paint Akaashi Keiji’s portrait to send to his suitor.

An hour later, the boat had reached the harbor and Bokuto promptly got off, grateful for steady, unshifting land, thanked the ferryman and paid the fee. Then, clutching his suitcase and canvases, he made his way up a rocky trail to where the estate was. Up close, the large house looked dark and gloomy, as if nobody lived there, at all, but it still looked quite grand with its Greek-inspired architecture and marble columns framing the entrance. Standing outside, as if expecting him, was a young man with short, black hair, dressed in a butler’s uniform.

“You must be the painter, Bokuto Koutarou,” he spoke, bowing formally when Bokuto walked up. “I’m Kageyama Tobio, the estate butler. If there is anything you need during your stay here, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned. “Um, no need to be so formal though. I’m just an apprentice painter.”

“The madam ordered me to treat you as such,” Kageyama said, holding out his hand to take Bokuto’s belongings. Bokuto contemplated it for a while and handed him his suitcase, keeping his canvases closely to himself. Kageyama opened the door to the estate and they walked into a foyer that was dimly lit by a few candles.

“It doesn’t seem like a lot of people stay here, huh?” Bokuto said as he looked around.

“Only the madam and her son are currently living here,” Kageyama explained, taking an oil lamp from the table and walking down a hallway near the grand staircase. “You will be staying in this room for the meantime,” he added, opening the door to a room that was much larger than Bokuto’s master’s studio. Inside was a large, four-poster bed, windows that almost covered the entire far wall, a fireplace, and an easel already set up. When Bokuto glanced at the wall nearest him, he could see a door that probably led into his own bathroom.

“Wow, this is… a nice room,” Bokuto said, unable to find the words to say.

“The madam and young master Keiji have retired for the evening but he has agreed to meet you for breakfast in the dining hall,” Kageyama said, leaving the suitcase on top of the chest at the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Would you like me to bring up some supper?”

“Yes please,” Bokuto smiled politely and Kageyama left him in the dark, grand room. Bokuto took the time to start a fire to light up the room. Then, he unloaded his canvases. The wooden box that was custom-made for it was nailed shut and Bokuto pried it open with a small tool stashed in his suitcase. To his relief, the canvases were both as pristine and white as when he first packed them. Bokuto lovingly ran his finger across the surface, already eager to break out his paints and start the commission. Just for the sake of being able to paint again.

After a warm meal of bread and soup, Bokuto lay on the soft bed of his room and fell asleep.

The next morning, he was woken up by Kageyama knocking on the door. Remembering that he would be meeting Akaashi for the first time, Bokuto quickly washed his face and dressed into his best pair of trousers and a clean shirt before hurrying to the dining room. The room was half the size of the manor’s living room, but better lit with tall windows that reached the ceiling. The long table was set for two and already sitting there, was Akaashi Keiji.

The rumors about his beauty were true: with his tanned skin, hair the color of chocolate that fell in short waves around his face, his graceful facial features, and eyes the color of deep emerald that followed Bokuto as he walked to his seat. Under the table, he felt his hands itch for a piece of charcoal and paper.

“U-um, Bokuto Koutarou,” he stammered, remembering that he had to introduce himself. “Pleased to meet you… um, sir.”

“There’s no need for that,” Akaashi waved his hand. His voice was soft but he spoke and enunciated every syllable. “So, my mother sent you to become a companion before I’m carted off to Italy to get married. Hopefully, I get to enjoy some kind of freedom before that happens.” He paused and fixed his gaze on Bokuto. “What do you think about all this?”

“Well, your mother seems concerned about you and your health—”

“You don’t have to talk as if she’s here,” Akaashi interrupted him. “She’s the one who’s paying you, not me. Tell me what you really think.” Bokuto blinked at the interruption and one look at Akaashi told him that he would detect any lie. So, Bokuto decided to tell the truth, or as much as he could without spilling the fact that he was painting his portrait in secret.

“When I entered the workforce to get a job, I never thought I’d have to be hired to be a personal companion,” Bokuto chuckled. “But it beats working in a factory. About your situation however, I think it’s a bit sad.”

“Sad? Do you pity me?” Akaashi’s expression was neutral.

“In a way, I do. It must be lonely having to stay here. Maybe your mother hired me so you’d have someone to talk to. In a way, I guess I am perfect for job,” Bokuto grinned. “People say I’m talkative enough to hold a conversation for two.” Akaashi looked down at his plate, as if thinking over what Bokuto said, and then looked out the window.

“I want to go down to the beach today,” he said, Bokuto silently let out a sigh of relief. He had passed whatever test Akaashi had set up. “Accompany me after breakfast.”

“Yes sir,” Bokuto nodded. In front of him, he saw the corner of Akaashi’s lip turn up.

“I’m younger than you. You may call me Akaashi.”

An hour later, Bokuto made his way down the beach with Akaashi behind him, wearing a dark green scarf around his chin and a jacket over his shirt. Bokuto couldn’t help but notice how Akaashi looked at the beach as if it was the first time he was there, and perhaps it was his first time at the beach. Judging by how thin his frame was and his breathing that was almost labored while he walked down the beach, Bokuto could easily tell how sickly he was. Bokuto considered sitting on the sand with Akaashi, but another part of him wanted Akaashi to experience much more. As soon as they reached the beach, Bokuto kicked off his shoes and socks and walked over to wade in the sea.

“Come on,” he smiled and raised a hand encouragingly at Akaashi who eyed him curiously before taking off his shoes and socks, as well as his jacket and left them in a neat pile beside Bokuto’s things. He dipped his feet hesitantly in the water, before walking forward and joining Bokuto.

“Thanks to you, my mother allowed me to finally come down here,” Akaashi said, squinting at the horizon. “We came to live at the estate because the doctors said the sea breeze might do me good, but they kept me locked inside.”

“What do you do to pass the time?” Bokuto asked.

“Read, mostly. Actually, all the time,” Akaashi answered. “Even if I wasn’t allowed to go out, my father consistently sent me books and tutors so at least my learning was up to standard. My mother joins me in the library sometimes to work on her embroidery.” He looked sideways at Bokuto. “I know a lot of things, like the deepest parts of the sea we’re standing in, the trade routes that cross it, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, yesterday was the first time I’ve been to sea,” Bokuto admitted. “I never thought waves could rock a boat so much. I was sick to my stomach and I almost threw up over the side of the boat.” Akaashi smiled wryly.

“Did you?”

“No,” Bokuto chuckled. “The sea was a wonderful blue, I couldn’t bear to throw up in it.”

“That’s good,” Akaashi nodded. “I’ve always wondered about how salty the sea is.” Bokuto raised his eyebrows, bent down, and cupped some water in his hands.

“Want to try it for yourself?”

“As long as you don’t tell my mother,” Akaashi snorted. He cupped his hands down under Bokuto’s and bent down, raising their hands. Bokuto felt Akaashi’s lips kiss the tips of his fingers as he sipped the saltwater. Akaashi raised his head, making a face that was half-grimace, half-look of curiosity, and spat the saltwater back into the sea. Bokuto laughed.

“How was it?”

“The saltiest thing I ever tasted,” Akaashi said. “Even saltier than bacon. But now I know how salty sea is.”

They spent the next few hours at the beach, even taking their lunch there after Kageyama delivered it in a picnic basket. Bokuto took the time to watch Akaashi as he picked up rocks and shells to inspect before returning them where he found them, attempting to memorize his unwilling client’s face. In his head, Bokuto pictured Akaashi in a fancy, green dress jacket that matched the color of his eyes, sitting with his hands folded over each other and perhaps a book on his lap. He kept that image in mind when he asked Akaashi if they could head inside. The madam, whom Bokuto was to meet the next day, called Akaashi to the library giving time for Bokuto to begin sketching drafts of the portrait.

He took his time, drawing different parts of Akaashi at first: his hands, his hair, his side profile and ears, his nose and mouth, and lastly, his eyes. Bokuto had to soap the charcoal off his fingers before joining Akaashi at supper, this time making less conversation to observe the details of his face. When he was alone in his room again, Bokuto laid the sketches out before him near the fireplace and made an attempt to draw Akaashi’s eyes again, only to give up on lie on the floor, trying to remember how the candlelight at dinnertime accentuated the planes of his face and the faraway look in Akaashi’s eyes that seemed to lead out to sea.

…

The next day, Bokuto sat in front of Akaashi Keiji’s mother, or Mikoto, as she preferred that he would address her, in the manor’s library upstairs. Out of all the rooms Bokuto had visited in the giant house, this one seemed to be the most visited by the madam and her son. Like the dining room, it had large windows that lit the entire room. The wooden floor was polished and books that have left their shelves to rest in stacks around the room showed signs of it being frequented, most likely by Akaashi himself. Other than that, there was something about the entire room that felt comforting and warm.

“So, you’ve met my son,” Mikoto said, sipping from her teacup. She looked a lot like her son: same brown hair, green eyes, and sharp features. His master told him that she had one lame leg, thanks to being infected by polio years ago, which prevented her from going around frequently. “How did you find him?” she asked, fixing him with her gaze.

“He’s, well, quite reserved,” Bokuto answered. “Yesterday when we had breakfast, I feel as if he was testing me,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“Ah, Keiji tends to do that,” Mikoto smiled ruefully. “We used to live near a city when he was younger. But, because of his health, my husband decided to move us here for the sea air. That did Keiji’s health better but unfortunately, he’s had very little encounter with the outside world. When we told him about the marriage arrangement, he’s grown distant from me.”

“Is that the reason why nobody has ever successfully painted his portrait?” Bokuto asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Mikoto nodded. “Keiji’s strong-willed and scheming, despite everything. He knows that we need the marriage for our lands and wealth to continue remaining under our family name. He doesn’t directly transgress the marriage, but he makes it difficult for it to continue.”

“He’s probably prolonging it,” Bokuto said, suddenly feeling sad for Akaashi. Even though he was better off with a wealthy family compared to Bokuto who was taken in by his master after his parents died, Akaashi had very little freedom. And now, a marriage.

“Probably,” Mikoto set her cup down and looked at the portrait of her that hung over the fireplace. “Which is why we need you, Bokuto-san. Your master played a hand in helping seal my marriage by painting this portrait. He did well. And now, you must do the same.” Bokuto gulped. “Your master spoke very highly of you. Have you started on the portrait?”

“Yes,” Bokuto nodded. Early that morning, he had sketched a rough layout of Akaashi on one of his canvases. Without Akaashi there to pose, it took a great deal for Bokuto to visualize his position. But he wasn’t his master’s student for nothing. Bokuto was confident that he could paint Akaashi’s likeness.

“Well, I mustn’t keep you then,” Mikoto said. “Call Akaashi to come here. I’ll let you have a few hours to paint.”

“Thank you, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto bowed before leaving the library, closing the double doors behind him. He walked down the great stairs of the manor and was about to head into his room when he ran into Akaashi heading his way. “Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned, trying to make it seem as if he hadn’t just discussed Akaashi’s marriage with his mother just a while ago. “I was just about to look for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Akaashi said. He was wearing trousers, a light blue shirt, and a beige jacket.

“Your mother requests that you join her in the library,” Bokuto said. Akaashi made a face.

“I don’t feel like reading, I’d rather go outside,” he said. “Would you come join me at the beach again? It should be at low tide when we are there.”

“I-I would, but…” Bokuto stammered.

“Is there anything you’re preoccupied with?” Akaashi asked, stepping closer to Bokuto. His green eyes bored into his, searching for an answer. Bokuto relented.

“Of course not,” he shook his head and smiled. “Going to the beach sounds great.” Bokuto groaned internally, thinking about how fast he’d have to paint before sunset. And then, Akaashi smiled, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Let’s go then, Bokuto-san.” And somehow, it was all alright. The two of them made their way to the beach, walking side by side. Akaashi had the same scarf he wore yesterday tied around his chin. Bokuto walked in front of Akaashi when they made their way down the trail along the rocky side of the cliff. Every so often, Bokuto felt the urge to turn around to check how Akaashi was doing, and to memorize the look of his hands as they gripped the side of the cliff, the concentration in his furrowed brow, how his green scarf billowed behind him in the wind. As they neared the bottom of the cliff, Bokuto suddenly heard the sound of rocks falling and Akaashi crying in surprise.

“Bokuto-san!”

Quick as a flash, Bokuto turned around to catch Akaashi in his arms, holding a hand out to steady himself against the cliff with the other wrapped around Akaashi’s waist. Up close, Bokuto could smell the sea breeze already caught in Akaashi’s clothes as well as the slightest whiff of vanilla. For a moment, he wondered if he could catch that scent in the portrait he was going to paint.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Bokuto said. Akaashi stepped back, steadying himself against the rocky cliff wall. His one hand lingered on Bokuto’s shoulder before using it to pull down the scarf tied around his chin.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he spoke. Without thinking, Bokuto held out a hand to him. Akaashi accepted and the two walked hand-in-hand to the beach.

Bokuto soon found out why Akaashi was excited to go down to the beach at this time. After leaving his scarf, jacket, shoes, and socks in a neat pile again on the sand, Akaashi waded out to sea and bent down in search of hermit crabs and other creatures in the tide pools. Bokuto waded with him for a while before sitting near a large rock and taking out a piece of paper folded around a small piece of drawing charcoal. He decided to focus on drawing Akaashi’s hands, folded over each other, before finding his own hand moving by itself and drawing Akaashi’s eyes, his nose, the scarf tied around his chin that covered his mouth. ‘Stupid,’ Bokuto shook his head, realizing that he didn’t need to sketch the scarf for the portrait. He folded the sketch and stuffed it in his shirt pocket, rubbing the charcoal of his fingers on his pants as Akaashi jogged towards him with something cupped in his hands.

“Bokuto-san,” he stopped, holding out his hands to Bokuto to show a hermit crab scuttling in it. Bokuto let out a chuckle.

“I see you’ve found a friend,” he reached out a finger to gently stroke the crab’s shell. Akaashi had a small smile on his face. “Thinking of bringing it home?”

“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I read that they easily get depressed when they’re alone. And I don’t think he would want to live in a sink. I just wanted to hold one in my hands.”

“Like when you held seawater yesterday,” Bokuto said, smiling at the memory. “But I’d advice against tasting this one.” Akaashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Very funny, Bokuto-san,” he said dryly. Bokuto snickered. Akaashi bent down and released the hermit crab into the sand.

“Let’s head back, I’m good for today,” Akaashi said, walking back to where his things were. “I know you still have some things to work on.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Akaashi held out a hand. “It was… rude of me to try to invade your privacy. I apologize. It’s just…” Akaashi pursed his lips and looked down.

“I get it. Kageyama isn’t the most talkative person around,” Bokuto grinned, sidling up next to him. “And I was hired to be your companion.”

“I don’t want you to think about it like that,” Akaashi said. “I know it’s not normal. It’s kind of sad that my mother would have to hire someone to be my friend here. So, can we both pretend that your salary doesn’t come from a fake friendship?”

“Well…” Bokuto shrugged. “If we’re going to that, want to add to the pretending?”

“How do you suppose we do that?” Akaashi looked at him curiously.

“If we’re going to be pretend friends, how did our ‘friendship’ begin?” Bokuto asked. “Maybe I was a boy from the nearby village who wandered here, wanting to see the Elysium Estate for myself. All the other kids say it’s an abandoned manor, a haunted one specifically. But I, a brave soul, decided to check it out.” Akaashi smiled and sat down on the sand to put on his socks and shoes.

“On that day, my mother let me read outside, just near the house of course. While reading my book, I couldn’t help but notice a noise coming from behind the house,” he continued.

“It was me, pelting pebbles at one of the windows,” Bokuto laughed, fully engaged in their imagining.

“Lucky for you, my mother was asleep and I happened to appear before you first.”

“I probably screamed like a girl in terror thinking you were a ghost.”

“And then I had to calm you down. And then tell you that there were in fact people living here.”

“And then I sense how lonely you are and invite you to play.”

“And then we play tag all morning and chase each other on the beach,” Akaashi smiled, eyes scanning the horizon again. “That’s a nice backstory. Though, it’s just a story.”

“It’s a good story,” Bokuto held out a hand and helped Akaashi to his feet. Both of them reached the manor a good three hours before the sun set, leaving Bokuto with enough time to begin mixing his paints to begin the portrait. It was probably his favorite part of painting, creating the colors to imprint a real picture on canvas. He mixed some red and white into a warm shade of brown for Akaashi’s skin, darkening the shade for his hair. Bokuto touched his brush to his paints and filled in his sketch. Then, he mixed in white and a darker brown for the highlights and contours. Next, he worked on Akaashi’s suit: dark green jacket and crisp white shirt. Clothing was harder to work on without a model but Bokuto tried to imagine where the creases and folds would be placed and ran his brush over them.

Now that he had begun, Bokuto didn’t want to stop painting, even after dinner when he had to light five candles and place them around his workstation. Eventually, the change in lighting got to him and Bokuto knew he couldn’t continue working like this. He packed away his paints, brushes, and palette, folded up his easel, and moved them to the extra storeroom connected to his bedroom. Then, he gently lifted the canvas, careful not to touch it, and placed it gently in the closet. Lastly, Bokuto blew out all the candles, taking the last one with him to take one last look at his painting before going to sleep. When he squinted, with the candle in front of him, the portrait looked as if it was on fire.

…

The next few days were like so: Bokuto would accompany Akaashi for walks on the beach or around the fields bordering the estate and the village over. Many times, Bokuto would have to rush his time to work on Akaashi’s portrait before sunset fell. In the mornings, he’d wake up early to check on errors he might have made in the dim light. Most of them were errors in shading, a color not mixed right, but there was little to fix. Before he knew it, Bokuto was almost finished with the portrait.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty having to paint this portrait behind Akaashi’s back, knowing all the effort he put into preventing his arranged marriage as best as he could. Even seeing the excited look on Akaashi’s face, which lifted Bokuto’s spirits momentarily, had the bitter aftertaste of knowing that this excitement would all be ruined once Bokuto had to tell him about his circumstances for being at the manor. So, he spent a bit more time with Akaashi, hoping that he didn’t have to finish the portrait so early. That was until Akaashi.

“He’ll likely be in bed all day,” Mikoto said, telling Bokuto the news over breakfast when he asked why Akaashi wasn’t there. “That should give you enough time to finish the portrait by tomorrow, right?” she looked up at him over her breakfast. Bokuto swallowed.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. For once, he wasn’t excited to get back to finishing a painting.

“Good. Keiji’s father has called for me to meet him in Kyushu. I set out to leave tomorrow after breakfast. If you like, I could be the one to tell Keiji about your… background,” she said, spreading butter on a slice of bread. He could tell that she was relieved, probably, knowing that she’d be rid of her sickly son. ‘No, that’s not it,’ Bokuto mentally shook his head, reminding himself that Akaashi Mikoto was simply doing her job as a mother and as someone concerned about the wealth of her family. She wasn’t a bad woman, Bokuto just somehow bitterly considered her as one.

“It’s alright, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto shook his head. “I’ll tell him myself.”

Mikoto smiled at him. Immediately, she looked years younger, just like the woman in the portrait that hung in the library. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I trust that it hasn’t been easy, having to paint a portrait of my son without having him pose. I have no doubt that the portrait will be lovely, but I’m not looking forward to seeing the look on Keiji’s face after realizing what I’ve done.”

“Neither am I,” Bokuto smiled ruefully. “Forgive me for this but, I believe I’ve come to see him as a friend these past few weeks.”

“I know he sees you as one too,” Mikoto nodded, looking out the window. “I forbade him from going to the beach for years, fearing that something would happen to him. I couldn’t accompany him and Kageyama’s the only household staff who manages the property. These days, you can tell how excited he is in the morning. He doesn’t say it but you can see it in his eyes.”

Bokuto smiled wistfully. In his portrait, he tried to capture the small smile that would come up on Akaashi’s face whenever he was excitedly wading in the beach or showing Bokuto something new. But as successful as he was in picturing it, it didn’t translate in the portrait. The Akaashi Keiji there had a stern expression on his face, his eyes staring blankly. It was still a good portrait, but Bokuto knew that something was lacking.

After breakfast, he spent more than an hour adding the finishing touches on the portrait and looking at it from afar. He was finished with the portrait, but he didn’t want to tell Mikoto or her son yet. Instead, Bokuto ventured off into the kitchens where Kageyama was busy preparing lunch. With going to the beach with Akaashi and being locked in his room working on the portrait, Bokuto saw very little of Kageyama. Knowing that he’ll be leaving soon after giving the portrait to Mikoto, Bokuto felt that he should have at least one conversation with the butler.

“Bokuto-san,” Kageyama looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “Is there anything you need?”

“Just water,” Bokuto said. “It’s alright, I can get some myself.” Kageyama nodded and Bokuto filled his cup at the tap near the stove before sitting at the long wooden table inside the kitchen. There was a bowl of potatoes, a chopping board, and a knife on the table. “Do these need peeling?” Bokuto asked, picking one up and, without waiting for an answer, picked up the knife.

“Please don’t trouble yourself with that, Bokuto-san,” Kageyama said hurriedly. “You still have the young master’s portrait to finish.”

“It’s already finished,” Bokuto smiled up at him. “And believe it or not, squinting at a canvas with a brush full of paint gets tiring after a while. I’m a pretty good assistant in the kitchen as well,” he said, peeling the potato. “But I’m a terrible cook.” A small smile flitted across Kageyama’s face. He sat at the table in front of Bokuto and cubed the peeled potatoes.

“How long have you worked here?” Bokuto asked, hoping to initiate conversation.

“A good five years,” Kageyama answered. “The previous butler was a good friend of mine but he decided to work in a much livelier household.” Bokuto quirked his lips slightly.

“And you don’t mind having a less-lively household?”

“It’s quite ideal, actually. I only have two people to wait upon. Both of them don’t require much, except for when the young master falls ill. The pay is good and the room and board is free,” Kageyama answered. “And the beach is just outside for me to visit.”

“It makes me sad knowing that Akaashi hasn’t visited the beach at least once before I came,” Bokuto said.

“Yes,” Kageyama nodded, pausing with his work to look up at Bokuto. “He’s… a lonely man. I’ve kept wondering again and again if maybe I could have tried to befriend him but… that would be imposing of me.”

“Akaashi probably wouldn’t mind,” Bokuto said. Kageyama blinked at him in surprise before smiling.

“Seeing how lively he is now with you as company, I agree.” Again, Bokuto felt regret in the back of his throat.

“Do you… do you think he’ll hate me after I tell him that I’m painting his portrait?” Bokuto asked. Kageyama pursed his lips.

“I don’t know the answer to that. But I have a feeling he will be disappointed,” he said, scooping up the cubed potatoes and adding them into the pot on the stove. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Would you like me to take it to your room?”

“No need,” Bokuto shook his head and then, an idea popped into his head. “I could take Akaashi’s lunch to his room.”

“Bokuto-san, you don’t need to—”

“Trouble myself, I know,” Bokuto nodded. “But I’m finished with the portrait and there’s nothing else for me to do. Also…” he sighed. “I know it’s pretty useless but maybe I could make amends with Akaashi this way?”

“He would appreciate it,” Kageyama said.

Bokuto carefully carried the tray of Akaashi’s lunch: soup with chicken and potatoes, and a roll of bread, upstairs to his room. It just occurred to him that he had never been to Akaashi’s room before and seldom even went to the second floor. Bokuto paused in front of it before knocking once, twice, thrice.

“Akaashi?” he spoke. “I, uh, brought—”

“Come in.”

Bokuto opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect when it came to Akaashi’s room but once he was inside, the whole space undeniably felt as if it belonged to Akaashi. The number of books in his bedroom was probably a quarter of what was in the manor’s library. Bokuto felt himself smile, knowing he found the source of the gaps in the bookshelves. The curtains on the window were drawn back, letting in a good amount of light. There was a small table pushed near the window and on it was a vase full of wildflowers. Bokuto recognized them as the ones that Akaashi had picked in the fields the other day. The owner of the room himself was sitting up in bed, wearing a maroon robe, with a book on his lap.

“I brought your lunch,” Bokuto said, lifting up the tray.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, his voice sounded hoarse and weak. Bokuto set down the tray at his nightstand and sat down on the chair near his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Akaashi shrugged, there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he was teasing Bokuto.

“Care to elaborate?” he chuckled.

“I think it’s the usual flu,” Akaashi sighed. “Aches, fever, all that good stuff. Nothing new.”

“Well, you better eat to maintain your strength,” Bokuto said, gesturing to the tray. Akaashi smiled wryly and lifted it to his lap. While he ate, Bokuto looked over at the books on his nightstand. Most of them were books on philosophy and political science. Except for one with a deep, burgundy jacket and a well-worn spine. “Greek Myths and Legends,” Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s my favorite book from my collection,” Akaashi said, sipping some broth from his spoon. “My father had gifted it to me personally before we left our previous estate.”

“I didn’t take you for a fan of legends,” Bokuto said.

“They’re the best things to read,” Akaashi cocked his head. “They’ve been around longer than any scientific theory or philosophy. The very beginnings of how men and women attempted to make sense of a world they didn’t understand yet.”

“When you put it that way…” Bokuto reached out a hand. “May I?” Akaashi nodded his permission and Bokuto carefully extracted the book from the pile and thumbed through the pages. He could tell that the book was worth quite a lot. From the thick, cream-colored pages, the title that was written in perfect calligraphy, to the colored, watercolor illustrations. The fact that this book wasn’t behind a display case, well-worn from reading and placed on a nightstand said a lot about Akaashi. Bokuto flipped to a random page. “The Myth of Prometheus,” he read aloud. In front of him, Akaashi smiled and leaned back in his bed.

“’There lived a titan named Prometheus, the supreme trickster and the god of fire,’” he recited out loud. ‘Of course he remembers it word by word,’ Bokuto thought, smiling to himself as he continued where Akaashi left off.

“’He was tasked by Zeus to form man from earth and water, and he did so. But Prometheus, the titan, grew fond of his creation…’” And so, Bokuto continued reading, not stopping until he reached the end of the myth when Prometheus was sentenced to his punishment of being chained to a rock while an eagle feasted on smalleaccompanying illustration of Prometheus’s punishment.

“Zeus always was the most bloodthirsty of the three major gods,” Akaashi chuckled dryly. “It’s a good story. While it is meant to be a cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the orders of a god, it does bring to light the need for situations wherein such transgressions are necessary.” He paused and turned to look at Bokuto. “What do you think about it, Bokuto-san?”

“Well, I always thought it was about…love?” he said uncertainly. In all honesty, the only time he ever encountered the myth was when his master retold it to him. Greek myths were always the subject of many painting commissions so Bokuto was trained to be familiar with them. The hard part when it came to painting them was adding that slight variation, the artist’s interpretation of the myth.

“Love?” Akaashi echoed. “You seem to be quite the romantic, Bokuto-san.”

“I-I mean,” Bokuto stammered, thinking of a good reason. “Prometheus was in that whole predicament because he loved his own creation too much, right? And it’s almost impossible to love something you created.” It was true, he knew that much, especially among painters. Sometimes that love gets to the point that it was impossible for him to find imperfections in his work, or even fathom being separated from the painting. In the end, most of the paintings Bokuto loved would end up in the hands of the people who paid for it. “It would be cruel of him to deny his own creations that fire, and Prometheus knew the consequences for it. I bet even after being chained to that rock, he would still make that same decision again if he could.” When he finished, he found Akaashi looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

“You’re quire right,” he said. “It’s an interesting take on the myth. I never would have thought of it but then again, I’m not a creator.” The look on Akaashi’s face seemed to lay bare Bokuto’s secrets.

“D-do you have any other favorite myths?” Bokuto asked, hoping to change the subject. “I could read a couple more for you if you like.” Akaashi placed his tray back on the nightstand and folded his hands over his lap.

“That would be nice Bokuto-san. Could you turn to page three-hundred and twenty?”

“’The Twelve Labors of Heracles,”’ Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s a long one. Are you up for it?” a corner of Akaashi’s mouth was turned up in a smile.

“Of course I am,” Bokuto returned the smile. He’s never been much of a reader, especially after being taught by the older painters at his master’s studio and even then, he had been slow when it came reading and writing. At first, Bokuto winced as he stumbled over some of the words but Akaashi kindly helped him through it and didn’t seem to mind. He was quite good at making up voices for characters like Pan, the satyr or Medusa that cracked a smile on Akaashi’s face. Before he knew it, it was already dinnertime when Kageyama brought up their food. Mikoto came in once to take Akaashi’s temperature and before leaving the room, she made eye contact with Bokuto who hgave the most imperceptible of nods. ‘Yes, the painting is done,’ it meant, and Bokuto was back to contemplating how to break the news to Akaashi.

“Something the matter, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. They were both still eating dinner at the table near his bedroom window. Akaashi looked visibly better than he looked earlier.

“I…” Bokuto swallowed and felt his hand curl into a fist on his lap. “Akaashi… I-I haven’t exactly been truthful to you.” Silence fell, Akaashi stopped what he was doing and looked at Bokuto, waiting patiently for him to finish. It only made Bokuto even more nervous. “You see, I’m actually—”

“Another painter that my mother hired,” Akaashi interrupted him. Bokuto’s eyes went wide.

“You… you knew?”

Akaashi pursed his lips and reached for Bokuto’s hand, the one that was still on the table. His hand was smaller and more delicate against Bokuto’s hands, his touch feather-light. “As much as you scrub your hands, you can’t quite erase all of the charcoal and paint stains completely, nor the smell of turpentine.”

“Ahaha, I should have been more careful then,” Bokuto laughed nervously and stopped when he saw the expression on Akaashi’s face: it was the picture of melancholy, and Bokuto felt his heart ache. Did he still choose the befriend him even after knowing his intentions? “I… I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.

“Why are you apologizing?” Akaashi looked up to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t need to be so civil around me since you knew what my intentions were,” Bokuto said. “Your mother told me that you constantly evaded the other painters’ and refused to pose for them to delay your wedding.”

“That is true,” Akaashi nodded, taking his hand back. Bokuto’s hand quickly felt the loss of warmth. “But shouldn’t I say the same for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to befriend me either. All you had to do was to paint my portrait in secret. You could have quickly denied my requests to go to the beach or ask my mother to keep me occupied for as long as you wanted.” The candlestick on their table was their only light source in the room and it illuminated Akaashi’s features so clearly and Bokuto felt every word he said. “Or is it, you just did those so I would trust you and for your cover not to be blown.”

“I…” Bokuto could hardly find the words. It was just like the first time they met, when they talked over breakfast before going to the beach. Except, Bokuto knew there was something at stake, only he didn’t know precisely what that was. Akaashi Keiji was just another one of his clients. Bokuto’s job would be finished tomorrow and he would go back to his studio with his money and he would wait for his next commission and in a few years, he wouldn’t even remember Akaashi Keiji among the other paintings he would make.

And so, he decided on his reply.

“Yes. You’re right.” He steeled himself for the look of hurt on Akaashi’s face, maybe a few things he would shout. ‘Those are momentary. I would forget about them later on,’ he thought. Instead, Akaashi leaned back in his seat and turned his head to the window.

“I see,” was all he said. And for some reason, that was worse.

“Akaashi—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Akaashi cut him off, he was still looking out the window. “You may retire to your rooms now, Bokuto-san. You’ll have to travel home tomorrow.”

Bokuto swallowed hard and stood up, murmuring a ‘good night’ before leaving Akaashi’s room, running down the stairs, and entering his own room. He was out of breath and livid. ‘Why am I letting that get to me?’ he thought. With every breath he inhaled, an image of Akaashi came to mind. The intense look on his face when he was trying to figure out of Bokuto was lying. The pure excitement at seeing the beach. The hesitance giving way to confidence as he waded into the water. The pucker of his lips when he tasted the sea. The pure concentration as he hunted for hermit crabs. The movement of his lips when he said Bokuto’s name.

Without even realizing it, Bokuto found himself standing in front of Akaashi’s portrait. ‘Painters have an instinct,’ he remembered his master telling him when Bokuto made his first oil painting of a landscape. ‘A lot of us can tell when something is wrong with what we’ve painted. Not when it comes to the technical skills like light or shading. But it pertains to whether we’ve successfully captured a scene that’s alive, and all scenes are, on canvas.’ With his instinct, Bokuto could instantly tell that the portrait he painted of a man with a stiff expression on his face and no light behind his eyes, was not Akaashi.

Bokuto picked up his turpentine-soaked rag that he used to clean his brushed and held it over the face in the portrait. With one swift motion, he swiped it off.

…

He barely slept that night, knowing for sure that he was going to lose his job the next morning. He was going to be one of those painters who had left the estate empty-handed and frustrated, after getting so close. Yet try as he might, Bokuto knew that he didn’t regret destroying the portrait. So maybe, he could return with his head held high.

After stealing a few hours of sleep, Bokuto woke up to wash himself as best as he could and change into a clean shirt. He did all of this without looking at the portrait. Kageyama called him for breakfast and Bokuto steeled himself to face Mikoto and Akaashi. She attempted to make conversation over breakfast and yet he’d nod once in a while and pick at his breakfast, choosing not to acknowledge Bokuto who felt a deep ache in his chest.

Finally, it was time to unveil the portrait. Bokuto knew that he could simply tell Mikoto that he chose to change it in the last minute but on the other hand, he wanted Akaashi to see what he had done. So, he covered the portrait with a cloth and met them in the library to unveil the finished product.

“Bokuto Koutarou!” Mikoto exclaimed indignantly. She was clearly frustrated and Bokuto couldn’t blame her. She has gone through this same scenario a few times over. “You said you finished the portrait.”

“I did,” Bokuto nodded stiffly. “But… it wasn’t satisfactory enough.”

“You could have left that up for me to decide,” Mikoto huffed. Bokuto glanced over at Akaashi to find that the corner of his mouth had turned up in a smile. ‘Maybe this was his plan all along,’ Bokuto wondered. But it didn’t matter now. “Clearly, you are just like all the other painters who have come here. I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

Bokuto nodded again, taking the cloth to cover up the portrait when Akaashi spoke up, saying something that neither Bokuto nor Mikoto could have expected.

“I’ll pose for him.”

Bokuto stopped and turned to face him. Akaashi was looking directly at him with a look of mild amusement on his face.

“You will?” Mikoto asked.

“I will,” Akaashi nodded. “I think… it’s time I put off this marriage long enough,” he explained. And yet, Bokuto didn’t quite believe he was telling the truth.

“Oh, Keiji,” Mikoto’s voice softened as she held her son’s face in her hands and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

“I know, Mother,” Akaashi said stiffly.

“As much as I would like to ask ‘why now?’, I really must get going,” Mikoto straightened up and looked at Bokuto this time. “I will be gone for two weeks. I expect a fully-finished portrait by the time I return.”

“I shall not disappoint,” Bokuto bowed.

“Good,” Mikoto nodded.

“Let me walk you to the ship, Mother,” Akaashi said, offering her his arm. Before leaving the room, Akaashi glanced once at Bokuto and with an imperceptible incline of his head, gestured for him to follow. An hour later, Mikoto and her luggage, which Bokuto helped Kageyama with, were loaded in the ship waiting for her at the docks. After the ship set sail, Kageyama was the first to head back to the house. Bokuto stayed with Akaashi as they watched the ship sail into the distance. He had a million questions for him but for now, all he could feel was relief. As Bokuto watched the way the wind swept through Akaashi’s hair, he knew that he wouldn’t mind looking at him for the next two weeks.

…

They started working on the portrait the next day. Kageyama offered to push the long table from the dining room to the side since it was the most well-lit room in the estate. In the middle, they added a chair and a low table for Akaashi to pose on. Bokuto set up his easel and spare canvas at the side, grateful at being able to paint in good lighting after having to work secretly in his own room. He began painting the background of the portrait with broad strokes of a maroon color to keep busy when Akaashi walked inside.

To say that he looked stunning was an understatement. Before Bokuto began his first portrait, Mikoto had shown him the suit that Akaashi was supposed to wear: a dark emerald green with golden buttons and a crisp white shirt meant to be worn with the color turned up. Seeing Akaashi actually wearing it was a different story. The suit hugged him perfectly, accentuating the slight curves in his waist with the high collar just reaching the bottom of his chin. Akaashi had combed his hair back just slightly which showed off his forehead.

“You look…” Bokuto began to say before stopping himself quickly. “Ready.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nodded curtly, unaware of how good he looked. “If you would…” he gestured to the chair in the center of the dining room and Bokuto hurried to pose him.

“Sit slightly forward in the chair,” he instructed. “Back straight. You can rest your elbow on the table if you want but the other hand, please keep on your lap.” Akaashi followed the instructions. “Lastly,” Bokuto reached a hand out to touch Akaashi’s shoulder to tilt him slightly towards the canvas. He was aware of how close Akaashi’s face was and that he was probably staring at Bokuto. ‘In all my years of painting, have I ever worked someone as beautiful as this?’ he wondered, before shaking the thought of his head and backing away to survey the pose. “Good, perfect,” Bokuto nodded before returning to his canvas.

“What expression should I have on my face?” Akaashi asked.

“A neutral expression would be ideal,” Bokuto answered, quickly painting an outline on the canvas. “If you get uncomfortable in your position please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. “Am I… allowed to speak?”

Bokuto glanced up at him and back to the painting. “Of course,” he swallowed before continuing. “I have you to thank for my job.”

“I didn’t do it for your job,” he heard Akaashi speak. Bokuto bit his lip. This wasn’t an ideal position for them to have this conversation.

“Then… why?” Bokuto asked.

“I should ask why you decided to destroy the portrait of me.”

“That… That’s because the person I painted wasn’t you,” Bokuto answered. “I didn’t want it to be the work I submitted.”

“I see…” Akaashi said. He had the same amused expression on his face as he had when he saw the portrait unveiled to him. “It’s just the opposite of what Prometheus did.” Bokuto paused his work to listen. “In your disgust at your creation, you opted to destroy it. Such is the mind of a creator.” There was a wry smile playing on Akaashi’s lips.

“It wasn’t disgust,” Bokuto contradicted him. “It was… a lack of attachment more like.”

“How come?” Akaashi cocked his head ever so slightly, his pose still undisturbed.

“Because my subject wasn’t aware of being painted,” Bokuto smiled, finally deciding to meet Akaashi’s gaze. Surprise flickered there, and then mirth.

“That better be a good portrait then.”

“It will be.”

They were able to finish a good amount of the portrait in that afternoon before Akaashi grew tired of posing. Bokuto was about to offer to go to the beach again but stopped when Akaashi headed straight for his room. ‘Maybe he doesn’t forgive me quite yet,’ Bokuto thought with a sigh, only for those thoughts to end when Akaashi asked him to have dinner in his room, especially since the dining table was out of use. It was a relief to see Akaashi engaged with him in conversation. The book of “Greek Legends and Myths” were still on the nightstand where Bokuto had left it. And somehow, with Mikoto out for two weeks, Bokuto felt as if he wanted to stay in that manor forever.

Before going straight to his room, he decided to pass by the dining room to look at the portrait again. He had worked fast, completing a few days’ work in just one day. The sensation of not wanting to leave was even stronger and Bokuto felt a hard lump in his throat. He walked briskly past the dining room when a small voice whispered in the back of his head: ‘Turn around.’

Bokuto spun around and caught sight of Akaashi standing in the far end of the room. Only, he was pale and almost transparent, and wearing an elaborate suit. Bokuto blinked once and then the vision was gone.

#across the sea #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #portrait of a lady on fire!au #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! oneshot #across the sea: act I #bokuaka fanfic

44 notes · View notes