#all of this is my own fault but this is my space yo complain so complain i will | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punks-never-die205 · 9 months

Text

Unseen

afab!reader x Killer

CW: canon-typical violence, smooches, sexy times, second go at life try again style story, 18+ only

Chapter 9: Unseen

You tilt your head to the side as another pea goes by it, a small smirk on your face. You hear Boogie grumble, and you catch the second one he throws out of the air.

"You have to be able to see, Brat." He grouses.

You laugh. "I'm telling you, it's just observation haki." You level your fork at him. "Plus, you keep giving yourself away, all that grumbling."

It had been a couple weeks since the explosion at the marine base. You've adjusted well, and half of that was because you could feel the guilt radiating off Hip and Hop, and it wasn't their fault at all, even if you were sore as hell and concerned about your sight, you didn't want to let it show. You had been worried that Killer was going to start avoiding you, but he was by your bedside when you woke up and he hadn't left your side much since then.

A few days ago, you finally got him to give you enough space he could go back to doing his duties properly. The two of you had also had a few heavy conversations, and in one of them you made him promise that he wouldn't resent Kid no matter if your vision returned or not.

"You sure you're ready to get back to work?" Hop asks as you get up to take your plate back.

You smile, ruffling her hair with a free hand. "Yeah, I'm plenty healed up and House cleared me for work today."

"Light work," Killer corrects from the kitchen.

"See?" You shrug. "Don't fret."

Setting your plate down, you grin as Killer takes your hand and leaves the mess hall with you. You haven't complained about him escorting you from place to place on the ship, even if you could make your way around just fine on your own. You both knew it too, but the warmth of his hands around your own is comforting, and you honestly hoped he never stopped escorting you places.

Light work on the deck went well enough. You made Killer a little nervous when you clamored up the rigging and got into the bird's nest the old-fashioned way, but he didn't stop you. Geppo'ing was a little difficult when you were relying on observation haki, breaking your connection with a solid surface made visualizing the world around you difficult.

Dive was up in the crow's nest and gave you a hand up and into it.

"You came up here just to give Killer hell, didn't you brat?" His question came with a light tone. He wasn't scolding you for it.

"Maybe a little." You admit. "He's been doing well to balance how much he wants to protect me and how much he should, so I'm trying to not be too mean. How's he looking down there?"

"Talking to Emma, though from the looks of it she's teasing the hell out of him. How're you holding up?" Dive asks.

"Well enough. I do hope I'll be able to see again soon, but if this is the new normal for me then there's not much I can do about it." You shrug, patting around the edge of the crow's nest. "If I didn't have observation haki I would probably be handling this a lot worse."

"That's fair... Uh, brat?"

"Yeah Dive?" You reply, stepping up onto the edge of the nest.

"Don't you dare."

"Boy it's a shame you can't stop me, Dive." You sat with a grin, leaping off the nest and into the open air. You were reaching out with your haki as strongly as you could, but you didn't need to push. Killer was practically a beacon of energy from the moment your foot left the crow's nest.

To his credit, he wasn't trying to catch you. You imagine he's looking as calm as possible, but his haki flares the way Kid's emotions do, whether he's aware of it or not. You air walk before you reach the deck and land lightly beside Killer with a smile.

"You said it was harder to see when you're not physically connected to something." He states flatly. His annoyance was obvious to you, but only because you could see his haki bristle.

"It is." You admit. "Harder, not impossible. You felt it, right? I really pushed out with my haki when I jumped."

Killer sighs and ruffles your hair. "I did. But," his hands went to your shoulders, "House said light work."

You put your hands up in front of you and there's a laugh in your reply. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I will refrain from acrobatics for a few more days, I promise."

"Oi! Brat!" Kid yells from the cabins, sounding to be in better spirits than he had for some days. You turn toward the sound of his voice, and Killer takes your hand leading you over. Apparently, Kid looks as improved as he sounds, and as you approach you felt his hand ruffle your already ruffled hair. You probably looked a mess between the two of them.

"Heat and Wire are adjusting our course, we're meeting up with that creepy surgeon." He says as you run your fingers through your hair to try and fix it a bit. "Tomorrow we'll know."

A fear zips through your heart that you were hoping hadn't made it to your smile. Tomorrow could be the end of your hope, if the doctor wasn't able to restore your sight, then there would be nothing left. If the Ope-Ope fruit couldn't see it happen, then medically it wasn't going to happen.

"You alright, brat?" Kid questions. You weren't keeping the face you had wanted to.

"Yeah, just... nervous, I guess."

"I can have House assist." Kid offers.

"No, no. It's," you laugh a little and are grateful it's not forced. "This guy's doing us a favor, no need to make it seem like we don't trust his skills." Not trusting his skills was different from not trusting him though. "But can Killer be there?"

"I'll make it work." Killer promises, squeezing your hand.

The day seemed to take forever to end. As though every second that ticked by sat on the edge of marching forward for a moment before moving on. Skipping dinner didn't help things, and you weren't going to get breakfast either. It was going to be the longest hours of your life, and at the end of it there would be no going back.

You would see. Or you wouldn't.

You had wandered around the ship almost listlessly for the rest of the day. You couldn't feign cheer or force a smile. The weight of tomorrow was already heavy on your shoulders, and there was little to be done about it. Even Killer was giving you more space than he had since you were first welcomed aboard the ship.

The cool breeze of evening brushes against your skin, and you decide to turn in early. Your feet carry you almost automatically. Your haki is exhausted, but even without it you knew the layout of the ship down to the last step and so long as no one had left anything in your way, you would be fine. Since the raid, the ship had been cleaner than ever, and it wasn't as though the crew slouched on keeping Victoria tidy.

There was some comfort to be found in knowing everyone was looking out for you. However, the idea of them needing to be mindful of you for the rest of your life left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want to dramatically decide to leave the crew, it wouldn't be safe for you in the first place, and second to that you already knew no one would resent you staying. No matter what your capacity was.

As your hand turns the knob you stopped for a moment. This wasn't your door, but it was one you knew well – or well enough. Your feet had brought you to Killer's room, and not your own. You'd never been one to fight your own instincts, so you continue turning the knob and let yourself in.

You pat around a bit, to be sure you didn't disturb anything, and make your way to the bed. Supper wasn't that long ago, and if Killer wasn't still eating, he would be stuck cleaning up for a good bit. Tired as you were, you made yourself comfortable in his bed, and drifted off to sleep.

** Killer's PoV **

I hadn't expected the softly sleeping form of (Y/N) to be in my bed when I returned to my room. Something about it squeezed my heart painfully, but I wasn't sure why. I knew I cared for her deeply, I was even willing to admit the feeling was love, dangerous as that emotion is.

She looked so helpless. I knew she wasn't. I know her skill in haki was enough that she could still be a fully functional member of the crew – assuming she wanted to stay. She didn't blame anyone for what had happened, but the fact of the matter is that we created the circumstances that had stolen her sight.

Sitting down beside her, I brush her hair away from her face. I would give anything to see Kid become the King of Pirates, but I would give Kid to the devil himself if it restored her sight, and that scared me. Not because I felt it was wrong to think that way, but because I knew she would be mad at me.

"Eustass is the Captain, he has to be the priority for both of us or it's not gonna work."

I felt her hand wrap around my waist as she curled against me. There wasn't any indication that she had woken up. Only that she'd sought warmth and I was the warmest thing within reach. The grunt of a chuckle that escapes me is hardly more than a rough snort of air, close as I've dared to laugh in years. Pulling myself free of her hands I stand up, freezing for a moment as she mumbles.

"No, you gotta lemme..." She mutters sleepily, reaching out for where I was. "Braid ya hair... an' paint yer nails..."

I take off my mask with a sigh. I almost hoped she was dreaming about tormenting Kid, and yet, I hoped more that it was me.

Walking around to the other side of the bed I laid down behind her, pulling her back against my chest and wrapping my arms around her. The sleepy sound of my name tumbled from her lips and she fell into a steady rhythm of breathing.

You wake slowly in the morning and a steady heat fills your face as you realize you're tangled in the long limbs of your favorite pirate. You shift a little to move the blankets away. Killer's body heat is enough to melt the poles, but you don't want to untangle yourself just yet.

There's a soft groan, that rumbles against your back, and the long limbs wrapped around you hug you close for a moment before loosening a little.

"Good morning, handsome." You murmur softly.

"Morning, (Y/N), how'd you sleep?"

"Well enough, and longer than you, I'm sure." You reply. "I'd apologize for climbing into your bed uninvited, but -." You let the sentence drop, certain that the current situation proves your point.

"Mm, seems I'll need to soundproof my room and requisition a bigger bed." Killer muses, rubbing your hip and nuzzling into the side of your neck.

"I appreciate your positive outlook on how the day will go," you say, turning and kissing his cheek. You felt him flinch a little, but he cups your face and steals your lips, causing you turn more toward him. A content moan fills your throat and you let your back fall onto the mattress as you feel him over you, his hands and knees on either side of you, errant locks of his wild hair brushing against you.

While you two hadn't been apart since the explosion, you hadn't been intimate either. Whether it was guilt that held him back, or simply following the doc's orders, you hadn't been sure, and asking him seemed rude, all things considered. A bit like kicking the guy while he was down.

Killer's hands grip the sheets on either side of you, and you can feel frustration rising up in him. You reach up for him, stopping your hands before they reach his face, only to have him lean down and nuzzle his check into your hand. The skin is wet, and the reason why is obvious even before he speaks.

"I shouldn't have waited."

"There was no way to know." You reassure him.

"I know." His voice is filled with frustration.

"To me," you begin, brushing your fingers along his cheek, "it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what is under the mask, I have already lost. The sound of your voice, the warmth of your hands, the kindness in your limbs, the passion in your lips – I fell so hopelessly in love, that I knew it didn't matter.

"If I never see your face, if you're covered in scars, if you're beautiful and simply self-conscious of it, if you had three eyes, or whatever else I could think of." You smile, urging him to lean down so you could kiss him.

You hear Killer suck in a breath and his hands clasp yours, pushing them and you into the mattress. In a swift motion his hair is shifted away and hungry hot lips claim yours. The rush of heat and pressure causes you to gasp, and Killer wastes no time in deepening the kiss. The room is filled with the quiet moans of you both.

When the kiss breaks, you're both breathing heavy. You can feel the heat in your face, and Killer kisses your forehead gently before resting his forehead on your shoulder as he pulls you into a hug. The mane of his hair falls over your face a little, but it doesn't bother you.

"No matter what happens today, (Y/N), I don't want you to leave the crew." Killer states softly. "I won't stop you, whatever you decide, but I wanted to at least say that much."

The two of you stay like that a little longer, letting whatever the day was going to bring stay shut out on the other side of the door for just a moment more.

#Unseen #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #x reader #reader insert #one piece fanfiction #canon au

8 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 years

Text

crush

pov. you have a crush on your brother’s best friend

request. Hi! Congrats on 2.4k!!🤩 For the event, may I request an au where reader is Yuuta’s sister? Can be gn/fem reader anything is fine. And they fall in love with Toge? Fluff fluff fluff please

notes. awww i love this request, i have a fat crush on toge so i enjoyed writing this! i made this a modern high school au, by the way!

You stare disappointedly at the black wrappings of your bento, sighing because your brother took the wrong one again. Waving goodbye to your friend, you made your way to your brother’s classroom, knocking on the door to get his attention. However, it isn’t your brother who’d stopped laughing mid-conversation. Instead, it’s a familiar-looking platinum haired guy, his purple eyes glimmering with mischief as he slapped your brother’s arm.

“Yo, Yuta, I think someone’s looking for you,” you heard him say.

Meanwhile, you just stood there blankly, your throat growing dry because he was cute – like actually handsome boy-next-door cute.

You’ve met lots of cute guys before, but they were all very immature that you found no interest in others. He, on the other hand, was nothing less of polite, shooting up from his seat because your stupid brother was too invested in his video games. The guy flashed you a bright smile, the beauty of his face up close enhanced that you felt your heart squealing.

Not that you’d ever show that, of course, so you just reciprocated with a polite smile to hide your frantic nerves.

“Hi! You here for Yuta-kun?”

“Y-yes.”

Before he could speak, an arm had shoved him aside. Yuta stood before you, his frown apparent while his friend stayed at the side, a smile still playing on his lips. It took all your energy to not stare at him too much in fear he’d easily read through you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“You swapped lunches with me,” you shoved the black bento box to his chest, stepping closer to your brother to whisper in his ear. “Is that a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, he’s Toge. He used to play with us a lot before he moved away, but his family’s back in town. Don’t you remember him?”

“No…”

“Toge, come here!” he called out to his retreating friend, the guy freezing in his tracks before he jogged up to where you were quickly. Oh crap, you kept gushing, he really was cute. He placed an arm around your brother’s shoulder, nodding at you as a greeting. “Remember my sister? You used to play with her a lot when we were kids. You kept stealing her Barbies, remember?”

“I did?” Toge looked shocked, his back bending into a fake bow. “I’m very sorry for that, but don’t worry, I don’t do that anymore.”

“I don’t play with Barbies at this age!” you defended, heat spreading all over your skin when he winked at you. Both of them laughed at your flushed face, and you crossed your arms on your chest, glaring at your brother. Really though, you were just trying to hide the fact you were very attracted to his friend, even more so now that he was actually familiar. “Stupid Yuta-nii.”

“You’re cute,” Toge randomly piped in.

If you were feeling shy before, you couldn’t speak now.

“Dude, don’t talk about my sister like that,” Yuta gagged, slapping his friend on the chest who effortlessly ducked away, his laughter like music in your ears. You stared at him for who knew how long, his happiness absorbed in your body as you found yourself giggling back. Yuta, on the other hand, wasn’t as impressed, rolling his eyes at his friend before turning to you. “You should go back to class. The bell will ring soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded quietly, hesitating for a moment. Surely it wouldn’t be too weird, right? Deciding to heck with it though, you balled your hands into fists, mustering the courage to look him in the eye as you said, “See you, Toge-senpai.”

He simply shrugged his brows up as a farewell, and just like that, you dashed down the hall so fast you put Quicksilver to shame.

Great. Out of all the days it had to storm, it had to be on the rare moment you forgot your umbrella. Unsurprisingly enough, it was Yuta’s fault for making you forget it. Both of you had slept in too much, but instead of being the responsible older brother, he left you to prepare the meals all by yourself while he spent half an hour fixing his hair. In your haste to arrive on school on time, you’d forgotten to pick up your umbrella, and now the misfortune of it slapped you right on the face.

“Tch, how can I go home?” you glared at no one in particular.

Yuta had to stay behind for baseball practice in the covered court, leaving you all alone to take the bus by yourself. Well, not that it mattered, going home alone was way better than listening to your brother rant about video games and girls he wanted to talk to in class.

Shifting your weight from one foot to another, brows pinched as you mulled on the different ways you could come back home, you came up with two options.

One, run like hell and risk getting sick from this weather, or two, wait for the rain to subside.

But ugh, you wanted to go home already. Before you knew it, you’d unknowingly pouted, arms hugged to yourself while you cursed your stupid brother a hundred times over in your head. Too lost in your own thoughts, you failed to hear humming from behind you, a scream nearly ripping from your lips when someone planted himself beside you.

“Hey, you’re here!”

You gazed up at him wide-eyed, subconsciously stepping away to keep your beating heart at bay. “H-hello, Toge-senpai.”

“Please, just call me Toge,” he offered, opening his umbrella before his eyes landed on you. Probably realizing you were quite helpless, Toge smiled, nudging you to come closer to him. “Hey, I’ll walk you home. You guys still live in the same block?”

“Yeah.”

And so there you were, debating that maybe Yuta’s carelessness wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, if it would lead to your crush taking you home, then you weren’t complaining. Funny how the weather seemed so gloomy, a huge contrast to the sunshine you radiated at the sheer happiness of living out your most romantic fantasies. It was silly, actually, to crush on your brother’s best friend of all people, but Toge was so nice and handsome – it was kind of impossible not to like him.

In the span of two weeks that you’d known him, he’d been nothing but friendly. And no, you weren’t going to admit you started visiting their classroom more often than before, simply because you wanted to get a glimpse of him.

Toge pulled you out of your lovesick trance, his arm landing on your waist before he shifted you beside him. You noticed he was now closer to the road while you were on the safer side of the sidewalk, and god, did he just step closer? He was close enough that your arms brushed with each step, sending a wave of heat that you bit back by tugging your lips with your teeth.

“For warmth,” he explained as if reading your mind, arm raised lazily in a shrug. “Wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, hiding your face under your scarf.

You and Toge were silent the whole time, but it was a silence you adored. Very rarely that you found comfort in silence with others, but with Toge, it felt so easy – so natural. You hadn’t even realized you were already at home, Toge chuckling at your spaced out self. He bid his farewell then, his back facing yours as he walked away when you blurted, “Oh, my parents aren’t home. I think you should stay first to let the rain calm down a bit. You live a little far from school, right?”

Toge looked a little surprised, his eyes shooting up to the sky with a sigh. Inwardly, you were screaming because you just invited him inside, but Toge was already waddling back to you before you could regret it.

“Yeah, thanks for the invitation. I don’t think I should go home in this weather too,” he said, following you across the threshold. He looked around in awe, his shoes left in the front door before he crossed the living room with you, his eyes shining with nostalgia and happiness. “Wow, your place hasn’t changed one bit. I missed being here.”

You flashed him a smile. Turns out it wasn’t that bad – Toge being comfortable made you comfortable. Aside from the nervousness partnered with shyness from having a crush, you applauded yourself for being able to look him in the eye as you asked, “Do you want tea, coffee…?”

“Water is fine. Thanks,” he shrugged off his jacket and placed it behind a chair, chuckling when you nodded too fast. Toge, much to your dismay (or delight?!) trailed behind you in the kitchen, having no business looking that handsome as he leaned against the counter. Him being unaware of his effect on you was even worse, and you bit the inside of your cheeks, trembling as you poured him a glass of water.

From behind you, Toge snickered, “Why are you so jittery? Do I make you nervous?”

“A-a little.”

“Why? Am I intimidating?” he appeared beside you out of nowhere, so close that you could count his lashes. You leaned back with a muffled squeal, eyes wide at the proximity. Toge, as always, seemed completely unaware of it, taking his time to assess your features with a hand on his chin as if all the answers he was looking for was written all over your face. “Yuta told me I was very easy to approach though.”

“No, it’s not that, I just…” you stuttered, giving in with weak knees and turning your head to the side. Your heart, your poor heart! “Crap, I hate myself.”

“You were saying something?”

“I, uhm, it’s just,” you panicked, mind failing to function now of all times. “I think…I have a crush on you?”

The room fell silent.

Realization dawning on you, you flattened your palms together in a begging motion. Toge merely blinked back at you, and you were so close to just kneeling to the gods to rid yourself of this moment forever. “Please forget everything I said, I’m so sorry! Gosh, Yuta’s going to kill me, forget I said anything, I didn’t mean to be weird.”

“Hey, chill, it’s fine!” he laughed, helping you get up just before you fell in exasperation. Then, he smirked at you, wiggling his brows in the process. “I kind of knew that anyway, to be honest.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean, you asked me to marry you when we were kids,” he informed you, but the memory never played back in your mind. It wasn’t a lie though, you really did ask him that when you were kids. Embarrassment taking hold of you, you groaned behind your palms, feeling like your heart was going to explode every now and then.

“Oh my gosh…”

“It’s okay,” Toge peeled your arms away from your face, his grin nothing less of teasing the moment he’s greeted by your shyness. “I did say yes – let’s just wait after high school, yeah?”

#inumaki toge x reader #toge x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #inumaki to/ge fluff #inumaki to/ge x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen romance #inumaki x reader #inumaki to/ge imagines #inumaki to/ge x reader imagines #inumaki to/ge romance #inumaki to/ge x reader romance #inumaki toge x reader romance #inumaki toge x reader fluff #inumaki toge imagines #PLEASEEE I LIKE HIM SO MUCH BRRRRR #suki: 2.4k milestone event

1K notes · View notes

ryosmne · 3 years

Text

Safe Place.

Yakuza! Nanami Kento x gn Reader

Hello everyone, this fic is in collaboration with my dear friend @sunfloweroranges you can read their fic here :D

I kind of changed my writing style for this one, I'm trying out different things so let me know how it goes, feedback is always welcome, that's all from me hope you have a good time reading 💜

Summary: You're clueless

Warnings: mentions of blood, mature themes, mentions of murder and head chopping, language, yandare Nanami if you squint.

Grocery shopping is never fun when you're alone, especially making your way back home in the cold winter months, it gets dark so early.

A slight twist of your gut had made you walk back home in a faster pace. Turning your head every couple of steps, you never saw anything, yet this feeling never left even when you got through the main entrance of your apartment complex.

The elevator was broken once more, and you were already out of breath from rushing back, as you took the first steps up, your next door neighbor, who looked way too scary for your own liking bumped your shoulder on his way down.

Jeez he's in a hurry today.

Mumbling a quick apology, even though he was the one that was at fault, you quickly found the strength to run up the stairs and lock yourself in. Some short of commotion was coming from outside the complex that you didn't really care to hear.

That pink haired guy, your neighbor, who was build like a damn door, always got himself in some short of trouble, hearing him yell profanities or even throwing punches was a far too often occurance.

Why did he have to live right next door?

It's safe to say you did the best to keep the hell away from him, not that he seemed to bother with you, neitherless he was fucking scary.

Kento was ten minutes late, he was never late, except for the days that he had to clean up someone's mess, the days someone underestimated the power he held or the days someone dared speak your name. He wouldn't even tell them 'dont you dare speak their name' or anything along those lines. There was no warning when it came to mentioning yo,u only taking immediate action.

Naturally you were in the dark about all of that, Kento -or Ken as you would often referred to him as- kept you far far away from the darkness of his world. That was his way of keeping you safe and at the same time having you as his personal way out of his work and in his defence he didn't completely lie about his employment. He was an investor, just a bit of a different stock market than what you had in mind.

As far as you knew, Nanami Kento was an extremely successful business man, he chalked up his tattoo covered body as just his preferred style, since he is this good at what he does, he likes to say that his work place doesn't give a damn about his ink covered skin and the expensive gifts that he always pressures you to accept are just another benefit of his high profile job.

"Darling, I hope you didn't start without me." Wrapping your arms around your extremely sweet boyfriend you left a small kiss on his lips watching as the corners tagged upwards in an equally sweet smile the moment your lips left his.

"Of course not Ken, it's Friday remember?" Fridays are the established date nights in, you and Kento cook and dine together. More often than not you end up slow dancing to some jazz, or with you laying on his chest Infront of the fireplace, listening to his heartbeat, talking about life while he strokes your hair until the dawn.

Tossing him an apron, after he -like the gentleman he is- tied yours, you got to work on today's dish: Chorizo carbonara.

"You're never late on Fridays, bad day at work?"

You spoke while slicing some papers.

"Yeah, the stocks are all over the place and it's getting me stressed, but it's our night darling, anything else isn't of importance."

Kento always found a way of distracting you when it came to talking about his day, he is always quite vague and when his palm rested on the small of your back gazing down at you with those adoring eyes, it's hard to keep focused on anything other than him.

"Why don't you tell me about your day love?"

He always asked you that, Kento is in awful need of the calm that the mundane life you live carries. He craves to feel that, he still loves the power he holds over people, the way the mare mention of his name makes others tremble in fear of what the man will do to them shall they not comply to his requests -more accurately orders-

"Thankfully work was pretty good today, I finished grocery shopping so we could cook, I got us that wine you really loved too. The neighbor is being weird again but that's not new, maybe moving out isn't a bad idea."

Everything was like music to Kento's ears untill that last sentence. You had mentioned moving out before, but Kento always found a way to convince you not to. The rent was good, this house is close to your work, he would always reason with you until you changed your mind. He never pushed too hard fearing that you'd suspect something, but you only smiled and ended up agreeing with him.

You see, unbeknownst to you, your weird neighbor is Nanami's most trusted man, he's protecting you twenty four hours a day, even as you walked up the stairs today he dealt with another threat that was headed right your way. No, you cannot move before you know everything, but Nanami can't bring himself to break your bubble, he loves you and you love him, the real him, he would never scare you by letting you take a peek at his point of view. Maybe he should run away with you afterall.

"He doesn't look that bad, love. I'm sure he wouldn't hurt a fly."

Nanami knew he was capable of a lot more than that but it was true, your neighbor was an ally and although he would hurt lots of people, you were on the list of people to be protected and Sukuna took his bosses orders very seriously.

"Besides, my love, anyone would have to get through me first before attempting to lay a finger on you."

With the way his lips moulded on yours and his velvety tone, how could you not believe every single word that just came out of his mouth. Kento would die before letting anything happen to you, that little statement helped bring you comfort.

"You must really love my house Ken, can you pass me the butter?"

The moment your back was turned, Kento let out a breath of relief. That little voice in his head he always pushed away yelled at him to tell you everything, he burried it in the back of his mind once more.

"Can you believe that? I swear she drives me insane- Ken are you listening to me?"

That was weird, Kento always gave you his full attention. Perhaps he was tired today.

"Yes darling, you were talking about that Satoru guy, the one who annoys you at work."

Yeah you were, but that was while you were still eating, about twenty minutes ago.

"Babe, you're tired, let's go to bed, we can pick up where we left off another time, you need to rest."

The habit of staying up all night on Fridays had really stuck, but sleeping when your partner clearly needed to, is very much on schedule although it rarely ever happened.

Getting up from the sofa, tagging at Kento's arm to follow you to the bedroom had Kento irritated at how concerned you grew for him. He still feels you're too good at times, all the time to be exact.

You only heard him sigh before he pulled you back on the sofa, having lost your balance in his sudden move, you landed on top of him.

"Stay with me a little longer my love, I'm sorry I spaced out, I'm all ears for you now."

Another invitation for you to just talk to him, he didn't care about what. Kento loved the tone of your voice, how it changed pitch depending on what emotion you held or what you were talking about. His voice was quite monotone, like everyone else's around him. He had to grow thick skin and throw away all short of feelings, but everything he locked away years ago came rushing back the moment he spilled coffee on you six months ago. You hadn't even complained about the burning sensation on your skin as he helped clean you up, you just gave Kento a smile telling him that everything was fine and these things happen.

In his world they don't, someone can breathe the wrong way and lose their head, all it took was your damn smile and that statement to get him to need something different than what he had. Kento never thought he missed a thing, he found out how wrong he was that very day.

Sometimes he wished he never took the time to help you out back then, but that was only because he didn't know that he'd put you through all this.

"So I'm just sat there in a staring contest over the last price of cake, I won but my eyes still feel a bit dry."

You laughed, Kento stared down at you with a fond smile, your head on his lap and your hands tangled in his, brushing his knuckles and examining every bit of his skin with such care, God you were beautiful all over.

While Kento's hands were very interesting a small detail in the cuff of his shirt got your stomach to drop.

"Ken, is that blood?"

He swore he cleaned up, he always cleaned up before coming back to you, he never missed a single splatter. Maybe rushing home after not one, but two people tried to harm you today put him on edge.

He had missed a single drop. He was absolutely disgusted that even that tiny part of someone who dared to say the name y/n out loud infront of him and even threatened your existence was anywhere near you.

"Sweetheart that's probably tomato sauce from cooking, thanks for pointing it out, you know I hate staining my clothes, I'll go change."

Your meal didn't contain tomato sauce.

Why was your gut telling you that something was off?

Kento seemed a bit tense tonight, was it just a bad day at work?

He never really conversed on his profession. The huge dragon that started from the back of his thigh, ended on his left shoulder covering his entire back was just his 'style'. You swore you heard him talk to the pink haired man who lived next door but he told you he was on the phone. Everything little bit of suspicious behaviour you had previously payed no mind to, came to you. On top of that what was his reason to lie about a drop of blood on his sleeve? He could've said it was a paper cut or something, Why did he lie?

Behind the bathroom door Kento only cursed at him self.

Why didn't he lie better?

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #yakuza nanami #au nanami kento #jjk drabbles #jjk anime #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen oneshot

170 notes · View notes

dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Prove Them Wrong | Reggie Peters

A/N: I got these two requests for a Reggie fic and decided to merge them together, I hope you don’t mind!

Request 1: Please i just want a fanfic of reggie discovering YouTube and uploading home is where my horse is video and the gang reacting to it since people absolutely love it

Request 2: Hi!! Can you do one where the reader is julies friend and is with her when the boys come back and her and Reggie have a instant connection and he follows her around and is always talking to her

Relationships: Reggie x Reader, Sunset Curve x Reader, JATP x Reader

Warnings: Fluff?

Words: 4,165

Your life has been pretty ordinary for the past 16 years. A life pretty much every person would call boring was a life you wouldn’t change for the world’s most expensive things. Until you met Reggie and the other boys from Sunset Curve. You say boys, but it would be much more accurate if you said ghosts. Sunset Curve was a ghost band from the 90’s that popped into your life one night when you were helping your best friend Julie clean up her mother’s studio.

2 months earlier…

A text from Julie comes in when you’re doing your homework on your bed whilst watching reruns of Friends on your laptop. The show makes for good background noise, you find. “911!” Worry rises within you as you read the call-for-help text from your best friend. “U ok?” you text back. Three dots begin dancing on the screen, raising suspense. “Do u wanna come help me clean out mom’s studio? :( x” A soft smile plays at your lips whilst more dots appear. “Don’t think I can do it by myself.” You close the Netflix app on your laptop and get up to put some proper pants on. You had the habit to kick your jeans off the second you got home. Prancing around in your underwear after a tough day at school has become one of your favorite things to do, but Julie might not appreciate that too much, nor would the neighbors. “OMW!” you quickly text back and hop into your Vans before heading down to the Molina house. You find your best friend behind the grand piano, looking up at the chair-decorated ceiling of the shed. Something Julie’s mom did with a superstitious meaning you’d kind of forgotten. Neither you nor Julie believed it, to be fair. “Hey,” you greet softly, making her look at you. A smile appears on her lips, glad you’d be willing to come over and help. Like you’ve been so many times last year when her mother died. You’d be there to listen to her talk about all the memories with her mom, or to hug her as she cried because she missed her. This is just another part of the grieving process she needs to get through, and you’re there to hold her hand all the way through it. “Are you okay?” you ask, walking towards the piano and leaning your forearms on it. “Yeah, it’s just a little weird to be here…” she says as her eyes start scanning the entire space. “There are so many memories of her in here.” Her fingers glide across the piano keys. “Yeah, I know,” you whisper, not wanting to bring up anything that might hurt her. You remember the days you’d come over to play with Julie and you’d hear her mom singing in her studio. You remember when you’d make music together with Carrie and her dad and Julie’s mom. There are so many unfinished songs about bunnies and puppies from when you were kids, and even some more recent ones about the person you had a crush on or about that boy that broke your heart when you were fifteen. Those songs are now stored away in the back of your mind, waiting for the day Julie would start singing again. Along with all those memories you put on tape. “Let’s get crackin’!” you tap the top of the piano in a rhythmic beat before stepping away and holding out your hands for Julie to take. The girl gets up from the stool behind the piano and carefully places her hand in yours. You pull her away from the piano and halt in the middle of the garage, looking up to the loft that suddenly seems very looming. Both of you know whatever’s up there is the ghost of a musician’s past, and not even Julie’s mom’s. No, all the instruments up there are from the people that used to live here. Julie never told you, but you’re certain Carrie’s dad used to live here when he was a child and sold his parents’ house to Julie’s parents when they died. You’d noticed the way Trevor always stood in the doorway, glancing around with soft eyes and a tender smile tugging at his lips. Almost like he’s reminiscing about his past. Besides, he’s accidentally slipped up a few times when talking about his childhood, saying he used to play around here with some of his buddies. No one else ever mentioned it, so you didn’t either. There’s probably a good reason for him not to speak about his past in too much detail. You climb up the stairs first and step up on the wooden floor, letting your eyes scan over all the junk up here. Keyboards, old guitars, drumsticks, even an entire drum kit, along with bags and backpacks, all strewn around the place. “Y/N,” Julie’s voice makes you snap out of your thoughts. You look down to find Julie still on the stairs, half of her body in he loft. She’s holding a CD up to show you. “Sunset Curve?” you read aloud from the black CD case. “Never heard of that band.” “Let’s give it a listen?” she suggests and after receiving an agreeing nod from you, she climbs down again, followed by yourself. She places the CD into the stereo whilst you sit down on the couch. Julie presses play and joins you. “1-2-3 Take off, last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge--” The music fades away as it’s overpowered by a loud screeching noise. You look over at Julie, who has her hands up to her ear to cover them from the noise. Your eyebrows knit together, confused as to what’s happening. It might just be a fault in the production of the song? Or maybe a scratch on the CD? Before you can even come up with a decent reason, a bright flash lights up the entire garage, followed by a loud thud. And, when you look up, you find three boys in the middle of the studio, scrambling up from where they’d come down harshly. You and Julie quickly get up from the couch, wanting to take a closer look at the scene in front of you. “Woah! How did we get back here?” One of them says, confused about his surroundings. Julie lets out an ear-piercing scream before running out of the garage, leaving you with those three boys. You have no clue what’s happening, and you don’t know what to do either. Should you run and hide like Julie? Or should you just wait and see if they have a reason for being here? “Hello!” one of them yells excitedly, making you snap out of your train of thoughts. It’s the dark-haired boy with the red flannel tied around his waist that’s talking to you. “I’m sorry, who are you and what are you doing in our studio?” Your eyes widen at this. They think this is their studio? “I-I’m… I’m sorry, gimme a second,” you say, holding up your finger. The boy nods curtly before you dash out of there too, running up to Julie’s room with the question haunting your head ‘Who are they? And why do they think it’s their studio?’ After a while, you and Julie pluck up the courage to go back into the garage, armed with a cross since Julie’s positive they’re ghosts. Turns out they are. They -- along with Google -- explain they’re three ghosts that used to be in a band called Sunset Curve and that they died after eating bad hotdogs in ‘95. Luke, Reggie and Alex introduce themselves to you, and from that moment on, you’re certain these three ghost boys will change your life forever. And they do.

Present day

To say your life has changed since the day those boys came into your life is an understatement. It went from studying while watching Friends in your room to going out to their gigs almost every Saturday and sitting in on their rehearsals every day after school. You, along with Julie, have grown very close to the boys in the last five months. They’ve become your best friends you could talk to about everything and anything. But the most special connection you have, is with Reggie. Ever since that day, the boy hasn’t left you alone. Every time you’re at the Molina house, he’ll poof in, wherever you are. Whether you’re getting a drink or a snack in the kitchen, or you’d just come out of the bathroom, he’d be there. This caused a lot of heart attacks, but also a lot of deep conversations.

Especially if he came to your own house. This was mostly when he’d had a bad day or missed his old life or his parents. He’d poof into your room and just tell you to do whatever you were doing, that he just wanted to hang out. After a few times, you didn’t even ask anymore and he didn’t have to tell you to just continue whatever you were doing. Those nights even ended with the two of you cuddling, which is something you realized you could do for some unknown reason. But you liked it, so you didn’t think too much about it. Today is Friday, which means it’s the last big rehearsal before the boys and Julie have their gig tomorrow night. And though you’d much rather be there with them, you have to watch your little siblings for the night since your parents have gone out to a dinner party. You’re making some popcorn in the kitchen for all of you to munch on when watching a movie, when Reggie suddenly poofs in, making you jump. You hadn’t expected him to come in this early, which causes the worry to well up inside of you. Something must’ve happened. “Reg, you okay?” you ask in a hushed voice, glancing back at the kids in front of the tv. “No…” he murmurs, wringing his flannel in his hands. He looks sad, sadder than when he misses his old life, which means something really bad must’ve happened. “Gimme a second,” you say and turn to leave the kitchen. Reggie smiles a little as those words remind him of the first words you ever said to them. “Kids, it’s time for bed!” Moans and whines come from the little kids on the sofa, protesting their early bedtime. “No complaining! Chop chop!” you rushed them up the stairs before returning to the kitchen. “Get yourself comfy on the couch, I’m just gonna put them to bed real quick, okay?” Reggie nods agreeingly and watches you walk away again. He grabs the bowl of popcorn you’d prepared and takes it into the living room. Even though he can’t eat, he’d want you to snack on it since you’re the one that made it. “Sorry it took so long. They can be really stubborn sometimes,” you exhale frustratedly as you plop onto the couch next to Reggie. “Now, tell me, what’s going on?” “So, I suggested to Luke we’d try this song I wrote a while ago,” he starts solemnly. “Home is Where My Horse is?” you ask, remembering him writing that up in your room. You’d even helped him on some verses. “Yes, that one! But he just rejected it… Again!” he sighs exasperatedly, throwing his head back on the backrest of the couch. “Yelled at him that he didn’t appreciate my talent and just poofed out,” he chuckles airily, and you do too. “I’m sorry Luke isn’t more open to your creativity, Reg… I really wish I could help you somehow, if I knew something I--” you stop in your tracks as an idea pops into your head. “What is it, Y/N?” he asks, getting excited as it seems you have an idea. “What if we film you singing the song and upload it on YouTube?” you suggest, eyes twinkling at the idea alone. He nods excitedly at first, but then slows down when he realizes he has no clue what you’re talking about. “What’s a YouTube?” he asks. You let out a giggle before grabbing his hand and leading him towards the dining table where you’d left your laptop. You open it on the site and show him the home page filled with different types of recommended videos. “It’s a platform where people can post videos of whatever they like. A lot of artists use it for their music videos nowadays. It’s where I posted ‘Edge of Great’ a few weeks ago,” you explain.

He peers at the screen with wide, intrigued eyes. You then lean forward and type in ‘Queen don’t stop me now’ before hitting enter. Reggie’s eyes widen even more as you press play on the music video.

“I could film you with my dad’s equipment and edit the whole thing together and upload it. At least then the world will see how truly talented you are and maybe Luke might change his mind too?” He eagerly nods his head in agreement, getting excited about the whole idea. Besides him being able to prove to his band that his country songs are worth taking a second look at, it’s also a good opportunity for you to test out some new techniques.

So, on Saturday, the two of you get up at the crack of dawn -- or you do since ghosts don’t really sleep -- and make your way down to the riding club your little brother goes for riding classes. You’re acquainted with the owners, so they’ll let you film whatever you need around there. Doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re not filming anything. “Okay, you ready?” you mutter as you set up the first scene. He’s currently sitting on a picnic bench with his guitar in his lap and the stables in the background. Your camera is set up in front of Reggie with the stable doors on each side of his head, perfectly balanced. You simply nod your head curtly as his ‘action’ sign. He immediately starts strumming his guitar and singing out his self-made words. “Home, what is it really? Sometimes it’s a someone and not a place, It’s that feeling of being safe, It’s about who you’re with at the end of the day…” You spent the entire day running around the ranch, letting Reggie sing his song multiple times in different locations. You even film a couple of nature shots to edit in later. This is just going to be the greatest music video you’ve ever made, and it’s all thanks to Reggie. Your Sunday is spent behind your laptop, editing Reggie’s footage until it’s turned into a somewhat coherent video. “Hey!” Reggie poofs into your room late that night. “Where’ve you been? You missed movie night!” he asks, worry laced in his voice. You don’t even take your eyes off your screen. It’s almost finished just a few more… Yes! “I just finished editing your video! Wanna see?” He nods his head excitedly, so you make some room for him on the chair you’re sitting on. He seems hesitant at first, but eventually sits down on the very edge. Your entire side that’s touching his tingles. It’s always been a weird feeling to touch him, but this is from an entirely new calibre. You rewind the video and press play. There’s a shot of the surrounding nature at first and some horses galloping in the distance whilst the strumming of his guitar floats out of the laptop. Then the camera pans to Reggie on the picnic bench with his guitar. “Home, what is it really? Sometimes it’s a someone and not a place, It’s that feeling of being safe, It’s about who you’re with at the end of the day… and for me” The picture changes to Reggie looking out into the meadows, watching the horses frolic around in the grass with a couple of shots of him playing his guitar as he’s walking along with the horses. “Home is where my horse is! Riding through trees by the river Feel the summer breeze smile gettin’ bigger Home is where my horse is Don’t need a house or a roof I just put on the saddle, lace up my boots Cuz home is where my horse is” In the next few shots, you’re even in it. Reggie had grabbed your camera and placed it on the grass before grabbing your hand and pulling you out into the meadow with him to dance. It probably looked most ridiculous to any bystanders, but the footage is too pretty not to use. You can just about see two silhouettes dancing around over the grass with a flare of sunlight breaking in and giving it a magical flair. “I don’t need the streets Don’t need the city lights I don’t need a fancy car I just hop on my horse and ride” You’d filmed a couple of the riders too, since Reggie himself couldn’t really ride a horse seeing he’s a ghost and everything. But it made for some good footage to set the scene of the song properly. “Home is where my horse is! Riding through trees by the river Feel the summer breeze smile gettin’ bigger Home is where my horse is I see the beautiful beast running up to me And I know I’m home” The song ends and the screen fades to black, Reggie vanishing as he looks out into the meadow again. You look up at real-life ghost Reggie with expectant eyes. He’s just staring at the black screen for a moment, mouth ajar and eyes wide. “Woah!” he finally mutters. “That was amazing, Y/N! Show me that again!” he exclaims excitedly. Of course you oblige and show him again. This time, he points out everything he loved. “This is my favorite part!” he says, pointing at the screen as the two of you are shown dancing. You can’t help but smile at how excited he gets over this collaboration. “So, can I upload it?” you ask when the screen fades again. “What?! Of course! Put it on the Tube-thing!” he claps his hands excitedly and watches as you open the site and start the upload on the Julie and The Phantoms channel. You had edited their Edge of Great video when Ray asked your father to help him film, so you pretty much had the right to do this, even if Julie might say otherwise. “There we go! It’s set to upload in about five minutes!” you say and turn to Reggie, almost forgetting how close he’s sitting until he’s literally mere inches away. You can actually feel his hot breath tickling your lips. A wave of warmth rushes through you when you catch his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and back again. “You’re really talented, you know that?” You simply hum in response to this compliment, not that you agree with him, but you don’t know what else to do. You’re completely frozen in place. His eyes are so pretty up close. They’re the most beautiful shade of green you have ever seen, especially with that twinkle in them. “Can I kiss you?” his soft voice makes you snap out of your thoughts about those dreamy eyes. “Wh--what?” you stutter, hoping you did hear that right, but not wanting to assume. “C-can I kiss you?” he repeats, his voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah.” Your voice wavers ever so slightly. Reggie’s eyes flutter close as he leans in to press his lips to yours. There’ve been times you dreamed about doing this, but you never thought you’d actually be able to kiss him. The ability to touch him was a surprise and a miracle, you didn’t think this would be possible too. A bleep coming from your computer causes you to pull away abruptly. You just about catch the smile on Reggie’s face before you turn to the screen, madly blushing yourself. “It’s ready to go!” you state excitedly and start typing up a description for the video. “What are you doing?” he asks, peering over your shoulder. “Typing up a little description for the fans, or whoever watches,” you reply as your fingers stilt for a second to think about what else to write. “Home is Where My Horse is, a Reggie original. Written and performed by your favorite bassist, Reggie Peters. Filmed and edited by Y/N Y/L/N. Special thanks to Hold Your Reins Ranch.” He reads the little text aloud. “Nice,” he nods his head, impressed by your abilities with this foreign platform. “And we’re live!” you inform him as you have pressed the post button. “Thanks, Y/N,” he says with a soft smile, making you look at him again. “I’m just gonna kiss you again, is that okay?” You nod your head before closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again. This is not what you’d expected to come from this project, but you’re glad it had. This feels right. That night, you send Julie a message with the link to the video. “Give the boy a chance. This is an actual bop!” you sent along with it. You’re a little scared you might’ve overstepped and shouldn’t have suggested making this video for Reggie and you definitely shouldn’t have posted it to the Julie and The Phantoms YouTube channel. It probably wasn’t your place to mingle into a band conflict, but you couldn’t handle seeing Reggie so upset.

“Get ur talented ass to the studio. NOW,” Julie’s text reads. It sounds a little passive-aggressive, but you still obey and hop into some pants and shoes before heading down the other end of the street where the Molina house stands. “‘Sup, kids?” you say when you find the boys and Julie on the couch, throwing up a peace sign. The bubbliness might camouflage the nerves building up inside you. “Care to explain yourself, miss Y/L/N?” Julie starts with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. You glance over at Reggie. He’s glancing down at the rings around his fingers. “I’m sorry, Jules. But I really think you ought to give this boy and his horse a chance!” you aggressively point at the boy in question, whose head snaps up at this. Now he’s looking at you with a scared, yet tendered expression on his face. “I was joking, babes,” Julie mutters, holding her hands up in defense. “We didn’t think you’d react this defensive over this…” Your eyebrows knit together as confusion takes over you. “Wh-what do you mean?” you question. “Your video has been viewed over a thousand times already and it’s only been up for about two hours, Y/N,” Julie explains and turns her laptop for you to see the view count at 1,327. Your breath hitches in your throat at the large number. That’s how many people have seen your work? I mean, you would’ve watched it that many times in a row yourself because that song is actually amazing. These people are stupid for not giving it a chance earlier. “Woah, Reg! That’s a lot of people hearing your song!” you exclaim excitedly. The boy gets up from the couch and walks over to you with a proud smile on his face. “Actually….” he starts and scrolls down on the laptop. You taught him how to do that. “They’re loving your camerawork and editing!” He shows you all the comments underneath the video. The reactions are divided evenly between praise for the song and praise for your work. “Wha--” your eyes dart from Reggie to Alex, then to Luke and Julie. “We had a band meeting and we want you to become our band’s official videographer,” Alex announces with that soft smile of his plastered on his lips. Your mouth drops in disbelief. You’ve always loved videography and editing, but you always saw it as something fun, not as an official band thing. After months of sitting in rehearsals and watching gigs, you’re finally going to be part of the band. Or close enough to being a part of the band. “What do you say, babe?” Reggie asks when you’ve been quiet for a good minute. Luke and Alex exchange glances at the sudden use of pet names. That’s new. “I mean, it could be cool?” you shrug humbly. The band cheers, Alex and Luke even high five. Before you can even go over to hug Julie, Reggie’s already cupped your face and crashes his lips to yours. You’ll never get used to that feeling. “That’s new,” you hear Alex say when the two of you pull away. You need a good second to cool it after that passionate kiss, but once you do, you beckon the others over for a group hug. “Thank you, guys,” you whisper and press a kiss to Julie’s hair as a thank you. From that day on, you’re not only known as the Julie and The Phantoms videographer, but also as the cute bassist’s girlfriend. To say your life has drastically changed since meeting these boys would be the understatement of the year.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen joyner #luke patterson #charlie gillespie #julie molina #madison reyes #reggie jatp x reader #reggie jatp fic #jatp fic #reggie peters

181 notes · View notes

zombiegurlmode · 4 years

Text

Sad that Camren Shippers are to blame. But alas, scape goats are necessary for someone to thrive

I’m not done ranting apparently. Clearly, after all of my satirical nature has come to pass, truth of the matter is, for someone who spoke so openly and highly of valuing love and honesty and all that jazz. Your words cut deeper than any knife could. And for someone who openly “claims” of being a part of the LGBT+ community, (whereas the numbers are thriving so much that more letters are added and we’re almost about to fill in the entire alphabet) we have yet to receive such a backlash coming from “supposedly” one of us. Imagine the horror right? True, perhaps your words may have been misconstrued by the public at large or twisted in some form to suit everyone’s selfish needs. I mean after all, isn’t that what camren shippers are called for - delusional AF and toxic as hell. Well, we don’t deny it and couldn’t deny the fact that yes, there are plenty of us who are quite enthusiastic to a fault. Honestly, tell me in what space or bygone era have toxic people never appeared in. Truth of the matter is, it’s how you deal with things and toxicity that affect each and everyone of us. Happiness is only a matter of possessing the right attitude. And no one, not any one, can take that away from you. Not even hardships.

There are several things I would like to personally address though. Camren shippers most likely than not have in some way or the other connected with you. We all something that we could relate to, From your internalized phobia, or from you getting to finally openly admit your own sexuality and fully embracing it wonderfully, or some other things that the others felt truly connected or as you love to so put it “resonate” with you. So don’t blame your fans if they are passionate in expressing themselves because all humans have escapism in them. And to some, perhaps, this is the only means they have some semblance of control to freely express themselves openly. No one is undermining your hardship when you were outed, or that fact that you were bullied for it, or pressured to act in a certain acceptable way so you may be deemed as socially normal “acceptable” human being, whereas all you truly deserve was love and compassion. But I would like to remind you of one very fine detail. When you were outed, camren shippers were there to support you. Because they (wasn’t here yet when it happened so I can’t include myself) understood well above and beyond that what you encountered was so horrendous. You were cheated and robbed of that one pleasure and right given to every LGBT+ member to pride on - the true nature of coming out. See the thing is, the homophobes corrupted the words coming out so much that even as LGBT+ members sometimes forget the true existence of it. it’s not about public declaration or waving the flag, or marching in rainbows, or stamping a giant sign across your forehead declaring that you’re a proud, frolicking, fun-loving, women-loving lesbian (or in any way the others identify themselves as). No! Coming out and its true nature is simply coming to terms with yourself on your own pace and leisure. So truly I am sorry that you have been cheated out of this privilege. But it wouldn’t be fair for you to lump it together with your emotions and throw it at your brethren (if you even consider us as such). Perhaps, that is not your intention. Just to be clear, I am not invaliding how you’ve felt or how you’re feeling now. No one has the power to do that to someone else - I’m referring to telling others how to feel. Yet the message we perceived is quite clear. That we, as a collective known as Camren Shippers, who “supposedly” belong to the LGBT+ community (ok, maybe not all of us. that’s too presumptive on my part) and pride on understanding your own volitions caused this very volitions to surface or in your words “manifest” in you. We are the hindrances that robbed you of your chance to have a decent flirtation towards the same sex. Ironically speaking, Camren Shippers were the ones also on the forefront of defending your honor when some boy belonging to a particular boy band along with his bandmates ridiculed and degraded your feminine existence simply because they thought they were joking around. I mean aren’t jokes like that - it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Jokes most often than not are made at the expense of others. Doesn’t make it any less right, but then again who are we to blame them for something they thought of as a joke. Let’s all face it people, we are all guilty of this act. And yet, the CS never did falter. Carrying their banners of delusions and brandishing their armors of grandeurs, all in the name sake of defending someone who is belittled for the sake of “fun and games”. Even after deliberately attacking the CS for their enthusiasm and calling it invasive, they were still there for you especially so when they saw how pressure started affecting you. They were always so attuned to you that they were the first to notice signs that you may possibly be queer or you may possibly be undergoing some form of inner conflict. They all wish you good health and as you put it in words “send their love to you” so you may never feel alone enduring all this pain. And now imagine the heartache that every shipper might or might not be going through right now. Because apparently, that same support that they have been sending you is perceived as pain and suffering from your end. How would you feel if the very thought that the love and adoration you have causes someone pain and insecurity? So far, all that you have discussed is the negativity that surrounds an apparent DEAD SHIP. Negativity? Sounds familiar right? You preach on it on numerous occasion. You even wrote a song 50FT. Maybe you should be the one to listen on your own attunement. You brought so much negativity on the topic whereas it was meant to be about your coming out. Again, sorry that you’re coming out seemed more like a burden than liberation for you. And again, I apologize that we are the reason behind it.

Just to clarify. We never undermined your suffering. We know all too well the pain that one undergoes in this journey called self discovery of one’s true sexuality. To be honest, those of us who fear coming out or being outed because of rejection, bullying, disowning, we are the lucky ones. There are some of us who undergo far more threats by simply accepting who they truly are. They fear for the safety of their family, they fear for their own safety, they fear the valid threats of rape and degradation and being treated as if you are worse than animals. There are those individuals where the very soil that they stood upon view homosexuality as ILLEGAL and violation of such law would yield severe punishments. So tell them, tell them that they don’t know the risks, the pains, the sufferings, the deteriorations of ones’ sanities, tell them that they don’t understand it because all they ever care about is Camren. Tell them that they’re only glimmer of hope on priding on someone that may have found what they yearn for is invalid. Tell them that living vicariously on your life brings so much distraught on your otherwise calm existence. Tell them that and they have been the first ones to apologize that you felt that way. Because I’ve read their posts and I’ve felt their pains. And we are sorry to cause you so much pain.

I will remind you. No one forced you to audition for xfactor in the pursuance of your dream. You even have the support of your family for your journey. And we are all grateful that you did. Otherwise, we may not even have bothered you so much. Otherwise, we may not even know that you existed. So let me remind you that the industry you belong to - spotlight is king. So don’t go complaining if your put under the it - that’s the point of the industry my dear, the limelight. I’m a purchaser, I can’t complain if my daily tasks comprise of purchasing goods. Otherwise, I have no business being a purchaser. I’m clearly in the wrong field if I felt that way. So it wouldn’t be fair to tell your fans (if you even consider us as such) to blame us for putting you under the spotlight. May I make a suggestion? Try holding a concert without the lights on next time. You do have sensitive eyes because of the lack of melanin in your eyes. We get that.

Also, you know Becky G never did mention about camren. You brought it up on your own. Just like you’ve given us “it’s camren yo!”. You did say and i quote (uh oh i’m sure going to butcher this. I failed in quoting people all the time) “i don’t really talk about it” and then preceded to have entire litany about camren and whatnot. Ok, I get it, it was part of your coming out process. Cool. Then you’ve touched upon how reading fanfics have ruined you. And made you feel like a predator. Firstly, camren fanfics are intended for shippers only. Like all mediums, they have their own specific intended audieces. For you to wander into uncharted terrains, you must have understood the risks it entails. I don’t know which ones you’ve read, but most fics from decent authors have disclaimer on them. Did you even bother reading the disclaimer? On the onset of something that made you feel awkward or uncomfortable or disturbing, you should’ve stopped on your own and never be bothered with it again. That’s the usual thing to do. If any human find something or someone repulsive, they would ceased to seek it. But it bothered you so much and made you feel like a predator then you’ve read the entirety of it (maybe i’m exaggerating, ok a good chuck of it, sounds better?) Well someone did tell me it could have been born out of curiosity. Yeah curiosity did kill the cat, you know? Unless of course you’re a masochist, then now I finally understand and I have nothing more to add.

So for my parting words, I would again extend my deepest, sincerest apology I could muster in my current sane state for being the cause and hindrance for your inner peace and wellbeing. I am not mocking you. This is just the nature I write. Troublesome, I know. But I’m being honest. If my being a fan of you, and shipping you in our own little niche, caused you so much pain and suffering then I respect your wishes. It would be foolish of me to continue pouring my support to you when all along I’m actually doing the opposite and harming you in the process. I mean what decent human being would like to inflict pain unto others. So in honor of my last words relating to your brand Lauren Jauregui or the very dead ship that apparently troubled you so much, I bid you the very best. May you flourish on your career and find inner peace and true happiness forever and always. I would not like to be a fan of any brand that I’m the apparent cause whether directly or indirectly impedes in attaining their endeavors. All the best in your album release and who knows maybe I’ll stumble upon your music again someday.

#lauren jauregui #camila cabello #camren

108 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [final]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–dry humping but not really lololol w.c; 5.5k a/n; surprise! the finale is here. im a little emotional, i had so, so much fun writing this series. the most fun i’ve had writing in a long, long while. i really hope to all the new readers that you stick around for the other bts fics i have in mind. thank you for being so supportive and loving on this journey, and i hope you enjoy their ending! and pssssttt, the bonus chapter will come next friday, so look out for that! ty @btsghostiewritersnet for the Bingo Bash Challenge and encouraging me to finish my first bts series!

[08] [final] [bonus] -> masterpost

Your family took very good care of your apartment while you were away. The laundry is done, the tables are dusted, and your bed sheets are crisp and smell like lemon fabric softener.

Unfortunately, you can’t say the same thing about your fridge. You can’t recall the last time you’ve seen the back of your fridge, but now it’s completely cleared out save for three cans of soda.

At least there’s ramen you can boil.

Waiting for the water your fingers drum over your countertops, taking in your home. It’s been two months since you’ve set foot in your apartment. You used to hate living in this little box of an apartment, jealous that your other co-workers got to share with others and have grander living spaces. However today, you feel content basking in the intimacy of your home, thankful for the breathing room it provides.

Chilling with your candles on the counter, sits the bottle of angel wine you received that started it all. It looks innocent, sitting next to your Bath and Body Works candles like one of the team. In this scenario, the Angel surely trumpeted you.

The facility they sent you to was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in disguise because you had time to think and get back on your feet with no repercussions of going “too slow” and the pressures of going back to work. A curse in its own merit because the doctors constantly poked and prodded at your brain, trying to help you process your supposed trauma and get you to remember.

And sure, being sent unwillingly to an alternate dimension as you were practically forced to live another life and fall in love with the boy you already love is definitely trauma in it’s own right. However you’d be crazy to tell them and you’re not trying to end up in the cuckoo house anytime soon.

So eventually you give them the boring, appropriate version. How you were flung meters away from the impact point, feeling like you were seconds away from being dead, every bone in your body protesting as you rolled off the road. Yadda yadda yadda, you said you remembered brief flashes of your hospital room during your coma, catching simple conversation exchanged between your visitors, but nothing concrete. When you woke up, you thought you were in a dream about being in a coma, and once you saw that you’ve actually been asleep for two months, caused a panic which led you to their facility. Everything but the crѐme of the story.

With this utterly basic and blase confession, the doctors deemed you ready to transition and re-acclimate into your normal routine.

“Ow, fuck,” you put too much water in your pot, and it’s now boiled over and some of the water has dripped on your hand. Immediately killing the heat, you decide that you’re not feeling ramen and you definitely deserve a treat meal before facing society head on.

Quickly putting on a large sweater and leggings, you make quick work to the 7-Eleven across the street of your apartment complex. This has to be a ten-minute trip, tops. You start to shove whatever looks edible into your basket, making sure to have an equal balance of sweet and salty foods.

A low whistle from behind causes you to bristle, and you turn around to shove your container of Kewpie mayonnaise into the offender’s chest.

“I promise, I don’t wolf-whistle just any pretty girl at 7-Eleven.”

Your weapon of choice drops into your basket, face softening at the man in front of you. “Hoseok?”

You almost double-take, thinking for just a half-second that you could be dreaming. It’s been so long, but seeing the pearly white grin on his face and the red cap on his head feels all too familiar, and you’re overwhelmed with emotion. Dropping your basket you throw your arms around him, laughing when he nearly stumbles and you two almost topple over the dried foods section.

Heat stains Hoseok’s cheeks, not used to being this close with you. “Didn’t think you had it in you to miss me,” he says lightly, only half-joking.

“Of course I missed you, Hobi,” you admonish, leaning back slightly to adjust the cap that turned wonky once you embraced him. “It’s been what, two months?”

“Almost five, actually,” you can feel him tense up as you try to adjust the bangs on his forehead. This must be really awkward for him, but you made a promise to someone to try to become better friends with him, so why not start now? “But I guess it doesn’t count for you if you were in a coma for two of them.”

“Right,”

Hoseok watches your eyes glaze over, deep in thought. In his haste he grabs your basket, gesturing for you to follow him to the register. You don’t even argue when he starts to pay for you, slipping the bottle of aspirin he wanted to pick up upon finding you in the same aisle.

“Hobi?” you ask, following him outside.

“Yeah?”

“We should hang out,” you say, ignoring the surprise on Hoseok’s features. He wasn’t expecting that, “My family pretty much rearranged my place while I was away, and put in a lot of home workout stuff,” he chuckles at the face you make, “but they left my old tennis racket. I know you used to play so I could use a partner.”

To your utter relief Hoseok nods brightly, “I’d like that.”

You grin, taking your leave as Hoseok follows your trail. You try to hide how giddy you are by hiding your head in your hood, smiling wide at the thought of spending more time with Hoseok. Both of you seem to be headed in the same direction, Hoseok making small talk about what’s going on in his life and what you’ve missed.

He stops in front of the apartment complex, gesturing to the studio he’s currently practicing in. “I should go call Jungkook for you,” he says, “he’s been worried sick about you.”

At the mention of Jungkook, you shove your hands in your burgundy pocket, wringing at the old fabric. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say, biting your lip, “I’m not quite ready yet.”

“Of course,” and it looks like he wants to ask more, but out of politeness he doesn’t. He’s always had a vague understanding of your relationship with Jungkook, but it isn’t his business. “But if he asks about you—which he does a lot and it’s super annoying—I’m not lying.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” you smile.

“That boy, he visited you every day he could. You know that?” Your heart softens at the confession, and you heat up. Hoseok reaches over to squeeze your shoulder, bending down to send you a smile equally as heartening. “So call him soon, okay?”

The both of you part ways feeling lighter and sweeter. The rest of your way back up to your apartment is peaceful, until you hear someone crying on your floor. Your heart aches seeing your old co-worker slumped up against your door. Her hair has grown in, surprisingly not styled and she looks like she’s just ran a marathon to beat you. When she sees you approach her, she gives you a wobbly pout.

“You bitch,” Sehlyung says with no bite to her tone. She’s teary, and has been sitting against your door because the lock has changed. You must’ve just missed each other, “why didn’t you tell me the second you arrived in the city?”

“I was just going to call you,” you bend down to reach her eyes, “how’d you know I was already here?”

“C-cousin texted me,” she holds up her phone, wiping her face with her sleeve, “she’s a surprisingly good texter for a five-year-old.”

You laugh, offering a hand to pull her up. “I’ve missed you,”

“Fuck, I’ve missed you too,” and she hugs you, squeezing your insides out with every fiber of your being. “I’m so so sorry, baby.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“I fucking know! I know it’s not my fault but just let me be sorry and hug you,” you relent after that, letting her cry on your shoulder as you fumble for the door so you can both catch up comfortably.

You set up the table for your feast, lining up everything from 7-Eleven onto the coffee table as Sehlyung busies herself by pouring you guys cups of tea. She eats quietly, to your surprise. You didn’t realize how much this accident would have affected her, especially being the last person you saw before you left. The two of you exchange simple, mindless talk, with Sehlyung complaining about how much harder work has gotten and how boring your life in the facility, to the point that you wanted to teach the patients English just for the fun of it.

Sehlyung still looks a little weary, as if expecting you to be upset and blame her like she wanted to. You don’t give her that, instead you reach over to pat the black roots of her hair. “Girl, how could you let it grow out like this?” you admonish, knowing how much she hated to see roots after the first two weeks.

“Was waiting for you,” she mumbled between bites of her onigiri, “you’re the only one that does my roots. Can’t have some salon jip me for hundreds of won just because you got into a coma.”

You laugh, patting your knees as you move to your bathroom. “Pretty sure your hair stuff is still here,” you chirp, “let me fix that for you while you’re here, yeah?”

After the day is spent and Sehlyung’s hair is freshly dyed, you two cap off the night with some popcorn and a subpar romance movie. The two of you aren’t really paying much attention to it, instead the focus is on the silent understanding the two of you have as you bask in each other's presence.

Sehlyung leans her head on her shoulder, smelling like fresh conditioner. “Y’know,” she says, “he blames himself too.”

“Jungkook?” you know exactly who she's referring to.

“Yeah, probably because of what he said that night,”

“You two are such softies,” you remark, pulling her closer, “all tough and strong on the outside so no one sees how weak you are to the people you love.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Cleaning up your work locker is like unfolding a time capsule.

Thankfully, everything’s still there (aside from your Caprese sandwich Sehlyung so thankfully remembered to dispose of.) You take great care in putting all your things in your duffle bag, from your extra hoodie in case it gets cold to the soft covered textbooks that are worn from love and overuse.

You thumb your finger over the photograph of you and Jungkook, untacking it from the inside door. You don’t even remember when this was taken, a blurry polaroid of you on his back with sparklers in each hand. Both of you look hysterical, from the manic grin on Jungkook’s face to the slightly panicked face you sport because the sparklers are hovering dangerously close to your faces.

A little part of you feels bittersweet in closing this part of your life, but you have a feeling that this chapter ended long ago.

Making quick work to drop off your locker key among other workstuffs, you manage to catch a glimpse of some familiar faces working. The studio door is open, presumably to air out the seven sweaty bodies that have been working tirelessly. You pop your head open, nose crinkling at the smell.

You barely get a word in as passing staff come to greet you and marvel on your recovery. It’s a little overwhelming, but seeing the relief and relaxation on their faces as they take in your healed body like you’re Jesus reincarnate.

You also notice that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

Namjoon bumbles over to you, throwing himself on you like a bear swallowing you whole. “We missed you so much!”

“Ugh, sweaty!” you make a face when his muscle tee is practically transparent, “Joon, you’re like a sauna!”

He fakes a defeated sigh, making an exaggerated gesture of holding his shoulders in a tired shrug. “I get it, you don’t wanna hug me,” he declares, “after months and months, the only person you’re really looking for in this room is Jeon—” you squirm among the staff and the way they mull around the room, seemingly disinterested in your conversation.

But of course, you never know who could be listening in.

Namjoon cuts himself short and squeezes your shoulder, as if to say you know what I mean.

“You actually just missed him. He left his extra clothes at the dorm. If you leave now, you’ll be able to catch him,” Jimin offers. He’s slumped on the ground, regarding you with a secret smile.

“Yeah, and it’s okay if he’s five minutes late.” Hoseok pipes up, downing a water bottle.

“Or ten.”

“Or a day late,” Hoseok finally says, “a day is fine.”

You snort, looking between the three boys. “I wasn’t looking for him,” you scoff, but from the looks on their faces, they already knew. With an exasperated shout and a rushed goodbye, you dart out of the studio, acutely aware of the giggles that follow you out.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The floor of their apartment took up the entire complex and then some, so you had to get Namjoon’s code to reach that floor. A little part of you knew you also could’ve just texted Jungkook to wait for you, but you had an inkling you would chicken out the second your phone indicated he was typing. The animated (...) always gave you a little bit of anxiety.

But now you’re at their front door and you’re not so sure if you feel ready. You felt ready this morning, when you dressed “comfortably but cute” in an outfit appropriate for cleaning out your previous job’s locker and just so happening to stumble upon Jungkook. That didn’t happen, and now you no longer have the cushion of being at the company surrounded by people.

It would just be him and you, for as long as you two need.

You’re only allowed to dive headfirst into the situation, because suddenly Jungkook is barreling out the door, presumably rushing to get to practice. He’s also equal amounts of sweaty, but at least has a clean shirt on. The white cotton is haphazardly thrown on, the collar so wide that the gap seeps onto his tanned chest.

Said chest barrels into your face, and you go down hard.

He cries your name like a prayer, dropping whatever’s in his hands to kneel to your aid. He’s shaking, unable to register that you’re simultaneously here and not here because he just bulldozed the entirety of his weight into your unsuspecting body.

You’re dizzy, trying hard to focus on him through bleary eyes. Jungkook looks like he’s about to cry. His carmine eyes scan your body for damages, and his one hand cards roughly through his untrimmed hair. The slight curl from yesterday’s salon job has lessened, but still manages to bounce back despite his futile attempts to get his bangs out of the way.

“J-Jung—” dammit, why was it so hard to formulate two syllables? “Oreos.”

“Wha?”

“Your Oreos,” your eyes flicker to the quickly escaping tins that came from his arms, wheeling further and further down the hallway, “running away.”

He scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh by the quirk of his lips, “They’re fine. They’re not going anywhere,” he steps back a bit, sitting on his heels to give you some breathing room, “you on the other hand, can’t go anywhere.”

You narrow your eyes, “I didn’t come here to just leave,” you say, “I came here to talk to you, until you so gracefully said hello to me with the entirety of your muscle mass.”

Jungkook deflates, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” so much for a graceful start, “let’s get inside.”

“I uh, I have practice,” but he scrambles to pick up the Oreos and the clothes he dropped, “so we can start talking for a bit and then… ?”

“Ah, Hoseok said you can come to practice tomorrow,” he lights up at the mention of his friend, “I mean, if you want. I don’t know how important this practice is but—”

“It’s not,” he blurts, then sees the shock on your face when he’s cut you off, “I mean, it’s important but not that important. I mean uh, in comparison to now, and your head… and the Oreos.”

“Right.”

Not trusting yourself to get up too fast, you decide to crawl around to gather up the tins of Oreos while Jungkook moves to pick up your bag. With three tins gathered in your arms, you take the proffered hand Jungkook offers you to hoist you up. Your head throbs a little, but you know Jungkook’s got you. You try not to think too hard about the hand in your grip as it switches to hover over your waist as he leads you inside.

The penthouse isn’t as different as you imagined it would be. Then again, you could imagine how little time they spend in here anyway. The granite and dark wood kitchen remains, and your hands hover over the cool material. You’ve always been jealous of their living space, and often grumble about how their kitchen and living room spans about three sizes of your apartment combined.

Jungkook’s nose pokes in your bag as he sets it down, “You picked up all your work stuff?”

“Yeah,”

He gives you a strained smile, “It’s definitely not going to be the same without you at work,” you can tell how equal parts truthful and embarrassed he is, given by the way he breaks eye contact with you. “I mean, we can put in a good word for you if you want to come back?” he offers, “I don’t know if there’s still a position available for teachers but,”

You shake your head, one hand gripping the counter. You want to tell him that it isn’t his job to find him, but your heart is feeling particularly achy looking at the way he does want to help. After all, you two were still very close before your coma and the weeks leading up to your fight, “I think I want to try new things,” you say, “but thanks anyway.”

“Oh-kay,” his eyes look towards where you two should get comfy. The living room is the most obvious option, but the thought of any of his members or staff coming in at any moment terrifies him, “let’s go to my room.”

Unfortunately the Golden Closet isn’t made for two. He blanches as you two appear at his front door, noting the odds and ends of speakers, mixers, cameras and microphones taking up space on the floor and his desk. God, you must think he really doesn’t have his shit together after all this time.

“So, you still sleep on electrical equipment?” you say wryly, climbing up to reach the bed. The only reason the bed is unoccupied is because it’s a half-bunk, high enough to avoid any of Jungkook’s things.

It takes a second for Jungkook to follow you up, and he almost loses his breath at the sight of you sitting cross-legged, waiting patiently for him to sit across from you. It’s like old times, where you’d sleep in his room and wait for him to get back so you can finish another episode of whatever show you two were catching up on. It’s been awhile since he’s slept in his own bed, so the sheets are fresh and it's easy for you to sit on a clean space.

“So,” Jungkook exhales, “what’s being in a coma like?”

He wants to slap himself. Repeatedly.

Your demeanor cracks, and maybe it wasn’t the wrong thing to say because up until now he never realized how much he missed your smile. “Waking up was the awful part, like the truck crashed into me in the middle of the room,” you reel it back when you see Jungkook’s face pinch, as if he thought back to his time watching over you in the hospital, helpless, “but uh, other than that, quite painless.”

“That’s a relief,” and you feel better seeing Jungkook’s shoulders slump in his t-shirt, looking relatively calmer than before. You tilt your head, wanting to gauge his expression by sneaking a glance under his chin, where he’s tucked in his facials. “I uh, about the last time we talked…” In other words, the last time we fought, but he’s still not looking at you, and it’s so unlike him. Jungkook doesn’t like beating around the bush, he’s a man who likes to cut to the chase and get straight to the poison of a conversation.

But it’s been a full thirty seconds and you decide that’s enough, as he’s starting to look like a tortured animal and you feel the need to put him out of his misery.

Placing a gentle hand on his knee you breathe, “It’s okay,” and his eyes flicker to yours, expectant. “I’m not going to push it, push us anymore. That wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry. But we can still be friends and that’s more important to me.”

And suddenly Jungkook’s face shoots up and he’s panicked. He looks sweaty, scarlet, and on edge all over again, as if you asked him to jump off Mount Fuji without a spotter. “Wait, wait,” he splutters, nearly banging his head on his ceiling. Jungkook tugs your hand back, pulling you to him, “y-you don’t want to try anymore?”

You stare hard at the hand encasing yours, “Like I said, I want to start a new chapter in life.”

“But that’s not what I was getting at.”

You raise a brow, “So then what are you getting at?”

And he clams up again. If you two were in a bigger space, you could imagine yourself tapping your foot impatiently, to the point that it got annoying and Jungkook would snap at you and give you a proper explanation to his weird behavior.

Finally he exhales, “I dreamed about you.”

You narrow your eyes in confusion, “What kind of dreams?”

“Random ones,” he shakes his head, trying to recollect them. “They were of us, but not really us, y’know? It was like a different life, we did all the fun stuff we used to do,” he frowns, thinking he must sound really stupid that he’s betting everything on a couple of imaginations, “and some of it wasn’t. Like we’d be in the city taking pictures, or arguing in a library. But we were so happy,” he stops himself, because now he’s starting to feel silly, “and it made me think of what would happen if I met you under different circumstances, and even though it’s hard under our circumstances I want—a-are you crying?”

You start to whine, displeased with your emotions as you start to think about the past four months. Had Jungkook seen what you lived through? If so, how? Rubbing furiously at your eyes, you shake your head furiously, “Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I’ve cried it out,” you forge up, “pl-please continue.”

Jungkook moves sloth-slow, making sure his actions didn’t hurt you in any way. When he senses your consent, he pulls you over to his side of the bed, wrapping a tentative arm around your shoulder. Your scent engulfs his senses when you instinctively lay your head on his shoulder, your breath lingering between his neck.

“I really hated myself for a while,” he admits, “when I saw you in that hospital bed, I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I’ve wanted to experience with you and,” he’s starting to feel a glimmer of what you’re feeling, and he sniffs, resting his chin on your head, “if you’re going to start a new chapter in life, I want to be part of it too because I love you.”

Expecting your shock, he turns his head away for yours to whip up, face centimeters from yours. “Y-you love me?” you echo, mouth open and eyes wide.

He laughs at your expression, “I’m sure you knew that. We’ve been idiots for the better half of the year.”

“I know… but hearing it is different!” you’re caught up in the whirlwind, leaning forward to tug on his collar, “C-can I kiss you?” A little part of you is impatient, a bit too greedy for your usual demeanor but you’ve longed for him so.

Jungkook pouts, “You didn’t even say I love you back.”

“That’s a no?”

“I didn’t even brush my teeth…”

“Jungkook.”

He tries not to smile too hard at your eagerness. As much as he wants to kiss you, he needs to think better and continue on with his apology. It’s the least you deserve. “I’m sorry for not respecting your feelings that day,” he says, running his hands across your body. They stop at the curve of your waist, holding you down flush against him. You feel your body sing in response, but you tamp it down when he continues, “I shouldn’t have made the decision for you by rejecting you like that, it… it wasn’t fair to our feelings.”

“It wasn’t fair at all, and it hurt a lot.” you agree completely, and as much as it pained him to hear it, he needed to. Letting go of his collar, you sit back between his legs, “but I understand why.”

“And the next morning when I woke up, and everyone was crying I—” he’s choked up, tangling a hand through your hair to affirm that you’re really here, and really okay, “I know it’s not my fault, but I felt like I was in a movie. Like one of those crappy romances where one character gets into a really bad accident and the dumb boy finally realizes how much he loves her.”

He looks guilty, as if he wants to tack on how he feels like it is his fault. Jungkook bites his lip, fearful that you’ve realized he’s not good enough for you. No matter how many times he’s fabricated the scenario in his head, he only pictures the disappointment and pain in your features for falling for a guy like him.

But instead, you reach over with bright eyes leaning on your elbows to press a kiss to Jungkook’s mouth. It isn’t even a long kiss, but it feels nothing short of a cool wave washing him in relief. You pull away before he could deepen it, and you giggle when you see his mouth still puckered open like a fish. “You are a dumb boy,” you murmur, “but I still love you.”

You go soft in his grip when his eyes glow, sparkling carmine with nothing but sheer love and affection for you. The feeling comes unbridled, genuine and all-encompassing for the first time in a long time. He doesn’t know how much time he can cherish with you before he’s whisked away to his next activity, but he can surely make the best of what he has now.

It takes no effort for him to pull you in a sitting position, making it so your arms wrap around his trim waist. Snug together, he presses kisses to every part of your face, your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips.

This feeling, this touch is long overdue for the both of you, but you’re languid in your attention, letting it wash over you like the sun on a warm day. You’ve missed him so much, you’ve missed this Jungkook. The man who has been with you through thick and thin for over a year, who’s struggled with the weight of the world and the audience of millions, is in love with you as much as you are him. Jungkook, who sings your worries away and makes you want to become a better person with each passing moment, is holding you like the most precious thing on the planet.

His kisses turn white hot, wetting your neck as he hoists you up to settle neatly on his thighs. A soft, high-pitched sigh escapes your lips when you feel something hard and thick press into your core.

A sense of urgency fills his radar at the press of your thighs locking tighter around his body. “Fuck, babe—” his hands grip the swell of your hips, bucking into you once, twice, so hard that the frame shakes. “You’re so, pretty I—” you moan into his neck, hands running every expanse of available skin, “I love you so, so much, pretty girl.”

You stop to clutch his face with both hands, enjoying the way your thumbs brush his pretty cheekbones and your palms fill with his soft, adorable cheeks. “I love you, too. Now, will you make love to me?”

“Fuck, yes,” and the fondness in your eyes immediately glaze over when he throws all his weight into you again, making you feel weak and wet with pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you drawl, “just like that, please I—AH!”

It isn’t a cry of pleasure. A little too into it, Jungkook thrusts particularly hard, enough for you to come down and the bedframe to soon follow. There’s a sickening crack in the metal, and the both of you immediately scramble as you feel your combined weight sinking into the corner of the bunk. Jungkook clutches your body in a vice, prepared to protect you in the event you two come crashing down. Now Jungkook remembers why he hasn’t been sleeping in his bed as of late.

It’s dead silent, apart from your labored breathing. When your eyes finally refocus, you notice that you two have dipped and you’re looking at Jungkook from a slight angle, your weight tipping. You two broke the frame.

“Kook,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulder, “you need a new bed!”

He shakes his head, “Don’t think this bed was made for this kind of activity,” he peels the thin mattress, noting the way that two bolts in the paneling have come loose. One panel has already slipped, hanging at the edge and creating a large gap. He shakes his butt experimentally, noting the way the framework swerves with him. “That’s not good.”

“How could you have not noticed the loose bed frame!”

“It’s kind of hard to worry about your bed when you have a job that requires you being awake 25/8.”

“Well, how do we get down without bringing the whole frame down?”

“Uh, I’ll throw you down in that little space by the door. Make sure to tuck in your knees and make a ‘lil triangle with your hands in case—”

“What the fuck—you’re going to take a chance and throw the love of your life down the bunk?”

“Babeeee,” he whines, eyes zeroing in on his precious computer directly under the frame, “there’s expensive equipment down there!”

With a glare, you swivel your hips on his dick and he groans, unable to move. He barely gets a centimeter upwards before the frame moves and squeaks even lower. You don’t bat an eye when Jungkook panics for your safety over pleasure. Payback. “Call Seokjin,” you demand, pulling out your phone from your back pocket, “now.”

There’s something familiar in this kind of banter, and you want to akin this feeling to home. All your tears shed, your longings to go back to this world, all pinpoint to the home that is Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook mutters something under his breath about you being too bossy, punching the numbers in. As soon as Seokjin answers, you send him a sultry wink and move.

It… isn’t sexy. You’re giggling as Jungkook holds his breath, tells Seokjin on the line as tersely as possible that he needs to get here as soon as possible with some help and a new bed frame. Jungkook’s face is read, giving you warning looks as you bounce on him, the metal edging you on in a way that’s simultaneously unsafe and thrilling. When Jungkook hangs up, he sends you a look that says you’re gonna get it but instead presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. The chaste gesture makes you melt in his arms.

Silent, he pulls away and your thumb brushes his shiny lips, smiling at you as you wait it out.

As you lean your head in his shoulder and wait for help, you’re reminded of something. Not long ago, another Jungkook told you that he couldn’t wait to fall in love with you again, and now you’re echoing the same sentiment. You can’t wait to love him, too.

#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #btsghostiebingo #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

290 notes · View notes

chocoluckchipz · 4 years

Text

The Other You - 16

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Chat raced across the rooftops, one thought hammering in his mind— how did this happen? How could he tell Marinette what he was hiding from the whole world? Hawkmoth for a father. He was barely starting to come to terms with that himself. He never wanted anyone to know. Only Ladybug was bound to find out eventually, and only because he had to return the peacock and butterfly miraculouses to her. Otherwise, Adrien would’ve taken that secret to his grave. How he could let slip to one of the most amazing people he knew that he had the most sought-after villain in the history of Paris, if not France, for a father was beyond him. How was he supposed to tell that to Ladybug also?

How?

He couldn’t. Not yet. He’d tell her eventually. But not now. He wasn’t ready yet.

Chat jumped and caught hold of a beam, starting his ascent up the Eiffel Tower.

Marinette, though, didn’t seem to hate him for his unfortunate family connections. A sigh of relief slipped his lips because being hated by Marinette for his own faults was hard enough. He wasn’t sure he could handle her hatred for something that he had absolutely no control over. Because Marinette was amazing—the greatest friend one could wish for, and the strongest person he’d ever met.

She was the only one, as far as he knew, who had managed to work for his father for years and not fully succumb to his destructive ways. She was close. Dangerously deep in that abyss, but she survived. Snapping out of it just in time, Marinette came back stronger than ever—something Adrien had an honour of witnessing with his own eyes in the last few weeks as Chat Noir, ‘Felix’, and as Adrien. She was truly an inspiration, so maybe he should take her advice and tell Ladybug everything? Marinette thought it was for the best, and Chat trusted Marinette.

“Hey there, Chaton.” Ladybug landed beside him at the top of the Eiffel Tower. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Been busy?”

“Kind of. How have you been?”

She walked to him and, without explanation, wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head onto his chest. “Lonely, but it’s alright now.”

Startled, Chat hesitated for a little before returning her embrace. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to come more often. Life’s been kind of crazy as of late.”

Ladybug pulled away, rolling her eyes as she chuckled. “Tell me about it. But then when have our lives ever not been crazy?”

“True.” He grabbed his baton from behind his back. “Shall we start our patrol?”

Ladybug nodded, preparing her yo-yo. “I’ll take the west side, you round the east. If something happens, ring me up. Otherwise, I’ll see you here in half an hour?”

“I’ll stop by Tom and Sabine’s for some pastries if you give me five more minutes.”

“Oh! Haven’t had them in a while. You’ve got a deal.”

They charged forward, each taking their respective routes. Adrien zoomed through the city, not even bothering to look around much. Instead, he ran. Ran as fast as he could, reaching for the courage that was slipping through his fingers with every passing moment. Marinette thought it’d be for the best to tell Ladybug. He trusted Marinette. He had to. She was the only thing that kept him from completely crumbling when he’d just found out and since. He owed her that much.

Predictably, no akumas were found, and soon Chat was walking into a familiar bakery, flashing his best smile to its owner. Tom greeted him with a grin of his own, immediately packing a box full of treats Chat often ordered.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Chat Noir.”

“Life kept my hero persona away,” he said, winking. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t here as my civilian self.”

“Oh, were you?” Tom laughed. “You know, I might try to figure you out one of these days.”

“What for?”

“How does ‘trying to sell you something you can’t buy as a superhero’ sound?”

Chat grinned. He loved to banter with this man. “I’m all ears. You might just convince me to drop a hint or two if the offer is tempting.”

“I’ve got an unmarried daughter. Beautiful. Strong and independent. An amazing cook. Would you be interested?”

Chat blinked, his grin frozen on his face. “Does this daughter of yours know you want to sell her off to me?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t object.”

Chat quirked an eyebrow. “If Marinette is still anything like I remember her, I’m pretty sure she’d kick both of our asses if I were to agree to take her off your hands behind her back.”

Tom laughed. “That she would. But hey, what else am I supposed to do? She keeps telling me she’s too busy to date and I’m not getting any younger. I want to see her happy before I kick the bucket. Not to mention I’d love to see my grandkids before then too.”

“Then let her be.” Chat chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll find the right person when the time is right.”

Tom pursed his lips. “So that’s a no?”

Chat gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but this cat’s allegiance lies somewhere else.”

“Oh well. It was worth a try. If you change your mind, though, I can arrange it for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The pastry box in his hands, Chat headed back to the Eiffel Tower.

He arrived first. Feeling restless, he set the pastry box on the beam and paced the perimeter. She’d be here soon, and he’d have to tell her. Everything. Just like Marinette had told him. About his love for her, about Hawkmoth, and possibly his own identity. There was also the matter of Nooroo and Duusu and the fact that Adrien wanted to keep the butterfly miraculous for another two weeks. Maybe even a few more days after that because Marinette would surely need help from ‘Felix’ during the Fashion Week.

A rumble of thunder split the night sky, lightning illuminating the darkness somewhere in the distance. Chat stopped and leaned on a beam, slightly dizzy. Crossing his arms, he considered his approach. He should probably start with his love confession, something he had experience with and the highest chance of succeeding in. His last attempt was years ago, and Chat was certain that things had changed between them since then. He had done everything Ladybug asked of him. He had given her space and time, respected her boundaries, never going beyond friendly or what she initiated herself. He never pushed, never insisted, never confessed again for years. As a result, Ladybug was more and more accepting of his attention. He sensed it for some time now—they were closer than ever before. So, he should start with a love confession and move on from that.

“You’re fast,” Ladybug said, appearing in front of him out of nowhere. “I thought I’d be waiting for you, not the other way around.”

“I came back just a few minutes ago,” he said, picking up the box and opening it for her. “Ladies first.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ladybug took a macaron and sat on the beam, dangling her legs over the edge. “So what’s up with you, Chaton? Anything interesting?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. The east side is quiet.”

“I meant your life,” Ladybug said, munching on her treat. “You said you were busy, so I was wondering what was going on with you in your civilian life.”

Chat hummed, settling down beside her, perhaps for the first time being very aware of the height they were at. He swallowed, echoing her question. “My life? Nothing special. Demanding job. Lots of work. Boring.”

She seemed to be waiting for him to continue, but Chat hesitated. The moment didn’t feel right yet. He couldn’t confess with his stomach churning and his throat so dry he’d drink an ocean if given the chance. A bit later. A few more minutes. His gaze darting from place to place, he clutched his hands together in his lap and asked instead, “And you? How have you been?”

Her head cocked to the side, Ladybug watched him with a smile. “I’ve been well. Almost done with my project thanks to my assistant. We’re actually ahead of the deadline, so I’m excited.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is.”

“Want another macaron? Tom gave me a few of their seasonal ones. Said they were to die for.”

“Why not?” She took another treat from the box Chat was holding out to her and bit in, closing her eyes. “My favourite. I’ve missed these.”

Lightning flashed across the darkness, followed closely by a roar of thunder. Adrien bit at his lower lip. It’s going to rain soon. He’d better hurry up with his confessions because—

“Hey, Chat?” Ladybug asked before he braved opening his mouth. “Have you ever been in love?”

He stared at her, gaping like a fish. Could Ladybug read his mind?

“You know. Have you ever felt like you could spend hours, days and even months with a person and never get bored?”

He couldn’t help a smile. Of course, but it didn’t necessarily mean he was in love with the person. Marinette, for example. These days, he was spending practically all of his time with her and it had never been boring. In fact, he wouldn’t complain if their dinners were a bit longer than they were, so much fun they had together. But he wasn’t in love with Marinette. She was just a friend.

“Have you ever longed to see someone so much you counted the minutes until your meeting?”

Um. Yes? Marinette, for example. But only because she was an amazing cook and he loved food.

“Have you ever felt so comfortable around a person you could tell them all of your secrets and know they would understand and accept and wouldn’t judge you, helping you out instead?”

Chat swallowed. Yes… Marinette. His eyes widened. Was this the reason he so easily blurted out one of his biggest secrets to her just now? Because in the last few months he had gotten to know Marinette all over again, and if she was amazing before, having gone through all the things she had been through, Marinette had grown into the most fantastic woman ever now. He’d seen the change for himself and, despite their complicated history, Chat trusted her more than ever. Being in her presence alone was wonderful. She made him feel safe, loved, and accepted. Was that why he didn’t keep his mouth shut? Because in his heart he knew she’d understand and wouldn’t judge.

“Have you ever looked at that person and couldn’t stop smiling because of how beautiful they are inside and out?”

Chat gulped, his chest tightening. Marinette was always beautiful. Now though, as the exhaustion that branded her just a few months ago was gone, she was clearly mind-blowingly gorgeous. As for inside… His smile turned sheepish. Marinette was warmth and beauty. Marinette was his home. He dared to say her soul was much more beautiful than her outward appearance.

His eyes blew wide. Was… was he in love with Marinette? Chat stilled, his breathing picking up.

No!

He loved Ladybug. He always had. He couldn’t have fallen for someone else.

“And given the chance to be with anyone at any given moment, is there a person who instantly comes to your mind?”

Chat stilled, terrified to answer that question even to himself because it wasn’t his Lady’s name that just zoomed through his thoughts. Chat shook his head.

No!

It had to be a mistake. It was probably the food! Not Marinette. And it was probably the remnants of being an akuma and his obsession with helping Marinette. He had to account for that because there was no way there were no side-effects from daily self-akumatization. And it was probably only because Marinette already knew his secret, thus there was fear associated with telling Ladybug. It was just bad timing.

Nothing more.

Ladybug turned to face him, a gentle smile on her lips as she took his hand in hers. “For me, it’s you, Chaton. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I don’t want to hold back anymore.”

Chat froze, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. Not because of the happiness he always imagined he’d feel when Ladybug finally fell in love with him. No! Chat stood paralyzed because he couldn’t say ‘I love you’ back, not after everything that just went through his head. Not when he was still full of guilt for keeping secrets from her. Not when she didn’t know that he was born to their enemy.

Not now!

His words gone, lips slightly ajar as awkwardness and fear constricted his throat, Chat stared at Ladybug in silence.

“Chaton?” She reached forward to cup his jaw with her hand. “Is everything alright?”

He sighed, closing his eyes at her touch. Clenching his teeth, Chat covered her hand with his and whispered: “I’m sorry. I… I can’t… Not right now.”

He could feel every muscle in Ladybug’s body tense. Reaching forward, she cradled his face with both her hands and lifted it up to look him in the eyes. “Chaton? What’s wrong? I thought… I thought you wanted this. I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you,” he rushed to assure her. “You’re my best friend, the one person I trust with my life. I do love you, Ladybug, but… I’m just not sure if… if I’m still in love with you anymore. Ugh! This is so confusing.” Groaning, he hid his face in his hands and stilled, murmuring a moment later. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course you can.” She took his hands from his face, holding them tight as they fell into his lap. “Whatever it is, I want to know it.”

He gulped, shifting his gaze to the side. “I’ve loved you for years, my Lady. Ever since the day we met, you were the one to hold my heart, and if asked a month ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to confess my love for you on the spot. But… there’s this girl, an old friend of mine I’ve recently reconnected with.” Her hands twitched in his, yet she didn’t let go. “Just now when you were asking me those questions, it was her name that kept popping up in my thoughts. Not yours.” He raised his eyes full of apology to her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why this happened but I need to figure it out before I can respond to your confession. It might be just a fleeting infatuation. It might be something more, but until I know for sure, I don’t think it would be fair of me to give you an answer.” Lightly squeezing her hands in his, Chat pleaded. “Please, don’t hate me. I don’t know how this happened and I’m so, so sorry about this.”

For what felt like the longest while, Ladybug silently stared at him. Her eyes reflected the Paris lights as thunder sounded once more. He could see tears gathering in them. It broke his heart, but what could he do? He was already lying to her about Hawkmoth; he couldn’t lie about this as well.

Pulling her into a hug, Chat murmured once again. “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Does she make you happy?”

Chat didn’t even have to imagine. Warmth and peace flooded his whole being at the mere thought of Marinette. Not being able to give her the answer out loud, he hummed.

Her arms around him tightened. “Then that’s all that matters. I just want you to be happy.”

The first drops of rain hit them, bouncing off their suits and skin. Adrien looked up at the sky. “Do you want to hide somewhere?”

“I’d better go,” she whispered and pulled away, her eyes full of the tears she was holding back.

“Ladybug…”

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, standing up. “I just need some time alone but thank you for being honest. I do appreciate it.”

“Are you sure?” He stood up as well.

“We’re still friends, right?”

“Of course. Your friendship is the most important thing in my life.”

“Then I’ll be fine, Chaton. Take care of yourself. I’ll see you around.” With those words, Ladybug was gone, zooming into the darkness of the city below them.

Chat watched her depart in silence. His head hung low, shoulders slumped, he cursed under his breath. This was supposed to be his turn for the better. They were supposed to leave this place happy. Why did he have to always ruin everything? Why did he have to always break something? First, it was Marinette’s heart all those years ago. Then, all of his friendships. And now, he’d pushed away the only person who was always there for him. He really was a wielder of destruction, a vessel of chaos wherever he went.

Chat closed his eyes as a realization dawned on him. Marinette… They’d been doing so well rekindling their friendship, but it was only a matter of time before he ruined everything again. He couldn't let the history repeat itself. He had to stay away from her—for her sake. ‘Felix’ would disappear after Fashion Week. Adrien Agreste would go back to being a teacher in September. Chat Noir would have to stop coming over immediately, though.

They would need to come up with some other kind of rent fee if Marinette insisted on it. It didn’t really matter to him. For all he cared, she could live there her whole life for free. He’d miss their times together. Not just the food, but all the fun they shared. With Chat Noir, Marinette was her most relaxed self and he loved it.

He loved her.

Now that he’d realized it, he couldn’t deny it anymore—he was in love with Marinette, and for her sake, he’d have to let her go.

His heart clenched, tears spilling over as rain continued to soak him. He should probably warn her. Knowing Marinette, she’d be worried and looking for him, and he didn’t want to cause her more trouble. He’d have to think up some kind of excuse to justify him never coming back. That shouldn’t be too hard, but he better do it before he’d change his mind.

Meaning he better do it now.

Chat wiped his tears, his decision cementing in his mind. It wasn’t too late into the night yet; Marinette should still be awake right now. At least he could check if she was. Reaching for his baton, Chat pushed the knot in his throat down.

He had to do it.

It would be for the best.

For everyone.

Especially for Marinette.

She wasn’t home.

At first, Chat thought Marinette had gone to bed already, but the light in her bedroom was on, and he could see through the window that she wasn’t there. Nor was she anywhere else in the apartment. Assuming that she must have gone for a run or to a nearby grocery shop, Chat scouted the neighbourhood for some time before giving up. It was raining and late. Not many people were out. She must have gone back to the apartment already, or she could be waiting out the storm somewhere. He probably should do that too. He could wait for her back at the apartment. She’d come back eventually and Chat wasn’t sure he could sleep a wink tonight anyway. Better get this over with as soon as possible.

He got into the living room through the balcony door as he’d always done and found a towel to dry himself. Then, Chat sat on the couch and let the silence consume him, every minute feeling like an eternity.

An hour later, the front door creaked open and Marinette slouched in.

Adrien stilled, pain gripping his chest.

Dripping with rainwater, clothes completely soaked, Marinette was struggling to muffle her crying. She froze in place, noticing him. Her tears didn’t stop, violently streaming down her cheeks. Her lips trembling, she held herself with her arms, gaping at him in silence for a full minute before averting her gaze.

“What are you doing here, Chat? I asked for some space. Please, give me at least that.”

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #ml #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #the other you

33 notes · View notes

thewintermusketeer · 4 years

Text

This started off as a little reddie drabble to cheer up @skinks , based off her tags and thirsting for bill hader, particularly inspired by this post. It’s now over 1.5k and I absolutely did not read it over before punting it off to my love @benevolentbridgetroll to look over, so if this makes sense it is only due to her help.

Disclaimer: I have not seen the movie/read the book/am not part of this fandom so this is purely based of the SCU (skinks cinematic universe).

They’ve been couch shopping. Of all the things, that’s the catalyst. If Eddie were a pessimist (which he’s not, he’s just sensible, Christ, Richie, it is literally my job to think about worst case scenarios) then he’d say the whole ‘being stabbed in the face and then stabbed again in an even more vital area, in a manner commonly called impaling’ had messed with his judgement. However, that would imply that something else is messing with his reasoning, and Eddie has been through enough therapy by now to understand exactly which thoughts and behaviours are his own. And this? Unfortunately, this is all Eddie.

Anyway, the issue is that Richie sat on a couch. A couch that they were buying together, because they live together. They live together, and they cook together (or rather Eddie tries to cook healthily, and then when he ruins it Richie makes something with far too much fat and salt in it, that’s still better than take out at least). They go shopping for groceries together. They’re the most boring middle-aged couple in the world, and yet neither of them have actually got the balls to call themselves one. They both know there’s something there. Something hanging in the space between them, important words swallowed behind more and more insults because Eddie never thought he’d feel like he’d die if he didn’t hear another ‘yo mama’ joke. It was strong enough for Eddie to move to Florida with Richie, to get away from New York and Myra, even if the latter was something he’d have done anyway, as soon as his memories started coming back. But it’s still unsaid. Not acted upon.

And Eddie is pretty sure they’d have stayed like that for a while longer, in a holding pattern made comfortable by the fact it’s not comfortable; Richie pushes him, dares him and goads him like he did when they were children, and Eddie still can’t believe he forgot how it feels to want to shove Richie right in his stupid square face, even as he can’t stop laughing. Richie makes him feel like life is actually worth living, and not something to be calculated and analysed and rationed. Of course, Richie also makes him feel fucking horny. Which is exactly the problem.

Richie sat on a show couch – and Eddie doesn’t even want to think about how many other fucking people have been near that thing – and Eddie barely stopped himself from crawling onto his lap right there in the shop and jerking off onto his shitty logo t-shirt. He was wearing converse for Christ’s sake. Shoes that provide no fucking ankle or arch support. No forty-year-old man should look sexy wearing converse and a baseball cap. And yet Eddie wanted to measure the exact diameter of Richie’s chest using his thighs. Maybe years of being called a loser and a square had sunk in, subliminally, because the fucking stupid rectangular breadth of Richie’s chest had made Eddie feel crazy. He wanted to be wrapped up in Richie’s gorilla arms, wanted to feel the gentle scratch of his arm hair against his own bare skin. Wanted to watch the clench of Richie’s hands against the back of the sofa if Eddie dropped to his knees in front of him, telling him not to touch his fucking hair until he’d washed his hands, Jesus Christ. Wanted to see if Richie would laugh during sex, as well.

But he didn’t. Instead they bought the couch, after he’d checked the fire regulations. He had left the shop with Richie, who’d slung one arm around his shoulders, and the weight of his arm, the warmth of him against Eddie’s side, was as reassuring as it was a turn-on.

“Guess we’re parents now, Eds. Or, we will be when our bouncing baby boy gets delivered next week.” Eddie feels the laugh building in Richie’s chest before he even speaks. “I’m so glad you kept your figure though, babe, a couch that big must’ve been murder on your hips.”

“You’d know all about bad hips, fuck face, or am I imagining the old man complaining I heard this morning?” Eddie would say he’d replied on autopilot, but a larger portion of his brain than he liked to admit was always focused on Richie, like a radio that always tuned back to one station.

“It’s not my fault your mom rode me so hard last night, is it?”

Eddie hadn’t been able to stop his snort. Forty fucking years old and the same joke was still funny. He’d looked out the corner of his eyes at the dumb smile Richie was sporting, all because he’d made him laugh. Richie needed a shave and stepping outside the air conditioned shop was enough to make his glasses steam up a bit, but it hadn’t stop Eddie’s raging, improbable thoughts about the line of his jaw beneath the stubble, about how he wanted to turn it into a slip n’ slide with his dick. About how he wanted to feel the bob of his Adam’s apple fucking massaging Eddie’s armpit, or something.

Eddie hadn’t even realised they’d reached the car until Richie’s arm left his shoulders as he walked round to the passenger door. But now he was here, sat in the driver’s seat of the car – of course I’m fucking driving Richie, you drive at about 100 miles an hour even though you get car sick – sweat drying on his skin as the A/C blew, unable to tear his eyes away from the long, be-denimed legs that were currently folding themselves into the car. The slight jolt of the car’s suspension as Richie settled the breadth of his shoulders against the seat felt like it went straight to Eddie’s dick.

Fuck it. Fuck this ‘unsaid thing’ bullshit. Fuck pussyfooting around, when the two of them already share a life together. Fuck Richie Tozier in particular, and hopefully fucking soon.

“What’s wrong? Have I got something on my face? I don’t think I do, I’ve been told that that’s unfortunately just how my face is.” Richie’s eyebrows look like they’re attempting to perform the macarena with the kind of enthusiasm only seen at an eight year old’s birthday party when cake time is announced. Eddie wants to lick them.

“Should I get a cool face scar? I mean you’re really pulling it off - ” Eddie cuts Richie off with his mouth. He was aiming for Richie’s lips but he’ll take the chin he gets, mouthing openly, the stubble stinging his lips.

“Wha-” Richie gets out, more an exhalation of air that Eddie feels against his face. He steals Richie’s next breath, kissing him properly, one hand leaning across to brace him against Richie’s thigh. One of Richie’s hands comes up to cradle his face and fuck, Eddie wants it to never leave his body, wants it on his face and his neck and his legs and his back, and to hold it with their fingers interlaced like a promise. Richie pulls back just far enough to press a kiss to the scar on his cheek and Eddie feels like he might cry.

Instead, he says, “I love you. Dickwad.” The insult is tacked on the end almost as an afterthought, because for all it’s funny to insult each other, Eddie wants Richie to know how serious he’s being. The problem is that the moment feels too serious. They’re in their own little bubble in the car, but Eddie is still acutely aware of the people walking past on the other sidewalk, can hear the sounds of traffic. He suddenly wishes it was just the two of them, back in the home they’re making together with their terrible decorating choices and the orthopaedic mattress Eddie is now hoping they’ll be sharing.

Richie’s face turns soft. “I wanted to say it first, asshole. Always stealing my thunder. I can’t have anything in this relationship. Didn’t even get to choose our anniversary date.”

Eddie tightens his grip on the thigh beneath his hand, sliding his fingers down onto Richie’s inseam; Richie’s legs spread gratifyingly fast, and Eddie can’t help but lean back in for another kiss. Richie seems to be trying to suck his tongue into his mouth this time, and he can’t help but be extremely into it. They’re only interrupted by a honk from a passing car, and Eddie is reminded again that getting home is a good idea. He separates himself from Richie reluctantly and fastens his seat belt, raising an eyebrow at Richie until he does the same. He starts the engine, but just before he prepares to pull out the parking space he considers Richie’s last statement.

“You can decide our anniversary if you propose. Of course, your mom might get there first, but if you think about exactly what you want do to when we get back to the house, it might net you preferential treatment.”

Richie looks a bit dazed. “You want a list, baby? I can do that, Mr Sexy Analyst. Alphabetical?”

The look Eddie levels him is particularly judgemental. He cannot believe he’s about to fuck this man. “Chronological, moron.”

“Anything you want, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t think Richie knows exactly how long that list is. He’s looking forward to finding out himself.

#reddie #it chapter 2 #love confession #first kiss #my writing #my fic

95 notes · View notes

backtobackbakubabe · 4 years

Text

Stuck in the Middle with You (Part 3)

Bakugo X Reader

Words : 2280

*****************************************************************************************************

How? How has it already been five days? The two of you had fallen into a routine that was borderline domestic. Bakugo was an early riser so every morning you could expect to wake up to a fresh pot of coffee and some kind of breakfast. Pancakes were usually his go to. It could have been because you had a shit ton of pancake batter... or maybe he had picked up on the fact you really liked pancakes?

After breakfast he would do some kind of workout, sometimes using your backyard to do sprints or using your lawn furniture as weights. You had to admit he was kind of... hot when he got all sweaty. You’d never let him know that though. He’d let it go straight to his head and you'd never hear the end of it, So instead of watching him workout like you wanted to , you would usually curl up on the sofa with your iPad and do todays crossword puzzle.

Then next on the list was you binge watching criminal minds with him and you both would bet on who the killer was. You always won, which Bakugo always pretended to be mad about. He would call you a cheater because this was what you did for a living. You’d both bicker and complain but without fail you'd always end up leaning on him and he would always pull you closer. It was nice.

Then when dinner rolled around he would do his best to teach you how to cook. That was the deal after all. He would growl under his breath every time you did something wrong but he’d never actually scold you. Instead he would patiently help you fix it. This was a whole different side to him you had never seen. To be fair you had really only spent time with him in school, and in group settings. Maybe this was normal one on one behavior for him... you’d have to ask Kiri.

Tonight he was teaching you how to make home made sushi. He insisted it wasnt as hard as it looked but you didnt believe him. He said that about everything he had taught you so far, and so far it was all really hard.

Cooking with Bakugo was... rather difficult. He was a great teacher and actually way more patient then you would have thought, it was just... his proximity. He was always right next to you or leaning on you, sometimes he’d take your hand and try and to guide you through the motions. As comforting as you found his presence, your brain would just shut down when he was that close to you. You’d find yourself lost in your thoughts.

Today was no different. Right now he is right next to you showing you how to roll the rice paper and you started your usual spiral. Is he mad he’s stuck here? Does he like teaching you to cook? Wow he smells nice. Why does he sleep on your floor every night? Is it comfortable? Does his back hurt? Should you invite him to sleep in your bed? Would he think thats weird? Should you tell him to go back to the couch? Would that hurt his feeling? Wow his body heat feels great. Wait... did he stop talking?

“OI! Earth to smalls! I swear you’re always so hyper focused when watching tv but it when it comes to cooking its like you check out completely! You’re the one who asked me to teach you how to cook.”

You blushed and gave him a quick shrug, “You're right I’m sorry. I am trying though. It’s just sometimes I get stuck in my own head.”

Bakugo softened a bit as he turned to lean on the counter and look at you, “Yeah I know. Usually I dont have a problem with it but the kitchen isn't exactly the best place for you to go all space cadet. It’s full of things that can and will cut you, burn you, and squish you....”

A vision of a first aid kit popped into your head and your lip quirked in a soft smile. You didn't mean to take peaks into Bakugo’s head but sometimes it was like his thoughts were screaming at you. Begging for you to see. It was almost like he wanted you to know that he would take care of you if you got hurt. “I’m a big girl Bakugo. If i get hurt it won't be any ones fault but mine. But I will try to focus a bit more, I promise.”

You put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze, “So what’s next?”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at you, indicating he didnt think the conversation was over. He picked up the finished plates of sushi and headed towards the kitchen table? “Now we eat and you tell me what you were thinking about.”

You blushed as you took your normal seat across from him. “Do we have to?”

Bakugo stopped mid bite, “Uh... yeah. Eating is kind of necessary to survival y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Bakugo smirked, “Well maybe I’d know you better if you actually talked to me. You were the one bitching the other day that you didnt know anything about me... come on... what had you stuck in the cramped little brain of yours a few minutes ago?”

You huffed as you threw your hands up in frustration, “Same thing as always! You! Its always you. Not in like a weird way or anything... I swear... It’s just... I dont know!”

You saw the faintest of blushes grace his cheeks before he composed himself, “What about me?”

You took a sip of your water as you searched for the right words. “I just... I tend to over think every single aspect of my life. And right now... you’re basically the only thing in my life. I keep wondering if you’re happy here or if you’re miserable being stuck here with me. I wonder if you’re back hurts from sleeping on the floor and if I should offer to let you sleep in the bed. Then I wonder if that’s creepy. It starts as something so innocent and then it just spirals until I fall down the rabbit hole... completely lost in my own head.”

Bakugo nodded as he took another bite of his sushi, “Sounds exhausting... Why not just ask me instead, and save yourself the trouble?”

You eyes widened, “What do you mean?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, “I mean idiot.. instead of getting tangled up in wondering about me and my feeling just fucking ask... No. I am not miserable, I actually find your company to be pleasant. No my back doesn't hurt from sleeping on your floor but I can't say the same for my shoulder. No it wouldn't be creepy to ask if I wanted to sleep in your bed... honestly I think that's very sweet of you and as long as you were comfortable I may even take you up on it... There yeah see... problem solved.... anything else I can clear up for you?”

It was like this weird buzzing in your head that you hadn't even noticed was there had finally stopped. Was it really that easy. “Yeah actually... would you mind if I joined you during your workouts sometime? I’m not in as good as shape as I used yo be... but..”

“But nothing... of course you’re welcome to join. I won't go easy on you though. Never have and I won't start now!”

You bit back a smile as you mind wandered back to the all the times at UA you stood across from him during training. He scared the absolute shit out of you then. His intensity had really done a number on your anxiety. But honestly whether he knew it or not it had also helped you prepare for the real world. “I wouldn't expect it any other way believe me.”

After diner you both got ready for bed and instead of watching tv in the living room you had decided to just go ahead and get in bed. You had expected him to stay up a little later but to your surprise he walked in a few minutes after and stood at the end of your bed, “So what's the deal? Am I sleeping on the floor or what?”

You gestured to the empty side of the bed, “That side’s all yours. I’m sorry in advance if I accidentally hit you. It hasn't happened in a while, but I’ve been known to thrash around when I’m having intense dreams.”

He smirked, “As if it would even hurt. I’ll be fine. It’s your bed anyways, thrash around all you want.”

You pulled out your iPad and started on a new crossword puzzle.

Bakugo crawled in to bed next to you and took a peak over your shoulder. “May I ask what is with you and crossword puzzles?”

You shrugged, “They’re fun. They keep your brain sharp. They’re relaxing. And sometimes they are excellent distractions. I love all puzzles though. Not just crosswords. I love anything that makes me think. I mean look at my job. Sometimes I feel like I’m just playing a game of clue.”

He scooted a bit closer and after a few minutes of silence he reached over to point at one of the clues, “ Nitroglycerin... thats the answer.”

You smiled, “I’d say I’m surprised but if you know about anything it’s about what blows up.”

He held a crackling hand close enough for you to see but far enough to not be dangerous, “Well I sweat the stuff, so of course I’d know about it but I’ll have you know I’m fucking smart. I’m not just a hot piece of ass. I got better grades than fucking Deku half the time. What app is that... I’ll show you.”

You giggled as you helped him download the puzzle page app on his phone and he immediately started to try and complete puzzles faster than you. You could hear him cursing under his breath when he would get stuck and once you caught him trying to take a peak at your screen.

“Katsuki! I know you are competitive but I never would have believed you to be a cheater!” You hid your screen from his view as your eyes connected with his slightly embarrassed look.

“I’m not a cheater! It’s not cheating! It’s just... reconnaissance...You had information I needed and I simply observed to gain that information...”

You swatted at him, “Oh you are so busted!”

He laughed “Shit calm down woman! You said it yourself! You fucking solve puzzles for a living! I needed all the help I could get!”

You sat up straight, “What happened to ‘I’m fucking smart. I’m not just a hot piece of ass’?”

He sat up too inserting himself into your personal space, “I am fucking smart! You’re just...” His voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, “fucking smarter.”

You were now on your knees jumping up and down, “Oh my fucking god! Did Bakugo Katsuki really just admit that someone was better than him at something?”

He hid his face while you jumped up and down in celebration but when he looked at you he looked happy, “Yeah yeah, whatever smalls. You win this time but there’s always tomorrow.”

You got back in you spot and grabbed the remote to turn on the tv, “I’ll probably beat you tomorrow too. But dont worry Katsuki... at least you’re still be a hot piece of ass..”

He gave you a light shove as you picked something to watch. It didnt take long for you to drift off. In fact you had fallen asleep much faster than you usually did. And for once your dreams where pretty tame. No bad memories haunting you, no anxieties dragging you down. Instead you dreamed about the UA sports festival, and this time you won instead of Bakugo.

When you woke up you felt a pressure on your back as well as a vice like grip around your hip. You didnt know what was more surprising, the fact you woke up before Bakugo, or that he was currently spooning you.

You cleared your throat and wiggled a bit to try and wake him up but he just groaned, “Uhhh y/n could you not wiggle your ass when I’m right behind you.”

You scoffed, “I wouldn’t have to if you were on your side of the bed.”

He squeezed you tighter, “I wouldn't be on your side of the bed if I hadn’t had to physically restrain you so you’d stop hitting me last night...”

You blushed, “I’m sorry... I did try and warn you...”

His eyes still closed, obviously still tired, “It’s cool, you calmed down as soon as I held you.”

You put your hand over his that was still wrapped around your waist, “Well I’m awake now Bakugo and I promise I won't hit you. You can let go.”

He just nuzzled further into your back, “Well I’m still tired and I don’t want to. You’re the perfect size for a teddy bear smalls.”

You tried not to, but you snorted, “Ground Zero needs a teddy bear to sleep?”

He froze before he shoved you almost off the bed, “Shut up smalls... I’m gonna go make coffee.... and lots of it.”

You watched the muscles in his back as he walked across the room in nothing but a pair of shorts... fuck... you were in over your head.

#bakugo #Katsuki Bakugō #bakugo katsuki #bhna bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo imagine #mha #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academia

94 notes · View notes

self-loving-vampire · 4 years

Text

@melancholygirlfrien said:

I have a Child Development Associate so I am literally professionally certified to tell you that yes, taking children and babies to places so they can learn how to function and see that they're a part of a world bigger than they are, is important to their social, emotional, and language development. It helps everything from motor skills to social skills and cognition Just because you find babies' cries annoying doesn't mean parents are selfish just for wanting to take their children outside. Children shouldn't be raised indoors all day in a fucking bubble because that's how developmental issue happen. If a child is isolated they can develop serious issues.

Note that there are more appropriate places you could be taking them to, for starters. Places where people can avoid the noise more easily and where it might be less disruptive.

Like, you have options beyond “indoors 100% of the time” and the kinds of locations I mentioned in my first reply to you. Like, you can still take them to places like parks, malls, and other locations where it would be less of an issue.

No it's not fucking self centered for a parent to take their baby outside because they're just doing what they gotta do , not everyone can afford child care especially people of lower socioeconomic status. There are many single mothers who have no other option but to take their baby everywhere because that's what their situation calls for. The only fucking person being self-centered and not considering the struggles of other people is you.

Again, notice the kinds of places I mentioned in my post before going off on straw arguments. My complaints about others involve places like restaurants, the movies, and airplanes.

These are not only places where a child crying can ruin other people’s experience and be inescapable, they’re also places where many of the people there are not poor and had other options for what to do about their situation.

Like, I would think differently about someone who brought their baby to a clinic’s waiting room (for example) as opposed to a flight to Miami.

Black and white thinking is not going to help you understand what other people’s issues are.

No I wouldn't tell someone whos scared of my snake to go suck it, even though I would have every right to. Like I said I understand when people have phobias of certain animals. There might be people out there who have a phobia of dogs but does that mean people who take out their dogs are being selfish and don't care about people who have trauma/phobia associated with dogs?? Fuck no, those people are just being responsible dog owners and doing what every dog owner should which is take their dog out for a walk. Just bc some people might be annoyed by their dog doesn't mean they're being self-centered and bad people.

And yet there are places where they probably should not take their dog because it would be either inconsiderate or outright banned, and if they insisted on doing so then they probably are self-centered.

Like, if you want to take your babies out for a walk or something around the house that’s not nearly as bad as what I was actually complaining about.

your life isn't gonna be fucking ruined from hearing a baby cry in public. The most you'll be is annoyed and anxious for a few moments and then it will go away. Suck it up.

Did I ever say anyone’s life was going to be ruined? Why do you make everything some kind of exaggerated strawman?

Here are some exact quotes you already forgot about:

“It’s not the worst thing but it’s still kind of inconsiderate“

“No one said anything about stopping them or suspending their rights in any way, only that noise is annoying (and especially painful to autistic people with sensory issues).“

“Um… what do you think I do? Activate Karen Mode and go bother the parents about it? Nah, I just judge them silently. I am free to complain as much as I want on the internet though.“

So:

1- I am not treating it as a huge, life-ruining thing, just a sort of dick move. Like people who cut in line or something.

2- I do “suck it up” when it happens but am 100% allowed to complain about it online anyway.

Tbh I can't keep talking to you, I think people like you should be ushered into a dark warehouse and humanely put down.

Empathy-havers are so humane they advocate genocide against autistic people apparently, over a post about baby noises being kind of annoying. I’m not even surprised because you all keep doing this every single time without even thinking about how it sounds.

Maybe you should think about how the things that make children annoying (they're egotistical, they have a hard time empathizing with others because of their self-centered world view) are traits that you have yourself. The difference is that most children develop and grow out of that self-centered world view

If you actually read my post, the primary annoyance I pointed out was that they were Portable Sensory Hell. I made no comment about their ability to feel empathy and actually find low empathy people significantly less annoying than others so that’s clearly not it.

You're a child in my eyes tbh. Your mentality is childish. Say what you will but I would like to remind you again, at one point in your life, you were a baby, and you shit your pants, and someone had to clean up all that shit after. Or else you wouldn't be here.

You know, if you’re going to go around advocating genocide over a post about people not liking baby noises then I am 100% sure my literal child self was morally and intellectually superior to your current self already.

You know what would make me respect you more? If you owned up to the fact that you judging parents when their babies cry is a result of your low empathy and self-centered world view. I would respect you SO much more if you just said "Yo, straight up. I'm just a selfish person. I know babies can't help that they cry and it's not the parents fault but I straight up do not like that shit. I have low empathy as a person and therefore I can't really bring myself to care about babies, children, or the parents and their situation so I just judge parents because I want to. Because their kid is annoying the shit out of me. I don't care about the reasoning tbh I'm just kind of an asshole."

> Implying I care about whether or not you respect me.

Also, this isn’t even correct. At my current point in life I pretty much never have to interact with babies in any way, if I was completely selfish then it would not matter to me now whether or not people bring their crying babies into airplanes and the like. The issue just isn’t a very significant part of my life.

But the thing is that while I am low empathy that does not change the fact that I value other people’s well-being and know that crying babies make their lives worse even if just in a small, temporary way.

The kinds of parents I am complaining about don’t even think about that.

You know you're just incompassionate. So be a self-respecting sociopath and own up to that shit, please, I would respect a stone cold evill mf SO much better than a little weasel who tries to give excuses as to their own egocentric way of thinking.

I am a narcissist, not a sociopath. Of course, if cluster B disorders are just standard insults to you then you might think all low empathy conditions are the same.

Furthermore, you haven’t shown that you understand anything at all about what low empathy conditions are actually like.

Also I find it really telling that you would prefer unrepentant evil selfishness over someone who merely understands and sides with others who are negative about loud babies. Like, actual morality is not something you seem to be valuing here.

"iF I wErE iN tHaT sItUaTiOn I wOuLd jUsT sTaY hOme!" No you wouldn't you stupid bitch because parents have to go out to buy groceries, and run errands like every other adult.

Again, you seem to be treating all of “outside the house” as an interchangeable space with the exact same norms.

Like, do you realize how it might be different to bring your child out for necessary grocery shopping than to bring them to a restaurant or the movies? Do you really think I would treat those things as exactly the same?

MOST parents, especially working-class, poor, or single parents, DON'T have that option, as I already stated. And you are showing a clear lack of regard for people who are in a tougher situation than you for judging parents when their babies annoy YOU. You are literally not putting yourself in their shoes at all bc you have no idea of even half the shit parents have to do in order to make ends meet and look after their babies.

Oh, I am well aware of how having babies will multiply your suffering, especially if you’re poor. It’s precisely why I’m never having any!

I understand it’s a huge pain and people with children are always going on and on about how their lives became significantly more miserable as a result of it.

I think you should honestly love that screaming toddler on the plane because in a few decades she might grow up to become the nurse who will take care of you when you're old and ill.

This argument just doesn’t work one way or another. If the baby is going to help me then I will be grateful once that actually happens, not based on a hypothetical so unlikely I might as well live my life not considering it.

#long post #babygate

31 notes · View notes

coliverxxx · 4 years

Text

#PleaseTreatChenleFairly

Summary: Exactly how it sounds like from the title.

Pairings: Chenle x Everyone, Chenle x Reader, Everyone x Reader

Angst: Angst, Comfort

Words: 4,209

Warnings: None, hopefully

A/N: A couple of days ago, this hashtag trended on Twitter and this was pretty much how I reacted to it and also how I wanted to react to it if I had the chance. I know I said Chenle x Reader but when I wrote this, I kind of wrote it like the Reader represents the NCTzens. Of course, we can’t all be that person but I’d like to think this is what everyone will do if they can had it happen to Chenle under their watch. Because Chenle doesn’t deserve to be treated differently and unfairly from the rest of the members. He works hard to bring us quality music and performance like the rest of them. He’s not even my bias and yet I feel so bad how they treated him that I even wrote some four thousand words because that’s how bad I felt and I needed to let it out.

Please Treat Chenle Fairly

Because of the nature of your work, you have worked for contracts and extended contracts with several entertainment companies and through luck or lack of it thereof (it was luck, you wouldn't really fool yourself) you met, worked with a lot of times, and became close with the kids of NCT. It hasn't always happened with everyone you worked with but they have managed to piqued your interest through their obvious talent, extraordinary bond, and boisterous laughter (especially when together) that unconsciously or not, you would join in. The way they laugh when huddled in the same room was probably what did it for you, especially when they were laughing at one another's individual strangeness (which sort of makes them human and that's probably what paved their way to your heart).

However, you were particularly soft with the babies from their youngest average age unit, especially after Mark left and they all seemed a little lost with no one among them to call "Yo, Dream!" anymore. It has always been engraved in your being to be a little more accommodating to their needs, a little more ready to extend a helping hand whatever they may need, and a little more protective. Sometimes, the older ones — Jungwoo, because that boy could always use a little more love and he'd have the extra space in his heart to take it all, and Ten, just because he liked pestering you, most of the time — would complain about you being a little more doting, a little more giving to Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung but you knew they were all just empty complaints because they probably do more and would do more than you if needed.

That's how precious the Dreamies, all of them, were to you and the boys.

Which was why you couldn't help the fire that was burning inside of you, the tightening of your chest, the heaviness of your breathing, and the overall pissed-off frustration of your mind when you logged into Twitter to check the updates from fans about the boys' 'To You #3' but instead of Jaehyun trending about asking Taeil to be with him even until they were forty or fifty, you saw another hashtag that was trending that you never thought you'd see at around one or two in the morning.

#PleaseTreatChenleFairly

At first, you honestly thought it was something simple like letting Chenle be the ending fairy of their live performances or something. Of course, as much as you didn't want to lose anymore sleep, you couldn't stop your finger from clicking the trending hashtag and seeing what it was really about and what really happened because this was Chenle. If it was a hoax, that would probably be better. But if there was something that happened that made fans all over the world to trend that hashtag, you needed to know because Chenle — or any of them — does not deserve to be treated unfairly.

With curious eyes looking for answers and overly anxious fingers, you scrolled down the top tweets. You might not understand Chinese even if your life depended on it which regrettably was the reason why you could not understand the post of Chenle's biggest fan club but you could clearly see. You could clearly see the images from their album of a group shot that Chenle was stupidly cropped from.

Your mind was racing because you worked with Super Junior back when they have thirteen members. You still worked with the group even now that they have nine active members left. You worked with Girls' Generation when they both have nine and eight members. You even worked with groups from other agencies with significantly more members. Which was why you couldn't understand no matter how hard you try to think of an explanation why they could inadvertently crop Chenle out of this own group photo in his own group album.

They were six members! Six ridiculously good-looking and talented members. Six good people who has an average age of twenty years old bringing more smiles into this world than probably who you wanted to blame for this huge fucked up mess. Six members. Six.

You stared at the photo through your phone. As much as you were understandably mad at this, when you read the tweets of the fans, you were more sad than mad. Imagine being Chenle's fan ever since he was a child, five or six. This boy was a music protege, a naturally gifted young boy with a very beautiful voice, who came from China, trained for a few months, and debuted in a foreign country he could only speak a little at that point. Imagine how heartbreaking his fans felt when they saw the boy they loved purely with all their heart cropped out in his own fucking album. You wanted to cry and you also wanted to hunt down whoever was responsible for this and rip that person's head off (okay, figuratively, you weren't a murderer, but can that person at least be transferred in another department because he/she/they clearly wasn't/weren't cut out for this).

It was impossible to retrieve every single ordered album and replace it with a right one, one which didn't have such animosity of cropping Chenle out of the group picture. You tweeted and retweeted several tweets. You wanted to do more than that but it was two in the morning and you couldn't see the kids until at least the following night. You tried watching 'To You #3' again but you couldn't concentrate on Jaehyun's words for Taeil anymore and that wasn't right. You tried rewatching Dream and 127's reaction to 'Ridin' music video but it wasn't as fun as you first watched it. Because you couldn't keep Chenle out of your mind.

Then, you saw their uploaded 'The Stage' video. Somehow, with all the content since that afternoon until evening, you either completely missed that or delayed watching it for a better time. It's not like you could watch while doing your thing at the toilet or when you were chatting with a client once the videos were uploaded. (But then again, that would still depend.) You thought it was something to tear your mind off the unexpected but probably already timely hashtag because you understand the fans, especially Chenle's fans, have kept quite for so long. But it wasn't. You didn't even need to see it from the tweets (but you saw later when you checked again to torture yourself) when you shouted to yourself, "Where the fuck was Chenle's message to Jisung?"

No one could tell you it was already finished after Haechan's message to Chenle. No fucking way. Because Taeil said his message to Taeyong. Because that's how it was supposed to be. The last member was going to give his message to the first member. So what, all the first members now who would give their message don't deserve their own? "Are you kidding me?" you frustratedly wanted to throw your hands in the air but you stopped yourself because you would look ridiculous even to yourself and you would not stoop down to the level of these people who were doing this to Chenle. You would not, however, not do anything though. You tweeted a bit more and might have reached the maximum daily tweet capacity because #PleaseTreatChenleFairly deserved to be trending. Because if they could not treat Chenle fairly, they might as well be called out on it. You would not keep quiet. Hell no.

You weren't sure how you fell asleep that night (or morning, depends on how you look at it) but between reading through #PleaseTreatChenleFairly, another hashtag began trending which was #재민버블 (Jaemin bubble). You would not stand another unfair treatment or another slander involving your children. Surely, the company wouldn't appreciate something burning in front of its building at three in the morning. It was ironic because you were still frustrated with Chenle's unfair treatment. Knowing yourself, it would last long, depending on how the company treats Chenle from now on. It could last years. It was during times like this when you were grateful that you work with them but you don't work for them. Perhaps the only reason why you keep working on this goddamn company was because of the boys. Seeing Jaemin's message for their fans sort of slowed down your self-destructive process of committing arson and that lulled you to sleep.

It was strange how you could be affected negatively by some people (as indirectly as it may be because this wasn't Chenle's fault, certainly not, it was the damn company and the people who worked in that album photobook, you needed that cleared up) like their pain was also your pain, that cliche, and be calmed by the exact same people, like their happiness and achievement was also your happiness and achievement. What do they call that nowadays?

The first thing you did the following morning was check #PleaseTreatChenleFairly though and you wondered if your tweet capacity had replenished by then. It was still trending when you were having your breakfast, when you were getting ready for work, and when you were leaving your place.

Your work, you were glad, with how demanding and time-consuming it was, took most of your brain energy the entire day that you barely even glanced at your phone. You were finishing up something very late when you walked past the practice rooms and heard some shuffling in one of the rooms. You didn't need to hear clearly for you to know what song was blasting through because it was safe to say you'd probably hear 'Ridin' more than a working person could. (Well, you might not be checking your phone for messages, or tweets, for this matter, but you were streaming a lot. How could you not? The boys deserved the world. You knew how much hard work they put in their music and in their dance. This was just something you needed to do.)

You peeked inside, careful not to disturb anything that might be going on, and was not surprised when you see them practicing even at eleven in the evening. They were in the middle of promotions. Surely, the logical thing to do in their free time, as little as that may be, was to rest, but they were still practicing. You wanted to scold them, you wanted to call them out and tell them to pack up and go home, but you stopped when you saw Chenle dancing with such power and intensity and suddenly, you wanted to cry. You were an adult working in one of the biggest companies in the country at the moment, watching a group of boys with an average age of twenty-years old dance at almost midnight, and you were tearing up.

Crumbling, you forced yourself not to. You ran to the nearest vending machine and bought drinks enough for maybe, the whole twenty-one of them. You were desperately trying to distract yourself. When you came back, when it seemed like they have taken a little break, you took a deep breath and opened the door, showing yourself with the drinks.

They were stunned a moment when the door opened but recovered easily when they saw your face. Unsurprisingly, Haechan and Jaemin were instantly approaching and attaching themselves on you like glue but you expertly dodged them and went to Chenle who was sitting on the floor. He seemed a little surprised at first because whenever Haechan and Jaemin would glue themselves on you, it was almost impossible for the other members to hug you until you would literally tear them away when you needed to go already. You weren't sure how to keep your emotions in check but you have been with them for quite some time already and during these times, none of you really needed to say anything.

That's why you just hugged Chenle. That's why you just did the thing you wanted so badly to do since last night.

It was expected when he seemed startled at first but easily relaxed when he realized you were the one hugging him. And then, Chenle was the one who crumbled. You thought it was a blessing for when some people don't allow themselves to crumble and in a way, make room for those who were holding out for so long to do so. These people don't always have the luxury to go down, to feel bad, or even just to feel. (The luxury, and also the time.) And by disabling yourself from that chance, you were giving it to them. Chenle didn't cry or anything like that, he didn't even sob, but he held on to you like a baby koala would, tight and not letting you go until he was almost sitting on top of you, face hidden and buried on your shoulder, arms tight around you.

They weren't blind and they weren't holding their phones just for the sake of holding them. Of course, more times, there were a lot of things to ignore in the Internet, but when some things literally have your name in it, it was hard to ignore. Even if they wouldn't talk about, or comment on them, it didn't mean they never saw it or it wasn't affecting them. Most of the time, they don't exactly have a choice.

Your arms were as tight around Chenle as his arms were around you. You weren't surprised when you looked at the other members, none of them was speaking and was only looking at you and Chenle, but everything was crystal clear in their eyes. Renjun's eyes were frighteningly mad because he wanted to take action but knew he couldn't. Jeno was frozen and speechless because he probably didn't know what to do but god knows how much that boy wanted to do something, especially for his teammate, a brother. Haechan wanted to say something to lighten up the atmosphere but he didn't want to disturb the peace he knew all of them were desperately grasping for since last night. Jaemin's eyes were soft, so soft, because he wanted to hug Chenle and give him the same affirmation and console him just as much as you were doing and was just glad you were there to do it when he wouldn't receive it from them because he didn't want to worry anyone. And Jisung... a part of you wanted to tear yourself from Chenle to hug the youngest boy because he was sobbing. He was trying to keep it as quiet as he could but even when he was furiously trying to wipe the tears, it was obvious that the thing that happened to Chenle was affecting him just as much as the older boy. Actually, when you looked at them with their heads and shoulders down, you could say the same to all of them. If you could just multiply yourself and hug each one of them.

You closed your eyes and just tried focusing on holding Chenle for now because you knew he needed it the most right now. You didn't know how long you stayed like that but you opened your eyes when Haechan said, "Chenle, don't you think that hug's long enough?" It was light and was supposed to be cheeky but you looked up at Haechan and saw the exact expression he was holding a while ago. He was still worried. Actually, they were all worried.

Carefully, you moved a little to take a peek at Chenle's face, to see if he was listening but to your surprise, his eyes were flittering, his mouth was slightly open, and when you listened closely, his breathing wasn't hitched anymore like when you first hugged him. Close enough though, it broke your heart to see stray tears in the corner of his eyes. You turned to look at Haechan and the others and mouthed, "He's sleeping."

"Oh," Jeno softly said, suddenly moving to one of the lockers inside the practice room and coming back with a retrieved blanket. He easily draped it in Chenle, and you, since you and Chenle were basically tangled together, with a thin smile. "He finally slept, huh?"

You looked from him to the other members, waiting for an explanation. You knew comebacks were frustrating and exhausting but they could always sleep in the car, or in between schedules. It wasn't ideal but they need to make use of what was given to them no matter how small of a time that may be. Sadly, that's just the way it goes for them, and other idols, sometimes.

"He hasn't slept since yesterday," Renjun said, sighing, and sinking on the floor a couple of feet away from you.

"I was telling fans to sleep last night but it was actually for him, too," Jaemin continued, sitting across you with Jeno. He looked down at his hands and muttered, "He shouldn't have seen that."

Haechan sat on your other side but much closer than Renjun's distance. "But you can't blame the fans. They've had enough," he said to no one in particular but it was Jeno who sighed loudly, a little exasperatedly. "Someone please make Jisung stop crying," he added, scowling a little for effect but they all knew they were as affected as what was happening as their youngest. They just couldn't cry all at once for Chenle because what would you even do then?

"He always... worked so hard," Jisung croaked out in between his silent sobs, covering his entire face so no sound would come out. He didn't want to wake up Chenle but he couldn't stop the tears he was holding. He wouldn't say anything, he wouldn't tell them it was hurting, he would smile at them as if everything was fine because he didn't want them to worry and add to the stress they have because of their comeback, but they knew better. And yet, they couldn't do anything, and perhaps it was the reason why Jisung couldn't stop himself from crying.

They all looked pretty miserable and you wanted to tell them they all worked so hard, all of them, each one of them, but Chenle was still sleeping on your shoulder and you wouldn't want to wake him up, not after what you heard from the others.

Suddenly, Renjun was standing up and getting more blankets from the lockers. Alarmed, you looked at him as he was approaching back at your little party and mouthed, "What are you doing? You're not sleeping here."

"But Chenle's already sleeping though," Renjun answered in a quiet voice.

"I just want to let him sleep for a while," you tried explaining in hushed whispers, panic immediately rising to dangerous levels for you. "But you guys can't all sleep here. You need to go home and rest properly. I can drive Chenle home later."

You stared at them because they obviously weren't listening, already building their little circle around you, with no pillow, just blankets around themselves. It was almost like a sleepover. Jeno had the nerve to look at you for a while and asked considerately, "Do you need extra blanket? Are you warm enough?"

"Guys, I'm serious," you were already speaking at this point in your normal voice, but still careful not to wake Chenle up.

They weren't listening. As far as they were concerned, they were already in their sleeping positions around you and Chenle. You couldn't let them sleep here but you were not a ninja, you couldn't multiply yourself and drag each one of their tired asses home while sleeping cradling Chenle in between your arms. You gave up when Jisung gave you one last pointed look, as if making sure Chenle was still sleeping and alright and safe and no one was going to hurt him, and pulled the blanket above his head.

You stared at the bag of drinks you bought for them, untouched and losing their coldness, wondering how you would explain to their managers tomorrow why they ended up sleeping in the practice room with you. They would probably let it slide, since it was you, but you were more worried about their sleeping comfort and getting their much needed rest than explaining to the authorities. Explaining to the managers was one thing, explaining to the other older members were another (based on previous instances when you had a sleepover with Dream because you promised them you would as soon as they got their first win and talented babies as they were got it quickly). You could already hear Johnny's exaggerated questioning and Mark's excessive worrying (because he knew, you knew he knew, and he would probably be there with the lot of you if he didn't have his own hectic schedule), but this time, you wouldn't blame them. They all have pretty good reason as you knew if Dream had a good grasp of what happened, the older members had more than good grasp. They were probably trying their best to stop Taeyong or Doyoung or Mark from calling out their own company in their own ways.

You were lulled to sleep with the thought that you might never be enough to protect all of them, but they've also got one another's backs and that's pretty good coverage already.

Four hours later, Chenle felt something wet touching his finger and mildly stirred from his sleep, blinking his eyes several times to figure out why he was literally sleeping on you in the practice room. You looked like his make-shift bed that was warm and hugging him back and briefly, he wondered why couldn't you be his bed from now on because he didn't want another sleepless night. He looked at his finger and realized the drinks you brought them lost all moisture and have made a little pool beside you. He stared at your face, slightly opened mouth, and loose arms around him, wondering how someone could sleep sitting uncomfortably like that with a legal adult as big as him weighing on top of you.

As if on cue, you suddenly tightened your arms around him again, effectively crushing him in a hug, and whispering, "Don't worry, Chenle. We love you. We will always protect you." His face was crushed again in your shoulder and he knew you were sleeping when you said that but he bit his lips to keep himself from crying because he knew even when sleeping, you meant that. Why else would you sleep in such insufferable condition if not?

Probably being lulled to sleep again, your arms loosened around him and he was able to lift himself off you since his legs were beginning to numb being in the same position for a few hours. Your back was leaning against the wall, your body facing forward, that Chenle didn't expect what he saw when he turned around and realized it wasn't just the two of you who slept inside the practice room. On his right side was Haechan, bundled like a ball, on his left side was Renjun, sleeping soundly with his body facing the wall, on his back was Jeno without a blanket, Jaemin with two blankets, and Jisung with a blanket to his face. His mouth hanged when he saw everyone in such uncomfortable sleeping states when they could have gone home anytime, they could have woken him up, they could have told him to sleep at home (which he couldn't, he tried but there was no sleep when the world seemed to be telling you weren't worth anything, maybe even sleep), but they stayed.

They stayed, Chenle realized. Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Jisung, and you. He couldn't stop the helpless whimper that came out of his mouth, but it wasn't helpless like he didn't mean a thing, it was helpless because he knew he meant something and that you and the people sleeping around him was proof of it and thay you guys were going to prove to him over and over again.

You blinked your eyes and saw Chenle's back, his head hanging low, and you gently pulled him back into you and softly said, "Chenle, sleep some more. I'm going to drive you guys home later so your managers won't scold you."

Chenle dipped his head on your already drool-stained top because of him and you only hugged him tighter. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to, because he was shaking and probably biting his bottom lip to stop himself from crying the tears he probably thought he didn't deserve to cry. After a while, when you were almost dozing off again, he whispered in broken syllables, "Thank you."

You brought one hand to his head, gently patting his hair, before hugging him again, making sure he was comfortable, and saying, "You deserve the world."

You weren't sure why you said that but aside from hugging him, that's what you wanted to tell him the most since yesterday. It was unfair how someone who could make millions smile by his voice and his smile was being taken away his own smile. You knew he didn't deserve that. He deserved the world.

72 notes · View notes

cyn-00 · 4 years

Text

Moreid one shot, 9 - "stay"

Season 9, episodes 23/24 "Angels" and "Demons" (the ones where Reid gets shot in the neck *cries*, while the team are chasing a guy - a preacher, to be precise - who was framed by the unsub. In the episode they will eventually find the real unsub)

Long ass one. Idk what nerve drives me to call these fics "shots" when most of em are +4000 words. Note: Reid always has long hair in my fics, regardless of the season I took inspiration from

As per usual: edited this months after I first wrote it. My fics are perennial works in progress

Read it on AO3

-------------

"Blake!! " Morgan screamed with all his voice, running toward her and Reid as fast as he could - considering he got shot - pressing a hand on his wounded bicep.

One of his ears was beeping because of the gun shots - 3 out of 4 bullets hit his vest - and he was feeling light-headed from the fall. Not to mention the pain his arm was causing him. But in that moment, it was like his body had forgotten about the soreness and discomfort because his mind was only focused on Reid- no, Spencer. His Spencer.

"Blake-" he called her again, now that he'd got just a few feet from them.

He quickly fell down to his knees and put his hand on Spencer's neck, replacing Alex's. She moved aside without protesting, still sitting on the ground.

"I- I'm- I'm so sorry." she hiccuped on the verge of crying, shaking her head to dizziness while she looked down at her bloody hand; not sure if she was apologizing to Spencer or to Derek.

Morgan didn't answer, but not because he thought it was her fault: how could he? They all would take a bullet - and had taken bullets - to save each other. There was simply no time for apologies in that moment.

"We need an ambulance!" she repeated to her radio transceiver, even though at least 10 minutes had passed since she had first called for help.

"Alright- kid, you gotta stay with me now" Derek ordered, breathing heavily.

Despite the other's pleads, Spencer had almost completely lost consciousness; his mouth hung open, his eyes suddenly rolled back.

"No, nonono no" Derek panted loudly. "Baby please don't-"

His pupils desperately roamed his peripherals, searching for something with which he could pat Spencer's wound to minimize the blood loss, since clearly his hand wasn't enough.

"W-what do you need?" Alex asked, seeing Derek looking around aimlessly; but he seemed too spaced out to answer. "Talk to me Morgan, how can I help?!"

"I-I need something to pat the wound, I don't know some kind of cloth-" he said, panic possessing him.

The only thing Alex could think of, without having to go too far and waste anymore time, was Spencer's tie. She messily reached over, managing to snatch it from underneath his vest - though not without struggling - and untying it. She then slid it out of the collar of Spencer's button-up and folded it, having the hardest time accomplishing even such simple tasks with how bad her hands were shaking. She handed it to Morgan who, without complaining or questioning, placed it on the wound and started pressing again.

Spencer was slowly slipping on the ground from his half-sitting position, with his back leaning on one of the SUVs. Derek wrapped his free, not injured arm around him from under his armpit as securely as he could, and tried to lift him up a little, to help him breathe. He did his best, straining against his own pain and the pressure he had to keep applying on the other man's wound.

Luckily, that was enough to bring him back. Spencer swallowed intensely and gasped, before starting to mumble incomprehensibly. Derek kept both his hands firmly wrapped around his neck, to try and keep his head from hanging on either side.

"Ok this is good, keep your eyes on m- hey, eyes on me" he kept saying, trying to keep him awake; once, twice, dozens of times again and again and again like a mantra; only rearranging the words slightly each time; calling his name - Spencer, kid, baby, stay with me, don't, please, I need you here, come on-

Wait. Stop. Spencer looked like he was trying to say something.

"What? What is it, kid? Talk to me, say whatever- just whatever stay awake for me please" Derek begged him, his voice starting to get too shaky to handle. The ambulance hadn't arrived yet but, even though he had lost a lot of blood, Reid managed to stay somewhat conscious, which must have been a good sign: Morgan thought, trying not to let his mind go to dark places.

"I-" Spencer started to say something, then coughed.

He coughed blood. Everything Derek had been thinking to try and keep his hopes high went to nothing.

Derek started to feel sick. Sick like all the organs in his body were stuck in a million tight knots; and his lungs seemed slowly filling up with cement; and his eyes felt as if an uncountable number of needles were piercing through them; and his limbs were being crushed into ash by a hammer.

"Oh God..." Alex whispered; her brain was like electrocuted and rendered unable to come up with anything more to keep Reid awake than she'd already come up with earlier, while Morgan was still chasing the preacher before coming to help.

Spencer reached for Derek's arm with his weak hand.

"I- I love you-" he finally managed to murmur with a hint of a lopsided smile, as if relief had washed over him the second he'd let out those words. His eyes were open in mere slits, looking at somewhere around Derek's face with an odd glimmer that the other man couldn't quite place because he'd never seen before.

"No, don't- don't say that, c'mon yo-" Derek barely said, choking halfway. "-you can say that to me later, Spencer..." his words faded away, as he shook his head in denial and the first of many tears to come fell down his cheek. He shut his eyes close in the attempt to avoid that, pressing his forehead against Spencer's while trying not to lose the grip on his neck.

"Please stay awake, please, please, please..." he begged through gritted teeth, once his sobs had somehow managed to slightly quiet down.

Suddenly, from far away, the sirens of an ambulance could be perceived amongst a million other noises, seeped out by the two agent's ears because they weren't the ones that mattered in that moment.

Alex quickly hopped on her feet and jogged toward the side of the street, waving and screaming like a maniac at the ambulance to make it quicker for the medics to find them.

"You hear that?? The ambulance is here kid, you gotta resist just a little more alright? Can you- can you do that for me??" Derek straightened up a little and said, well aware that he wasn't quite talking to Spencer anymore.

The other man mumbled something, not as a sign that he understood what was going on, rather that he was hearing Derek telling him things, saying words, making sounds.

He saw the figures of two medics along with Alex walking fast toward them, carrying a gurney. One of them got down and took Derek's place in soccurring Spencer; the former couldn't find a valid reason to protest when he was frantically shoved away off of him.

"Agent, are you injured?" the other one asked, gathering that the blood splattered on his bicep was most likely his own and not the other man's.

"I-I'm fine, the bullet didn't even hit me it just scratched me- I'm not the one who needs help, please! And- wait he- he doesn't take narcotics, please that's REALLY important-" Morgan yelped in response, still in shock, finding difficult to even put his words together clearly.

She only seemingly ignored his continuous whining - albeit rightful - but in actuality took in all that information, quickly examining his injury.

"I see what you mean, you got lucky. Still, it could get infected, so you're coming with us right now." she concluded in a rush, immediately turning around to help her colleague lay Spencer on the gurney.

While hurrying toward the ambulance, Derek saw Alex getting back to Hotch and Rossi. Aaron turned around, his eyes met Derek's.

He nodded at him from afar, a look on his face that said: "do what you have to do."

- later at the hospital

Derek had been sitting on that uncomfortable chair for at least 2 hours, in the waiting room of the hospital.

As soon as they'd got off the ambulance, they had rushed Spencer to surgery: during the drive he'd lost consciousness completely and started mumbling things that made no sense, nearing aphasia. From the second they'd taken him to the OR, Morgan hadn't been able to say anything, shell-shocked and numbed down by his brain as a defense mechanism.

Earlier, while the nurse was bandaging his arm in the Emergency Room and kept asking if he felt any pain, if he had fallen and hit his head when he'd got shot, if he was feeling dizzy; he just nodded or responded "I don't know". She'd even asked him what had happened to "his friend" at a certain point, to try and catch his attention: was she even aware that she was talking to a profiler? He couldn't even remember if he'd effectively shown her his badge.

It was probably more than 2 hours, he thought when he saw Hotch coming in.

Morgan looked up at him, finally shifting his eyes away from the floor. He didn't say anything, barely able to stare at him with a confused expression.

"I can't stay long." Hotch stated.

Silence.

"...what do you mean?" that was probably the first actual, sensible phrase Derek had pronounced since he'd got into that damned hospital.

Aaron sighed. "The others wanted to come, but I can't let them get distracted from the case, so I came here to check on you in person. It's the only way I got them to agree to stay at the station and keep working."

Derek finally understood what he meant; the cogs in his brain processing the situation with a concerning delay. He arched his eyebrows and rubbed his face with his palm, as if something Hotch said had awakened him all of a sudden.

"I thought you were here because the case was over" Derek snorted, shaking his head in a silent self-scolding.

"I- I don't know how I could think that..." he added, hunching on himself with his elbows dug in his sore knees.

"How long have you been waiting here?" Aaron asked after a few seconds, shooting him a concerned and squinting glance.

Derek briefly checked his wristwatch. "Since midnight, I think."

It was almost 3 am.

Hotch knew he couldn't ask him to swap and go get some air while he stayed there; he would've never accepted and it was only understandable. Plus, it wouldn't do any of them any good: he would be stuck in the hospital while the team needed him on the case. But he couldn't just leave him like that, what kind of teammate would he be?

"Alright." he sighed deeply. "I'm gonna wait here with you." he asserted, sitting down next to him and picking out the phone from his pocket, to inform the others by text.

Morgan scowled, as his head shot up. "No Hotch c'mon, it's already bad that I'm not working, you- you gotta get back, I'm gonna call you whenever I know something anyway-"

"I'm gonna stay until he's out of surgery and I know you both are ok." Hotch cut him off, without an inch of reconsideration in his voice. "Cause you're clearly not thinking straight right now." he concluded, searching deep in the other man's eyes for some sort of outraged reaction to his accusation, even being well aware that Derek had to be told by someone. And Hotch always seemed to be the one designated for that role.

Morgan faced down to stare at the blue linoleum floor again. After some seconds, he nodded silently, gulping to try and make that lump in his throat go away.

He realized that type of reaction wasn't normal for him. It almost never, ever happened to him to corner himself within his own head and turn to silent mode, in these kind of situations. He was usually the type to remain lucid - of course heating up and pacing around restlessly and punching things and cursing through clenched jaws; nonetheless lucid : interacting with the things and places and people surrounding him, letting himself feel whatever he had to feel and letting other people see it. Acting like he was acting in that moment, that just wasn't him. That could be JJ at times or...or Spencer. His Spencer.

After another 20 minutes of waiting in complete silence - which were nothing, compared to the 3 hours Derek had already waited - the doctor entered the crowded room. And Derek didn't even notice.

He was still sitting, eyeing blankly at the portion of floor in between his combat boots. He couldn't hear anything but his paranoid thoughts, not even the general noise and buzz of people's voices - let alone the doctor's footsteps.

Hotch instinctively stood up from the chair.

"Morgan-" he said, tapping on his shoulder.

Derek looked up at him distractedly, raising his brows. Aaron pointed at the doctor approaching them, right behind him.

He immediately got up as well and turned around; once again taking a second too many to process what was happening. He started to feel all the pressure again, heart pounding in his chest to deafness, palms oozing sweat, the knot in his larynx forming once again - for the fourth time at least that night, if one had to keep count.

"How is he?" he asked impatiently, taking for granted that he was even...alive.

"He got very lucky. The bullet didn't hit one of the major arteries just by half an inch or so." the doctor answered, calmly and reassuringly. "The excellent job you did at minimizing the blood loss on the scene was surely a determining factor." he spoke directly to Derek now, smiling widely.

Relief washed over the two agents, whose shoulders slumped and lungs released audible sighs.

"Can we see him right away?" Derek questioned further, hopeful.

"Yes, absolutely, but you have to consider that he's lost a lot of blood and stayed unconscious for quite a while. So it might take him some time to wake up from the anesthesia. Plus, he has to rest well, of course."

"Thank you." was all Derek managed to say, with watery eyes and trembling voice barely coming out of his mouth - but he really did mean it.

Aaron shook the doctor's hand, equally thankful, and quickly picked his phone out of his pocket.

"I'm calling the others right now. You go." Hotch ordered with his usual firmness and loyalty, which he maintained even in such tense situations; giving him a complicit look.

Derek simply nodded in response, infinitely grateful.

He opened the door of Spencer's room quietly, having acknowledged that he was still sleeping.

It was early morning; a faint, cold-hued light filtered through the blinds of the window. Derek couldn't see much, if not the outlines of some pieces of furniture and - most importantly - Spencer's shape lying on the bed. And that was more than enough for the moment being.

A gasp hitched halfway to his lungs, and his heart started beating with such intensity it could crack his sternum open, and his eyes prickled with tears of joy.

Morgan quietly grabbed the chair in the corner of the room and placed it beside the bed. He wanted to hug him so bad, but couldn't bring himself to wake him up; so he just sat there for a while, looking at him, at how the dim light enveloped his peacefully sleeping features and created weird shadows on his wrinkled hospital gown - for a second, he couldn't refrain from realizing that he looked beautiful even in that sloppy piece of clothing, with his tangled mop of hair sprawled all over the pillow.

Morgan reached out for the man's hand to lightly stroke his knuckles with the pads of his fingers. As soon as he did that, a single tear managed to part from the puddle heaped up before his pupils and trail down his cheek, falling down to sink into the cotton fabric of the blanket; not sure if that was due to the relief of being able to sense the warmth of Spencer's hand, or just because he was exhausted; or both.

Derek figured he wasn't gonna wake up any sooner if he stared at him for hours: he gave in to the impulse of resting his temple on his folded arms, over the bed, careful not to touch Spencer.

And he fell asleep.

- 4 hours later (7 am ca.)

Spencer opened his eyes. He felt wobbly, like he was caged in a glass bubble, and his neck hurt like hell, for lack of a term powerful enough.

He looked around and saw Derek, sitting beside the mattress with his head resting on the bed, sleeping. A disarmed smile played at the corners of his lips: of course he knew he would find him there, but quite frankly he didn't expect him to fall asleep like that.

He reached out to him with a hand, a little shaky from the weakness, and gently caressed his cheek, not sure if he wanted him to wake up or not. After all, he had no idea how much - or how little - sleep he managed to get; still: he needed to hear his voice and see that smile of his as much as he needed oxygen in his lungs.

Derek startled awake with a gasp, straightening up in his seat and checking his watch. It took him a while to notice that Spencer's hand was what had woken him up.

Then he saw him.

"Spencer-" he whispered and instantly stood up from the chair to sit on the bed beside him, stroking his forehead with a thumb.

Spencer suddenly realized Derek's arm was bandaged.

"W-what happened to you?" were his first words, hoarse and cracky; as he tried to prop himself up a little to half-sit on the bed.

"Nothing baby, bullet scratched me. How are YOU feeling? D'you want water or something? Jell-o?" the other asked, knowing exactly Spencer had a thing for Jell-o, not hesitating to brush off his unmotivated concern.

"No I'm fine, just...you should get back to the case, actually." Spencer said half-heartedly as reality hit him all of a sudden, making his smile fade away. He wanted him to stay, but on the other hand he knew keeping him there was only gonna slow down the team. They needed him more than he did - or at least, that's what he was trying to convince both himself AND Derek of.

"Nope. Not happening." the other dismissed, with a tone that left little to no space for protesting. He took Spencer's hand, lacing their fingers together.

His boyfriend gazed at him with puppy eyes. He should have expected that.

Derek sighed, cocking his head. "A'ight, look. They've probably already solved it by now. Best believe Hotch would've called me if it was necessary that I'd be there." he explained, reasonably. The point he was making was enough to ease down some of the guilt weighing on Spencer's chest for wishing he would stay.

"Plus," Derek continued, reaching his hand out to comb his fingers through Spencer's entangled curls. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate much right now anyway, pretty boy." he smiled at him.

Spencer giggled; the weight of his guilt now completely lifted off of his heart by Derek's smile - the brightest he'd ever seen, even being well aware of how much that whole chaos from last night must have drained him out. Only his Derek could.

"Come here" he then whispered, opening his arms, ready to melt into his hug.

Derek didn't wait another second to lean closer and wrap his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny, temporarily fragile body; tight but not too tight, afraid to hurt him. He'd wanted to take him in his arms since the moment he opened the door and saw him, alive, 4 hours before. He released a content sigh, burying his face into Spencer's warm neck, where his nose was being slightly tickled by that soft hair - as per usual.

Spencer gently kissed Derek's temple, ignoring the fact that in doing so he would've inevitably had to tilt his neck in a hurtful way. Indeed:

"Shit-" he whispered as he pressed a hand on his bandaged neck, scrunching his muzzle in a grimace of pain but somewhat amused at the same time: he wondered if it was gonna feel like someone was twisting his throat everytime he tilted his head as little as an inch.

Derek carefully let go of the hug and placed his palm over Spencer's; his eyes revealing guilt and regret for having complied his request to hug him.

"Fuck- sorry about that, kid..."

While the other man's gaze was concentrated on his bandaged wound, Spencer's pupils fluttered around his features, displayed a few inches from his face.

"It's nothing, just kiss me." he murmured like he was in a rush, like he hadn't even thought for a second before spitting it out like that. Which was something he usually did only when he said awkward stuff - only to receive the "Reid, wtf" signature look in response.

He placed a hand behind Derek's head and pulled him closer impulsively, risking their teeth to collide.

Derek was definitely not expecting the man's warm tongue to push into his mouth like that, forcing him to part his lips way more widely than if it were just going to be the quick peck he was initially expecting it to be.

He wanted to draw Spencer even closer, but figured placing his hand on his jaw or - even worse - on his nape, would make him flinch in pain again, so he opted to wrap him back in his arms; one draped over his shoulders and the other tight around his waist.

Spencer gradually slowed down and eventually stopped, struggling to breathe evenly. He opened his eyes to stare dreamily into Derek's; still tied in each other's arms to keep their noses 3 inches apart at most.

He smiled in a sweet, silly way and laid a couple of quick kisses on both corners of Derek's mouth, making him helplessly smile too.

"I love you." Spencer murmured against the other's grinning lips. He had enough time to place on them only a couple more quick pecks, before his boyfriend managed to untangle from his limbs and pull back a little, laughing at how fucking adorable he was.

As he chuckled and put a few more inches between their faces, the memory of Spencer saying "I love you" the night before flashed back into his mind for a second. The jarring difference in how that same phrase was pronounced in those two diametrally opposed contexts made Derek feel things, not quite sure what things. Spencer most definitely couldn't remember saying it - his near unconscious state from last night overpowering his eidetic memory - though Derek recalled mumbling something among the lines of "you can say that to me later"... Anyway, he pushed those inconclusive thoughts away before they could ruin such a precious moment.

"Alright, alright, I would've gone to get you that Jell-o even without all this, you know?" he said, betraying his feigned indignation when he couldn't resist placing one last kiss on Spencer's Cupid's bow. "Or is this your apology for scaring the shit out of me and making me cry like a baby? Cause either way, it's working. You really ARE a magician, huh" he winked jokingly.

Spencer giggled and rolled his eyes. "Come on, it's not about the Jell-o!"

Derek let go of him altogether and stood up from the bed, before mocking him yet once more.

"Yeah, whatever. Imma go get that Jell-o, you stay here." as if he could actually get up and walk around the hospital, duh...

Spencer dropped his arms on the bed, as a sign of complaint. "Seriously though, I don't want Jell-o right now I- I want you ! Even if you bring it to me it's gonna stay exactly wherever you put it!" he tried to convince him not to leave the room, blushing as a result of having let "I want you" slip out like that.

Even if what Spencer said and the tone with which he said it and the face with which he said it were persuasive to say the least; Derek already had his hand on the door handle by then. He opened it and turned around toward Spencer one last time before getting out.

"I need an excuse to get out of here or Imma eat you alive, so you better thank me." he concluded with a glare and a smirk, playfully pointing a threatening finger at his boyfriend before finally closing the door behind him.

Spencer sighed in resignation, slowly returning to lie down on the mattress with his head on the pillow.

He stared at the ceiling and covered his eyes with his hand, smiling from ear to ear.

79 notes · View notes

achtung-attitude · 3 years

Photo

CHAPTER 41: If I Were a Boy

Their father had been born into poverty, but through dedication and an unwavering work ethic, he had become a wealthy man. Because of this, Knowles’ earliest memories were of the family home in Brentwood. If not for their color, the family looked like something right out of a billboard from the 1950s. She and her brother Toto had truly wanted for nothing, though there was not much to want. They never bothered their parents to buy them anything extravagant, like some other rich kids. All that mattered was family.

Their mother stayed at home and nurtured the children, while her husband served as an attorney at law and instilled in them classic American values: hard work, integrity and above all, responsibility.

“Life is hard, and there’re so many people who’d jump at the chance to be in our shoes, to have what we have,” he explains to them one morning, around the dinner table.

By 9 years old, Knowles has heard this speech before. She’s a good girl, however, and knows it’s her duty to engage with the lesson. “How come they don’t, Daddy?” she asks, innocently.

“Well, there are lots of reasons. And not all of them are their fault,” her father chuckles. “But… mainly it’s because… so many people refuse to take responsibility. So many, in this city and around the world even, see themselves as victims. And if you believe yourself to be a victim, well… that’s all you’re ever going to be. The only way to become free is to challenge yourself every day.”

“Aren’t we already free?” Toto asks, to the surprise of his older sister. He sits on the other side of the table from her. Usually, he never says anything.

“...We are, but...” his father replies, “How should I put this so a kid can understand? It’s… some people… well, they’ll complain a lot, and make a lot of noise about how things are, but they don’t truly do anything to improve their situation. I suppose because it’s easier for them to live that way, and be angry…”

“Not us, though…” says the little boy.

His father pauses, then smiles. “No, not us. Because we understand that there’s nothing holding us back! The only true obstacle that each of us face… is ourselves.”

“... Is that why we’re rich, Daddy?” Knowles asks.

He smiles brightly. “That’s right! That’s how I could afford these engagement rings for your mother and I,” he proclaims, presenting the gold band on his left ring finger, “And it’s how I was able to afford tickets to tonight’s Lakers game!” He presents the tickets, waving them proudly.

Knowles cheers and hollers in pure excitement. Nothing could make her happier, other than having the loving family she has. With a life like this, how could her father ever be wrong?

There is nothing holding her back.

Later that day, the whole family loads themselves into the car on their way to the Lakers game. Knowles adored the Lakers, but Toto would always claim the Clippers were better. Not because he actually thought it was true, he just wanted to annoy her.

“Come you, you fucking morons…” the patriarch mutters under his breath, but still loud enough that his children can hear. Knowles’ father is an eloquent and soft-spoken man. The only time she knew him to curse was in this situation, stuck in the congested streets of LA.

“Thomas, not in front of the kids…” the mother chides.

“Fucking morons!” Toto pipes up cheerfully.

“Toto! Stop that, we don’t use that kind of language!” his mother commands.

“Why the fuck not?” he asks.

“TOTO!” Thomas shouts. The little boy shuts up immediately. Their father was a man to be listened to when he raised his voice. Knowles rolls her eyes at her brother.

The disgruntled lawyer sighs. In the opposite lane, a car moves ahead and he acts quickly, changing lanes as quickly as possible. Perhaps half a minute after he does so, red and blue light dances behind the car and a police siren hollers.

“Ah, hell…”

“You forgot to use your turn signal, probably,” Knowles’ mother says.

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he smiles as he pulls over. Once he’s parked by the side of the road, he turns to the backseat. “Alright, kids, when the officer comes to the window, what do we do?”

“Smile and keep quiet!” Knowles responds promptly.

“Good,” her father nods, and turns back in his seat to greet the police officer approaching the window. A white man wearing mirrored sunglasses stoops to peer inside the vehicle.

“Afternoon, officer,” he says, wearing his best smile, “Now I know I changed lanes with my signal, but you know how it is on days like--”

“Sir, you weren’t asked to speak.” The cop cuts him off, brusquely.

“Ah… right.”

“Licence and registration, please.”

“Right, of course…” Knowles watches her father reach into the overhead visor and freeze slightly, finding his licence not there. He thinks for a moment, then exclaims, “Oh, right. Uh, honey, move for a sec…” he says, reaching across his wife into the glove compartment. He keeps his right hand on the wheel the entire time. “Put it in here…!” he explains with a nervous chuckle.

“Dear, I can get it for you--” his wife says.

“Let him do it. You stay where you are, ma’am,” the cop commands, and Knowles’ mother holds her tongue.

“I know it’s in here somewhere…” Thomas assures, and then, through pure accident, his ring finger gets caught in the spring pulley in the compartment, disjointing it and causing him to yell in pain. “AAAHH!”

Knowles jumps in her seat, startled by the sudden shout. Toto jolts besides hertoo, but the cop has the sharpest reaction, taking a full step back away from the car. “What are you doing?” the officer demands, his hand creeping to his weapon “What happened? Pull your hand out of there, slowly!”

“I’m stuck…!” Thomas retorts, desperately trying to retrieve his hand.

“Show me your hands! Right now!” the cop demands again, fully drawing his weapon.

“No, no wait! He’s not…! He’s just stuck!” Knowles’ mother wails.

“Daddy…?” Knowles mutters, utterly confused. Her parents seem so afraid.

“Show me your fucking hands, right now! Right fucking NOW!!” the cop roars, his voice cracking.

“W-wait, please…!” Knowles’ father pleads, raising his right hand off the steering wheel. Then, whatever he started to say after that was drowned by the sound of a gunshot, then another.

Three in total are let off, echoing in the tight space of the car and ringing in Knowles’ ears. The first two hit her father in the head, the third in the right shoulder. He slumps into his wife’s lap and she stares down at his limp body in shock.

“... You killed my husband…” she says after a few seconds of awful silence, the blood from her husband’s seeping into her skirt. “You... killed my husband!” she repeats, her voice rising into a shriek. She rises in her seat, but is held down by the weight of her husband’s body. “YOU KILLED MY HUSBAND, YOU FUCKING MONSTER! I’LL KILL YOU! YOU FUCKING DEVIL, I’LL KILL YO-!!”

Two more shots ring, one hitting Knowles’ mother in the jaw and going through her face to blow open the passenger side window, the other straight into her temple. She too goes limp, slumping forward, her forehead hitting the dashboard.

Knowles stares. There’s blood on her face and in her hair, and the air is filled with the smell of smoke. Her ears are ringing from the shots, so she doesn’t hear the door open. All of sudden she finds herself outside, and realizes that she was the one to open the car door and step onto the sidewalk, moving unconsciously, as if possessed.

She lurches towards her parent’s killer and punches his leg as hard as she can. He trembles, but not from her attack. His entire body shakes, his hands still gripping his weapon tightly. She punches him again and again, and she begins screaming. The cop’s shades fall off to reveal a youthful face contorted with horror.

She doesn’t even know what she’s saying at first, the ringing in her ears is so loud, but when it finally dies down, she hears her own voice screaming, “WHY?! WHY’D YOU DO THAT?!! WHY’D YOU KILL MY DAD?!! She screams through pouring tears, punching the cop’s leg, “WHY’D YOU KILL MY MOM?!! BRING THEM BACK!! BRING BACK DADDY!! PLEEEEASE…!!!”

Toto stays in the car throughout, staring silently ast the blood pooling around his feet.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #knowles #toto #ch41

4 notes · View notes

xianglingslesbian · 4 years

Note

oh I'll give u a character alright: Izuki, Kiyoshi, Riko and Aomine <333 technically that's four, but what goes around comes around (I'll keep this circle of love goin forever buddy)

VICCCC ily my man <33 thank u!!! aight putting this under a cut bc it got long

Izuki

Why I like them: izuki’s just overall so amazing! he inspires me to give my best in the stuff i do, and although it sounds a bit silly i try to be a person that he’d be proud of. his puns are hilarious and well-thought-out (as a person who loves words and word jokes, i’m naturally drawn to him lol). they’re also a way to take the heat off the team, he’s so hardworking and never views obstacles as obstacles, rather as hills he must climb to find newer skies. he’s also rather clever and employs his brains to great effect when his body fails him! izuki embodies the meaning of ‘eagle’ in the truest sense - waiting to strike when the time is right and not failing when it is.

Why I don’t: *sweats* can’t really think of a reason i don’t like izuki, at all??? i guess he can overwork himself a lot and tends to keep his true emotions hidden which could lead to misunderstandings between friends (although this is totally headcanon territory lol)... i also didn’t like the ableist comment he passed on hayama (“i’m just glad you weren’t smarter than me”). but i think he can (and will!) grow from that kind of stuff, he is that kind of person so yeah no particular reason for me to dislike him at all

Favorite episode (scene if movie): how dare you make me pick s3 e8 izuki vs kasamatsu, hands down. i know its like cliche or whatever but that moment just told me so much about izuki as a character? he’s willing to do what it takes to win, he’s adaptable and dependable and he doesn’t let shit get him down ever. it’s gorgeous

Favorite season/movie: s3, he got some fantastic moments in there!! although i will say i loved the spotlighting he got in s1 in the seihō match

Favorite line: “Fear isn't a bad thing. There are some things that can only be done by cowards.” this is first of all such a nice thing to say. ‘fear is not bad’ is just... so fucking wise? keep in mind that this boy is 17, i’ve met 30 year olds who are less mature. secondly it feels like izu’s speaking from experience?? like he has a lot to be scared of, i’m sure. particularly of falling behind and being a burden to his teammates. but it’s that ‘cowardice’ that drives him to practice so so hard. that visceral terror of weighing on seirin is what pushes izuki beyond his limits - which is why here he can empathise with furi’s fear, and knows how best to employ it.

Favorite outfit: look i hate last game w/ a passion but that lil tie/shirt/hoodie thing he had going? that was literally so cute. izuki in general has a p great fashion sense but his last game outfit takes the cake <3

OTP: hyuuizu oh my god i could talk for years about them but since this post is gonna be very long i’ll refrain. just. they are perfect they are fucking perfect

Brotp: kiyoizu!! kiyoshi is izuki’s biggest enabler and i love that for him <3

Head Canon: izuki can be very very passive aggressive when he’s angry at someone/sad and gets cold and withdrawn. it’s not fun to experience but tbh if you upset him you probably deserve it

Unpopular opinion: izuki should’ve been naturally better in canon. it’s not fair to shaft him and give the ‘trier’ thing off to himuro. that being said i am p happy with who he is as a person

A wish: i want to know how izuki felt after middle school! izuki’s and riko’s backstory focuses so much on hyuuga its dumb >:( he also would’ve been demoralised but he didn’t quit bball and i would like to know his thought process!

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: i. uh. i guess izu quitting basketball. because i genuinely cannot see that happening. it brings him so much joy, he should never stop cold turkey. i can imagine old man izuki hobbling about a court giving little kids pointers and making them laugh T-T

5 words to best describe them: “big brain caffeine-powered clown baby”

My nickname for them: babyzuki/izu/shunshun

Kiyoshi

Why I like them: lots of reasons! kiyoshi is an admirable person. he’s strong, yet friendly and gentle, and he loves his team above all else, which i just find beautiful. i find his manipulative side also pretty cool, bc it shows off how multifaceted he is.

Why I don’t: this is more of a fandom reason but i really dislike how kiyoshi is always said to have had the greatest impact in hyuuga’s story. he badgered and manipulated hyuuga, and while some may argue hyuuga needed that push, it only worked bc hyuuga had had time to think about shit. he’d also been given space by riko and izuki (two integral parts of his life whom the fandom looooves to sideline for uwu kiyo//hyuu).

Favorite episode (scene if movie): yousen match (can’t pick the episodes)! i loved the backstory we got for kiyo vs mura and i loved how kiyoshi was willing to smile and play but also refused to lose. he truly stole the show despite kagami being the one to finally take down murasakibara, it was gorgeous <3

Favorite season/movie: s2 for sure. kiyoshi wasn’t allowed to shine much after yousen imo - all the focus was on hyuuga kagami and kuroko, and to a lesser extent izuki. not complaining, but yeah

Favorite line: “Let’s go have some fun.” i know it’s kinda cliche but i do love how kiyoshi’s always thinking about playing a good game and enjoying basketball. he wants to play because he loves it and as someone who loves a sport as much as kiyoshi loves b-ball, that love is so poignant and tender

Favorite outfit: practice clothes! kiyoshi looks great in pink <3

OTP: kiyohana. hateshipping amirite ;)

Brotp: kiyohyuu! i love them as friends so so much <3

Head Canon: kiyoshi is half-iranian on his mother’s side and is muslim. i won’t say too much because i am not muslim myself, i need to do more research into this but i’ve had this headcanon for quite a while now!

Unpopular opinion: he should be bullied more for the fact that his canon power is having yaoi hands

A wish: kiyo finds something he loves as much as b-ball. he can’t canonically play at this level again, so if he found another sport/competition/anything, it’d be amazing

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: he should never become demoralised. kiyoshi at heart is a dreamer, so let him dream, let him look towards tomorrow with a smile always

5 words to best describe them: “useless dreamy dumbass cheerleader clown”

My nickname for them: kiyoyo, bc my feelings about him have yo-yoed a lot lmao

Riko

Why I like them: im a lesbian, next. /j i love her because she’s so tenacious and driven. yet she’s also kind and gentle, and never loses her humanity. she cares, and she cares hard. she’s so fucking smart too like... coaching a hs basketball team at 17 against players of NBA calibre and making them win? i could never. seirin without riko is nothing.

Why I don’t: i dont like the constant slapstick of her beating up her boys. also, i dislike how the narrative forces her to act ‘feminine’ and then has the boys think of it as nothing. like first of all if someone like her offered me a kiss i would so take 100, and secondly... why is a girl’s worth so tied to her femininity? it’s awful

Favorite episode (scene if movie): her sending in furi vs kaijō, early in s3. it was an exceedingly smart move that could have only come from her knowing her players’ strengths and weaknesses intimately, and being a brilliant coach. just amazing <3

Favorite season/movie: all of them! riko has some amazing moments each season, so i can’t really pick

Favorite line: “Humans grow. Don't act like you understand when you don't even realize that!” here, riko knows and knows well that she is in her element. momoi might have the data, but riko understands adaptability and knows how to predict stuff. in that way, one can draw parallels between takao vs izuki and momoi vs riko: takao and momoi are recon experts, whereas riko and izuki are strategists. momoi uses raw data; riko manipulates the data to her advantage

Favorite outfit: idk if this is exactly an outfit but her glasses are so cute oh my gosh. (i’d kill to see her in a leather jacket tho)

OTP: rikomomo!!! i’m 100% sure that momoi’s fixation w/riko’s boobs is just... repressed lesbian sentiments. also sports girlfriends gimme

Brotp: hyuuizuriko. i hc that hyuuizu were tgt since elementary school and riko joined them in middle school so... childhood friends feels!

Head Canon: riko knows how to shoot a gun. her father owns one so it makes sense

Unpopular opinion: riko does not need to have bigger boobs in fanart. please stop sexualising a 17 year old girl

A wish: white suit riko please

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: her ever leaving behind sports in any way shape or form. it’s her thing. in the same vein, she should never have to change herself or become more traditionally feminine to be ‘appealing’

5 words to best describe them: perfect perfect perfect perfect perfect

My nickname for them: ai/riri

Aomine

Why I like them: aomine is just a pure, hurting young man that deserves help. he’s passionate, and his fire died down out of no fault of his own. that fire’s reignition through kagami is one of my favorite scenes <3

Why I don’t: he’s perverted as hell and i dislike that. it plays into the ‘brutish dark-skinned pervert’ stereotype which is yikes. also i thought we were done with pervs in anime

Favorite episode (scene if movie): s2 seirin v touou when kagami enters the zone!! aomine’s finally happy and it’s so amazing to watch <3

Favorite season/movie: s2, he finally got happiness and peace of mind

Favorite line: “You’re the best!” there’s just so much of pure joy in this line. he’s so so beside himself that he finally has someone he won’t destroy. kagami sees aomine the person, and that person is so happy, it’s beautiful

Favorite outfit: the leather jacket from the finale lmaooo he looked so cute

OTP: AOKAGA BABY i could write an essay tbh

Brotp: aomomo!! theyre such good friends and bi/lesbian solidarity too!

Head Canon: aomine cannot dance. he has stepped on kagami’s feet multiple times. he has also attempted to twerk when drunk. kuroko recorded the whole thing and uses it as blackmail in case the puppy eyes and “but aomine-kun you didn’t fist bump me back” don’t work

Unpopular opinion: more a fandom thing, but you all need to stop making aomine the aggressive/possessive top/‘seme’. it’s racist as fuck

A wish: aomine goes pro. it’ll be amazing for him, a huge challenge and kagami will be there too so its a win-win ;)

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: he quits again/b-ball loses its allure. aomine at heart is someone who needs passion to drive him so i just want that passion to always burn bright within him

5 words to best describe them: “bastard baby needs a hug”

My nickname for them: dai-chan, momoi rubbed off on me

#izuki #kiyoshi #riko #aomine #vee #knb #ceru babbles #answered #omg i went OFF

9 notes · View notes

let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Somebody To You: 6

Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)

This chapter is more of a filler, but it’s got some really important details in it.

Word Count: 2,857

Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories

---------------------------------------------

CHAPTER SIX

It’s been a long two weeks. Between work and friends, Zoey didn’t feel like she had any days off to relax. Ever since their double date, Brett and Zoey have been hanging out a lot more. It seemed like he was over practically every day to hang out with her and her roommates. He’d occasionally come over before his shift started, but more often than not it was late at night after she got off to have a game night, and Nancy and Rory would wait up for them to join. The girls quickly became fond of him and formed a friendship much like hers with Harry.

They were all constantly making plans to hang out, and although she had so much fun with them, Zoey felt like she rarely had a moment to herself anymore. The only time she felt like she had a minute to breathe or think was her morning phone calls with Harry. Sure, they texted occasionally throughout the day, but that phone call was the time when both of them could sit down, talk, and reflect on what was going on in their lives.

Harry seemed to be going through a rough patch. She missed him before he left the last time he came out as he had to be up super early the following morning so he didn’t miss his flight, but he did call Zoey when he landed to fill her in on the details of the conversation she caught him and Rory having.

Rory was honest with him and told him how she felt. She liked him, but she didn’t want to be with someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted to be with her. She understood his hesitation because of his past experiences with relationships while on tour, but she didn’t appreciate being grouped in the same category with his exes. She told Harry that she had no problem waiting if that’s what he wanted, but only if he was sure he wanted her. Otherwise, he’s just wasting her time.

“I’m not giving you an ultimatum or making you choose right this second because that’s not fair,” Rory said to him, “I’ll give you some space and time to figure it out. We can still talk and be friendly in the meantime, but I’m not going to wait forever.”

No one could fault her, and Zoey respected the hell out of her for standing her ground and noticing her own self-worth, but Harry was really struggling to decide what he wanted to do. To him, it wasn’t as simple as it was for most people. He has eyes on him at all times. Not only does he have to navigate the ups and downs of a relationship, but he has to do so in the public eye. He had to find a way to protect the sanctity of his relationship from the press and people with malicious intent and he had to somehow find a way to shield his partner from negative media and online attention because the hate is inevitable. To him, relationships were terrifying.

Zoey helped by listening to his rants and concerns, offering bits of advice, but always remaining neutral. No matter how many times Harry asked her what he should do, Zoey refused, telling him it was his decision to make while always reminding him to stop overthinking everything and to live the life he wanted without worrying about what might go wrong. Easy for her to say. She’s not famous.

Luckily, Rory kept her word in not putting any pressure on him to make a decision. They still spoke and flirted every now and then, though it wasn’t as often as before. Most of their conversations these days consisted of work-related things or Rory filling him in on all of the fun she was having with the girls, Andy, and Brett. She was spending a lot more time with Zoey’s new friends, and from what Rory said, it sounded like Zoey was having a lot of sleepless nights with Brett.

Zoey’s sex life was never really a topic of discussion when they spoke. She never really went into detail or stayed on the subject no matter how much Harry tried to pry. Of course, he knew they saw each other, but the only reason he knew when Brett spent the night was because Nancy or Rory mentioned hanging out with him and how he stayed over. During their text conversations, Zoey always seemed so nonchalant and never alluded to the fact that Brett was even there. She didn’t care to talk about their ‘relationship’ much, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was trying to hide the fact that she was actually falling for him, or because she really didn’t care and it was just as casual as she intended it to be. The only thing Harry managed to get out of her was that she wasn’t a fan of his kissing. Either way, she was great at keeping her private life private, which was something he respected, all things considered.

Finally, it was Friday, and the last week of May, so Andy, Brett, and Zoey decided to go to the beach early in the morning so they had enough time before work tonight. Nancy and Rory tagged along, for once not having any work they needed to do. The sun beamed brightly, not a cloud in sight. It was only 80 degrees. Not too hot, not too cold. It was the perfect beach day. Andy helped Zoey apply suntan lotion to her back as Nancy and Rory sprayed each other down and Brett didn’t bother, laying out everyone’s towels on the hot, golden sand beside their beach bags.

At first, the group stayed on their towels, letting the sun warm up their skin and adjust to the temperatures. Eventually, Nancy, Zoey, and Andy made their way to the water, leaving Brett and Rory to tan. They eased their way into the ocean until waist level, waves whipping at their hips. An hour in and they had gotten more comfortable, diving underwater, laughing as they pretended to be mermaids, screeching whenever seaweed brushed against their legs and sputtering as the salty water had gotten into their mouths. Rory and Brett had finally joined them, but it didn’t take long before they all headed back to their setup, letting the sun dry them off.

The beach had always been Zoey’s happy place. She had always been the happiest in the water. It’s why she was on the swim team in school and why she frequently slept at Jess’s house to enjoy her pool. Her parents used to call her their little fish when she was a kid because she could be in the water all day. Jess was the first to get her license, and every day off in the summer since Jess turned sixteen, she’d drive the two of them to the beach just for Zoey. It was nearly a three-hour drive just to get there. They’d be up and out the door by 6 AM just so they could be there by 9, and wouldn’t leave until long after the sun had set just to do it all over again the next day. Every now and then they’d get lucky enough to rent a hotel, but they never complained about the drive. It was worth it to Jess if it made Zoey happy. It became their tradition to see how many times they could make it down to the beach in one summer and if they could top it. It’s been a year since she’s been to the beach. And it’s just as amazing as she remembers it being.

Brett had brought a football and they all were tossing it around to each other in an unofficial game of football. Zoey screamed as he ran up, scooping her into his arms and tackling her into the sand, laughing as sand shot up into their face from the impact on the ground and covered their bodies.

“Absolutely not! I saved that!” Zoey exclaimed, lightly smacking Brett’s sweaty, back as he pushed himself off of her.

“Tell that to the ball on the ground,” Brett shot back, panting and scooping a heaping pile of sand onto her stomach in retaliation causing Andy and Rory to laugh.

A ringtone was heard in the distance by their towels and Nancy called back, “Someone’s phone is ringing!” as she jogged towards their stuff, rummaging through the bags. She pulled out Zoey’s phone, looked at the screen and held it up, calling, “It’s Harry!”

“Answer it!” Zoey called back, standing up and dusting the sand off of herself.

Nancy plopped down on the towels as everyone slowly caught their breath, making their way over towards her. She answered the phone on speaker and put on her best stern voice, “How come you never call me?”

“Who’s this?” she heard Harry’s muffled voice from a few feet away, “Nancy?”

“I’m clearly Susan Sarandon. You can’t tell by my voice?” she joked as Andy, Brett, and Rory had sat around her, the rumble of voices and children laughing surrounding them.

Harry laughed, ignoring her, “That’s a lie. I just called you yesterday!”

“That’s true. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, going to be heading to soundcheck soon. Where’s Zoey?”

“Here!” Zoey called, finally reaching the edge of the towels, hovering over everyone.

“Where are you? It sounds loud?” Harry asked.

“We’re at the beach,” Nancy spoke, “Everyone’s here except you. Me, Zoey, Rory, Andy, and Brett.”

“Am I on speaker?”

“Yeah, say hi!”

The group sang a chorus of greetings while Harry responded an almost shy “hello” back. Zoey smiled, extending her hand out and grabbing her phone as Nancy passed it over to her. She placed it to her chest and turned to Brett, softly saying, “Hey, I’m getting hungry. Can you grab us some lunch? I’ll pay you back.”

“Yeah, no worries. I can pay. Anyone want to come with?”

“I’ll go!” Nancy offered, standing up.

“Yeah, I’ll help,” added Rory.

Andy scoffed, “My ass is staying right here. But I will take a slice of pepperoni pizza, please,” he slid his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose and slid back onto his beach chair.

As soon as the three were off, Zoey took her phone off speaker and brought it to her ear, walking towards the dunes where there were fewer people and it was slightly quieter.

“Sorry, I’m here,” she spoke, “they’re gone.”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to interrupt. You can get back to them.”

“Shut up,” Zoey laughed, dragging her feet in the sand as she spoke, “What’s up?”

“We were going over the next few cities we’ll be in, and guess where I’ll be next weekend,” Harry said excitedly.

“New York?” Zoey guessed.

“Well, yeah. But I’ll also be in Philadelphia next Saturday.”

“Philly?” Zoey gasped, halting in her tracks, “You’ll be maybe twenty minutes from my family.”

“It’s that close? Where did you live?”

Zoey sat in the sand, knees to her chest, and told Harry about her hometown and where she grew up. She scooped sand in her free hand and watched as it fell to the ground like a sand shower as she recalled memories of her and Jess running around their town as teenagers and all of the trouble they got into. And Harry listened, interested in every detail.

Somehow they got onto the subject of Zoey’s past childhood boyfriends, where she had her first kiss and her first heartbreak. This eventually led to a conversation about Brett. It’s not that she avoided talking about Brett, but there was nothing to really say about him. They hung out. They screwed. That was it for the most part. Except there was a little news about him this time.

“He asked me on another date,” Zoey informed him.

“What, a double date again?”

“No, one on one.”

Harry paused in thought before speaking, “I’m confused. I don’t get what’s going on between you two.”

Zoey laughed, “I don’t either.”

He continued, “I mean, you say it’s just a casual thing. Hanging out and fucking around. So what’s the point in going on a date if that’s all it is? Or is it more than that?”

Zoey pursed her lips and blew hard, making a horse snorting sound before groaning and resting her head on her forearm that was resting on her knees, “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s more than that, but it seems like it’s getting more serious. I mean he stays over so often we should start charging him rent. I feel like I see him more than Nancy and Rory between work and home.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Harry asked, curiously.

“I don’t know,” she whined, sitting back up, “The girls love him and he’s a lot of fun. And he’s getting better at the kissing thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s still work to do, but he gets the job done if you know what I mean. Oh my god, speaking of,” Zoey started cackling to herself, “we got caught yesterday.”

“What do you mean ‘you got caught’?” Harry chuckled at the vagueness.

“At work.”

“At work?!” Harry repeated, the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end as if he had quickly sprung up from a seat.

She nodded to herself, wiping away a tear that teetered at the corner of her eye, which was probably a mistake because she now felt sand on her cheek, remembering the incident last night.

“Oh shit! My bad!” Andy apologized to her, shoving the beer bottles he carried into the crook of her arm and wiping at the wet spot he had left on Zoey’s black shirt when he collided into her after she suddenly appeared from the storage closet. “I was looking for you. You alright? You look like you’ve been crying.” He asked, noticing her flushed face and loose strands of hair dangling from her messy bun.

The storage closet door suddenly opened beside them and Brett stepped out, forehead beaded with sweat, hair tousled, lips red raw, straightening out his shirt. Brett paused when he saw the two standing there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Andy’s eyes shot between the two as realization sunk in and he groaned.

“Jesus Christ!” Andy whispered, “Y'all are nasty!”

Brett chuckled and winks as he scooted past them, returning to the busy bar to finish off his shift.

“Sorry, Andy!” Zoey sheepishly smiled, biting her lip.

Andy shook his head, laughing in amusement, “At least one of us has a good sex life. Fix your hair. You look crazy,” he walked away.

Zoey shook her head, snapping back to the present and she chortled, trying to stifle her laughter as she looked over to see all of her friends back on the towels and enjoying their lunch together.

“It was just a quickie in the storage closet, but we ran into Andy on the way out and it was super embarrassing. I mean, at least it was just Andy and not our manager, but still,” she explained.

“You couldn’t wait a few hours?” Harry laughed.

Zoey giggled, “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

The two finished catching up and Zoey wished him good luck before ending the phone call and heading back to her friends. There was a slight burning feeling on her shoulder blade as the suntan lotion began to wear off and knew she’d have a sunburn tonight. She tossed her phone back in the beach bag and took a spot between Nancy and Rory while the group had laughed about something Andy had said.

Andy looked over at Zoey and smiled at her grin, “You and Harry talk a lot,” he noted.

“Yeah,” Zoey nodded, picking up her slice of pizza that had now cooled down, though had a little dusting of sand on the top, “We’ve been through a lot of similar situations, so it’s easy to talk to him about it.”

Andy nodded, understandingly, being the only one that knew of Jess. Aurora nodded in agreement, “I like how quickly our little friend group formed and how well we all get along.”

Nancy laughed, “Could you imagine we all hated each other?”

“Imagine them thinking I don’t hate them,” Andy joked, turning towards Zoey and scoffing which caused Nancy to pounce on him.

This caused an all-out war and Zoey laughed as Nancy chased Andy towards the water and Brett had practically dragged Rory behind them, letting Zoey finish her lunch, happy to be with friends. But she couldn’t help to feel that pang of sadness as she thought about how much Jess would have loved to be apart of this, too.

The realization hit, nearly knocking the wind out of her. In just over a week it would be Jess’s birthday. The one year anniversary of her best friend’s death. And the happiness she felt just moments before was replaced with gloom. How was she going to manage this?

KEEP READING

#Harry Styles #Harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #one direction #one direction smut #one direction imagine #one direction fanfic

23 notes · View notes