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forehead-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

Checkmate

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, fluff but it gets slightly steamy at one point (still totally sfw)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You and Haechan get engaged, because anything is better than the process of trying to get engaged. That being said, having a fiancé you hate isn’t that much better.

Author’s notes: remember me???????? I’m alive, yeah. I’m super proud of this fic, I think it’s my best ever, so please give it a read!!

Haechan inhaled the overwhelming scent of floral perfume, and barely managed to stifle a gag. His father arranged for him to meet more and more foreign princesses every week, and he wondered where the man even kept finding them. Were there even this many countries? The prince’s surroundings were beginning to blend into a blur of painted smiles and emotionless eyes. He cursed that stubborn old man in his mind, and questioned furiously why it was even so important that he find a bride any time soon. Still, no matter how much he despised it, he knew his father wouldn’t accept anything less.

He looked into the sea of lace gowns and resigned himself.

Maybe he’d just choose someone. Anyone. He smiled morosely, knowing all the women there were only after their shot at the throne anyway. They were here to use him, why shouldn’t he use them too? The apathetic thought left a bad taste on his tongue. Still, in his exhaustion at his circumstances, it seemed more and more reasonable the longer he considered it.

He searched throughout the crowd of giggling princesses, unable to distinguish between their faces.

One after another, they approached him, with candied smiles and words that were far too practiced. One after another, they convinced him a loveless marriage with someone half-decent was far preferable to enduring this a moment longer. One after another, they revealed themselves to be absolutely unbearable, and Haechan grew more and more desperate to find someone that didn’t make him want to throw himself off a balcony after three sentences.

You stood at the back of the crowd, prodded by impatient elbows and sneered at by women hiding their smirks behind fans. You rolled your eyes, unable to understand this need, this hunger to marry someone they’d never met. That was your problem, according to your parents. And your advisors. And your tutors. According to everyone, really. You’d been to so many different kingdoms, trying to seduce unfamiliar princes, but could never bring yourself to actually put any effort into it. The carriage that shipped you to each one was beginning to feel more like home than the castle you’d left.

You watched girl after girl leave the ballroom, looking thoroughly dejected. It was hard not to relish in their failure just a bit, but you dreaded whatever high standards this prince was going to judge you with. You had little to offer. Your background, your kingdom, your land- none could remotely compare to his. Your parents were completely insane to even think you had anything that would make you lucrative as a bride to him.

Maybe they’re hoping he’ll behead me. You chuckled.

Still, the crowd continued to thin, and you couldn’t put off meeting him forever. A few of the weaker-hearted girls nudged you forward, suddenly less eager to meet the sharp-tongued prince.

You sighed, and decided to get it over with.

Haechan rubbed at his temples, barely even looking at the girl who approached him now. He’d made up his mind to find a bride today, but his prospects weren’t looking so good. His eyes caught the hem of this princess’s dress. It was unadorned. He’d go so far as to call it plain. Many princesses were after his riches, but he’d never seen one that was so blatantly poor. Most at least tried to disguise their lack of wealth, so as to make them more desirable in terms of growing power. He half-chuckled, half-sighed. His gaze traced upward lazily, until it came across the first unsmiling face he’d seen all day. It shocked him so much that his hand dropped from his face, and he stood up instinctively.

“Your highness, thank you for allowing me to meet with you today-”

It was the most monotonous, disinterested introduction he’d ever heard, and his heart soared. You hadn’t even noticed he’d stood up. Incredible.

“Let’s get married.”

“I hope- excuse me?”

“Let’s get married. Can we go right now?” The question was directed to the attendant beside him, who sputtered at the prince’s sudden enthusiasm. No one, however, was more surprised at him than you. Your skirts were still clutched in your fists, your knees still bent in a curtsy. You couldn’t even manage to feel happy that he’d chosen you.

If anything, you felt angry.

He was rattling off instructions to his attendant about the wedding he’d already begun to plan, completely ignoring you. You hadn’t even responded to his proposal, if you could call his demand that. You tried to get in a polite word in time and time again, only for him to not even acknowledge you, until you got so sick of him talking you couldn’t stand it anymore.

��No!”

Finally, he turned to you.

“No?”

“I don’t want to marry you.” You ignored the consequences of your words, and avoided thinking about the awaiting rage of your parents.

The prince blinked.

Then he scoffed.

“Of course you do.”

You cocked an eyebrow, your expression not betraying how absolutely pissed those four words had made you. Instead, the first smile you’d shown him spread on your face. It was chillingly false, your eyes boring deep holes into his face as you sweetly replied:

“I’d burn down this castle before I married you, your highness. Good day.”

And with that, you turned and left the ballroom.

Haechan didn’t move for a few moments as he watched you stalk away, a picture of grace even in your anger. The women who remained and witnessed began to whisper, snapping him out of his shock. His head flicked around the room, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Then, just as you vanished around a corner, he took off after you.

He’d been turned down. How? Why? He was rich. He was influential. You were neither. He felt a nagging pang of guilt, but suppressed it. You were poor. His proposal was a generous offer, for you and your kingdom. You were the one losing out by rejecting him. So why? Why was he the one chasing after you? He cursed under his breath as he caught sight of your back.

“You! Wait up!”

You heard him calling, but only sped up.

“I will call the guards if you don’t stop this instant! I-I command you to stop!”

You did. Then you turned on your heel, with a glare that would send armies fleeing, and stomped towards him much faster than he knew a princess could. He flinched as you were suddenly toe to toe with him, taller than he expected. You seemed smaller when he was sitting on his throne. You sneered at his reaction.

“Do you need your guards just to take care of one woman, little prince?”

He flushed, but you didn’t let him respond.

“You don’t even know my name. I’m not, ‘you.’ I don’t know why you want to marry me, but if you want me to agree, maybe learn that first.”

“You-” Haechan fumbled, unused to someone being blunt with him. He flared up, unable to think straight.

“You’re lucky to get an offer like this, you know.”

He saw the way your eyes widened in indignation, but kept digging his own grave as if he’d find treasure eventually.

“You won’t get an opportunity like this again. And, for your information, I only want to get married so I can finally be done with all,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom you’d both just left, “this.”

Despite your anger, his reason struck a chord within you. Not that that made your tone any less cutting.

“So I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re using me?”

“We’re royalty. We’re all getting used by someone, aren’t we?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and he could tell you didn’t find the idea all so repulsive. He pressed forward.

“You’re tired of it all too, aren’t you? Or do you want to keep getting shoved at princes? We’d both get our parents off our backs. It’s a good deal.”

It was frustrating, but your desire to stop meeting spoiled princes was beginning to outweigh your immense dislike of this one. And as much as you hated it, he was right when he said you wouldn’t get an offer as good as this one ever again. Maybe that’s why he chose you, you supposed. He knew you couldn’t afford to say no. (Not that that had stopped you.) It just angered you that he saw you as someone so desperate, so needy, so pitiful.

“...Fine.” You stuck out your hand in impersonal assent. “But. I don’t want to marry you.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m not done, little prince.” He restrained his scowl and motioned for you to continue. “Let’s just get engaged. That’s enough reason to end all the marriage meetings, and then if it turns out I really just cannot stand you, we’ll call it off. Fine?”

“Fine.”

He shook your hand firmly.

Despite the way you both glared at each other, neither of you could deny how pleased you were with this arrangement.

While you sent word to your family, he went directly to his, who were thoroughly, almost obnoxiously happy that he’d found someone. He forced a grin and made up some lies about how he’d fallen for you at first sight. They weren’t exactly excited about your less than impressive background, but weren’t about to reject the only girl who’d managed to catch their discerning son’s eye.

Within a day, it was announced throughout all your fiancé’s kingdom that he’d found a woman to wed. You managed to laugh about how all the other princesses must be incredibly jealous of you at this moment, but couldn’t quite get over the fact that you were one foot into a lifelong commitment with the rudest man you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. It was a troubling internal conflict. On one hand, he was the worst. On the other, the same could be said for just about every other prince you’d ever met. So really, it was an overall win that this one didn’t expect you to love or fawn over him.

At least, that’s what you repeated to yourself as you received the list of engagement events you were expected to attend alongside him.

“Do we really have to do this?” You groaned.

“Just shut up and smile, they’re about to see us.”

You reluctantly did as he said, forcing an exuberant grin onto an unwilling face. Your carriage turned into the courtyard, and crowds cheered wildly, as if they actually cared about your wellbeing in some way. You waved gently, relieved your upbringing was so ingrained within you that you could play your role without ceasing your fantasies of punching your fiancé in the face. As you reached your places of honor, Haechan offered a gallant hand to help you down, and you almost admired how well he played the part of a loving gentleman.

It was such a truly lovely banquet being thrown for you, it almost made you feel bad for lying. Haechan seemed to be thinking similarly, and, forgetting to be vindictive, leaned over to whisper jokingly in your ear.

“Poor fools actually think we’re in love.”

You laughed brightly without thinking. Both of you then remembered you hated each other, and stared at each other in shock before looking away sharply. You waved again, happy to be doing something that made sense to you. The hordes of celebrating nobles clapped and called out their congratulations again as soon as they saw you move, not wanting to get on the bad side of what they assumed was their future queen. That was a pretty nice feeling, and you accidentally smiled sincerely.

Haechan, still stunned by the sound of your real laugh, wasn’t prepared to see your real smile. His eyes widened. It was more beautiful than he expected, and didn’t threaten him with cavities the way every woman in his life’s did. If they were processed white sugar, you were honey with all the real sweetness in the world on your face. He hazily tried to remember when he last smiled genuinely. You turned to him with a gleam in your eye, and he took your hand before rationality could persuade him otherwise.

The smile dropped off your face, and your gaze flicked to your intertwined fingers, then to his expression, which seemed even more confused than yours somehow. He looked boyish and bashful, and you wondered if your haughty fiancé had a far more charming twin.

Lucky for Haechan, the crowd cheered yet louder at the sight of your supposed affection, and he tilted his head towards them as if to say, See, that's why. Normally, you wouldn't have believed it was part of his plan, but it was easier that way. You let him lift your entwined hands in some playfully bragging way, and rolled your eyes.

“Alright, so I get the bed.”

“That’s funny. No, I get the bed. It’s my kingdom!”

“You are not being very gentlemanly right now.”

“And you didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d enforce those kinds of antiquities.”

You scowled, and Haechan looked smug, which only intensified your frustration.

“Fine. Then let’s decide fairly, little prince.” You loved to call him that, just to see him pretend it didn’t irk him. “If I beat you in chess, I get the bed. And vice versa.”

“...Fine, small princ- annoying- um- pret- dum-”

You couldn’t help but grin at his attempts. “Nice try, but I’m not immature enough to be annoyed by a silly nickname.”

Your fiancé grimaced and got out the chess board.

Hours later, you were still playing the first game of chess.

“Y/n… Can we… Can we…” Haechan yawned enormously, which of course prompted you to as well. “Can we maybe… call a truce for tonight? It’s a big bed. We have to be up early for a garden party.”

You wanted to rejoice in his surrender, but your eyes were teary with exhaustion. Instead of the easy win you expected, you’d been in the longest game of your life. It seemed like you two were well matched for one another.

As opponents, of course.

“Fine… But just- just for tonight. We’ll play again tomorrow.”

And with that, you both crawled into the truly extravagant bed, falling asleep before your heads hit the pillows.

Many nights passed, with an unfinished chess game at the end of each. It grew into something of a habit, a nightly chess game, always accompanied by bickering, of course. Neither of you ever managed to truly best the other, with every game ending the way the first did. As they continued, the bickering smoothed into mocking conversations, and sometimes you weren’t even mocking each other, but a common enemy. You would never admit it, but the pair of you started laughing together more often than you did at each other these days.

On some fateful Tuesday, for the first time ever, you saw a clear move to checkmate. The king was unguarded. For the first time, he was vulnerable. It was glaringly obvious, and you snuck a glance at your opponent’s face to see if it was a trap, but were taken aback when you found him already staring at you. He didn’t look triumphant or concerned, but he somehow looked… nervous. Or maybe expectant? And then you realized. He was far too good a player to make an error like this one. He was offering you a choice, from one royal with too much pride to admit they enjoyed the other’s company to another. It would be easy to end this game right now, and banish him to the floor.

You chose another move, and the game continued.

“So what’s on the agenda tomorrow?” You asked, with a tone more befitting of a business partner than a fiancé. The two of you had gotten pretty used to the whole routine of feigning adoration, and typically planned cute moments to perform in advance.

Haechan looked over at you and sighed in a way that might have been more amused than exasperated.

“Would it kill you to sit like a lady?”

You looked down at yourself, eating a biscuit you’d pocketed from today’s lavish banquet, with your legs criss-crossed as you lounged on the bed in your nightgown. The white fabric was hiked up above your knees to accommodate the posture, and catching all the crumbs that fell.

“Aren’t I?”

Haechan couldn’t mask his amiable laugh at that. You felt strangely proud when you made him truly laugh. It was one of the few times his shoulders really relaxed, and he looked like the cheerful boy he might’ve been without the pressure of royalty on his back.

“So… what’s on the agenda?”

Haechan didn’t answer right away. He was still looking your direction but seemed zoned out.

“Haechan?”

He flinched, always shocked when you used his real name instead of a mocking nickname.

“W-what? Oh, we’ve got a ball.”

“Ugh… Boring. You better not leave me alone with all the gossiping hags.”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, for real, could you sit properly?”

“Whaaat, I’m comfy.”

“Seriously.”

That irked you. You were just sitting, and while you hadn’t fully realized it, Haechan was someone you'd grown comfortable being yourself around. You didn’t need another person in your life telling you the way you behaved was wrong, and against your will, you had begun to expect more from him. You felt something too close to heartbreak as you wondered if he was just another person who disapproved of you.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“It’s not a big deal, why can’t you?”

“Because you’re right. It’s not a big deal, so why do you seem to care so much?”

“Can you just do it?!”

“No! Didn’t you get on me for- for ‘enforcing those antiquities’ or whatever? Now you’ve got a problem with the way I sit or how I dress-”

“It’s not- it’s not like that!”

“Then what?!” You flared up at him further, as did he, but he seemed less angry and more... agitated. You laughed mockingly. “Whaaaat are you shy seeing my legs or something-”

“YES! They’re- they’re. Um. Well…” He looked at the floor, and you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper, “pretty,” before he flicked his head back up and stammered the marginally less embarrassing, “distracting.”

Your anger instantly dissolved when he confessed that, and you flushed in a way you didn’t know you could. You stared at the ground, tugging your nightgown gently down. You’d always hated being treated like a lady, but you’d never been treated like a woman, and you found you didn’t hate it quite as much. This might’ve been the first time in either of your lives that the two of you were ever actually lost for words. Neither could formulate some witty remark or snide comment, and you just boiled in the unfamiliar atmosphere neither of you sought to create.

“Uh,” Haechan broke the silence masterfully. “I-I think I’m going to turn in early.”

“Yes. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You might have climbed in bed early- no chess game for the first time in ages- but you both woke up exhausted. Four feet apart, two fiancés had stayed up late replaying the night in their minds and subsequently panicking.

“G-good morning.”

“Good morning.”

The day whirled by, with most of it being spent simply getting dressed for the evening ball. You spent most of the day slapping your face and reminding yourself of how you used to act around him, and when you heard a knock at your door, you were ready.

He told himself he was, but he wasn’t.

Haechan took a deep breath and let his gaze trail up from your skirt to your face, and he stiffened. He’d grown used to his fiancé looking beautiful in the luxurious dresses she wore daily- even though it stunned him more than he’d admit the first time. This dress was no different, no more extravagant, no, but the pink tinge on your cheeks was a beauty he couldn’t have imagined.

“You look… decent.”

He celebrated internally for managing to say something an unflustered him might have said, although some tiny part of himself wished he could pay you a compliment normally.

Your sigh slid into a laugh, and you found your rhythm in your rapport again.

“And you look just adorable, little prince.”

He glared, but was relieved to hear the dig. He offered you the crook of his elbow, and you clapped your hands to your cheeks once more before taking it. He flinched at the sharp sound, and observed your cheeks grow red again from the impact.

“Youch.”

“It’s not that bad, honestly. I’ve been doing it all day to wake myself up.”

Haechan hummed a response. He couldn’t form words; all his brainpower was focused on figuring out why that statement had just disappointed him so. As he rounded the corner towards the ballroom, though, he shook it from his mind.

You entered the ballroom to the usual thunderous applause. Haechan led you down the immaculate gold staircase, and you clung to his arm, the perfect image of a lovestruck princess. No one noticed you holding on a little tighter than usual tonight. The band struck up a song, and you took the hands of possibly the only person you'd ever considered a friend. He led you to the center of the floor and began to waltz. It was always a satisfying feeling to watch the crowds make way for you. You looked everywhere but at your partner, and aimlessly wondered if you’d even been in this ballroom before. Just when you thought you’d seen every room in the massive castle, you’d be led to a wing you didn’t even know existed. The idle thoughts occupied you, which was probably for the best, since it meant you didn’t notice the way Haechan was looking at you.

The dance ended, and you went separate ways to entertain people who made you feel like your brains were melting. Seriously, one day your mind was just going to leak out your ears and spill onto the polished floors. It was amazing how you could spend hours talking to one person night after night, but half an evening with these sycophants made you contemplate faking your own death.

Finally, your reprieve came in the form of an attendant, whispering in your ear that the crown prince was requesting your presence.

“So sorry ladies, my future husband and I are just inseparable.”

They gave you condescendingly knowing looks, their eyes practically screaming, Just wait a few more years, child, you’ll tire of each other. You had to turn away quickly so they didn’t catch you sneering at them. Whatever. You wouldn’t be with him in a few years anyway, you would have gone your separate ways by then.

Right?

Something about that thought didn’t feel right. Not even sad, just… not right. You thought rapidly as you let your attendant guide you. What was your original agreement? If I realize I… Wait… If I end up still hating him, then the engagement’s off? Those were the terms. Which meant, if you didn’t hate him, then inevitably you’d end up mar-

“Y/n!”

You looked up sharply, not realizing you’d crossed the ballroom already. However, even when looking forward, you didn’t see the person who’d just called your name. Your eyes flitted about, searching for the familiar face. You took a few steps in no particular direction, massively confused, and then suddenly terrified when a hand reached out from behind a curtain and pulled you to join its owner. Not the type to lose composure and scream, you clenched your jaw so tight it almost broke until you saw your fiancé's face shrouded in the shadows of the velvet drapes.

“What took you so long?”

His question wasn’t at all rude, as it once might’ve been. It was one of genuine relief to see you, as if you were his solace amongst all the fools at the ball. You met his eyes for maybe the first time this evening, and they were bright and warm and looked at you the way no one ever did. Like you mattered. Like he wanted you there. Not the facade you put on for everyone, he wanted the real you.

Oh God, I don’t hate him at all.

“Earth to y/n?” He chuckled as you snapped to attention. “Finally, you’re here. Is this the worst ball yet or what?”

“Yes! It’s seriously unbearable.”

“I knew you’d agree. By the way, have you still been slapping your face? You shouldn’t in front of guests, they’ll think you’re crazy.” He teased you over your red flush without giving it a second thought. You hadn’t touched your cheeks in hours. The realization only made you blush even more. He leaned in close, and you stood stock-still with surprise.

“Do you want to vanish for a while?”

“What?” The absurdity of the idea finally overwhelmed all other distractions from your mind. “How can we leave, we’re the guests of honor?”

“Please, nobody cares. They’re all busy trying to climb the social ladder anyway. Besides, we’ve got this great hiding spot.”

You stifled a laugh. “Yeah, squeezing between a window and some drapes is what I call ideal.”

“Hey, it’s got, like, enough room for us!”

That was a bit of hyperbole on Haechan’s part. You both barely fit in the narrow space, and you thanked the stars you hadn’t worn a larger hoop skirt tonight. Suddenly you were back to evading making eye contact again. A hush fell over you as you thought about how incorrect his statement just was, and you both grew acutely aware of how you couldn’t position yourselves in any way that would allow you to put some distance between your bodies. You cursed yourself for not postponing your life-shattering revelation about the man before you until after this little endeavor. Haechan’s mind raced as he saw the red on your skin remain even in the dim light.

You could only avoid each other’s gazes for so long.

He locked eyes with you, and you envisioned pieces moving across a board, your king running out of ways to escape its fate. There was only one end, and you were starting to love the idea of surrendering. You whispered harshly in the sarcastic way that felt comfortable to you, still too prideful to admit your defeat.

“So are you going to kiss me, or am I going to kiss you?”

Haechan answered by pressing a palm to the back of your neck and pulling you towards him perhaps too eagerly. A second later, you’d both pulled away, frantically looking around to see if anyone was peering in on you both. You relaxed when you confirmed no one has discovered you.

“This isn’t... a good time, Haechan.”

“I could not agree more. Way too risky.”

Neither of you waited a moment more to lunge towards each other again. His lips found yours roughly, his breath already ragged with overworked patience. You grabbed his lapels, no less desperate for this moment, your lipstick smearing onto him. Your fists crushed his boutonniere, and his fingers wove into your hair and ruined the curls. There was no party beyond the curtain. You and him were alone, both desperate to memorize the taste of each other, and nothing else mattered but that. His lips parted, and yours followed suit. His tongue just brushed your lower lip, and you felt a thrill run down your spine. Your arms wrapped around his neck unconsciously, trying to get closer to him than was possible, but nothing could stop you from trying. You caught his lip between your teeth, your instincts running wild, and you wondered how either of you had endured up until this point. Now that you’d gotten a taste of each other, it seemed almost impossible not to get addicted. He gripped your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist and not letting go. It slid down to grab your thigh and wrap it around him, your dress’s layers barely inhibiting him. Every inch of you was so aware of where it made contact with him, and you hungered for more. All facades were shed. You were both just heat and teeth and desire, without a shred of nobility between the two of you. You’d never experienced anything so perfect.

The two of you finally parted, your lips wet and the rest of you looking disastrous. He pressed his lips to your cheek, getting your own lipstick on your face, and you pulled his palm up to kiss it over and over again. Too breathless to continue and too worked up to just stop, you let the clock tick by as you left soft kisses all over each other.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, half concerned but half amused. Between sentences, you still found places on his face yet unkissed, and remedied them. “We can’t go back out looking like this.”

“What are you talking about? I look great.” You were both too elated to remember you should be worried about your predicament, but he did seem genuinely proud of the pink smears adorning his face and neck, the teeth marks framing his lips, the fierce creases in his lapels. He brushed his fingers on your cheekbones, and looked even prouder of the mess he’d made of you. It felt like a dream to be touching you like this. Even more unreal to know that he was the cause of your disheveled hair and your chapped lips. He may or may not have imagined a moment like this before, late at night when he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but it was buried in the back of his mind and nowhere near as euphoric as this reality.

“No, but seriously, we can’t go out like this.”

“No yeah, for sure, you’re absolutely right.”

You managed to escape thanks to the tight-lipped attendant who’d led you to a curtain concealing a prince in the first place, but found yourselves rather tight-lipped too. Once you’d both washed off the lipstick and the teeth marks faded, you didn’t know how to face each other. You just crawled into bed and discreetly squirmed as you thought about all that had happened. What was more embarrassing, that you realized you might, maybe, possibly, have feelings for each other, or that the other person might know about them? It was already late when you turned out the lights, but you both stayed up longer, plagued by worries.

They must be so smug since I was all over them, I’m such an idiot.

God, I can’t believe how intense that was. What if they hated it? What if I was bad at it?

Did they only kiss me ‘cause of how much I was kissing them?

Are we like… friends? They probably don’t hate me, so…

That was really unbelievable.

I think I might really… feel something for them.

I hope they feel the way I do.

The hurricanes of concerns led to a restless night, and a mortifyingly awkward day afterward. You couldn’t even look at each other, let alone speak. Even the servants seemed to notice the tension, and you could hear them giggling when they’d disappear into the corridors. You tried to tell yourself that that was great, that it really sold your act as a couple of lovebirds, but that just embarrassed you all the more. Your fiancé was just as tormented, the blush that was sparking gossip reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

Eventually, someone had to break the silence. If not with words, then with the slamming of a chess board down on the usual table. And that’s exactly what you did, not that who slept in the bed was something that still concerned either of you. No, now it was just routine, something you enjoyed and shared with each other, and something you were going to use to discuss your current feelings.

“C-come play, little prince.”

Even the nickname didn’t manage to get him to flare up. He walked over, still with the air of importance that was second nature to him, but his pounding heart almost echoed against his ribs. You set up your black pieces and he took the white. He moved a pawn towards you.

“So…”

“Yeah.” You slid a piece across the board. He nodded, his cheeks burning. You both knew what you had to say and what the other person was going to say, but that only made it all the more difficult to verbalize.

“I guess I don’t hate you. As much as I used to.” You said hurriedly, your voice forcibly steadied.

“Oh, what an honor.” Haechan’s snarky response was accompanied by a trembling hand moving a rook. He yelled at himself internally, and attempted to be as honest as he could. “I… suppose you’re not unbearable.” The biting words didn’t sting, nor did they flow the way they once did. It saddened both players, even though it had only been a day since you both had been without the banter of your best friend. Slowly, you started to regret the night before, the ecstatic memories being clouded with the fear that you might lose the most important person to you because of it.

“I-”

“Oh, sorry, you start-”

“No, you-”

“No-”

“Okay, fine!” You huffed, accepting the initiative. You pushed your rook straight forward. “I… have always hated the idea of getting married. Everything about it- the formalities, the responsibilities, the princes, ugh. Awful.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not done, okay!” Pieces shuffled around the board as you tried to organize your thoughts. “If I… had to marry someone…” Your sentence trailed off, and Haechan leaned forward, ears itching to hear the conclusion. You stared at the board, and he steeled himself. It would’ve been a blow to his persistent pride if he just waited for you to say everything.

“I’m…” What did he need to say first? His mind blanked, and he just let the words fall from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, but remained fixed on the game. “For what?”

“For not listening to you. The first day we met. I didn’t… treat you the way I should’ve. I’m sorry for that. But I’m… also glad it happened. If I’d acted differently then maybe you wouldn’t be in front of me. That would be, uh, not ideal. But I’m sorry.”

“Um. Thanks. I’m glad it happened too. Otherwise we might still be pretending to be well-mannered in front of each other.” Haechan snickered, and you did too. You could feel your shoulders relaxing, and he could feel himself growing bolder. He moved his queen across the board, closing in on his target.

“Man, where would I be without my unladylike, insufferable fiancé?”

“Probably whining like a child to some other pitiful creature who deserves better.”

The clouds in your minds began to clear as you exchanged snarky remarks. It felt right- pretty words didn’t like to be forced from your lips. He smiled. You looked up, your line of sight lingering on the lips you knew well before finding his eyes. You left your king unguarded, ready for it to be captured.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind marrying you, little prince.”

“Do it then.”

You swept the unfinished game off the board, feeling like you’d won, and he met you in the middle. He kissed you, barely more composed than the night before, but you had no problem with that. The two of you smiled against each other’s lips, incredulous that somehow you had found someone to love, something you used to believe was impossible. Little bursts of laughter interrupted the kiss as giddiness took over.

“Didn’t I say something like I’d burn down this castle before I wed you?”

“Just let the wedding planner know,” Haechan sighed with joy as he gave in to the temptation of your lips again.

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years

Text

Twisted [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: So, here we go! 😁 Thank you so much for your wonderful support and lovely messages during my break my loves, they mean so much to me and ily! ❤ On my break, I binged a lot of shows, and Criminal Minds and Prodigal Son were two of them, but if you haven’t watched them don’t worry because it will not be following a specific canon plot😁❤Please let me know what you think and enjoy!❤

Warnings: Murder, drug use, serial killers, violence, manipulation

Summary: No one can choose their family.

If it were another time, you could’ve at least attempted to convince yourself how everyone had problematic childhoods. Focusing on something else usually worked, per the advices of countless psychiatrists your mother had forced you to go after the-

Incident.

Just the thought of it was more than enough to make your blood freeze in your veins, but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts when your phone started ringing. You checked the caller I.D, and heaved a sigh before you touched the screen.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you’re not going there.” Your mother’s voice filled the car and you pressed your lips together.

“Hi mom.”

“Every time you go there and visit that man in that wretched prison cell of his, he manages to get into your head!”

“That’s not what’s going to happen,” you said, keeping your eyes on the road, “You have no reason to worry.”

“I have every reason to worry!” she snapped, “We promised that we wouldn’t let him worm his way into our lives.”

“Yeah well, FBI begs to differ,” you forced yourself to say, “You’ve seen the news—“

“I don’t want to hear this,” she cut you off, then heaved a sigh, “It’s terrible enough to hear it once, let alone twice.”

You never really had the luxury of ignoring all the terrible things on the news, especially after what had happened. Ever since you were a child, the nightmares wouldn’t leave you alone, and you weren’t as good as your mother at ignoring what was happening while you were awake.

“You could’ve said no.”

“I really couldn’t,” you mumbled and she clicked her tongue.

“Well then,” she said, trying to pull herself together, “I expect to see you at brunch, even your sister is coming. It won’t take long, will it?”

“It won’t take long to see my serial killer father and find out whether he is helping another serial killer even if he’s been behind bars for years?” you asked, “No mom. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Sarcasm will give you wrinkles.”

“Oh yeah, tragedy.”

“Call me as soon as you leave there,” she insisted, making you smile. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said as you pulled over in front of the building. Even the sight of it was enough to make your stomach flip and you felt the bile climbing up your throat.

You did not want to see him.

You had managed not to see him for years now, but now, the news were full of different coverage about a killer whose method of killing was very similar to him.

A flower left in the crime scene, every damn time.

Naturally, FBI wanted a word with the original killer. Less naturally, the original killer refused to speak unless he talked to his younger daughter, who happened to be you.

Unfortunately.

Yet, the sooner you walked in, the sooner you would walk out, and that was the only thing that offered any kind of consolation.

“God damn it,” you mumbled to yourself as you left your car, and made your way into the building. They patted you down, made you go through the x-ray and sign the papers before you entered the hall.

There were two men that weren’t in official prison guard clothes, which made you think these were the FBI agents you had talked to on the phone. For some reason, you hadn’t pictured them like this, but you didn’t know any agents so maybe this was the norm.

If it were any other time, you could’ve noticed how handsome they both were, but your mind was way too occupied.

“Ma’am,” the dark haired one stepped closer to you, “I’m Special Agent Luke Alvez, this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Even if Agent Alvez looked like the ideal FBI agent that was pulled out of an action movie, Dr. Reid looked more like a young, handsome professor, the ones that you dreamed would be at your university when you were still at high school.

Needless to say, that fantasy hadn’t come true much to your disappointment.

You shook your head, trying to focus.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You shook hands with him, and smiled at Dr Reid, “Hello.”

“Thank you for coming.” His smile was soft, much like his gaze, “I imagine it’s not easy for you.”

You forced yourself to shrug, “Yeah it’s…” you trailed off and cleared your throat, “It’s fine.”

“So far we have seen five murders all over the country, in different areas but the crime scene has your father’s signature. It most likely means there are multiple copycat killers, and given your father’s past, he might be the mastermind behind it. He contacted us, but refuses to say anything unless he spoke to you.”

The goosebumps rising on your arms felt almost familiar.

“I haven’t been educated in any interrogation techniques.” You said, “And knowing him, he’s not just going to give that information to me.”

“People give information about a lot of things even when they don’t realize it.” Dr Reid said, “We will be outside, watching and listening.”

“I’ll talk to the guards to see if he’s ready, excuse me.” Alvez said and he walked away while you nibbled on your lip.

“How does a serial killer have this many privileges?” Reid asked you, “He has a private cell, books, TV…”

“Money,” you said slowly, “Money buys lawyers, lawyers buy freedom. Or the closest thing to freedom, given the circumstances. If you ask me, he should’ve been rotting in a hole but...” you trailed off, leaning back to the wall and took a deep breath, counting in your head.

“That’s a good exercise to calm down,” Reid said and your head shot up.

“What?”

“The 4 7 8 breathing exercise. I’m guessing a psychiatrist taught you that.”

“Several psychiatrists taught me that,” you stated, raising your brows, “You’re observant aren’t you professor?”

“Doctor.”

You clenched an unclenched your fists, your eyes darting around the hall,

“This is not helping,” you said as you exhaled a breath, “I need a cigarette, or twenty.”

“What do you do?” his question was so out of nowhere that you gawked at him for a moment.

“What?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a— I’m a wedding planner.”

He tilted his head, “What’s that?”

“Well you…you know, you help the couples with color palettes, decoration, overall aesthetic, and during the wedding you make sure nothing goes wrong with the venue and the food and the music, all that. You make sure the wedding is perfect, basically.”

He hmmed, “How do I tell if a wedding is perfect? If we were talking sense wise?”

“Well first of all, in terms of looks, the colors need to complement each other,” you said, remembering your favorite events, “When you walk in, you see the garden and it’s well lit, but not too bright. In terms of touch, I guess you would make sure the table covers and such are soft to touch. The music should be slow at first, at least until it starts.”

“How about smell?”

“You can’t really go wrong with faint flower scents. Scented candles are a nice touch too.”

“The food?”

“Something light, most of the time. No one wants to get into a food coma at a wedding and you—“ you stopped as your eyes snapped up to his, a small smile playing at his lips.

He was making you list all the things that would ground you without making you realize you were doing it, so that you wouldn’t lose yourself in panic. It was yet another trick your psychiatrists had told you to do whenever you felt overwhelmed, talking about what you could see, hear, smell, touch and taste. By making you focus on a pleasant memory and remember all those, he was offering you a safe place in your own mind.

But contrary to any doctor, he didn’t make it obvious.

“Well played, professor.”

This time, he didn’t correct you,

“Grounding works most of the time,” he stated as Agent Alvez approached you, “I know this situation is less than ideal, but we will be right outside. You can walk out any time you want.”

“They’re ready.” Agent Alvez said and you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your chest, then followed them to the door. Alvez opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, digging your fingernails into your palm.

His hair had more grays since you had last seen him, and his beard was longer, but that dangerous light in his eyes hadn’t changed. He looked up, a wide smile appearing on his face as his eyes searched yours.

“Sweetheart!” he said cheerfully, raising his hands a little so that you could see the chains attached to his handcuffs, “It’s been a while, wouldn’t you say?”

Pretending to be calm was something you had practiced so many times that your body knew automatically what to do. The door closed behind you and you swallowed thickly, making sure your face didn’t show any feelings. You slowly approached the table to pull yourself a chair, then put your phone on the table and started the countdown.

He wanted five minutes, and you would be damned if you stayed there a second longer.

“You look so much like your mother,” your father shook his head, “It’s uncanny, really.”

You gritted your teeth, still glaring at him.

“Not your eyes though,” he smiled, “You got your eyes from me. The window to the soul, hm?”

“My soul has nothing to do with you.” The words left your lips before you could stop them and he tut tutted.

“My petal-“

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, “I hate that nickname.”

That didn’t seem to break his enthusiasm though, much to your displeasure.

“Well, we should catch up,” he said , clapping his hands together, “Are you still with that young man from last year? He’d better be treating you well.”

You blinked a couple of times, “How did you-?”

“I have my sources too.”

“Your sources are slow then.” You stated, “We broke up months ago. Is that all? You brought me here to just talk about my personal life?”

“Why did you break up?”

“Are you really behind all these murders happening right now?” you asked back and he shot you a reprimanding look.

“None of that right now, petal. Business and family shouldn’t be merged, as you know.”

You felt like you would throw up, but managed to hold it together and stole a look at the countdown.

“Why did you break up?”

“Certain differences,” you said, cracking your fingers to distract yourself, and he leaned back.

“I get that,” he said, “If you’re different, you’re different. I always felt that with your mother—“

“Stop that.” You spat out, “Anything I do, including my relationships, it has nothing to do with you. I’m nothing like you.”

“Oh but you are,” he said, “It’s all in your eyes. In that deadly glare of yours. It’s there, isn’t it? That anger? Try to hide it as much as you want, it’s still burning you.”

“There’s nothing burning me,” you said, “You’re fucked up, doesn’t mean I am too.”

“You know, there are many scientists that say murder is in the genes,” he stated, “So it would mean you’re contaminated too, no?”

The panic was pounding through your system, but you managed to keep your expression stable.

“Do you know why I didn’t ask your sister here? Or hell, your mother? Do you know why it is you?”

You stayed silent, your gaze focused on him.

“Your sister loved your mother, but you…. You were always such a daddy’s girl.”

“Wrong.”

“I don’t even think you cried for your mother whenever you scraped your knees, it was always me.”

“I didn’t know you were crazy when I was a child, guilty as charged. Doesn’t prove anything.”

“It does,” he said, “It proves more than you know. You are going to be my legacy.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine but you took a deep breath, resting your palms on the steel desk.

“No I won’t,” you said calmly, “Sorry to disappoint. I never killed anyone.”

Your father’s smile was almost as serene as your voice.

“Yet,” he pointed out, and you felt your throat tightening. “Ignore it if you want. It’s still there, petal.”

The beep of the phone made you snap out of it and you pushed your chair back, knocking it over in the process.

“Fuck you,” you said through your teeth as you gripped the door knob, “Have fun rotting in here.”

You swung the door open and stepped outside, still trying to catch your breath, and the door next to the interrogation room opened before Reid stepped into your vision. Your hands were still shaking and you desperately needed a cigarette and some fresh air.

But what you really needed was to get out of there.

“Y/N?”

“I hope you got whatever you guys needed,” you managed to say, wiping at your nose, “Because I’m never stepping a foot here, ever again.”

With that, you walked out of the hall, every cell in your body screaming at you to get away. You ignored the looks from the guards, tears blurring your vision and you left the building as fast as you could, as if someone was chasing you.

As if that could help you escape him.

Chapter 2

Taglist: @rhabakoli @theskytraveler @danyka-fendyr @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lettersofwrittencollective @dreamers-wonderland @lilliannaansalla @propertyofpoeandbucky @iblogabout-stuff @thinemineours @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @davnwillcome @chibi-liz05 @demigoddesofchimichangagod @finnickfoxes

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #mgg #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #reid x reader #reid imagine #reid imagines #twisted

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 2 years

Text

Let It Snow

(Leon x Honey)

Word Count- 2k

Warnings- nothing really, just holiday fluff

a/n- Tradition gives Honey and Leon a little Christmas reflection on forty years of love and loss. A book end sequel to "Baby It's Cold Outside“

“Leon, I can’t do this, there won't be anything left! He's nearly two, he won't know.”

Honey put her sewing down. She let the fabric drape across her lap so she could smooth it out. Her eyes focused on only the triangles of glittery red and silver. It was tattered and scarce, but she knew she could make it work. Somehow, no matter what, there was always enough.

“There won't be.. Have you gone daft in your old age, woman?!” Leon teased. He rolled on his side to prop up on an elbow. “This vest is spread out over forty years, two children, three grandchildren and one Klaus. Two broke hippies in love sharing a tiny little flat in White Chapel who had massive sex drives and no heat made it FOUR DECADES and created three generations of people together.”

Honey rolled her eyes, “It's that why you’re making us stay in this insanely small studio apartment in the absolute worst part of downtown with no heat?!”

Leon's eyes danced. He kissed Honey’s cheek then behind her ear. Her forehead and lips. “Just a little anniversary recreation is all, love. Even gave a go at wearing your knickers again. Carry on with JT’s thingies you're making.”

“You fucking weirdo!” Honey smacked him on the arm. “Piss off.” But Leon smiled, his dimples creasing, and she relented.

Honey kept on fashioning overalls from what was left of her years with Leon. Honey hoped the babies were done until at LEAST another fifteen years, and then it would be up to Selina to carry this tradition on. Here she was at 65 trying to grasp 80.

Leon gingerly got out of bed to plug in the artificial tree their granddaughter reluctantly parted ways with for the time being. He couldn't believe his mother had saved it. That it ended up with Selina who passed it along to Irina. She cherished it like a priceless family heirloom.

“You cheeky bastard, this isn't romantic! We have arthritis!” Honey yelled, but there was laughter in her voice.

She pulled the comforter up to her chin practically. She watched Leon sort of dance around to the Christmas cd he put on. It made her smile in spite of all the shivering. She clung to the fabric in her lap like she did the memories that came flooding back.

They were so in love and so incredibly poor. She never wanted to think about where or how Leon got that present. The rent was paid, and they mostly had food, but what was left over from their measly paychecks often ended up smoked or drank or fucked away. But they had each other.

Back when their hair was dark and not streaked with silver. That first Christmas together where Leon wore those ridiculous thermal underwear.

Honey had put on her leopard coat to model. They unwrapped each other like gifts and made love with Leon imploring her to keep the jacket on. They shared a joint and orgasms and made snow angels at 5am. Both oblivious to all the Christmases to come.

Leon laid down again beside his wife. His mood a bit nostalgic and sad.

"I'm half expecting Johnny to burst through the door, pissed and high on cocaine with some bird he picked up."

"And they looked like he collected them from the different countries in It's A Small World."

"EXACTLY! And he started slurring at us and very dramatically blinked. 'Piss off you two monogamous freaks. Thorpe needs a shag!' then banish us to the couch. IT WAS MY FLAT! Only went along with his hare-brained schemes so no one killed him. Little over our heads with that Kubrick thing was all."

“I have to admit though he was a world class shyster. He could sell a dildo to a nun. Honestly, he could talk his way into anything and shockingly back out of it! Don't know which one of us was a better bullshitter. Probably why we didn't always get on I guess.”

Leon looked over at Honey, "I know you didn't always get it." He kissed her hand.

"It wasn't for me to get. Like Nikolai and Oliver. Or Selina and Jess. He was just there. Hustling aside, Johnny was a good uncle. He adored our kids in spite of himself.”

"Well we definitely loved each other. I think he was the other part of my soul. Now that's missing."

Honey brushed the hair away from Leon's forehead. "Fifty year is a long time to love someone. I will always be jealous of those ten years he had on me. Certainly thought he'd outlive us. Johnny, Tom, Cher and cockroaches."

"And Klaus!” Leon laughed. Then began to cry.

“I'm sorry, my love.” Honey bent to kiss the tears on his cheeks. “We don't have to talk about Johnny if you don't want to.”

“No, it's good to talk about him. Maybe we all should've done more talking. Not just gobshite either.”

Honey settled into Leon's arms with her ear pressed to the sound of his steady heart. He wrapped his long arms like he had done without fail for forty years. If she could tell her younger self anything it would be that one day a man will hold you for fifteen thousand days and counting.

There was a bit of melancholy in the air that dampened the festive mood from earlier. It was always funny to her how some holiday music could be so sad. Or maybe it was bittersweet? Like the lyrics of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.”

“I'm sorry that loving me got so complicated there in the middle.”

Leon held his wife back a little, “Piss off.”

“Leon, you can't act like it was easy.”

“Whot?! Gracie loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done. Now stop, you're bringing down the Crimbo vibe!”

Leon leapt, or as much as a 66 year old could, out of the bed again. He went to a bag in the closet to reveal a gift wrapped box. He placed it in Honey’s lap along with the obligatory Christmas cracker.

"Honestly Leon, I hope this isn't another leopard coat,” she teased. “Irina would kill us! And she's way more powerful than Sunny ever was.”

“Imagine a bloody mountain lion when all we had to put up with was a crow. Go on love, open it up. It's from all of us.”

Honey tore into the paper like she had always done. A trait both of her children and at least one grandchild (so far) possessed. Irina was delicate about it, like her Pappou. As if they both wanted to either leave as little waste as possible or cherish the wrapping as much as the gift.

Now she lifted a quilted blanket. In the center of it was the material from Leon’s vest. All around it were fabrics and patches of memories. The blanket Klaus had swaddled Sunny in. There was tulle from Selina’s first tutu. Irina’s little tee-shirt from Lilith Fair. And another shirt belonging to Leo, his first Elton John concert.

Honey ran her fingers over every swath stitched together. The parents and materials that made up all the days and hours growing their family.

“Oh, Nikolai's orange dress shirt! Selina loves that shirt. She gave that shirt up for me?”

“It's a shirt, Grazia. You're her mama.”

Leon rang his fingers through Honey’s hair. He was content to watch her get lost in her memories. Their memories. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't love looking at her.

Honey stopped over emerald green metallic fabric in the left corner. “Is this Jessica’s prom dress?

“Yes!”

“Remember we bought this for her?”

Tears started rolling down Honey's cheeks without her realizing.

“I told her I couldn't have my surrogate daughter going off to a city prom in a big shouldered, hoop skirted monstrosity. Jessica and Isadora and Selina looked like Jem and The Holograms after I was done.”

Honey laughed now at the smell of Aquanet that filled her nostrils suddenly. A memory of her and Leon catching the redhead and Sunny being so clandestine. A shared kiss, a hug too tight. Sunny smelling her hair. It was bittersweet and doomed from the start.

“She really gave you something for this?”

“Why wouldn't she, love? Everyone did. I've had it a little while so this bit here,” Leon pointed to a paisley pattern, “was from Johnny. He said it was the only shirt you had ever said was nice about him.”

“The way he dressed was my favorite part about him, actually.”

“Ollie’s sweater he always wore is on here.”

“And Klaus’s prophet jacket.”

Just then an alarm went off from Honey’s phone pulling her out of her reverie. She looked at her watch, midnight.

Honey handed Leon a cracker and urged him to tug while she did the same, giggling at the speed in which she rushed him. She popped her own and placed the paper crown on Leon's head.

Leon frowned but was ready for his. “One. Two..” CRACK!

The contraption split open and something round and metal fell out on the bed. Leon picked it up to examine the prize. It was a silver ring.

“Whot?” was all he could ask.

Honey laughed. A loud, heartfelt laugh. How lovely after all these years just a simple word, an expression of innocent confusion, could make her melt. Or find so much joy.

“Get your coat and come with me. We're going outside.”

Down the stairs to the lobby. When it had started to snow neither of them knew. This night, most nights, they were so tangled together that only they existed. Or the kids and grandkids. Still out in it they went.

“HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!”

In the middle of the snow covered street was, quite literally, every member of Honey and Leon's tribe. The four generations of Bartucci-Kostas family from Leon’s mum to Honey’s parents and all her siblings and Klaus (who allowed his age to finally show). Their nieces and nephews. Selina and Nikolai, Sunny and Ollie and Jess. And their entire brood.

There were absences in the family. Empty spaces left by Nick and Benjamin, Leon's dad and brother. And black holes where Johnny and Tom ought to be with their larger than life presence. But they were there, quietly observing in a bittersweet way.

Everyone kissed and hugged. Leon didn't need anyone to conjure his best friend as he bent to pick up his youngest grandson. His name and his somehow dark red hair were enough.

Leon kissed the toddler in his arms, “Have you come to see Pappou at half 1 in the morning when Santa’s coming? Was this all Honey’s doing, hrm?”

He pressed his forehead to the little boy’s who nodded and giggled. “Yeah,” he whispered only for Leon to hear.

Honey stood in front of Leon and put their grandson down. She took the ring he was still protecting in his hand.

“All these years you never wore or asked for a wedding band. And I have always trusted you. But! Tonight. In the middle of the night, under the Christmas lights and snow no one predicted, I want us to get married again. We had our found family back then.”

“And Selina,” Leon smirked.

“Hey!” she hollered from the crowd.

“But now we have everyone else here. So let's get married again?” Honey kissed the backs of Leon's hands.

“I'm certainly ill dressed for a wedding.”

“Because you should wear this.”

Sunny handed Leon his vest. One that looked brand new but the same. Worn and a touch tattered but intact. Like it had never been touched by Honey to spread out through the years.

Leon let his son help him with it. He turned to Honey and pulled a paper crown out of the vest pocket. He kept it there for good luck and placed it on her head. “Go on then, love. One more time.”

Tag: @elliethesuperfruitlover @magic-multicolored-miracle @neuroticpuppy @forenschik @frogs--are--bitches @firstpersonnarrator @vonkimmeren @love-is-dirty-baby @nightmonsters @bisexualnathanyoung @maerenee930 @rob-private @messengeronthemoon @sylvertyger @a-ghoulish-tale @holidayspirits @gayandfairycore @karinasmoonlight @wasabimia

#klaus hargreeves #the umbrella academy #leon #leon x honey #moonbrella lake universe #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan

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itsnothingofinterest · 3 years

Text

So with the end supposedly approaching (relatively speaking), people have started giving some thought as to who the final threat is really going to be; Tomura Shigaraki or All For One. It’ll definitely be one of them, they’re the strongest and most established villains by a mile; but both have their own reasons for people to think they’ll be the “final boss” of the series. And far be it from me to keep my opinion to myself; I really think it’s going to be Tomura.

I’m not sure if that’s some level of controversial among the fans hoping for Shigaraki’s redemption, as I do believe the alternative’s gotten a lot of traction lately. Because understand that I’m still expecting his redemption too, and don’t expect his hypothetical final boss status to really prevent that. (Practically nothing can, it’s as much a guaranteed outcome at this point as Deku getting his sixth bonus quirk.) Realistically, the only difference would be if he & Deku then team up to fight the evil potato head, or to...just start fixing stuff I guess.

On that note, the eventual redemption is actually one of the reasons I think he’s the better choice. Almost every point of comparison between the two villain I can think of makes Tomura seem like the better choice, actually...with maybe one or two exceptions. So I wanted to go over all those points of comparison & everything they’ve got going for them as endgame villains and why the comperrisons overall seem to favour Tomura as the final boss.

1. Someone who was defeated to the power of just one man

For one, just looking at pure power levels, AFO’s just not as threatening as Tomura; and there’s not really a way to bridge that gap.

Like, Tomura’s obviously more of a threat personally; he’s got the stronger body that was scientifically enhanced, and only he has Decay on top of the AFO quirk and the collection that came with it. It is just a fact that right now, Tomura is far more powerful. And before anyone thinks that AFO could become an equal threat by just taking over & fighting in his body; that’s not true because, along with just more combat experience that doesn’t rely on an arsenal of quirks, Tomura also has that Shimura trick where you remember your origin and become super bad ass. You know, the trick that All Might used to beat AFO in Kamino. In other words, the most dangerous individual in the series right now is the AFO!Tomura body with specifically Tomura in control.

And as long as the slight edge in mentality in Tomura’s favour exists, there’s not really a way to bridge that gap and have AFO take Tomura’s place as the biggest potential threat. Restore or enhance AFO’s original body? That’s just catching it up with AFO in Tomura’s body, which is still behind Tomura in Tomura’s body. Have AFO boost Tomura’s body with him in control? It would still be better with Tomura in control. There’s no scenario where Tomura isn’t the most powerful character in BNHA.

(Well, except maybe AFO weakening him by, say, stripping him of his quirks; but if he has to make things easier for the heroes to become the most powerful, I think that kind of proves my point anyway.)

But one person can only be so dangerous, so lets talk followers. Tomura has a close knit group of friends & allies on top of a vast army super loyal to him specifically that reaches a six digit figure, and AFO...just doesn’t. And I’ll get back to this later; but I don’t think he wants one either. He sticks to just a handful of people useful to him and what’s left of his Nomu. And while maybe that is the better way for him to accomplish his own personal goals, it’s simply not as threatening as the force which Hawks thought could’ve conquered the country if the heroes hadn’t struck first.

Tomura is a country ending threat, who in the right circumstances could fight literally all of the heroes with a chance of winning, and AFO simply isn’t.

2. His own little world

And to return to what I was talking about earlier, I’m not sure he really cares to be either. Like, people say he wants to conquer everything, and I imagine he’d think regaining lots of money & power would be great down the line; but evidence seems to suggest he doesn’t really care much for the country as a whole or any of the major themes being discussed by the actual main characters at the moment.

I mean if he did, he’d probably have rescued the PLF, that army capable of competing with all of hero society. And he probably wouldn’t have told ~10,000 dangerous and powerful villains indebted to him for their freedom to just run amok while he keeps contact with only the ones useful for his personal goals. And he definitively wouldn’t be laying low & sleeping through his enemies lowest moment & giving them a month to recover, also in service to those personal goals. That activity seems to imply those personal goals matter a whole lot more to him than societal conquest.

And what are those goals? Seemingly, taking over Tomura’s body so he can finally steal One For All. To what end, we’re not 100% sure of, but I believe it’s either a) a weird pride thing where he finally has control over his brother who’s rebelled against him for decades upon decades or b) an attempt at immortality as a sentient & transferable body-controlling quirk. Either way it’s some selfish personal thing he just gets others wrapped up in.

He’s incredibly disconnected from the greater themes and conflicts of the story. He seems to have no opinions on heroics besides how people are stupid for attempting them, and no opinion on society besides that it just naturally sucks. He’s mainly just a nuisance for the actual main characters. This self-important old man stuck in his own little world is supposed to be Deku’s final opponent?

Oh, and on that note-

3. Deku who?

We’re also talking about who’s going to be the final obstacle for Deku to face; and the problem with the being AFO is that...they don’t really have much to bounce off of with each other. You might be able to argue slight foil-ment, but they don’t really know each other, nor do they have any kind of connection to each other besides Deku having OFA so he’s AFO’s enemy by default.

(In fact their latest & 2nd convo, which came out as I was drafting this post out, kind of proves that with how AFO basically just shallowly made fun of him for trying to be a hero. That’s basically the extent of their antagonism.)

In fact, I’m like 80% sure this is a major reason for the Dad For One theory existing; just to give them some connection, something to talk about. Because otherwise AFO is just an evil guy known by people Deku knows/wants to save. He’s basically just another, more dangerous Overhaul; who Deku's already fought. And to AFO, Deku’s just another OFA holder acting all high & mighty; which we also already saw him face in the Kamino fight. So what little they do offer each other has already been done for both of them. And there’s nothing wrong with that for carrying a fight, I just wonder if that can really carry the final fight.

Compare that to Shigaraki, who foils Deku in ways so numerous & obvious it’s almost hard to talk about, such as: their position as successors, strategic thinkers, very similar origins, very similar core characters, team players, red shoes, they looked really similar as kids...just to name a few parallels. Contrasting AFO, there is a lot to work with here that would contributed to a good fight that’d double as a battle of ideologies. And admittedly, we know this because it already has, this is also something we’ve seen before; but there’s a lot more unexplored with their conflict, a lot left unsaid that we could see from them arguing their viewpoints. A lot more than from Deku & AFO anyway.

I mean for Pete’s sake; All Might & Shigaraki have more in common and more to talk about than Deku & AFO. That’s a major problem if those two are meant to carry the final battle; which is why I don’t think they are.

4. Just punch him

There’s also the fact that AFO doesn’t really challenge Deku in any real way; and I’m not just talking about how All Might solo-ing him (twice) should logically mean endgame Deku should also be able to solo him. I’m more talking about how...that’s kind of all he’d need to do. If you can just beat AFO up enough then...that’s it, threat over. Wrapped up in a neat little bow.

To compare, Shigaraki is the greatest threat the heroes have ever faced, the victim most in need of saving, and to top it off, he’s got the gall to be both of those things at once. What’s a hero supposed to do with that? That’s a serious question characters are going to have to think about when deciding how to deal with Shigaraki. His position is that of, not just the greatest challenge, but a set of the greatest challenges a hero could face. And that’s before you get into his side representing those oppressed by serious systemic issues that need to be addressed as well; quite possibly simultaneously.

No one needs to address systemic corruption or prejudice to beat AFO though. They just need to punch him real hard. The biggest challenge AFO presents the heroes is “how do we make sure this guy stops being a problem for good when neither our most secure prison, nor removing his head, did the job?”

(Personally, my answer is to have Tomura do it. Because unlike Deku, Tomura actually does have a proper antagonistic relationship with AFO, so he has reason to be the one to end him besides just being the protagonist. Plus he’s under no obligation not to kill, so there’s that.)

And like yeah, that does make AFO the easier guy to deal with, and thus write an ending around (to say nothing of how he's also the most satisfying person to see punched in the face); but does that really mean Horikoshi would want to use him instead of the more interesting option of Tomura? I mean I guess we can’t be sure, there is merit in writing the easy resolution; but I’d prefer the complex finale if I were in his shoes.

5. Horikoshi’s favourite

And lastly there’s just the issue of which of the two Horikoshi’s put more work into. Spoiler alert: it’s not the guy that spent like 200 chapters in jail being menacing every one in a while.

Tomura is by far the more developed between the two, having constantly evolved over the course of the series. And more than just as a character, as described above he’s been developed as the more threatening and challenging conflict for Deku while also reflecting him in a lot of important ways. We’ve seen the growth of his power & influence, we’ve gotten to know & understand his motives, we’ve seen how he’s been failed by heroes before. Everything about him has built him up as the ultimate villain, the most desperate victim, and overall greatest challenge for Deku and the story as a whole to face.

And AFO is...nearly one of those things. Which is pretty much what he was from his first appearance. He has not developed at all over the series, and from what we can tell from his flashbacks, he hasn’t developed at all over the past ~200 years either. (I’m half tempted to call him more inciting incident then character.) What we have with AFO, as far as a character and a villain goes, is pretty much what we’re getting until he’s done. And, well; if Tomura is a better villain & a better pick for final boss than he was then, that gap’s just going to keep growing.

Like, I doubt it really needs stating how Shigaraki is probably the character Horikoshi has put the most work into in the entire series. And a lot of that work, a lot of his development, has gone to the idea of him surpassing AFO or being a villain foil to Deku, who himself is mean to surpass All Might. For his roll to be usurped by the guy he’s meant to surpass just feels like it’s going against that. Like, it’d feel almost as wrong for his character and the story around him than it would for Deku is All Might got his powers back and took over for him as main protagonist. It just doesn’t feel right for Tomura not to be the final villain, is what I’m getting at.

6. ...One saving grace

Okay, but I will admit one thing AFO has going for him that I would be remiss not to bring up. Besides being the most hated character in a series that also has Endeavor in it, I mean. He’s got this one trait that makes him an effective antagonist to anyone in the series; his complete disregard to pretty much every major theme in the series.

I mean think about it; the major themes of Shigaraki’s circle all revolve around trying to fix the society that rejected them; but AFO believes Society just naturally sucks that way as part of human nature, so their cause is doomed. And the heroes’ major themes all revolve around how to become/what it means to be a hero; but AFO believes trying to do good in that society can’t really be done & also it’s ridiculous to believe comic books are real, so their cause is also doomed and they look stupid doing it. So despite not really interacting with anyone’s core conflict or goals in favour of wrapping them up in his own, he still manages a one-sided ideological opposition with nearly every major player in the series; and that’s not nothing.

But, and I completely understand that this is just a matter of opinion, that kind of just leaves him feeling to me like a good antagonist, not a good final antagonist. I’d still prefer it be Tomura even from this perspective, because he’s able to oppose the ideologies of his opponents on purpose & with proper ideologies of his own.

To summarize:

Shigaraki feels the better choice for final boss because he’s more threatening, more interesting, both as a person and as an opponent for Deku specifically, he’s far more directly tied into the themes of the story and their resolution, & he’s had far more set up. AFO is more hated, and his callous disregard for everything everyone else holds important is something I guess, but that’s pretty much all he’s got going for him in compression. I don’t know about you, but I know who I think would carry the conclusion to the series better.

But I also know this isn’t the most popular take among my villain fan colleagues right now. So if anyone disagrees, I welcome any civil discussion about these two & their viability as final boss.

#bnha #bnha manga spoilers #all for one #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #league of villains #lov #paranormal liberation front #PLF #all might #my stupid long term predictions

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Glowsticks

Sneaking in before midnight on Halloween~

This is another continuation of Exhumed.

McGee had talked to several people about the strangely popular gravestone. What he had learned made him feel sick. Literally. He wanted to throw up. First, the person buried there was the kid that had been found in the park. Second, the locals had made him into a cult figure practically overnight.

Or, at least, a tourist trap figure. These people had no shame.

On the other hand… Didn’t they say that Daily person was in charge of cults? Did Amity Park have a cult problem on top of everything else that was going on? Was the cult the problem, the root problem? If there even was an actual cult…

Cults were dangerous and took vicious advantage of legal loopholes. Maybe he should call the FBI. They were the ones that were supposed to deal with cults.

He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. No. This was his case. His job. He didn’t know that there was a cult involved, not yet. Besides, it didn’t matter if they were religious so long as they were breaking the law. Yeah.

“Are you okay?”

McGee almost jumped out of his skin, his hand twitching towards his firearm before he realized that the person who snuck up on him was a kid. The kid from earlier, to be precise.

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Were you about to pull a gun on me?” he asked.

“No,” said McGee.

The boy blinked, suspicion still evident on his face. “You’ve got to be more careful with guns,” he said. “There’s no reason to go for one just because someone surprised you.”

McGee didn’t grace that with a response. “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you across town, earlier?”

“Yeah. So were you,” said the boy. Danny. His name was Danny Fenton. “Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

“You shouldn’t ask questions you aren’t willing to answer yourself.”

What the hell was up with this kid? “I’m just trying to get a better feel for the town.”

“Hm,” said Danny. “I help out here at the cemetery, sometimes. Got to lay all those ghosts to rest, you know?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?” snapped McGee. “Death isn’t supposed to be a roadside attraction.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We take death very seriously around here,” assured Danny. “But seriously. I do help out. The caretaker lets me take that stuff away when it gets to be too much.” He nodded at the blank headstone and all the offerings around it. “Mom likes the flowers. Jazz is making a collage of some of the cards. You know. Stuff like that.” He shrugged, angling himself away from McGee. “Someone left a tiny copy of the Tempest once. In one of those teeny tiny books. Post. It had that one passage from Ariel’s Song decorated. It was nice. I liked it.”

“What?”

“Ariel’s Song. Full fathom five thy father lies;/Of his bones are coral made;/Those are pearls that were his eyes;/Nothing of him that doth fade,/But doth suffer a sea-change/Into something rich and strange. Shakespeare. I think it’s supposed to be a commentary on ghosts, but the guy in the play isn’t actually dead, people just think he is. So, I’m not really sure how to take it. You’re a detective, right? What do you think?”

McGee stared at the teenager. The kid who was buried there was his age. “This isn’t a joke,” said McGee. “A person is dead.”

Danny tilted his head. “I’m not joking?”

“How are you even connected to all of this?” McGee waved his hand, frustrated.

“I just told you how I’m connected to the cemetery. If you mean the town… Well, I do live here.”

“Why do Patterson and Collins know you?”

“I know everyone,” said Danny. He started backing away. “You should go get something to eat soon, if you don’t want to be late.” He turned and disappeared in the crowd.

What the hell.

McGee did not go to get food. He went back to the station. He had some questions to ask Cameron Daily, and he got the impression that the man was the kind of person to practically live at work.

When he opened the door, though, he had to stop.

“What is this?” he asked, loudly.

“Glowsticks,” said one of the secretaries. “You have seen them before, right?”

“Yes, but why?”

As much as the police department had been infested with Christmas decorations before, it was now covered with glowsticks of all varieties.

The secretary shrugged. “You’ll find out. And, no, this isn’t hazing.” She broke a new glowstick with a snap.

“Right,” said McGee. “Where’s Daily?”

“Cameron Daily is in the computer bay,” said the secretary, pointing.

“Thanks,” grunted McGee, once again wondering why there was a separate computer bay when everyone had their own desks, computers, and, in some cases, additional laptops.

Screw it, he might as well ask.

“Hey, Daily.”

“Mm?”

“Why’s there a separate computer bay?”

“Oh, it’s shielded,” said Daily.

“Shielded.”

“Yep. No signals, and the Fentons did some pretty neat stuff to the walls. Bunch of, ehm, nasty hackers. We learned our lesson, eventually.”

“The Fentons.”

“Yeah. And Foley did the firewalls.”

“They’re the ones who did the computer filing system.”

“Uhuh. Kids are geniuses. The parents aren’t too shoddy, either.”

“The—” No. There was no way. “Are they the same Fentons that hunt ghosts?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t think it to look at them, but apparently they live off of their patents. Made a bunch of fiddly little things that every other mass production factory in the country uses. Also, they own a toilet paper company. Not my favorite brand, but it isn’t the worst, honestly. Kind of wish we’d buy it here, but, no, we get that gross single ply. I swear, that stuff should be classified as a crime against humanity.”

“You let the ghost hunters deal with your computer security.”

“Oh, I know that tone. You met them, huh?”

“Just the kid.”

Daily looked up at McGee over the computer. “What?”

“I only met the kid. Danny.”

Slowly, Daily uncurled from his hunch in front of the computer. The man was taller than McGee thought.

“Then what’s your issue? Danny’s a good kid.”

A good kid whose parents were allowed to run roughshod over the town, who was allowed to steal from graveyards, and knew all of the police officers. For some reason.

“I heard you’re in charge of monitoring the cult?”

Daily snorted. “You make it sound like there’s just one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, after all the ghosts, most religions had to modernize, you know?”

Oh, god, this was part of the tourist trap. Or the tourist trap was part of this. Did they recruit from people who actually believed this nonsense?

“There’s more than one cult?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like quite a job.”

“Eh. I’m mostly just keeping track of their online activity.”

“So, how are the Fentons involved?”

“They aren’t. They’re pretty areligious, overall. Danny’s been almost kidnapped a few times, though.”

“What?”

“Kidnapped. By a cult.”

“Cults. Gotta remember the plural, man. Cults.” Daily was hunching again. “But, hey, if you’re interested in the subject, I can give you a thorough run-through of this new group that started up last week. Their philosophy is wild. I can’t even tell you—”

“Hey. You’re early,” said Patterson, leaning through the door, her braid swinging. “Great. Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” lied McGee.

“Get better at lying,” said Patterson. “Come on, let’s go.”

Patterson and Collins weren’t the only ones there. In fact, there were more people in the station than there had been that morning. All with glowsticks. Said glowsticks were being loaded into unmarked cars while office staff and police officers whispered back and forth.

“Did you get the green stuff?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Gave me more than enough.” Glowing green milk jugs were loaded into a car. The car McGee would be riding in with Collins and Patterson.

‘Green stuff.’ Was this some kind of bizarre drug smuggling ring? McGee had fallen behind in drug slang, if so. ‘Green stuff.’ Were they lacing it with glowstick fluid?

Never before had he felt so lost on a case. Amity Park was messed up.

“You’ve got the howlers hooked up?” asked Collins.

“I asked Daily to do it this morning.”

“But did he do it?”

“I mean, it looks like it. Are the howlers really that important?”

McGee had no idea what was going on.

The cars all started off in a group. Their car was the last to leave and soon peeled off to trundle slowly down back roads.

“You probably have questions,” said Collins.

“You could say that,” said McGee.

“You’ve been a good sport about them,” observed Collins.

“So,” said McGee, drawing out the word. “What is this about?”

Patterson swallowed a laugh. “Ever hear of the Men in Black?”

“Look, I’m humoring the ghosts. Conspiracy theories are where I draw the line.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it’ll stick. Anyway, here in Amity Park, we deal with their less intelligent cousins. The Guys in White!”

“That’s not their actual name,” said Collins, glancing back over his shoulder. “But, well, their appearance fits.”

“Alright, let’s say I believe you. What does this have to do with the jugs of glowstick fluid in the trunk?”

“Oh, that’s not glowstick fluid,” said Patterson. “It’s waste from the reactor that powers the town.”

“Don’t worry,” said Collins, hastily, the car swerving somewhat. “It’s completely harmless! Not radioactive at all!”

“That’s not what—” started Patterson.

“You absolutely will not get cancer from it!”

McGee raised a hand. “You have nuclear reactor fluid in the trunk?”

“It isn’t nuclear reaction fluid,” protested Patterson. “It’s—"

“Back on track,” interrupted Collins.

“Yeah. Anyway. It’ll trip the Guys in White’s sensors—”

“Eventually,” Collins grumbled.

“—so we can lead them on a chase.”

“And… why do we want to do this?”

“Because it’s a quiet month,” said Patterson. “Don’t want the Guys to get antsy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means. You’ll see in January.”

McGee looked between his two ‘partners.’ “Are you trying to get me to quit?”

“Because you’re a spy for the county?” asked Patterson. “Oh, no, never.”

Before McGee could process that statement, the car’s radio crackled to life.

“We’ve got a class-3 northbound on Orion at 35 miles per hour. Ectosignature suggests an amorphiform ghost—”

“Hah!” shouted Patterson. “That’s us! Punch it!” She twisted the dial on the radio as Collins slammed his foot into the accelerator. “Bogey to Redrum! We’ve got followers!”

“Copy, Bogey, this is Redrum. We need a few more minutes to set up. Can you stay out of sight?”

“The hell?”

The radio crackled. “Forgot you had the new guy! Don’t shake him up too much, okay? Over.”

“Copy. Collins you catch that?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m taking Pan and Laurel. The holiday tour.”

“Ooh, good choice.” Patterson held up the radio again. “Yeah, we can manage. Over.”

Collins went faster. For the next several minutes McGee occupied himself with not throwing up. He succeeded. Barely.

“Bogey, this Cam,” said the voice of Daily, “followers are gaining. They’re on Brassica, just passing High Street. Triggered the speed cameras. Over.”

“How many and what type? Over.”

“Three gliders. Don’t think they’ve spotted you yet, though. Over.”

Gliders? Who did these people think they were kidding?

“Copy, over,” said Patterson. “Not like those guys care about speeders, though,” she muttered. McGee could barely hear her over the beating of his own heart.

“Sharp right, brace yourselves,” said Collins, split seconds before matching action to words.

“Redrum to bogey, we’re moving out now, over.”

“Copy. We’re on our way. Over. Head to the park, Collins.”

“Gotcha.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Collins somehow pushed the car to go even faster. Then, just as quickly as the whole ridiculous thing had begun, the car skidded to a halt in a parking lot. Seeing his chance, McGee clawed at the door handle and dragged himself out onto the pavement.

Collins and Patterson, meanwhile, were pulling the almost-certainly-toxic waste out of the trunk and launching it into the glowstick-filled woods with—

“Is that a bazooka?” demanded McGee, so far past his wit’s end that he couldn’t even see it anymore.

“Nah, just a modified T-shirt canon,” said Patterson, stowing the object away again. “Fentonworks special.”

“I don’t believe you,” said McGee.

Three – Three things – McGee did not want to call them gliders – raced overhead, jets roaring and wind whistling. They came to a stop approximately where the ‘reactor waste’ had fallen.

“What the hell?” whispered McGee, passionately.

“Come on,” said Collins. “Time for us to go.”

“Yeah, better to spectate from afar,” agreed Patterson.

“I agree,” said a third voice.

“Oh, Danny,” said Patterson. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

The boy walked into McGee’s field of view and glanced down at him before shrugging. “Couldn’t sleep.” He looked up, at the park. “Thanks for this.”

“Had to get them to blow this month’s budget somehow,” said Collins. “But, really, we should all go before the fireworks start.”

Danny sighed. “Hope they don’t blow up the fountain again. It just got fixed.”

“Same,” said Patterson.

“Well, see you later.”

“Yep, we’ve got that wellness check tomorrow,” said Collins. “You don’t have any excuse to forget, this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the teen, waving over his shoulder as he walked straight into the dark.

“What,” said McGee.

“That’s just Danny for you,” said Collins. “Great kid. Super creepy.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d he even know we’re here?” asked McGee, trying to keep his voice even.

“He did give us that eeeeehhhhhhh—reactor waste,” said Patterson. “Come on, get up, we’ve got to—”

A small explosion sounded from the park.

“Seriously. I don’t want to have to pick you up.”

“I’d wind up doing most of the lifting,” grumbled Collins, who was sliding into the driver’s seat.

Patterson put her hands on her hips. “Excuse you?”

There was another, larger explosion. McGee climbed back into the car.

As they drove, he realized that no one had made fun of his name. Not even once.

Amity Park was weird.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2020 #ectober week #ectober week 2020 #day 6

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runin-reads · 4 years

Text

❛ s o l a r s y s t e m ❜

— hinata harem drabbles and reader insert

SYNOPSIS: my thoughts on various hinata ships, plus my take on what it would be like to marry the sunshine himself.

PAIRINGS: kenhina, kagehina, atsuhina, oihina, hoshihina, tsukkihina, hinata x reader.

A/N: I would add wayyy more ships but I didn’t want this to be too long. I may add a part 2 depending on the feedback I get.

MANGA SPOILERS

☆ﾐ KENHINA

— the only sugar baby and sugar daddy relationship that matters

— shoyou says he likes something off-handedly only for kenma to buy it in bulk the next day

— “if you get boring, I’ll stop ;)” that’s it that’s the sunmary. need I say more to describe their dynamic?

— Kenma and him fight a lot to cover the bill, only for Kenma to pay for it secretly on his way to the bathroom

— honestly just such caring boys to each other. Kenma is so intune with how Shoyou feels and will lay down just about anything to make him feel better. Shoyou brings happiness and energy to Kenya’s life and makes sure that he takes plenty of breaks from the screen, so he can rest.

— he’s part of the pretty setter squad, what can I say.

☆ﾐ KAGEHINA

— literal representation of yin-yang. They balance eachother out in the best way and work perfectly together

— volleyball dorks that wanna bring each other to new heights. Constantly noticing improvement (namely Hinata’s) in each other and instantly being filled with joy at the sight of it

— like seriously. Kageyama was the first to see potential in Hinata, and was willing to put effort into drawing his talent out. Before Kageyama there was no one who would do that shit, and i honestly can’t imagine Hinata without his influence

—romance aside, their friendship and teamwork is something we all want in life. They’re intune with the others needs and characters, they’re a POWERFOUPLE and everyone acknowledges them as one

☆ﾐ ATSUHINA

— wow, he can jump. That’s it, we wilding now 🤪

— deadass saw him play for one match and decided “ah yes. I want this one” LMAO

— Atsumu made a promise to toss for him and actually fulfilled that oath 6 years later. King really did THAT.

— okay but Atsumu casually staking claim over Hinata as HIS wing spiker, really brought out his protective bf side. You can just tell how much pride and trust he has in Hinata as a teammate, enough where he’ll call him HIS wing spiker at any given time.

— I just love the way Hinata encourages Atsumu and his jokes that go over everyone else’s head.

— “Atsumu-san! I found it funny!” :D

— hinata comes thru when no one else does. We love to see it

— Atsumu being the stressed mom friend of the jackals and Hinata either adding to the stress, or helping him out.

— hinata being one of the few people that matches Atsumu’s energy for constantly thinking of new moves/techniques for volleyball. Will stay long after practice just to work together and play the sport they love.

☆ﾐ OIHINA

— DO NOT TELL ME THAT OIKAWA DIDN’T MAKE SEVERAL TRIPS TO RIO TO VISIT HINATA AGAIN. DO N O T.

— oihina spent several days in the honeymoon phase. Going to restaurants, building sandcastles, playing beach volleyball, taking selfies to piss old rivals off. And this is Brazil we’re talking about. They 100% went to bars and danced in the streets, drunk off of the alcohol and the feeling of being close to each other. If this doesn’t scream “forbidden summer romance, I found a piece of home away from home” energy, then idk what does.

— they met as two homesick boys that left the country to pursue their dreams. Both of them were feeling lost and had no idea where to go from there, but then they saw each other and their vigor was restored. I’ll say it again, THEY FOUND A PIECE OF HOME INSIDE EACHOTHER. THEY REMINDED EACHOTHER OF THEIR ULTIMATE GOALS AND THAT VOLLEYBALL IS A SPORT WHERE YOU HAVE FUN.

— oikawa definitely needs reminding that he is enough, that he is skilled and hardworking, and most importantly to take care of himself. Hinata would definitely be able to provide this support to him. He is a fountain of endless praise and validation, and what makes it better is that it’s all sincere and only based on the truth.

☆ﾐ TSUKKIHINA

— Tsukki would fucking punch himself before catching feelings for Hinata. Which is what makes this ship even funnier.

— it’s just Tsukki back at it again with his salty inner-monologue to himself and denying his feelings, only for Hinata to waltz right in and change his view of everything

— the type of couple to be arguing and all up in each others faces, only to be like “holy shit he’s close,” and be reduced to a blushing mess

— when Hinata actually sasses back yall better be behind Tsukki to catch him as he burns. This man will either clap right back or short circuit from the shock alone.

— he probably develops a hunch from holding hinata's hand all the time and crouching down to give a hug. Mans looking like Quasimodo but it’s okay, he’s in love.

☆ﾐ HOSHIHINA

— not really a fav ship of mine, but I gotta give appreciation where appreciation is due

— they’re so alike yet so different in so many ways

— I just love how they’ve finally found someone to relate to, someone who knows exactly what it’s like to be underestimated at first, only to completely soar through their expectations in order to reach higher heights

— they’re a great reference to each other, and they clearly love seeing the other improve and try out different things. They have a deep respect and sense of rivalry, and they most definitely are the dumbest-and-dumbest couple that can’t figure out shit outside of volleyball

— they compete over the pettiest shit. Will race each other to get into the shower first, or put on their seatbelts. Chaotic energy can be sensed from miles away. Can’t be left alone to do anything without the building collapsing smh.

☆ﾐ HINATA X READER

— ngl you got the entire volleyball scene jealous

— like you managed to snag the most versatile and sought after player in the whole of Japan. You really did THAT.

— Shoyou is definitely the type to give you a one-handed hug and a kiss to the forehead every time he has to leave for something

— will sling an arm around you from behind and ask you about your day. Asks you quick fire questions like, “have you eaten yet?” “Have you drank water?” And is overall a super attentive lover

— “hey, I’m Shoyou Hinata and this is my spouse!” Cue the blinding grin that’s brighter than the sun

— Like they do for Hinata, players like Hoshiumi and Ushijima address you by your full name, and you and your husband find it hilarious.

— “OI HINATA” - kageyama

— the both of you turn around

— all chaos ensues

— I feel like Shoyou wouldn’t be the type to flirt with you at first, he’d just be really upfront with it. Will dead ass head straight towards you after practice or something, and say, “hey! Wanna go back to my place after this?”

— he’d say this with the BRIGHTEST SMILE, and I bet he’d blush a lot too

— he would still blush, even once yall are married and everything

— everyone cries at your wedding. You don’t know if it’s tears of joy, or they’re all at a loss because they wanted Hinata all to themselves. And honestly? Same.

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notmrskennedy · 4 years

Text

Eight Seconds

Howdy! I’m honestly freaking out bc this the first Spencer Reid anything I’ve written and bc I try not to out myself as country too much bc well the world right now. (I honestly wish there was more people out there who had a thing for cowgirls/boys as I do.) I hope at least one person enjoys it as much as I liked writing it.

Summary: Spencer Reid meets the cowgirl of his dreams...

Warnings: I think I swear like twice? other than that it’s fluff

Word count: 4.5k

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He doesn’t think that it would be Penelope Garcia to catch him. Sure, she’s a genius and a tech wizard and an overall queen at gathering gossip. But she isn’t around him as much as JJ. Or Emily. Or Morgan.

What gave him away to her and not everyone else?

Because he knows he’s given something away when she texts him. Urgent. Batcave now! He’s hopeful. Optimistic. Maybe Penelope’s got some burning question about Star Trek. Or Doctor Who. Or when the next convention is. Maybe it’s a serial killer.

But he isn’t that lucky. Spencer Reid never is.

He knocks hesitantly, worried for exactly what’s to come. Her gaze snaps up from her tablet. Snaps to him in an incessant kind of ‘I know what you did’ way. It’s a look for scolding children. Not a pleasant, let’s have a tea time chat, gaze.

Spencer settles into the extra chair and waits. There’s a storm brewing behind her eyes and when she finally speaks, she doesn’t disappoint.

“What’s her name?”

And he can’t stop it. Lovesick smile, starry eyes—Penelope doesn’t have to be a profiler to see it before he sobers up. Her mouth opens into a toothy grin. An insufferably contagious grin and he knows he’s caught for sure.

He leans back in the desk chair, stares up at the ceiling and breathily whispers, “Shawn.”

“Oh!” Penelope gasps. He can hear the mental scolding. There’s backtracking with no end in sight. “Well, I didn’t mean to presume and it’s—it’s okay if Shawn is—or you’re—and I just didn’t know—you never said anything—“

“Relax,” he chuckles and grins at her softly for good measure. “Shawn is a girl. Her legal name is Shawna if you’re that curious.”

And he knows Penelope is curious. She’s grinning and waiting and listening. He can tell she wants to prompt. To ask questions. To dig through every tiny detail she can. Is it bad to make her wait? To not want anyone to know about the girlfriend he’s kept hidden for so long?

“Tell me more,” Penelope buzzes, bouncing in her seat, monitors—work—forgotten. “Where did you love story begin?”

He smiles to himself. It’s not a matter of when, but how long.

It took eight seconds. All of eight seconds.

At first, he wasn’t even sure it was eight seconds. He’d been running, running harder than he ever had. Chucks flapping against the hard packed dirt. Horse trailers flying by him as he jumped hitches and slipped through patches of mud.

It was five minutes of burning lungs and dust caked nostrils before those eight seconds. Quick glances between trailers. Got to keep moving, Reid, got to keep up. Because Morgan’s chanting was getting distant, too distant. The last time they’d split up—

Five minutes of a maze he hadn’t learned. Five minutes of being utterly lost, following the sound of Morgan’s thundering boots and desperation. They were all desperate. It was a desperate move to keep running, not to find solace in an empty horse trailer on the killer’s part. The bastard thought he could lose them, shake the FBI agents off his tail.

Reid knew better, but he was getting desperate too. His lungs were burning. It’d only been five minutes.

“FBI! Stop!” Morgan shouted from behind him. Reid skidded through a patch of horse shit into the main thoroughfare. Thank god. No more trailers. A walkway, a solid walkway, a clear line of sight. The man was running. Why do they always run?

Reid picks up his lungs in his desperate hands and pushes on. Grits his teeth, clenches down on every spare inch of fortitude left. Morgan catches up easily but doesn’t surpass. They’re both tired. They’re both panting. They’ve both got weapons drawn, but who could make a shot at 50 yards with a moving target?

Not Reid. He knew better.

But Morgan tried one more time. Shouted and called and screamed. The man didn’t look back. Prison was on his heels and he was desperate enough to keep running. A coward. There wouldn’t be a standoff. Smart enough to not get cornered, not smart enough to keep from getting caught.

They both pushed harder. This was their eight seconds. They were getting close, they reasoned to themselves, hearts panting to the same rhythm. They could keep it together for these last seconds. He’d get tired—they were getting tired—he had to be tired by now.

He was racing in snakeskin cowboy boots. How could he be keeping that pace in those shoes?

Reid hoped his lungs would give out. Save the heroic work for Morgan. Morgan could get the bad guy. Morgan could get the girl. He could have anything he wanted. Reid just wanted to fall face first into the dirt and let the fresh mud extinguish the flames in his lungs. In his throat. In his mouth.

But then the eight seconds came.

In the first second, he realised his heart didn’t gallop. It didn’t have the imprints of hooves. It wasn’t the two thousand pound animal gaining momentum behind him. His heart was clogging his ears that badly. Thankfully, with his wits about him, he looked back.

In the second second, Reid saw the animal. Mid-step, perfect stride. A plastic figurine of a race horse, nostrils wide at the end of its long face. It took only the second second to see the crazy in the horse’s eyes. How they focused and blinked and bled the insanity. How it was more beast than domesticated pet. Reid was convinced the black stockings on its legs were dripping grease from its gears. He could see the muscle in its shoulders and flanks. Muscle groupings bigger than him. An animal that could crush him. A machine running with a single thought: faster.

He saw the rider in the third second. One he didn’t expect. Maybe it was his own memories of cowboy movies, but cowboys weren’t supposed to be dipped in glitter. Weren’t supposed to be such overtly female. But there she was. Her dark curls billowing behind her. Sun glinting off the gold of her hat. Glinting off the impressive amount of glitter on her eyelids. And the rhinestones on her black button-down. She was stunning. Furrowed in her concentration. Elated in her grin.

The rope came in the fourth. It was twisting in her hand, coil and reins held precariously in her other. It loops over her head, slack enough to swallow her whole. Slack enough to get caught on her. Get caught on the horse. She keeps perfect control and the hand comes around and around until she—

In the fifth second, the rope releases and Reid slows his feet to watch it. The horse has gained on the man, so close that teeth could get involved. The man doesn’t seem to know, or is too desperate to change direction. Because he’s gone straight and the horse has followed and the rope is sliding through her hand like it’s meant to be there forever. It goes and goes and goes. He thinks the loop is bound to catch her foot, a hoof, something. But it doesn’t. It never does.

With six seconds down, the man finds he doesn’t have feet anymore. The loop of the rope tightens around his legs and he’s falling. He doesn’t have feet under him. Barely hands to save his face. Reid hopes the fall is harder than it needs to be. But he’s not focused on the man, he’s focused on the girl. The girl who expertly catches the rope in her hands. Who expertly ties the end around the saddle horn. Who’s horse pulls the rope taut and the man goes down.

At seven seconds, the horse is still backing. It knows. It’s practiced. Reid can see the elation on both rider and animal. Their pride is palpable. He doesn’t know it, but this is the best run they’ve done together. Not the fastest, but the best.

Eight seconds is when the girl turns to them. Grinning, hollering, hands up in the air. Reid watches as they catch up, slowing down to match the horse’s speed. The man tries to flip himself over, dragging on his back towards the federal agents. Reid can feel his heart and he wonders if it’s beating harder from the run or the thrill.

He’ll never admit it but he’s always wanted to be a cowboy. This girl has his other dream in her hands, wearing it as her favourite belt buckle.

Eight seconds later and she’s smiling down at the agents, still hollering some form of yeehaw! Reid grins, dragging his aching limbs forward to help Morgan flip the man onto his stomach and cuff him. The dragging discontinues and the horse knickers his anger that the trial is over.

Reid loosens the rope from the man’s feet, working the fray between his fingers. He moves to hand it to the cowgirl but she’s already snapping it from him and coiling it back up. She latches it back to her saddle, chest heaving with the excitement of it all.

“Bitch!” the man spits as Morgan hauls him to his feet.

The girl just smirks and tips her hat back. Reid can’t help but watch her pretty red lips as she says, “I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass, you’ll taste my good leather if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth.” Vulgarity has never sounded better off of anyone else’s tongue. She’s got the first sermon he’s ever wanted to listen to sitting on her lips and he wonders if this is why people believe in God. If pretty girls have always made men believe in things they shouldn’t.

Her drawl is thick, sticky, and unsweet. She’s got more threats bubbling up in her chest, sitting precariously close to her heart. She comfortable in sliding off her horse, landing softly in the dirt.

He won’t admit it, but he can’t ignore how round her ass is in those tight jeans.

She pats her horse, sliding her rough hands under its harnesses and it’s mane. Reid knows enough about horses to distinguish several muscle groups and bone structures from others. He feels out of his depth. He’s drowning being so close to a dream he can never have. He wonders if he should ask her to stay. Tell her there’s reports. Witness statements. Paperwork. Anything to get her to stay longer, to prolong the closeness to the dream. The closeness to her.

The horse gives a bleated scream as Morgan passes with the handcuffed man, both human males looking equally frightened of the animal. It settles into a role of domestication as the girl lets the horse throw its head into her shoulder begging for pats.

Spencer knows he supposed to follow Morgan, but he can’t move. She’s everything in that moment. And just as he gets the courage to thank her, thank her for stopping the burning, she meets his eyes and drops her jaw.

“Well as I live and breathe!” she shouts. It’s too rough for a squeal, more of a whistle of her words. “Spencer Reid, not even a day’s difference. How in the hell are you?”

Is he breathing? He doesn’t think he’s breathing. She knows him. She knows him. She knows him. And he has no idea who she is. He searches her beautiful face. Running over the ruby lips. Over the pink blushing cheeks. The glittered eyelids and the long eyelashes.

She’s so unfamiliar it hurts.

Morgan stops in his tracks. There’s blood in the water for the first time in ages. The last time these waters were chummed was a bartender who called him exactly once.

And it gets worse. Her face falls. Emily and JJ are rounding the corner. Everything in him sinks to the floor. Every details about himself becomes apparent. He’s gangly and uncoordinated. His hair’s too long and he’s got circles under his eyes darker than the grease stains on her horse. He’s so unperfected and this girl reminds him of the girls in high school he could never have.

He wonders for a moment if she’s from high school. She can’t be though, he thinks as he fights the bile in his throat. She’s younger than me.

“You know boy genius?” Morgan asks, handing the killer off to Emily. He’s strutting. Ever the first impressionist. The girl barely glances at him, still studying Reid with a crestfallen little smile perched on her perfect lips.

“Not really,” she settles on, getting a better grip on the reins she’s holding. Getting a better grip on herself. “We met once. In Vegas. I was 15 and I’ve done my growing up since.”

Reid still hasn’t moved. He’s not sure he can. His feet are putty from the run. Putty from her smile. Just ask for her name, he screams at himself, but he can’t. There’s no guarantees. There’s no ‘of courses’, only ‘what ifs’. The what ifs can consume you and he’s worried he’s going to let them.

Morgan extends his hand in the stretching pause. And she shakes it. All crimson lips and pearly teeth. “I’m Agent Derek Morgan. You obviously know, Dr. Reid.”

Her eyebrows raise for half a second. She’s surprised. And impressed. And Reid’s heart warms for no longer than she answers. “I’m Shawn, Shawn Healy.”

“Shawn? That’s an interesting—“

Everyone pauses at the sound of hoofbeats. Whips around to see another girl, a blonde in even more glitter, ride up on her own horse. Shawn swings back onto her horse and spurs him off, following the other girl. Spencer doesn’t see the flags they’re carrying until it’s too late. Until she’s already apologising for leaving. She’s late.

Spencer wonders if he’ll ever see her again. Black curls bouncing over her shoulders. Stained lips. Sun glinting off every inch of her.

In another eight seconds, she’s gone. Eight seconds to win his heart. Eight seconds to ride off with it.

He gives Penelope some condensed version of the story that she’s hooked on anyway. She’s leaned forward, elbows on knees, perched on every word that leaves his mouth like it’s from God himself. It’s comical, he thinks. Spencer’s never really been invested in anyone else’s drama, not for longer than five minutes.

Penelope’s going to be invested, heels sunk in, holding on for dear life. She’s invested for life.

“So, how’d you get her back?” she asks. Starry eyed. Concerned. This is her white whale and she’ll go down with this ship. “She could’ve been anywhere! How’d you two get together?”

And he knows this part isn’t complicated. And it’ll be enough to tide her over.

The quick answer is that he googled her. Read every newspaper article, column, and paper mentioning her. Shawna Healy had been mentioned more times for winning rodeo competitions than he had papers published. She was accomplished in her culture, in her part of the world. She’d won up to regionals while in college. Even boasted to being the first girl on the UT Dallas Rodeo Team. Currently employed at Montgomery’s Cattle Ranch just outside of DC. The same ranch who was hosting a For-Charity Bull-riding Competition.

Spencer hadn’t known what to do with the information so he sat on it. For a month. Until he couldn’t wait any longer. The competition was that weekend. He had to go.

He just kept repeating to himself, this is for academic purposes. This isn’t stalking. You might not even see her. This is for—

And he stops thinking. There’s no reason to think anything other than: I’m sorely underdressed. He’s sinking to the bottom of the deep end of the pool, lead weights tied to his ankles. Every man, woman, and child here is nothing sort of their earned Country label. There’s boots and buckles and ball caps. There’s dust and dip and drawl.

And he’s in a cardigan. Why was that a good idea? He doesn’t know, but he’s tempted to shrug it off and disappear. To run right back out of gates. To get swallowed by everyone staring at him. Gawking at him. He’s back in high school again and he wants to drink bleach.

He’s almost to the bleachers, past the makeshift bar, just at the corner of the dirt arena. Spencer knows he should just go home, shake it off, and dissolve into wishing the world takes pity on him. He’s too out of his depth. These other people belong. He most definitely does not.

And just as he’s about to turn tail, pussyfoot out of every bit of confidence he’s ever had, when he sees her.

She’s on a different horse. One not quite as beastly as the other. This one’s mellow, waiting on the edge of the arena, while she’s chatting absently with another man on horseback. She looks different. She’s far, but there’s no glitter. No outstanding colours. No glinting under the fluorescents. She’s in a cowboy hat, tipped forward over her loose braids. She’s traded her button down for a flannel, rolled up to the elbows and he finally understands why Penelope said it was such a turn on.

There’s no words as the announcer suddenly comes on and a bull bursts from the chute. It’s one of the most terrifying things he’s ever seen. A tiny man holding onto a two ton absolute beast with one hand—it’s absurd! But he can’t stop watching. Can’t stop being impressed. Waits on bated breath for the man to get bucked off after his nearly eight second run.

He does and Spencer has had falls like that. They aren’t pleasant.

The bull bucks and kicks for another few seconds. Shawn and her friend lazily canter forward, guiding the animal back to the other side of the arena and through a gate. She whistles and the gate closes behind it.

The pair retreat back to their corner and the process starts all over again.

“You look a little lost, honey,” a sweet voice chirps beside him. He startles, head caught up in Shawn and every single perfect What If. This girl reminds him of a movie star he can’t remember the name of. Big blonde curls. Big eyelashes. Big smile. Tiny waist.

She’s amazingly beautiful. Amazing doll like. Amazingly…not his type.

Spencer still nervously smiles and clears his throat. “I kind of am.”

“Cardigan gave it away,” she giggles, turning him towards the edge of the stadium seating, dropping them onto the bottom row seat. “I’m Kaley Montgomery. My brother and my sister are this shift’s pick up riders.” Spencer nods along like he knows what she’s saying. “I tell ‘em I’m here to support them and my daddy—he put this whole thing on you know—but I’m just here to pick up cute cowboys.”

“I’m not a cowboy,” Spencer blurts. Her laugh is slick like the sugar in a Venus fly trap. He tries not to get drawn in, but she’s all encompassing. Bright perfume. Colourful clothes. Soft skin and warm empathy. There’s nothing uninviting about her and he wants to move back.

“No, honey, you aren’t.” Kaley pauses to look him over. Whatever she sees makes her softly grin. “Why are you here anyway?”

There’s no judgement. She’s safe and alluring and exactly the opposite of what makes him nervous at that moment. The confidence surges for a moment and he answers, “I’m actually trying to find this girl I met a while ago.”

“Must be a special lady. What’s her name?”

“Shawn Healy,” Spencer sighs. It’s wistful. It’s longing. It’s half desperate. It’s been a month since he’s seen her. A month since he snuck back to see if he could catch her at the rodeo one more tine.

Kaley snorts. Her lady-like instincts kick back in and she covers it was a giggle. “Honey, you met the right girl. Shawn’s like my sister. Her shift ends in a few rounds, and she’s meeting me here if you just wanna stick around for a second.”

And he does. Kaley keeps him laughing, has him singing the high praises of Rodeo sports by the end. It’s maybe another ten minutes. Ten minutes of calming down, easing into the world. Kaley looks like she has whiplash with all of the questions he’s asking. And she’s a little dazed when he blinks at her sheepishly.

“Told he was smart, didn’t I?” a voice says behind him and Spencer jumps out of his skin. He’s desperate to slip it back on without seeming desperate. Without seeming nervous. But it all melts. Shawn’s in front of him. Shawn’s grinning. Shawn’s even more beautiful without the glitter.

“How did you recognise me?” he blurts. There’s stumbling as he tries to backtrack. Shawn’s eyes are green this close up and she smells like leather and oats and apples. His sentences lose traction as she peels her hat off, and sits down next to him.

There’s nothing soft about her. She’s callused. Rough. Nothing like any other girl he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. Spencer doesn’t need more than ten seconds to know that Shawn’s never worn glitter more than the one time and never will again. To known that Shawn is simple and complicated and every grey area he’s ever wanted to explore.

Shawn’s eyes are still and focused. She follows Kaley as the girl stands and leaves. Returns the gaze to Spencer with a glint he can’t categorise. There’s a pause. Lead up to another eight seconds of life changing to be done.

“You were sitting by yourself at a sorting event at the South Point,” she breathes, brushing a piece of dirt off the hat in her hands. Setting it beside her on the bleacher. She gives him plenty of time to stare. To appreciate her.

There’s plenty of time, Spencer thinks and he keeps her gaze with a nervous grin.

Shawn brushes a hand over the frazzled bits of her hat hair. “I came and sat next to you because you looked so lonely. You were so afraid.”

His brain fires and spits and roars to life. He can remember the strange girl who came to sit by him, a sea of empty spaces around him. He’d just committed his mom. Was just about to leave for MIT. He’d been swimming in a sea of self-hatred when he’d been greeted by braces and pimples and too much dark hair. She’d explained every second of the calf sort, almost unprompted, and sussed out every single one of his questions.

It had been as close as he ever dared get to being a cowboy. A decade later and she was every introduction to this world he’d ever had.

Shawn’s got two seconds left on the clock and she doesn’t disappoint. Her fingers are delicate as she places a precarious hand on his knee. There’s a soft pressure to his patella. Shawn’s touching him and he can’t help the shock.

“I had one of those day long crushes. You were the smartest man I’d ever met.”

And no words are suddenly good enough. He wants to tell her that he’s fallen in love now. That he can’t help it. That all he wants is to listen to her drawl on for the rest of his life. That she’d made that last week in Vegas bearable. That she’d been everything. Still was.

But there’s no good way to articulate that. And maybe she knows that. Maybe Shawn Healy was a profiler in a different life because she lets go of his knee and switches subjects. Leans back against the seat behind her, stretching out into the spot of sun.

“It’s my lunch break,” she announces, her boots drifting closer to touching his chucks. The eyes don’t matter as the bleachers stare. What matters is Shawn’s tricky smile. “Have lunch with me.”

He nods and doesn’t think he could bear to disagree with her. Shawn disappears for a moment long enough that he’s worried she isn’t coming back, but she plops french fries into his lap not a second later than the worry begins to fester. Shawn’s not one to back out of commitments, he learns, and ends up hearing enough bad stories that Spencer isn’t sure how they’re getting along so well.

Because they’re getting along so well. Too well. Like they’ve never stopped talking since she was 15 and he was 18. Three hours is too early to say I love you, but he’s thinking it as she talks through a basket of french fries. As she sneaks them to some tiny kids in even tinier cowboy boots.

He’s thinking it every time she laughs.

He’s thinking it as she shoves his shoulder and demands to know why he doesn’t own a pair of jeans.

He’s thinking it even as she stands and apologises and stuffs her business card in his shirt pocket. “We’ll get you cowboy’d up one of these days, Dr. Reid. Now, don’t you forget to call—I’m late again.”

She runs off and he can’t stop thinking I love you so much as she waves at him over her shoulder and once again when she’s in the arena, back on a new horse.

Penelope is near tears at the end of Spencer’s story. He relaxes into the new world he’s entering. The one, two years later, where he’s wondering exactly how much he can keep to himself. How much Garcia will suss out and how much he’ll tell her himself.

Penelope folds her arms and suddenly frowns. She’s got a bee in her bonnet and Spencer’s afraid of what it means.

“Shawn,” she murmurs to herself. “Spencer Reid is shacking up with a cowgirl. I can’t—I’ll see it when I believe it.”

This is her attempt to get Spencer to show her pictures, or call Shawn, or even bring her around. But he doesn’t. He just smirks. No matter how much he actually can’t work the phone in his hands, he doesn’t want to. Shawn’s worried enough about meeting the team, she doesn’t need one Penelope Garcia tracking her down and tackling her.

“How ever much I love this chat we’re having, I have to get back to work,” Spencer announces. He stands. Walks off before Penelope can ask more questions.

And despite all of her yelling and protests and shouting for him to just come back here and tell me if she’s your girlfriend, Penelope knows she won’t get anything more. She’s determined anyway, and plans to corner JJ later on.

She finds doesn’t have to ask JJ, cornered or not. Because not four hours later, does Penelope find one Dr. Spencer Reid admiring the diamonds on the wedding ring he’s holding up between him and the coffee pot. He’s quick to shove it in his pocket as Penelope enters the little kitchenette. Quick to stir sugar in his coffee like nothing’s happened. Like Penelope definitely didn’t see the ring he’s waiting to give Shawn.

“When did you get the ring?” she asks, quietly opening the box of tea.

“Promise not to think I’m crazy?”

Penelope nods, turning just enough to see just how love stricken the poor boy is. “I’d even pinky promise, my love.”

He smirks and softens and says almost so quietly she doesn’t hear, “It was about two weeks after our first date. It took about eight seconds to find the right one.”

#pls I'm doing my best #i've also got anxiety to the moon and back #spencer reid #oc #criminal minds #dr spencer reid

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kageyahma-remade · 4 years

Text

Whisper of the Heart and Haikyuu!!, both being feel-good stories about personal growth with a foundation of interpersonal support and self-care, how very special places in my heart. Whisper of the Heart’s storyline of two people inspiring each other to pursue and improve in their crafts and Haikyuu!!’s focus on human connection and relationships, specifically revolving around Hinata and Kageyama’s relationship, led me to realize that there are A LOT of parallels between Shizuku & Hinata, and Seiji & Kageyama.

Shizuku and Hinata are the protagonists of their respective stories and therefore undergo the most growth. Shizuku sets a goal for herself to finish her novel by the time Seiji returns from Italy, and Hinata aspires to be good enough to beat Kageyama, the “King of the Court”, declaring that even if it takes ten or twenty years, he will do it.

Seiji is very good at making violins and has high aspirations that will take him elsewhere on the globe to improve. Kageyama is hailed as being a prodigy setter and has a strong drive to become the best there is. (I think the moment these parallels clicked for me was when I realized that their aspirations brought the both of them to Italy: Seiji to be an apprentice violin maker in Cremona, Kageyama playing for Ali Roma). They have worked hard for what they love and their goals have been set for a long time, in contrast to Shizuku and Hinata. Shizuku and Hinata acknowledge they need to catch up; Shizuku says “it must be nice to know what you want to do with your life. Me, I just go from one day to the next” and Hinata, having started playing volleyball later than Kageyama (and playing in a proper team even later), learns along the way what he wants to do and HOW best to do it

Seiji and Kageyama start farther ahead in their personal progress but give Shizuku and Hinata the inspiration and the means to start theirs. They create a place for them to use their talents -- Kageyama using his precise setting to make use of Hinata’s incredible speed/jump height/overall natural athleticism, Seiji being a part of Shizuku’s connection to Baron and part of her inspiration to write. They open up their viewpoints to a world they could have never seen without them.

And these relationships spark passion and drive and inspiration between every individual. Kageyama makes Hinata promise that he will meet him at the world stage one day. Long before Shizuku even noticed him, Seiji admired her talents and checked out dozens of library books hoping she would see his name on the cards. They excel on their own but with Shizuku and Hinata there, they can become even greater.

These relationships are about having someone around who makes you want to be better, who makes you want to dig deep and learn about yourself and go through the hard work of improving without the glamour and glory. I got into it briefly with this post but there’s a whole lot more i want to talk about (especially after seeing this beautiful piece of fanart by hazwqste !)

i got carried away and this got super long so i’ll be going into this in more depth (and including haikyuu manga spoilers!) under the cut:

First of all, they meet and get off on the wrong foot, and don’t get along very well.

They get to know each other and are soon able to fully express themselves around each other and allow each other to excel at what they love. Seiji shows Shizuku Baron’s eyes twinkling in the light and the violin he made, Shizuku excitedly tells him about things feeling like they came from magic or a storybook and even sings the lyrics she wrote when Seiji plays Take Me Home, Country Roads on the violin. Hinata and Kageyama have a love for volleyball in common and once they figure out how to put their skills and abilities together to make their freak quick attack work, they practically glow with excitement and become almost inseparable.

An event separating these two pairs act as catalysts to their growth (Seiji to Italy and Kageyama to the week-long All-Japan Youth Camp in Tokyo), because Shizuku and Hinata realize how far behind they are and how much they have to work to catch up. They even have similar running sequences that express their fear of being left behind.

Shizuku and Hinata both express the desire throughout their stories to be at an equal level to Seiji and Kageyama. Shizuku tells Yuko, “He wants to find out if he’s talented enough. Well, so will I! ... if he can do it, so can I!”.

One example of this with Hinata is that he wishes to complete the new quick attack during the Tokyo training camp arc so he and Kageyama could be on equal footing: during the Inter-high preliminaries, Hinata an Kageyama’s freak quick attack was something that was uniquely theirs, but it was something that Kageyama controlled. Heck, even Coach Washijo tells Hinata, “Without Kageyama as your setter, I can’t say I see any worth in you.” Hinata expresses a desire to evolve, to be able to pick his shots and stop closing his eyes, to learn from the best in the prefecture and work on everything he needs to improve on.

Shizuku and Hinata set off to go on journeys of their own to improve: Shizuku writing her novel with only Yuko and Nishi knowing, and Hinata in the ball boy arc and Brazil arc. They work hard, but realistically go through periods of doubt.

Here I noticed even more parallels between Shizuku and Hinata: Shizuku ends up skipping dinner, staying up late, and letting her grades slip while she works on her novel. Hinata has a history of not taking the best care of his body -- he practices all the time and needs to be reminded to take a break. He doesn’t start fully paying attention to the food that he’s nourishing himself with until he’s denied food at the Miyagi select rookie training camp. And he has a bad habit of not changing out of sweaty clothing and not wearing a jacket when he should, which leads to -- you know.

They feel discouraged and alone and end up thinking about Seiji and Kageyama’s hard work.

But they learn the importance of balance and self-care and soon feel okay again with wonderful scenes where a mentor figure brings them food to comfort them.

Most of Whisper of the Heart and Haikyuu!! are told from Shizuku’s and Hinata’s perspectives. However, the inspiration taken from Seiji and Kageyama does not go unreciprocated. In fact, even before they met, it’s like Seiji and Kageyama had been waiting for Shizuku and Hinata. Kageyama’s grandfather tells him at a young age that if he gets really good, someone even better will come find him. And it’s not until he gets to high school that Hinata tells him, “I’m here!”. It’s not until 6 years after that that Hinata is able to match/surpass his skill level and they have their fateful rematch to decide who will stay on the court the longest. Seiji hopes Shizuku will notice him a long time before they properly meet, and he waits right by Shizuku’s window right when he returns from Italy. They work hard because of Shizuku and Hinata, too. It’s almost like fate brought them together and keeps them together even when they’re apart.

For as long as they have known each other, these relationships have made them want to work hard in their respective crafts and really think about how to best nurture their growth -- whether the reasons are to become the best of the best, to beat the other at the world stage, to prove their worth in something they choose to pursue, or to follow their aspirations to the other side of the world

until finally,

they meet each other again

after a period of being apart,

ceaselessly waiting for each other and inspiring each other

and becoming better people because of it.

#whisper of the heart #haikyuu!!#kagehina #ghibli #hq!!#hq m #as long as i'm here #mine #janina reads hq!!#there are SO MANY more tiny little similarities that i wanted to include but didnt because this would end up getting way too long #love is stored in the volleyball #food becomes muscle #whisper of the haikyuu

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peaky-whore · 4 years

Text

What Happens to the Heart • J. Shelby [Part One]

Pairing: John Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,656

Warning: None

Summary: You’re the best of friends with John.

A/n: This is in your point of view. Also, I’m sorry is this doesn’t make sense, it will eventually. And there is a memory in here, so that’ll be the italics. Overall, this is just the beginning!

To say John and I were the best of friends would be an understatement, the two of us were inseparable from the day we met; wherever he was, there was no doubt I’d be right by him. Dangerous, or not.

Most of the time, though, folks thought we were in a relationship, something along those lines. Other times, we’d get ourselves into trouble, Polly - my mom also - wouldn’t be pleased to talk us out of jail. To make it short, we’d get smacked in the back of the head by our guardians whilst on the way to Watery Lane, along with lectures on how to behave, I was even told that my actions are not ladylike. They still loved us, I know that much.

Our closeness brought me unexpected feelings for the Shelby boy, and though we told each other everything - from my first kiss to his first fuck - I would never admit how I felt towards him. Especially since he found a girl he fancies. There was no way I was going to break them up, I loved him too much to do something destructive as that.

So there I sit, awaiting his arrival at the Garrison. I couldn’t even order a damn drink without him. But as minutes turned into a half hour, and that an hour, I gave up. He wasn’t coming, Martha probably needed him more than I, but as a good friend, I’m okay with that; as a secret admirer, however, I felt jealous - I just despised the thought of it - upset that he’d ditch me here.

Just as I was going to walk out, here came the handsome, blue eyed man himself. He looked to be panting.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but Martha kept me. Sit. I have something to tell you.” He explained, hooking his arm with mine and pulling me to a secluded table. The smile he wore was one I have never seen before, so I couldn’t help but follow along and sit across from him.

The news must have been too important for drinks.

He looked at me, a smile still plastered on his flawless face, one that will most definitely be stuck in my mind for days on end. John looked like a little boy, happy that he was told he had good manners and behaviour in school, whilst really, he was quite the opposite. Except the manners, he had those covered.

I rested my arms on the table and leaned forward, impatiently waiting for him to speak. “Oh, get on with it John.” There is no way I’m playing the guessing game tonight.

“Martha, she’s with child. My child. Y/n, I’m gonna be a father.” It felt as if he’d spoken a foreign language, one I couldn’t understand but still heard. I’m sure my expression is surprised, since he waited for me to talk. I simply couldn’t.

Before he started to ask questions, I cleared my throat and threw on a forced smile. “Congratulations, John-boy. You’re a man now, I hope you know.” He let out a playful scoff and an eye roll, making us laugh.

“I’ve always been a man.” He replied, giving a smug smirk at the end. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before looking towards the shelves of liquor behind me. “I think this deserves a drink, eh?” Before I could answer him, he got up, lifted me by the arm and drug me across the nearly empty pub, and ordered us whiskey - an entire bottle to be precise.

This happened until the war broke out, boys across Europe were being sent to fight for their people, or enlisting, including John, and his two elder brothers, Arthur and Thomas. By then, Martha was pregnant with their fourth child, meaning she’d be alone for the birth of their baby girl, or boy. And she was, but Polly, Ada, Finn, and I were present, keeping her company before and after she went into labour.

It’s been four years since the boys left, leaving families behind, I know some won’t be returning, and it breaks my heart just thinking about it. There will be so many mothers, sisters, aunts, and wives without their men. And the ones that do return are going to be stuck with those God awful memories, nightmares.

Since they left, I’ve been the opposite of trouble, I’d actually gone to church with Polly and her little clan, along with Martha and her children. I prayed for the boy’s safety, that included my two elder brothers and the many cousins I have. They all meant the world to me, each of them taught me something valuable, and I couldn’t let the thought of them not coming home get the better of me, so I turned to God. Polly turned me to God.

And because so many unspeakable events happened in these long, devastating four years, all I wanted was my brothers home, and John. How I longed for him.

It must be pathetic to be falling this hard for your best friend - your now best friend’s husband - I hated how much I wanted him for myself. He’s got a beautiful wife, smart and rowdy children, there’s no way I could be that selfish. John has what he always wanted, a family of his own.

What kind of monster would try to take him away from those he cared for and loved? The question was branded into my brain and was beyond hard to ignore.

Tragedy struck when Martha fell ill, her sickness was beyond the doctors, and she was put on bed rest until it was her time to go. I couldn’t face not having her around, she and I became rather close - practically sisters - in the last few years. As time went on, she died peacefully in her and John’s shared home. Their children were heartbroken, they were young but old enough to know what death is.

Since her funeral, Polly put me on nanny duty, knowing she didn’t have time for them and the betting shop, I agreed. During the first few weeks, the children were a mess, throwing tantrums for their mother, refusing any food I cooked and bedtime. They soon got comfortable with me around more, until Polly announced she heard Germany had surrendered and all countries agreed to stop fighting until their negotiation was set.

Although I was still mourning the loss of Martha, I couldn’t be anymore happy that our boys will be coming home to us. The kids were beyond the moon that their dad was returning, and so it was the same thing all over again; they were acting up again, asking for their daddy.

I promised them soon.

Which brought us here, Birmingham train station, with loads of women and children, along with relatives of the men’s families. I held Daniel at my hip, glancing up from him telling me about his day every once in a while to see if the train was near, surely I would hear it if it were nearby.

This morning, early this morning, I would pinch myself to see if this were a cruel dream, or if it were real.

“I hear it!” Exclaimed Ada, her arms draped around Finn’s shoulders, keeping him in place so he doesn’t wander off. She gave a big smile and as if on queue, I heard the horn from a distance.

My heart rapidly pounded against my chest. It’ll be the first time in four years that I’ve seen my brothers. What scares me most is that they’ll be mad at me for not writing and telling any of them about our mother, but she made me promise not too until they got home, so I kept my word.

The train took another five minutes before it stopped in front of us, all our men were soon off once the doors opened. I searched from where I was standing for the two goofs that were my brothers, of course, not like I didn’t expect it, they stepped off with blank expressions; no look of happiness to be home.

I couldn’t help but let my tears flow. They’re not the same boys I grew up with, but men who’ve experienced more than they should whilst on the battlefield. The boys who used to be carefree and adventurous were not the men standing mere feet away from me. I secured Daniel before squeezing through the crowded train station, almost face to face with my older brothers. They looked different but I still recognized their faces.

Their cold gazes met my figure and softened. Immediately, I was embraced by both of them, sobbing onto their uniforms in no time.

“Is . . . is this real?” I asked frantically, not wanting them to disappear if I were to let go of them. They let out light chuckles and nodded.

“I’m afraid so, little sister, you can’t rid us that easy.” Mason jokes, trying to lighten up the mood, I could see his eyes searching for someone. Our mum. How am I going to tell them? It’ll be more difficult than I thought now that they’re here.

Andrew looked down at Daniel, his eyes lighting up. “Got yourself a bloke I see. Hope he’s treated you well whilst we were away.” He started to make silly faces at the boy in my arms, causing him to giggle. I shook my head, tightening my hold on him so he wouldn’t accidentally fall.

“He’s a sweetheart, but if you look closely, the boy resembles a Shelby. I’ve taken on the care of Martha and John’s lovely children since she died.” They looked at me like I sprouted two heads. “Yeah. Almost a year ago. Pestilence.”

But before another word was spoken, I was being embraced by someone else. Someone oddly familiar. Nonetheless, I wrapped my arms around them, feeling a sudden warmth, one I’d been missing more and more as the years went on.

“John.”

•••

If you enjoyed reading this, please leave a like, reblog, or comment! Feedback is welcome!

#j. shelby #john shelby #peaky blinders #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #peaky blinders fics #my work

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itshardcandy · 4 years

Text

Hot ‘n Cold

Kim Namjoon x Reader

(Written for a writing game by @letsgetitinbusan)

6059 Words

Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Smut

Warnings: Consumption of Alcohol, Swearing, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it, kids), Outdoor Sex, Vaginal Fingering

Summary: A camping trip takes an unexpected turn

Preview:

“You feel much warmer already.”

“Mhh, you are helping a lot with that.”

“I think I noticed. Good to know I can be of assistance. It’s getting quite hot in here, don’t you think?”

Bliss. Overwhelming and all-consuming bliss clouded your mind when you walked out the door of the lecture hall you just took your last exam of the semester in. Making your way through the crowd of students towards the nearest exit you hurried out of the building knowing you wouldn’t have to set foot in that hellhole that dares to call itself a university for the next beautiful, fun-packed, exciting 8 weeks of summer break. On the way back to the dorm, fully immersed in your phone, you suddenly felt a large hand gripping your shoulder. Hurling around, the grinning face of Namjoon, your friend and next-door dorm mate, appeared in your view.

“Guess who got himself full marks on their last project of the year?”

Namjoon exclaimed practically beaming with elation and pride.

“Hmm let me think… Must have been that dude you hung out with last week, right?”

You said teasingly, pretending to think hard to guess the answer to this, truly very difficult, question considering the genius mind of your friend.

“No, silly, it’s me of course.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and continued.

“Anyway, how was your exam? Any more luck this time?”

“Ugh, I wish. It was a disaster, my brain feels like it’s been sucked out of my head. I’d be surprised if I actually passed though knowing my prof, I highly doubt it. That man just can’t teach a class for the life of him. It’s an outrage he has the audacity to have us take an exam on that waste of a time his lecture was if you ask me.”

You rambled on frustrated but continued jokingly.

“I might have to borrow that big juicy brain of yours next time so I have an actual chance to succeed.”

“Ready to get wasted at the camp tonight then, I assume?”

“Hell fucking yeah I am.”

Laughing, you both continued down the paved road leading to the big grey building that was your dorm. Dragging yourself up the numerous sets of stairs you asked yourself for the thousandth time why exactly you’d thought picking a room on the 5th floor of a building that has no elevator was a good idea. Well, at least you had the best crackheads you could wish for as neighbours so that was something, you thought to yourself. Over the years you had lived on that floor, you and the others had bonded over your shared struggles of living in that falling-apart building and the uncountable tragedies that unfolded within those walls, including that one hot summer in which the rusty, ancient water pipe burst and thus none of the inhabitants had running water for two weeks straight. Out of that emergency situation a new tradition was born with all of you packing your essentials and riding your bikes down to the shore and going camping every summer during semester break.

“Bet Jungkook hasn’t even started packing?”

Namjoon said and knowing his room mate, you agreed.

“Better help him then, we should leave as soon as possible so we can secure our spot at the campsite. I don’t trust people these days, that spot is getting popular and I’m not taking any chances.”

With a last wave at him you unlocked your door and disappeared into your apartment. Ever since your former room mate and parter in crime had moved out earlier that month you had the flat to yourself and you still weren’t accustomed to having that much space for your stuff. Sadly, your flatmate had moved across the country meaning she couldn’t take part in the camping trip this year.

Scanning your possessions, you skilfully grabbed various items and articles of clothing you’d be needing for the next few days and threw them on the bed. After ticking everything off of your imaginary list, you began packing the pile of things into your backpack.

Not much later and after checking your groupchat to make sure that everybody was ready to go, you left your room and walked down the corridor meaning to knock on the door on the right. It immediately opened and Yoongi appeared in the frame, manoeuvring his belongings into the hallway.

“Good to go?”

You asked to which Yoongi hummed in agreement. You descended down the staircase together carrying your equipment.

“Is Jimin downstairs already?”

You wondered, since Yoongi’s room mate was nowhere in sight.

“Nah, he still got that dance performance with Hoseok this afternoon. They will join us later this evening.”

“Right, right, forgot about that.”

In front of the building Namjoon, Jungkook and Taehyung were already loading their luggage onto their bikes. When everybody was done you set off on your journey revelling in the beautiful feeling of freedom awaiting you at the camping site. After a good hour you turned into the path leading towards the clearing at the beginning of the small forest by the shore. Upon arrival Jungkook immediately spotted the car that was parked right beside the track.

“How does he manage to be here first every time? I swear he does that on purpose just to rear me up.”

Jungkook whined at the sight of his brother.

Pausing the unpacking of his luggage from the trunk of his car, Seokjin greeted you all with a wave and a big smile.

“Great! You made it just in time to help me unload the tents.”

“Speaking of, we need to agree on sleeping arrangements since a certain someone managed to rip theirs last year.”

Yoongi said and all eyes lingered on Namjoon who looked at the ground in shame.

“Let’s see… We got four tents. That means Taehyung and Jimin in their tent and Yoongi and Hoseok will share one, I guess? Then me in my tent and Y/N in hers. Which means Namjoon and Jungkook will have to seek shelter in one each. Any preferences?”

Jin spoke and looked at the two tent-less members of the group.

“I don’t mind sharing the tent with Y/N. Uhh... I mean if she doesn’t mind of course.”

Namjoon said quickly and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Fine by me. As long as it’ll still be in one piece by the end of this trip.”

“Great, that’s settled then. Little brother, the honour of sharing a tent with this handsome guy is all yours.”

Jin said exaggeratedly gesturing at his face which Jungkook could only answer with a grimace, seeming a lot less excited about said fact than his brother was.

You busied yourselves to take the tents out of the trunk of the car and searched for the perfect spot to put them up. You walked across the clearing examining the ground thoroughly with Namjoon following behind with your tent under his arm.

“What about here? We’d get some shade from that big oak tree right there and it looks like the ground is as even as it can get.”

You asked and Namjoon agreed.

“Perfect. You really have a good eye for that. Remember the first time we went camping and you and your room mate placed the tent directly above a molehill?”

Namjoon laughed and you snorted at the memory.

“Please don’t remind me, I got the shock of a lifetime when suddenly something tried to make its way in from underneath the tent. Never screamed so loud in my life.”

“I remember you woke us all up thinking you were getting stabbed or something. Scared the shit out of me.”

Namjoon said and started setting the tent up. Since he was very skilled in putting the pieces together, you didn’t have to do much besides holding the poles up for Namjoon to drape the fabric around. After a few minutes the mission was accomplished and you looked pleased at the joint achievement.

“I’m really glad you picked me to share a tent with. Without you I would have been struggling a lot more to get it set up.”

“Well thanks for trusting me enough to let me into your holy cave.”

At that remark you stopped dead in your tracks and burst out laughing then turned to Namjoon with an incredulous look. Namjoon who seemed to have realised just now how much of an innuendo his comment had been covered his eyes with his right hand shaking his head in disbelief.

When the others were done setting up their tents, Taehyung and Jungkook began collecting some wood and stacked it into the fireplace that had been built in the middle of the clearing. The rest of your group took seats on the logs that were placed around the firepit and unpacked the food that you had brought. Jin and Namjoon took it upon themselves to act as masters of the meat and impaled sausages with some thin sticks to roast them over the fire. By the time the first batch was done, Hoseok and Jimin finally arrived and were greeted with shouts. They joined the jolly round busying themselves to some well-deserved dinner.

After you had devoured the sausages Hoseok whipped out a box containing some crackers, a bar of chocolate and a bag of marshmallows out of his backpack.

“Nothing better than some S’Mores when camping, am I right?”

Hoseok asked and handed the box around letting everybody grab some for themselves.

Jin nudged Taehyung in the shoulder who sat on his left and asked him to accompany him to his car. When they made their way back to the rest of the group, they were carrying bottles upon bottles of Soju.

“At the last wedding we catered for, those people ordered way too much alcohol and they refused to keep the leftover bottles so naturally I found a convenient solution to that problem and persuaded my boss to leave the good stuff to me. Not even he can resist my charms I assume.”

Jin told you and overall cheers complimented him.

“Awesome Jin, you working at a restaurant really has its perks.”

You said approvingly and happily accepted the bottle of peach flavoured Soju Taehyung handed you over.

While the supply of Soju slowly shrunk and the pile of empty bottles grew, your mood became more light-hearted over time and you all reminisced in the memories you had made over the years. Slowly but steady the sun set and it got darker. When the glowing red ball of light had finally disappeared completely behind the horizon Jimin and Hoseok declared that they were tired and proceeded to get ready for bed.

“That dance performance really makes itself felt now. Maybe I have to admit that I’m getting older.”

“Don’t worry Hobi, it took a toll on me as well. But at least we know we gave it our all.”

Jimin said and stifled a yawn. The two headed to the cabin at the edge of the clearing that contained a rather humble bathroom but at least it offered a tank of fresh water so that was something.

Gradually one after the other decided to go hit the hay and bid the remaining few people goodnight. When only Namjoon, Jungkook and yourself were left sitting around the fire, the three of you decided to play a drinking game resulting in Jungkook getting so drunk that he had to throw up. Namjoon hurried towards the bathroom in the cabin to get some water while you comforted Jungkook. You grabbed a napkin and wet it with the fresh water Namjoon had brought back and began cleaning around Jungkook’s mouth wiping the nasty residue from his face. Unfortunately, a lot had already dribbled down onto his shirt.

“I think you should get that thing off. We can wash it tomorrow but for now just change into a fresh shirt.”

You said to Jungkook and helped him out of the soiled piece of clothing. Jungkook who couldn’t control the movements of his limbs properly, let his right arm snap back after retreating from the sleeve of his shirt resulting in hitting the container of water Namjoon was still holding. A splash and Namjoon had gotten the majority of water over his chest. Cursing he let the now empty container fall to the ground. Namjoon tried to wipe some of the water off his body but it was useless, he was drenched. You laughed at the sight. It reminded you of a puppy who had just received an unwanted shower.

“We should get you to your tent so you can rest. Do you feel a bit better now?”

You asked Jungkook and he nodded. Namjoon helped you escort Jungkook to the tent he was sharing with Jin and made sure he got in alright, closing the entrance behind him.

Back at the fireplace, Namjoon stood by the flames as near as possible trying to get them to dry his shirt but the fire had already died down significantly so it didn’t really work. Resigning, he lifted the wet fabric above his head and threw it next to himself on the log. You couldn’t help but give him a sneaky glance. You had always thought of Namjoon as really handsome but something about him revealing his wet chest so shamelessly to you hit different.

“Do you wanna stay up or go to sleep as well?”

Namjoon asked and caught you off-guard in the act of looking him up and down, your eyes lingering on his chest a little longer than necessary. Flustered you directed your eyes away and shook your head.

“No, I wanna stay up, I want to enjoy this as much as possible.”

“You talking about my body or the night in general?”

Namjoon joked and you secretly asked yourself the same question. You proceeded to grab one of the last bottles of Soju and took a sip so you had an excuse not to answer.

“Want one as well?”

You asked and seeing him nodding, you handed him one of the bottles. After the first gulp he scrunched his nose looking appalled. Checking the label, he felt his worst suspicions confirmed.

“You gave me one of the flavour-less ones! What do you take me for – an animal? What have I done to you to deserve such torture?”

You laughed feeling not as sorry as you maybe should have as Namjoon looked really funny being so disgusted by his beverage.

“Sorry, I couldn’t see well and just picked the one nearest. Want a different one?”

You took a close look at the three remaining Soju bottles and gave Namjoon an apologetic smile.

“I’m afraid they are all plain as well. Seems like I got lucky and picked the last grape flavoured one.”

“So that’s what I get for trusting you. I feel betrayed.”

“Um do you wanna share mine? I don’t mind, I’ve had enough alcohol anyway.”

You offered your bottle to Namjoon and he didn’t hesitate to take it, chucking his own bottle away. How could he turn down such an offer when it appeared so temptingly? Taking turns emptying the drink, you sat in comfortable silence just listening to the occasional sound of the woodland creatures nearby and gazing up at the night sky. Here in the middle of the forest without all the street lights and neon signs lighting up the night, the stars were clearly visible and shone bright and clear. You loved the night sky, so naturally you were gazing upwards totally lost in the twinkling lights of the millions of stars.

You didn’t notice the lingering eyes of Namjoon who was admiring how the moonlight illuminated your silhouette. When exactly he had caught feelings for you, he wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that it somehow happened and when he finally came to terms with that, he was already crushing hard and even though there had been the occasional teasing and ambiguous situation he still didn’t think there was more to it than just that. You had been friends for ages so anything beyond that was surely out of the question, right? Therefore, he hadn’t given it much thought but the way you had looked at him when he took off his shirt didn’t go unnoticed and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if there was a possibility that he wasn’t the only one who had developed a crush over the years.

“Do you ever wonder why we are here on this earth?”

Namjoon was pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden question. You looked at him and continued your philosophical train of thought.

“I mean look, there are so many stars and planets up there. Why out of all places do we exist on this one? And think about it… The moon and the stars are so far away but we still see them. They are so huge we can actually see them from here. Isn’t that amazing?”

Before Namjoon could answer you rambled on.

“And we are so small. We are so small, Joon, why are we so small? So insignificant? The stars shine so bright even after they had died but we are just dead, just rotting. Why do I even bother accomplishing anything when in the end it means nothing and everyone will forget that I even existed?”

You finished and stared at Namjoon. The sight of you looking so desperate and sad devastated him.

“Y/N… That’s not true and you know it. You are so loved by your family and your friends. You could never be insignificant and of course the people around you will remember you. Please stop thinking so lowly of yourself, I can assure you, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Th-thank you… I suppose I had to much Soju, I’m sorry you had to witness me spiralling into another existential crisis.”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah… friends.”

You mumbled and looked up at Namjoon. Your eyes met, holding the gaze for a bit longer than expected before Namjoon cleared his throat.

“So, do you wanna go to bed? It’s getting quite late.”

“Hmhm yeah it’s getting colder, as well, now that the fire went out.”

You shivered suddenly at the cold air of the night, missing the warmth the fire had provided. Namjoon stood up and checked the fireplace to make sure it was really gone out so you wouldn’t accidentally set the whole forest on fire while you slept. You collected the remaining bottles that were scattered around the firepit and added them to the already remarkably high pile of bottles you had all emptied together. Finding the way to your tent turned out to be a lot more difficult, now that it was almost pitch black. You stumbled over a root that was sticking out of the ground and could only save yourself from falling by gripping onto Namjoon’s wrist tightly. He swayed back at the sudden weight pulling on his arm but managed to steady himself in time.

“Are you alright?”

Namjoon asked concerned and turned around. You were still holding onto his wrist but had found your balance again. When you let go of his arm Namjoon held his hand out to you.

“Wouldn’t want for you to trip again. Really, why don’t you wear your glasses more often? Couldn’t read the label on the Soju bottle, couldn’t see that big root. Honestly I’m surprised you managed to survive without getting into any serious accidents yet.”

“Come on it’s not that bad. And I hate my glasses, I look stupid wearing them.”

You scoffed. You hated your glasses with a burning passion but were too lazy to go get new ones that you would actually consider wearing.

“You don’t, you look cute with them and not stupid, at all, but if you prefer to stumble through life like a mole squinting at everything then suit yourself, I guess.”

“Thanks, I will. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the chance of being escorted to my humble sleeping accommodation by my chivalrous saviour now, would I?”

You said cheerfully and took Namjoon’s hand. You continued the short walk towards your tent. When you’d reached it, you opened the zipper and crawled inside and Namjoon followed you straight. Leaving your shoes in front of the entrance you slipped out of your pants. You made yourself comfortable in your sleeping bag while Namjoon rid himself off his jeans and tucked himself into his sleeping bag as well.

“Joon, can you hand me the water bottle? I feel like a raisin, all that Soju dried me out beyond measure.”

Namjoon felt his way through the items popped into one corner until he found the requested bottle.

You took it and quenched your thirst, downing almost half of the bottle in one go.

“Hey, leave me some okay? You’re not the only one who’s thirsty.”

You reluctantly stopped gulping down the water and held the bottle out in the direction of Namjoon. Since it was almost completely dark inside the tent, Namjoon had problems to make out the bottle causing him to hit it with the back of his hand. With a shriek from you the bottle flew out of your hand and landed on your legs, letting the water flow all over your sleeping bag.

“Y/N I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Did you get wet, is it bad?”

Namjoon apologized and pat his hand over your sleeping bag to see how badly he had fucked up but all you could do was laugh, being already so used to his clumsiness.

“It’s okay, really. But I won’t be able to sleep in that thing, it’s soaked and it’s getting cold tonight.”

“No worries, you can sleep in mine. It’s my fault that yours is wet, after all, so that’s only fair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll be freezing.”

“I won’t, I can stand the cold better than you, so just take mine and go to sleep.”

In the end you didn’t want to argue and the thought of sleeping without a cover wasn’t that enticing either, so you just got out of your wet bag and threw it out of the tent. When you wiggled into Namjoon’s sleeping bag which was a lot more spacious than yours and conveniently was already preheated by Namjoon. You felt the overpowering fatigue that set in and quickly slipped into unconsciousness.

After a while, you woke up at the sound of teeth chattering. You turned around only to see Namjoon laying curled up into a ball and shivering.

“S-sorry, did I wake you up?”

“What the fuck do you think you are doing? Do you want to freeze to death?”

“It’s f-fine, don’t worry. Just get back to sleep.”

“Fine my ass. Do I look stupid to you? Come here, your sleeping bag is a lot bigger than mine. We might have to squeeze a bit but I think we can both fit.”

You opened the zipper and shuffled towards Namjoon. When he had squeezed himself in, he tried to close the sleeping bag but it was no use.

“Doesn’t matter, just leave it open. It’s better than nothing isn’t it?”

You said and Namjoon turned around only now realizing just how close you were.

“God, how are you not frozen solid yet, you are ice-cold!”

“Not everyone can be as hot as you.”

You let out a small chuckle and pressed yourself closer to Namjoon’s body, making yourself comfortable as the little spoon.

“Then I’ll try to make you hot, as well, lying beside a fucking block of ice truly is no fun.”

Namjoon thought you had no idea how right you had been about making him hot. While the two of you had occasionally cuddled during movie nights at the dorm, nothing came close to just how close you were now with nothing between you, except for your underwear and your shirt. With you next to him and the added warmth of the sleeping bag around, Namjoon started to defrost and soon he was engulfed in the warm feeling, ready to fall asleep but he was too aware of your body pressed into him. It really wasn’t necessary for you to push your ass that far into his groin, he thought. It was almost as if you were doing that on purpose just to drive him crazy. But maybe he was misinterpreting everything and he would make a fool out of himself.

As if on cue Namjoon felt you move your body just a bit, letting yourself grind into him slightly. Throwing all caution over board he put his arm around your waist pulling you even closer and letting his hand rest on your stomach. You let out a satisfied sigh and proceeded to move yourself against him. The friction had its effects on Namjoon who noticed himself hardening, very aware that you must feel it too since his boxers barely concealed anything. You however, were finally content that your actions bore fruit. You had been sure of the potential that lay in yourself and Namjoon to be more than just friends and you were determined to find out if you were right about that during this camping trip. Sharing a tent was the best opportunity you could have wished for and considering the very noticeable bulge you felt being pressed into your back from behind you had been right with your assumptions.

“You feel much warmer already.”

“Mhh, you are helping a lot with that.”

“I think I noticed. Good to know I can be of assistance. It’s getting quite hot in here, don’t you think?”

You said and took off your shirt to throw it to your feet. You then turned over now facing Namjoon. He was taken aback by this sudden change and could feel your breath on his bare chest. You placed your hand onto his stomach and slowly progressed to explore his toned body.

“How exactly do you think this is helping us to cool down?”

Namjoon asked, sucking in his breath when you let your fingernails graze the side of his upper body.

“When did I say I wanted to cool down?”

You asked quietly, tilting your head up so you could meet his gaze. This was enough to convince Namjoon that he was allowed to act upon his feelings. He let his hand rest at the back of your head and leaned forward until your lips finally collided. He pulled you closer to himself and you wrapped your arms around his torso. The kiss became more heated and Namjoon let his tongue poke through his lips so you parted yours to let it in. When you had to let go of each other to be able to breathe again Namjoon stared at you, having to process for a moment if this was actually happening. With a huge grin you threw yourself onto him again to continue the kiss. Namjoon’s hands wandered up and down your back brushing against the straps of your bra. You felt his finger hesitate on the hooks of your bra.

“Go on – open it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, do you need a written declaration of consent?”

You giggled at how considerate he was being.

“Just wanted to make sure so you won’t hold it against me later.”

He smirked and with one move of his fingers he had opened the bra and pulled it away from underneath your body. Within seconds you found yourself turned over so you were laying on your back with Namjoon on top of you. With one hand he propped himself up to not crush you completely while his other hand immediately found its way to your breasts. Namjoon kissed you once more before he let his mouth trail down your chin and neck leaving hot kisses on your skin. You had closed your eyes revelling in the addictive feeling when you felt a sudden burst of pain shooting up from your breasts causing you to let out a surprised moan. Namjoon had pinched your right nipple with the hand he was using to massage your boobs. You opened your eyes in shock and found Namjoon smiling mischievously up at you. He had been keeping his eyes on you to observe how you reacted to his actions and was visibly enjoying himself. Letting his hand travel down to your stomach resulted in his face being conveniently positioned exactly over your breasts so he didn’t hesitate and began to caress them with his lips. Namjoon sucking on your tits while simultaneously exploring your still covered pubic area with his free hand had you aroused in no time and you could already feel your panties getting soaked from the movements of his hand, which Namjoon also didn’t fail to notice.

“Seems like you can get me wet in more than one way.”

You said referring to the accident earlier and Namjoon couldn’t refrain from laughing causing his body to vibrate which let his fingers move against your crotch in a delightful manner.

“Well, I know which way I prefer.”

Namjoon said when you let out another moan. He hooked his finger into your panties and pulled them down, so you lay before him completely undressed. His hands caressed your thighs for a bit until he put light pressure onto them to spread them open for him to kneel in-between. You suddenly felt the imbalance in your levels of being undressed, so you sat up catching Namjoon’s lips in a needy kiss while letting your hands palm his hardened length through his boxers for a moment before pushing the unnecessary piece of clothing down his legs so both of you were equally nude. Namjoon pushed you back to lay down again and you obliged. He let his one hand return to your breasts while the fingers of his other hand slid through your slick folds.

You didn’t want him to feel neglected and reached down so you could wrap one of your hands around Namjoon’s dick. Though your grip was only light, Namjoon let out a groan of pleasure at the sudden sensation. Encouraged by his response you slid your hand up and down his shaft and let your thumb graze over his tip every other time using the leaking drops of pre-cum to lube his length up. Namjoon stopped moving his fingers through your folds only to enter you with one finger a moment later. You let out a quiet mewl at the unexpected sensation. You kept your gaze on him, mesmerized at how Namjoon had closed his eyes and thrown his head back in pleasure when you had sped up your movements on his dick.

“God, Y/N, that feels so fucking good.”

Namjoon said letting out a sharp breath when you grazed his tip another time. Keeping up the pace Namjoon had set pushing in and out of your wetness he soon added a second finger. You whined at the delicious feeling and started speeding up jerking off Namjoon. When you felt the movements of his fingers getting unsteady you stopped only for Namjoon to shoot you a questioning look.

“Don’t give me that face. I don’t want you to finish now when the real fun hasn’t even started yet.”

You said and raised one of your eyebrows teasingly.

“But I don’t have any condoms with me. Do you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m on birth control, don’t you remember?”

“So, you are sure you want this?”

“Jesus, Namjoon, just fuck me already.”

You laughed, a little desperate by now.

Namjoon let out a low growl, your words being music in his ears. He moved his body back up to lay down next to you and involved you in another steaming kiss. Namjoon grabbed you by your waist and helped you get up. Straddling him, you sat on top of him and bowed down to kiss him again. He lifted your hips just a bit so he could position himself properly. With a last look into your eyes he lowered you down letting himself enter you slowly. You gasped at the wonderful sensation.

When Namjoon had pushed his length completely into you he held still for a moment to let you get accustomed to his size before he started moving your hips back and forth. When you began moving your hips yourself, with your hands placed on his chest for support, Namjoon moved his hands from your hips to your chest. Setting a steady pace, you began riding Namjoon, totally lost in the pleasure and Namjoon thought he had never seen you look more beautiful. He continued to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples occasionally which caused you to feel the familiar knot form in your stomach.

“Fuck, Joon, I’m close.”

You gasped out between moans and dug your nails into his chest. Namjoon felt himself near his orgasm as well but he was determined to finish second. He held onto your hips again and lifted you just a bit so he could thrust his hips into you from below giving you the chance to let yourself go completely.

“Don’t hold back, baby. I want you to come all over my dick.”

These words combined with Namjoon thrusting into you was enough to send you over the edge. Letting the waves of hot pleasure roll over you, you came undone moaning Namjoon’s name. Seeing your face of pure ecstasy and hearing his name come out of your mouth did it for Namjoon and he let his orgasm overwhelm him.

Panting, you both came down from your orgasms. You let Namjoon’s dick slide out of you so you could lay down again besides him. Smiling at each other like complete idiots you tried to catch your breath.

“I can’t believe it took so long for this to happen.”

“Well. I didn’t think it would happen at all. I thought you’d never see me as more than a friend.”

Namjoon responded and you looked at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?? Kim Namjoon, you might be a genius on paper but when it comes to flirting you suddenly lose all ability to think.”

You laughed and Namjoon joined you.

You noticed the tiredness starting to set in again so you cuddled up to Namjoon and closed your eyes. You felt Namjoon place a kiss on your forehead then drifted away with Namjoon falling asleep soon after.

In the morning, you woke up from the blinding sunlight flooding the tent and heating it up even further. With your eyes still closed, you went over the events of the previous night smiling to yourself. When you opened them, you stared into the brown eyes of Namjoon.

“Morning sleepyhead.”

Namjoon said and scrunched up his nose when you poked him in the stomach.

“You know it’s creepy to watch people sleep?”

“I’m sure you can make an exception?”

“Hmm, kiss me and I might think about it.”

You grinned and Namjoon happily did as told. Since the morning sun made it almost unbearable to stay inside the tent any longer, the two of you got dressed and you tied your dishevelled hair up into what you hoped would look like an intentionally messy bun. When you crawled out of the tent you saw Hobi, Jin and Yoongi already sitting around the fireplace having some sandwiches for breakfast. Upon joining the others, Namjoon and you were greeted with knowing looks.

“Ah, finally, the two night owls grace us with their presence.”

Hobi said jokingly.

“Did you sleep well?”

Yoongi asked with a cheeky smile while raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, we somehow all woke up because of some suspicious noises in the middle of the night. You don’t think you know where they came from, by any chance?”

Jin continued amused.

Namjoon tried not to make eye contact with them and instead preceded to scratch himself at the back of his head.

“Ah come on, now you’re being shy? Last night you didn’t bother if someone could hear us.”

You said and slightly bumped Namjoon in the side with your elbow, earning laughter from the other boys.

“It’s still embarrassing...”

Namjoon mumbled but relaxed himself and grabbed one of the sandwiches Jin had held in his direction handing you the other one.

When Namjoon placed a quick kiss on your cheek before taking a bite off his sandwich you thought that this year’s camping trip was definitely going to be your favourite so far and the fun had just started.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x y/n #kim namjoon x you #bts Namjoon #hardcandywriting #kim namjoon

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generallybarzy · 4 years

Text

did you miss me? ❤ mat barzal

Part 1- ~2,750 words

So that video of Barzy singing this song (which I will never stop reblogging) brought up some old nostalgic memories because I kinda forgot this song existed and I used to listen to it so much when I was younger. So I listened to it and started feeling emotions. I’m sorry if this is too crazy I just really went off. @matbaezal because I promised you this. I hope its okay, it’s my first real hockey boy fic.

Summary: You get the opportunity of a lifetime, but it means saying goodbye to your boyfriend for half a year. Mat starts feeling a little bit of self-doubt in the relationship. This part is literally just describing your’s and Mat’s separate sides of the experience and then a fluffy scene. There WILL be a second, emotional part eventually.

As you pushed yourself down into the cramped airplane seat and tried to drown out the noise of rowdy children a few seats behind you, you pulled out your phone and pressed on the ‘Mat❤’ contact one last time in a final attempt to send one text to your boyfriend. But no matter how many texts you sent, that damn little ‘Not Delivered’ message just had to keep popping up.

It really felt like the world was out to get you these past few days.

You hadn’t been able to get a hold of your boyfriend for the last three days- even when the messages did deliver- to tell him about your flight back, and now the flight itself was late and it was gonna take a few extra hours until you were back home. In all honesty, you didn’t even know if he would still be waiting when you got back. The internet connection had never seemed crappier than when you just wanted to send just one more text to him before your flight. Airports had never seemed more crowded than the moment you began to become overwhelmed with the need to just be home. Six months had never felt like a longer time than when you just needed to crawl into your boyfriend’s arms.

The last six months had really been something, huh? You could barely believe they’d even happened at all.

As someone heading into the social work field after college, you had always wanted to get out in the world and help people less fortunate than yourself, which is why you jumped at the opportunity to fly with other students from your university to underdeveloped countries to do nonprofit work and volunteering to get a taste of what this career path would feel like. And damn, how cool would it be to put something that good on a resume? It was the opportunity of a lifetime for you, so it should’ve been an easy decision to jump on that plane. But of course, there was still one thing that made you hesitate- Mathew Barzal.

Six months ago, at the start of all this craziness, you had left behind your amazing boyfriend. Of course, Mathew was 100% down with your decision, happy you were getting the chance to do what you love and explore beyond the world you were used to, but that didn’t make it any easier to go without him. The two of you had been dating for a solid 4 months at that point and had been hanging out as much as your hectic schedules allowed, always there to pick up each other’s pieces after a hard day. Knowing that you wouldn’t have someone to curl into and hold at the end of the day was the biggest obstacle standing between you and the potential start of your dream career. God, you would miss him so much. But you wanted to go so bad, to look for your passion, your career, yourself.

You remember holding onto Mat after telling him about your conflicted feelings, tears in your eyes as you tried to savor the feeling of his arms around you. “I want this so much. It could be the start of my career. I want to find myself, you know? But you deserve someone who can be there for you.” Mat shook his head a bit. He always made it well known that he appreciated every moment he got with you, even if it wasn’t much on certain days.

“You are there for me.” He insisted.

“But now I’m going to miss six months, Mat! Half a year! By the time I’m back, you might not even like me anymore.” With teary eyes, you looked up at him. “It’ll be easier if we just break it off right now so you can find someone else. Someone who can be there-”

“Hey, hey.” Mat tried to hush you with a kiss, but you pulled back.

“Six months, Mat, we haven’t even been together that long yet.” You spoke softer this time. “That’s a long time to be without someone.”

“Shut up, please, babe. Shut up.” He pulled back to look at you, holding your gaze and letting you know he was serious now. “Look, it might be a long time, but I’m not gonna let you hold yourself back for me, alright? You want this, right?” You nodded. “Yeah. This is an amazing chance for you to start your dream. Your dream! You’re gonna change the world, babe. And I can promise you I won’t just stop liking you because you want to chase that dream.” His thumb stroked across your cheek and a smile finally cracked across your face as you were reminded again of his dedication to your relationship.

“It’s gonna be so hard, though. I might not be able to answer calls or FaceTime with you very often. And the time zones…”

“I can handle it. I’ve got plenty of pictures of you on my phone for when I get lonely.” You laughed at that, reaching up to lace your fingers through his hair. “And we’ll just have to savor our time together for the next few weeks. Make every second count.” He lay a few kisses across your face and smiled into the crook of your neck. “Go find your purpose, babe. Do a little soul-searching. I’ll still be here waiting when you get back. I promise.”

———-

Six months without Mat may have been hard on you, but you were also getting the chance to do things you loved and find your purpose. On the other hand, Mat, while he happily supported and encouraged your choice and never let you think he doubted it, wondered if maybe you would come back and realize that there was a lot more to life than staying with him. You were finishing a degree- and a freaking cool one at that- traveling the world, helping people and doing good in the world, and he was just a hockey player. A great one, sure, but still just a hockey player.

You were smarter, more compassionate, an overall cooler person than him, and soon to be better traveled and more knowledgeable about life in the underdeveloped parts of the world that most city people rarely spared a thought for. It was just a matter of time before you realized just how much better you were than him. You could find someone out there, someone else who’s volunteering, and you’d fall in love with how selfless and worldly they were. You’d fall in love and get married and go on saving the world together, while Mat was still just scoring goals on TV, living alone-

Shit, I have to stop thinking like that. You liked him. He liked you. Done.

He wasn’t sure when all this self-doubt started- it was so unlike him. Maybe it was after he would get back from late-night games to find you waiting on his couch, stressed over your own assignments but still there nonetheless to help him relax, putting everything aside for him. Of course, he did the same for you as much as he could, but with practice and games and roadies and media days and more practice and more games, he felt like he couldn’t be there for you as much as he wanted.

Surely, while you were out there doing some soul-searching in a foreign country, you’d realize that you could do better than him.

After you left, Mat realized just how lonely he was without you. The two of you hadn’t even lived together before you moved out, but he understood now that you had been a much bigger part of his life than he ever realized. Sure, he had his teammates and his friends, and they hung out often, but he couldn’t really go over to their place and snuggle them at the end of the day. He couldn’t have them come over just so that he would have someone to hold- to fall asleep and wake up next to. There was a hole in his life.

Mat remembers the moment he realized why all these feelings- the doubt, the loneliness, the fear of losing you- were so intense. A month or so into your trip, he was FaceTiming you and the feeling of being separated was still new. It was almost time for you to go to bed, but Mat had just gotten back from practice and was upset that he couldn’t spend the rest of his day on a call with you. He was sitting at the table in his apartment, propping his head up with his fist and smiling at you through the phone. You were thousands of miles away, sitting up on your bed, looking exhausted with your makeup-less face and hair thrown up in a bun, a radiant smile across your face and wearing a hoodie of his, the one you took with. “A part of you to cuddle out there”, you’d said. She’s so beautiful. “Are you having fun?”

“So much, Mat!” Your smile was contagious.

“Tell me about it.” Even if he was upset you were so far, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“And more! I got to hang out with a bunch of the underprivileged kids today, they’re so sweet! We’re helping them make better schools here so that all the children can get a chance at an education. We’re flying over books and materials for them, too! They’re all so excited to have us here…” He listened intently, honestly interested and amazed by everything you were doing. “I really think I found what I wanna do for the rest of my life, Mat. I’d prefer to not be so far from you, though…” You really were finding yourself, making a difference, changing the future, and he was so in love with that.

In love with you.

“Babe, go get some sleep alright?” Mat laughed slightly after a while as you lost your train of thought and started dozing off a bit. “You got a big day of changing the world tomorrow. Call me when you get lonely.” You nodded sleepily at him. “G’night, (Y/N).” I love you, he wanted to add before he ended the call. But you were already half asleep, thousands of miles across the ocean from him. It wasn’t the right time.

In love. Wow.

Mat had to take a moment that night to think. He knew that he liked you, seriously liked you, from the moment you had your first date. But now, knowing he loved you? He couldn’t stop smiling that night, dreaming of the ways he would tell you. He couldn’t calm down at practice the next few days either, all smiles and giggly to his teammates, who were honestly getting a bit tired of hearing Mat gush over you. Like, it was sweet and all but Mat, could you please for the love of God focus on practice?

Through all the wins and losses, the stressful games and lonely nights, at the end of the day, nothing could wipe that smile off his face. Because he was in love with you.

And he couldn’t wait for you to get back home.

———-

Part of you felt like it had been years since you’d last seen Mat in person, the other part felt like it was just yesterday that you left him at this very airport. Now, back in the United States, standing in the airport and hopefully minutes away from being back in Mat’s arms, you were sure that all your time away from him was worth it, thinking back on all the people you’d helped and the lives you’d changed. You’d made it. Made it through six months without him, and you enjoyed every moment of the work you’d done there, even if it was spent without him.

At this point, you hadn’t heard from him in three days, and before that there were only a few back and forth messages that had taken hours to respond to. You’d texted him before and during the flight, reminding him that today was the day you’re coming back. He didn’t answer. Okay, you thought, maybe the times just didn’t match up and he was just busy. Maybe he was at a game or practice. For three days, though? What time is it, anyway? You sent him another text, thankful the messages were finally delivering. ‘Hey, I’m back :) You there?’ It’s fine, it’s fine, he probably just doesn’t have time to respond yet. Maybe… maybe he broke his phone? But another part of your mind wandered into darker areas. Maybe he did get tired of you. Maybe he needed someone and you didn’t respond fast enough, so he went out to find someone new. Maybe he wasn’t going to show up after all. You shut off your phone in defeat.

Maybe you were on your own now…

“Hey, (Y/N).”

One statement alone had never made you feel as much as at that moment. All the bustling noise of the airport went silent in your ears as you turned toward the voice in what felt like slow motion. There, a few feet away from you, your boyfriend of 10 months now stood in front of a bench, looking sleepy and disheveled and wearing your favorite hoodie, one that you had often told him he looked really boyfriend-like in. He had a bright smile and a soft flush on his face. “Mat.” All your worries of him not showing up were suddenly forgotten as you dropped all your bags and met him halfway, falling into his waiting arms as he lifted you off the ground in a hug. “Mathew. Mat, Mat, Mat…” You let out all the emotions of the last six months, tucking your head into his neck and feeling dizzy with happiness at the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne. His arms held your waist close against him, his nose finding its usual place by your temple, breathing in your shampoo.

“Did you miss me out there?” He set you back on your own two feet and you pulled out of the hug only slightly to look up at him, studying his face as you held it between your hands. He’d changed a bit since you last saw him in person- still the same Mat, your Mat- but somehow he seemed warmer, softer, happier. Not that he was unhappy before, but now he was just… lighter. He’d cut his hair a little bit and it suited him, and his face was completely clean-shaven. But that beautiful, vast grin that always left you smiling was the same as always. You smiled and pressed your lips to his, threading your fingers through his hair. Finally. Finally. Seeing Mat on a tiny phone screen could never compare to being here in person, holding him, kissing him, feeling his arms around your waist. Six months of lost time exploded between you, and it felt like hours before you pulled away breathless, with grins on both of your faces.

“So much, Mat. I missed you so, so much.” You pulled yourself back into him, one hand on his shoulder and the other tracing along his jaw, and choked back a happy sob. “You scared me so much. You didn’t answer my texts. I thought you weren’t going to show up. I thought you’d actually moved on.” The grin fell from his face immediately.

“Shit, really? I was just trying to surprise you. I thought it’d be romantic?” You laughed into his chest. Mat, Mat, Mat. He was the same as always.

“I missed you. So much.” You felt him smile as he pressed his lips against your neck, just taking a moment to hold you.

“You’ve gotta tell me everything about this trip. Was it everything you wanted?“

"Later, Mat. I just wanna get out of this airport and back to someplace more private.” It was physically starting to hurt that you couldn’t just jump on him and cuddle him right here at the airport.

“Your place first?"

"No. Your place. I just want to shower and sleep right now. And you’re crazy if you think I want to go home without you after all this” You shared a smile with him again, still overjoyed to be back home with him, not wanting this intimate moment to end. Then again, moments like this can’t be that intimate when you’re literally standing in the middle of a crowded airport. Mat grabbed some of your luggage and tucked you snug into his side, right where you belonged.

“Well, I’m not gonna complain about that.”

❤

——

//But tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day, And head back to the Milky Way? And tell me, did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find? And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?//

——-

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #fic #imagine #WOW #I WRITE THIS!!#:D #I'm really happy with this actually #<3 #nhl #nhl writing #mine #did you miss me?#op

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

Erik fucking reader in the mirror, reaching down to choke her, telling her “where you going? take this dick!”

“Prince N’Jadaka.”

A woman’s voice, one of his Doras called to him from the other side of the door. They were standing there all damn morning. Y/N was sure they heard everything. Erik steps away from Y/N in his naked glory, opening his suite door. Both Dora Milaje came face to face with the prince, trying their best to hold formation with the way he looked standing in front of them and Y/N on her knees. Y/N could make out one of the Doras eyes fluttering while she tried to keep eye contact with Erik.

“kuzakufuneka sihambe kwakamsinya, nintlanganiso ebalulekileyo yokubuyela ekhaya ngomso.”

(We will have to leave soon, you have an important meeting back home tomorrow.)

“Shit, give me a second,” One of his Doras, Lesi was her name, was caught staring at his dick. Erik didn’t call her out on it, he just simply made his dick jump out. Lesi’s grip on her spear was almost deadly from that alone. Finally, he closes the door, turning to re-enter his room where Y/N still kneeled.

“Looks like our little reunion is over, Baby girl.”

“Nothing new,” Y/N stands with a struggle, walking over to her own luggage to pack her things. The bounce of her ass had Erik ready to say “fuck going back to Wakanda” she was really tempting him the way she was bent over, folding her clothes.

“You always leaving me, just take me with you.” She tried not to cry but damn was it hard. Her Daddy was a Prince in another country. Probably fucking the shit out of other bitches with that good dick too. She just knew that all up and down Wakanda there were rumors about Prince N’Jadaka breaking bitches backs.

“Fuck is all of that for? You knew what this shit was,” Erik stretched out on the bed, his eyes looking from his dick to her, “girl, come get this dick some more.”

“Leave me alone, Erik.”

“Stop acting like that,” he made his voice all low and seductive, “You know you’re my nasty little bitch.”

“Fuck you,” Y/N sounded so weak, throwing her clothes to the floor, facing Erik now with her arms folded across her chest.

“Tell Daddy what you said this morning when I was deep in that pussy, ma,” Erik strokes his dick, swinging it to make her look at what she was stubbornly ignoring.

“I love Daddy’s good dick,” She didn’t meet his eyes but her leg was shaking with struggle. She was a slut for Erik, He knew she would give in.

“EXACTLY. Now, come on, get you some of this right here,” He let his dick swing back and forth like a pendulum.

“Fuck, I hate you,” the minute she got onto the bed, Erik pulled her over him, making her sopping wet pussy lower over his swinging dick. She took in a sharp breath before bouncing on him like she wasn’t just complaining.

“Shit...you got some wet pussy on you…,” Erik exhaled. “You letting me dig all in this…”

Erik’s fat brown dick stroked Y/N over and over. She especially loved the way he held her hips, forcing her down over him.

“You make my little pussy stretch overall this meat. That’s impressive, Daddy,” Y/N teases before letting out a loud moan. Y/N gripped him firmly with her walls.

“I think I’m being too polite in the pussy…,” Erik slammed up into her now, her ass clapping on his thighs and his balls, “I gotta show you who you fucking with, ma.”

“You can’t just buss my pussy open and leave me!” She fell forward over Erik, looking over her shoulder and into the large mirror at the foot of his bed against the wall. She could see everything. Every bit of her cream, his balls bouncing and smacking into her ass cheeks, his wet pole so rigid.

“Your balls are so heavy and full of cum, Daddy,” She reached behind to grab hold of them. She squeezed them lightly, loving how soft they were. Erik was groaning in her ear now, his hands reaching back to spread her cheeks so Y/N could see her asshole and pussy better. She knew he loved doing this to her phat ass. If only he could fuck her in her ass again before he left. Y/N released over his dick sooner than she wanted to.

“Damn, Daddy, now you gotta eat my pussy,” She slaps her own ass, Erik following behind giving both her ass cheeks a nice slap. He grabbed her cheeks up, making her arch forward. He was rubbing his fingers from her asshole down to her clit, smearing her cum around and around.

“You just knew I had to lick up your mess. You always make a mess on my dick.” He flipped Y/N over, bringing his fingers to her mouth to suck on. She sucked and sucked, purposely making herself gag for his enjoyment. Erik lifts the sheets from under him, covering himself for an extra effect. She hated not being able to see him eating her pussy. Her legs were spread and over his shoulders now, Erik wasted no time to spread her pussy open and slurp away.

“Your moans drive me crazy.”

No, he was driving her crazy.

Y/N’s back lifted from the hotel bed, bare chest thrust towards the ceiling, nipples hard and ready to be sucked and licked. The Prince of Wakanda flew his favorite girl to NYC for some weekend-long sex. He would be here for a short while and she needed every second of him. They already fucked about four times; twice on Friday and twice on Saturday. Now, it was a Sunday morning before Erik had to return home. She was cursing his ass out about it a few minutes ago but now she was moaning and groaning his name while he sucked her pussy like no other.

A tiny whimper escapes her mouth, her eyes fluttering to Erik between her legs with the covers over his head. She could see his dreads but she couldn’t see the way he moved his mouth and tongue inside of her. This was definitely a good way to wake her up. She grabs his dreads into a tight fist, her pelvis grinding into his mouth. She was trying to moan, really trying to get the sounds out but he had her stunned. How dare he do this to her pussy? Eat it like this and drive her fucking crazy? She hated hooking up with him whenever he came back from Wakanda. He always fucked and ate her so damn good she was crying literal tears.

“You’re-you’re gonna leave me again, aren’t you-D-Daddy?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Shut up.” He hissed angrily. She didn’t care about his frustration. Y/N grabbed the covers, yanking them back roughly to fully admire the Prince of Wakanda eating her tight slit, face all shiny. She grabs his chin, attempting to pull him towards her but he wasn’t having that. Erik was furious she made him stop.

“Fuck are you doing?!” He sounded desperate and angry at the same time, “Stop pushing my lips off this pussy, baby girl!”

“Not until you answer my question! I’m sick-sick of this shit...ooooh.”

He shut her up with his dick sinking deep inside of her. Her pussy parted for him, letting him in again since the tight little kitty loved him so much. She shook her head, allowing it to fall back while Erik strokes her.

“Oooooh, this what you taking away from me. I can’t go without it,” she whispered into his ear, “I need it, Daddy...baybeee, I need it.”

Erik brought his lips to her cheek, his groans and grunts all in her ear while his hips snapped into hers.

“Daddy, if you leave me, who’s gonna fuck my pussy like this, Hmm?” She had to remind him about that.

“Fuck, you know who this pussy belongs to, girl, DONT PLAY WITH ME.”

Erik wraps a hand around her neck, Y/N looking up into his stormy eyes. Her eyes were more delicate but under all that was mischief.

“I don’t know, Daddy...I really don’t,” she was fucking him right back. Erik looked from her wet twat fucking him back to her eyes.

“Who told you to fuck me back like this? Huh? Who told you to do that?” He couldn’t stop biting his lip though. She was sliding on and off of him something serious.

“I guess I have to get this pussy fucked by somebody else when you leave me.”

She was toying with him and she knew it would make Erik angrily fuck her into this bed. Y/N was a starving woman for dick.

“Who? Don’t fucking play with me, Y/N.”

“I’ll give this pussy up...I need to be fucked good and you aren’t around.”

Erik picked up Y/N from the bed in one swift motion, slamming her down on his thick pole. She twitched around him, her legs shaking around his hips. Erik lifts her up, doing it again and again, hitting her spot over and over with that fat tip. She could feel her arousal drip to the floor from how he filled her up. One thing she could say about this Prince was that he could make her pussy drip the best.

“How you gonna give this pussy up when I make it do all this? You wanna lose all that, girl?”

Erik went in deep and long, all the way, and they both moaned into each other's mouths. Erik pumped his hips, pounding his meat into Y/N’s tight, velvety tunnel, her body surrendering to him like it always did. They were both bathed in sweat, burning with lust. Y/N watched as Erik’s tongue ran over his bottom lip. She caught it between her teeth and urgently sucked on it, feeling every inch of him thrusting into her.

“You got me cumming,” she had her arms on his shoulders, “you got me cumming on you! See! This is what you do to me!!”

Erik scrunched his face at the way the walls of her pussy squeezed his dick, “Oh? See...now I gotta fuck you some more…”

“Yes, baby, that’s what I want,” Y/N was driving that pussy down onto his dick again, “mmmm, I love this hard dick.”

Erik’s dick had the perfect lubrication around it. Her cum mixed with his pre-cum.

“I want that fat dick in my mouth...let me choke on that dick, Big Daddy.”

She was down on her knees now, practically clawing at him to get the dick in her mouth. She always told him that even if he didn’t eat her phat pussy, she would still suck his dick because she loved it so much.

“You stay so hard for me, Prince,” Her hot mouth devoured his dick causing Erik’s eyes to roll shut. She sucked it in and out of her mouth, letting it pop each time she withdrew her mouth from the head. This bitch played with Erik’s penis like it was her own joystick. Y/N always worked her mouth over Erik’s elongated and fat shaft, taking him in fully like she didn’t have a fucking throat.

“It’s too big for my mouth,” she moans after withdrawing her lips from his saliva-coated shaft, “But, I have another hole that I know can handle it.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Erik released. “Show me your skills, baby.”

Erik turned Y/N around in front of the oversized floor mirror at the foot of his bed. He parted her cheeks, looking straight down into her slick pussy, the hole she was referring to his favorite hole on her. Erik spits, allowing it to drop down and over her pussy. She felt that, making her ass shaking against him.

“Bend the fuck over and grab your ankles.”

She turns sideways in front of the mirror, bending in half and grabbing her ankles. She was so folded that she could put her head between her wide legs to look back at Erik. This was the way he fucked her pussy when she acted up.

“You know what’s about to happen, right?”

Erik walks away towards his open luggage, grabbing a belt. The thick leather material of it would imprint her flesh so painfully. Too bad she was in a compromising position. Ass cheeks open, pussy open, she had nowhere to run.

“Oh, this?” She spoke, trying to hide the slight fear she felt, “you gonna give me an ass whooping?”

“Only cuz you being a disrespectful bitch...make that ass shake each time I give you a beating.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

The first strike was between her ass cheeks. Her flesh stuck to that damn belt. A soft moan was her response to it. She grabbed her ankles tighter, looking back at Erik, watching him strike her over and over without giving his arm a rest. His dick was standing straight out. This nigga was so hard from this.

“I don’t see that phat ass shaking!!! Move that ass or this dick ain't going back in that puss.”

“Fuckkk,” she started twerking in a handstand almost, Erik lashing her ass. It started to hurt, he was really pissed that she said she could get dick from some other man. Her Prince was hurt by that.

“Daddy-Daddy-Daddy you know I was just playing, right? Baybeee it hurts,” she starts whimpering. Erik let her have one final strike before tossing the belt onto the bed.

“Why you gotta do that? make a nigga so mad? All you gotta do is tell me you want it fucked hard from the back like this,”

His dick went in her swiftly. She forgot about the pain in her cheeks, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror.

“Prince, N’Jadaka,” She moaned loudly, “Fuck me, keep fucking me like this and I’m sure to cum all over this royal dick!!!!”

Erik has to slow down, she was gripping his shit from the back. He looked into her eyes in that mirror, the look that had him coming back to America to fuck her.

“Come on, don’t be afraid to ram it in,” Y/N urged.

“Girl shut the fuck up,” Erik lifts Y/N up, turning her to face the mirror now. He grabs her neck from behind, squeezing it tightly with his fingers.

“You got them eyes looking straight ahead, right?!!!”

“Yessssss.”

“Telling me to fucking ram it in, what you think I do? You can’t take it when I do that, baby stop talking shit.”

Erik started urgently stroking her pussy, so hard he could make that mirror shatter. Making her arch lower, Erik pounded her insatiable pussy. He could feel her leaning forwards off his dick but Erik had a firm grip on her hip with one hand while the other was around her neck.

“Can’t take this dick I see.”

“It’s cuz you’re in my stomach.” She tried to move away again.

He was in her fucking guts. She was going limp over him, but Erik didn’t give a fuck. The squishing of his dick pistoning into her vagina as her body rocked back and forth over his dick with Erik’s control was the sound Erik wanted to hear. That was the sound of getting your pussy fucked by a Prince. A Prince with some good good dick.

“Ima remember this little reunion,” Erik teases, “Stop fucking running, Y/N!”

He would pull her back each time. She convulsed repeatedly, surrendering to her intense orgasm. Erik was chasing his own, continuing his thrusts while she cried out for him to slow up. Y/N could only stand there with trembling legs and enjoy the sweet torture. Erik slammed her so hard with his dick she could see stars.

“Daddy! Please cum! Pleassseee! I can’t take it!”

It didn’t matter what direction Y/N moved, Erik was fucking the shit out of her. Both of Y/N’s hands were planted on the glass, the vision of her ass clapping back on Erik right in front of her watery eyes. She knew this cum was going to be delicious. Y/N struggled with her words but they came out nonetheless. She told Erik to let her know when he was about to cum because she wanted to swallow it all. That turned his ass out, and he really started wearing that nana out.

“Fuck, my pussy is cumming for you again!”

She dragged her nails down that mirror. Erik pulled out and told Y/N he was about to cum like she wanted him to. Y/N turned around faster than the speed of light and caught that cum like an action hero. It was a speeding bullet, and she was about to catch it on her tongue. Erik is wild with it when he came. Tasting all good and filling up her throat. Erik gets tens straight across the board for delivery, expression, and creativity since her body was his canvas for his thick and tasty cum. Erik’s eyes were glazed and his breathing was shallow, standing there with that impressive body, an aura of a Prince.

“Every time you cum for me, I lust after you some more. This shit does my body good.”

“You are so damn nasty,” he managed to get out between moans from Y/N licking the rest of his ejaculate off of him. Her pussy started throbbing. Her pussy lips were jumping.

“I just know that pussy is trickling down the inside of your legs.” He was right.

He shouldn’t say shit like this to her. She wanted him to stay forever.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @bugngiz @palmstreesallday @skylahb

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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vergilthelibrarian · 4 years

Text

Shower.

In Due Time | Curiosity | Questions

Serial Killer/Yandere! Jeno x FTM!Reader

CW for implied smut

Jeno knew he was in love with you.

That he was certain of and as he watched your chest rise and fall in a steady motion as you slept, a smile grew on his lips, happy that you were actually his.

The first time he ever saw you was at the bookstore you use to work at.

He thought you were stunning and he wanted to talk to you but he was so shy that he opted to just stalk you. He thought it was better to stalk you anyway as it would help him learn everything about you before ever speaking to you. He’d be able to craft himself into the perfect man for you.

After talking to a coworker, he soon found your social media accounts, then the school you went to, and finally where you lived.

Though Jeno knew he was good looking, he knew that with you, good looks weren’t going to win you in the end. You wanted a thoughtful man, who was sweet and generous and Jeno made sure he became that man just for you.

But the problem was, you were really smart.

He didn’t think you figured out that he was the Hatchet Killer but you had your suspicions and he knew that so he had to show his true nature earlier than he expected.

Jeno caressed your cheek, his thumb skimming over your lips as it parted, you sighing in your sleep.

It didn’t matter that he had to show his actual personality to you now because it wasn’t like as if you were going to leave him anytime soon because if you did leave him, it wouldn’t end well for anyone in the end and the only way you would leave him would be in death.

Jeno stared at you, his brown eyes scanning you features.

He wondered what you were dreaming about.

He hoped it was about him.

His mother always said that he was a chameleon all because he was able to change his personality at will whenever interacting with different people.

When he was young, Jeno didn’t get this but as he got older he understood it more and used his fluid personality to his advantage.

Whenever someone needed anyone helpful and caring, he’d become that. Tough and courageous, he’d mold himself into that.

Jeno knew how to manipulate people, he knew how to be the perfect man which was why he was able to get away with the killings he had committed.

He didn’t understand why he liked killing people.

He had a normal and loving childhood, he wasn’t raised in a broken home but yet for some reason killing brought him a rush that he couldn’t explain and no matter how hard he tried to figure it out, he just couldn’t.

Jeno stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he shaved his face.

There was something wrong with him, no doubt about it.

Was he a psychopath?

Most definitely but the only difference between him and a true psychopath was that he was in love.

Genuinely in love and honestly, that terrified him.

He never knew he was even capable of that feeling before he saw you but yet you captured his heart.

Sighing, he frowned slightly as he wondered about you.

He was so afraid of losing your attention, he didn’t even like the thought of having children with you, knowing well that it would make him jealous.

Jeno knew you deserved someone better than him.

He was a monster and he knew this but he wanted you, needed you and as long as he was alive, you weren’t going anywhere.

Even in death, he wouldn’t let you leave.

He would drag you down to hell with him if he had too.

You looked out the window, watching some children play outside.

How many months has it been now? 11? You lost count to be honest.

Sighing, you got up from the window sill and went into the kitchen deciding to make yourself some tea.

When you first came here, you tried to run away 2 times and both times pissed Jeno off.

He was so angry, saying through gritted teeth that the 3rd time you try to run away, he’d break your legs and honestly, you didn’t want to find out if that was a promise so you stopped trying to run away all together.

Jeno was still sweet to you overall which made things weird for you.

He was a crazy murderer yet he loved you for some reason. It made you sick to your stomach but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a bit safe around the man.

As you made your tea, you took out a lemon and some honey. You cut the lemon in half, putting the other half in the fridge and waited for the electric kettle to stop.

Once it did, you made your tea and went back to the window sill, sipping on your tea.

The door opened and Jeno came in, his arms glistening from sweat.

You looked at him and a small smile came on his lips, his eyes turning into those sweet crescents you grew to love but also fear.

He went up to you, kissing your forehead.

“I missed you.” he said and you hummed in response.

“Come take a shower with me.” he said, well, more like commanded.

You knew what would happened if you said no.

“Can I finish my tea?” and he nodded.

Once you finished your tea, you went to the kitchen and washed the cup.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

Once you were done washing the cup, you headed upstairs, hearing the shower.

You went into the bathroom only to see that Jeno had already went into the shower. Closing the door behind you, you took off your clothes and went into the shower.

A cheeky smile was on Jeno’s lips as you stepped in, him already washing up.

You 2 talked, he helping you wash up and you washing his hair.

His eyes closed as he felt your fingers massage his scalp and his hands went to your hips. He hummed as you washed his hair, one of his hands skimming itself against your side.

You shuddered when he opened his eyes, an emotion of lust overtaking them.

You bit your bottom lip as you finish washing his hair and felt your knees go weak when he kissed you.

He bit your lip, his tongue rushing into your mouth to taste you before parting slightly to kiss your neck.

He bit and suck on the skin, leaving new love bites.

You whimpered out moans, your breathing becoming shaky as he pushed you against the cold tiled shower wall. You grabbed his shoulders, closing your eyes as he decorated your skin with marks of his affection.

Your head was spinning.

Why did this feel good?

He was a serial killer!

Not only that but he practically kidnapped you and even killed your close friend.

Yet, he made you get butterflies over the simplest of things and you couldn’t understand why your heart skipped a beat whenever he’d smile at you.

You tried your best to act indifferent towards Jeno but he knew that you still loved him. That you still had feelings for him and of course he was going to take advantage of that.

Taeil rubbed his temples as he stared at a picture of Mark Lee.

He couldn’t help it but he had a feeling that Jeno was connected to this somehow but didn’t want to tell anyone, knowing the drama it would cause.

He was beating himself up for not asking Jeno any questions about Mark.

Taeil wanted to ask the boy some questions one more time but he was certain that Jeno would more likely refused this time.

He stroke his chin, lost in his thoughts.

Mark was friends with you and went to look for you when you basically ran off with Jeno and never came back home.

Taeil thought that something was strange with that.

What did Mark find that made him meet his tragic end?

He got up from his chair and went to his window, looking out into the city.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a knock on his door.

Doyoung opened the door, putting some papers on Taeil’s desk.

“Boss wants you to look at these.” he said and before he left Taeil stopped him by asking, “Have you met Mr. Lee’s son? Jeno?”

Doyoung nodded.

“I have. Why do you ask?”

“i just… Mark was looking for his friend Y/n before he was killed and Y/n had ran off with Jeno to the country side prior to Mark’s murder.”

Doyoung frowned.

“Are you suggesting Jeno may be involved in this?”

And Taeil sighed.

“I truly don’t know but I just have a feeling he may know more about Mark’s disappearance.”

“I don’t know if Mr. Lee is gonna like that you think his son may know more then he’s letting on.”

Taeil went to his chair and sat down.

“I know that… which is why I’m asking you to question him this time. Go to his school and just ask him about Mark. I’ll deal with Mr. Lee if he finds out.”

#my mind is telling me to give this a good and happy ending for mc #but my heart is telling me to give mc a bad ending #jeno x reader #jeno x male reader #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno x male reader #jeno x ftm reader #lee jeno x ftm reader #yandere jeno #yandere nct #yandere kpop

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1194

survey by n0b0dysp3rf3ct

What’s your favourite song to sing to? These days it’s Sweet Night by V, but it always changes tbh. I don’t really have an all-time favorite song to sing along to.

What’s your relationship like with your exes? Nonexistent. I’m good at blocking off people and memories like that, no matter how special the relationship had been or how much time we spent together. I don’t feel guilty about it; I actually feel more at peace this way.

What mistake do you find yourself making over and over again? Procrastinating and putting off things I could literally finish in 10 minutes or less. I’ve been better about it, to be fair to myself; but the habit comes out every once in a while and I always end up kicking myself in the ass for not already knowing any better.

What are you afraid to lose? Hmm...probably people, especially my friends. I’ve been starting to think more about this these days. My two best friends are in very good, committed relationships, and I know that one day they’ll have lives and families of their own, maybe even move out of the country. I’m finally acknowledging the fact that maybe I am afraid of getting left behind and ending up alone. Those thoughts make me sad, though, and I hate being stuck in feeling sad, so I try to shake them off and focus on my happiness in the present.

What’s one of the hardest decisions you’ve had to make? Agreeing to break up with Gabie. I never liked admitting defeat, so that was a particularly brutal afternoon.

Have you ever gave up on a love interest as they acted differently around other people? I’ve never been in this situation.

Do you think you’re ready for love? What does love even mean to you? I’m taking a break from it, actually. I was in a relationship that I put a lot of effort in for a long time, and I don’t mind focusing on myself for now especially considering I put myself in the backseat for the entirety of said relationship. I feel no need to jump into another relationship any time soon.

What was the last thing you turned down doing? Angela was showing me some shops that were starting to put up offers for the new BTS Hybe Insight photocards. Those photocards are only being given away to visitors who go to the new Hybe museum, and we didn’t want to technically pirate them, so we both chose not to buy. We can wait till we can travel to South Korea together and get the photocards for ourselves :)

Have you ever fell for someone who was clearly bad for you? Technically...yeah? She eventually ended up being bad for me, but I didn’t know it at the time.

Are you a party animal? No. I like attending parties, but I never want to be the center of attention.

Who are you the biggest fan of? My best friends.

When was the last time someone really let you down? I haven’t felt that disappointed in anyone in a while.

What song can you not help but dance to? Mic Drop.

You’re DJ for the night - first track to get everyone going? ...Now that I mentioned it, Mic Drop. The Steve Aoki remix in particular. Sorry folks, y’all are getting K-Pop tonight.

Have you ever been too scared to tell someone how you felt about them? Yes.

Where do you feel the most inspired and creative? Erm, never? I never feel creative. But when it comes to being inspired, I usually feel it when I have one-on-one talks with Bea. She schedules a brief talk with me once every few months just to catch up and ask me how I’m doing, work-wise and growth-wise. I find that it really helps and I always exit the call wanting to perform better at work.

Have you ever been hit on by a pushy person? No.

When’s the last time you met someone for a coffee? I’ve never done that.

Describe the ideal man or woman for you: Kim Taehyung. That man is doing a stupid great job ruining everyone else for me.

What place in nature would you love to visit one day? Somewhere with auroras.

What accent do you find attractive? Like I’ve said on previous answers, I like Florence Pugh’s accent, whatever it is. I could listen to it all day.

What do you think you’re really good at? I’ve always loved writing and I’m pretty confident in my skills.

Do you have something you’d like to tell someone right now? I know Jo is going through a breakup and I want to reach out and share a few reassuring words, but I’m not very good at that kind of stuff. And since she isn’t initiating, it might mean she wants her own space for now too.

Have you ever had feelings for a friends partner? Never.

What career would you love to pursue: I’m more than okay with my current field. But had things turned out differently, I’d most likely be taking up law.

What was the biggest lies you’ve told? I never like lying so I try to make the ones I make as trivial as possible.

How can you tell if someone loves you? Idk for the most part I believe people have different love languages, so expression is always different for everyone. I don’t wait for people to act a certain way for me to deduce that they love me.

What’s one of your fondest memories? Front row at a Paramore concert, 2017. I went alone and danced without a care in the world and sang along to every song, and it was one of the nicest couple hours of my life.

What’s your favourite thing to do that doesn’t cost much? Taking surveys is literally free.

What do you feel unnecessarily judged for? I feel like I would be judged for having an entire blog just for surveys, which is exactly why I don’t share about this hobby with anyone. Not even my ex knew about it until much later on in our relationship.

What are you proud of yourself for? Still being here is a big thing.

What relaxes you after a busy day? As is pretty obvious already at this point, BTS. I like looking for funny compilations or interviews of theirs to watch to de-stress.

Have you ever known someone who suffered from drug addiction? Nope. Not that I know of, at least.

Why did your last relationship end? She wasn’t in it anymore.

Who do you have a crush on? Taehyung :/

When was the last time you stayed up all night? I was up until 4 AM earlier, if that counts. I don’t really do entire all-nighters anymore; latest I can do is either 4 or 5 AM.

Have you ever been someone’s rebound? No.

What would you fight LTR for the right to do? I don’t know what that is or who they are.

When did you last apologise? What was it for and was it accepted? Some work stuff came up today and it was something I needed to ask my manager about, so I had to message her. I apologized profusely before and after my main message since it’s a weekend and I HATE making my co-workers think about work on weekends, but the matter was a little urgent and it couldn’t wait. But eventually the thing got sorted out, so I followed up with a message asking her to disregard my question, and I sent her a heart GIF as well.

Have you ever been to Cuba? I haven’t, but I’d like to visit.

What do you feel positive about? That I am most likely ordering Frankie’s tonight because I’m having a serious craving for spicy Korean wings that I can’t ignore anymore.

Do you know any Spanish? I’ve retained the words, sentences, and verb tenses I was able to learn when I was still training on Duolingo; and Filipino has a lot of Spanish influences, so I wouldn’t say I’m completely unfamiliar with Spanish. I wouldn’t be able to last a conversation, though.

If you could go on a road trip now, where’s you go? Continued from this morning. I’d probably just go back to Tagaytay. La Union could be a great road trip spot as well.

When in danger are you more fight or flight? Flight. What makes you irrationally angry? When people speak excessive Taglish, especially in a work setting. Most Filipinos are fluent in both, so I’d wish they’d pick one and stick to it. I find code-switching pretty unprofessional for the most part.

Do you feel self conscious about a certain body part? Sure.

Is there someone you’ll always be there for? If so, who? My best friends.

Have you been accused of being manipulative? Gab probably did a few times, but I barely remember those memories anymore.

What’s the most romantic thing someone has done for you? I literally can’t remember anymore.

What or who do you miss from your childhood? The ability to be carefree and the greater space to make mistakes.

Do you miss late night calls with a certain somrone? No, I hate calls.

What would you like to do again some time? Be able to go back to coffee shops.

What’s your least favourite season? Summer.

Do you know someone who’s ridiculously arrogant and entitled? A lot of boomers and older Gen X-ers.

Have you ever considered violence to solve your problem? No.

Who’s the best dancer you know? That I know in real life? Aubrey. Overall, Park Jimin.

What’s the best bit of advice you’ve received? I can’t seem to remember the exact same quote they gave me, but it was Andi telling me a few months ago not to rush my healing so I can avoid potentially harming myself in the process.

How good a swimmer are you? Not very good. I just like swimming leisurely.

What’s your favourite baby animal? Puppies and baby elephants.

What’s the best compliment you have received? It’s always nice to be told I’m strong.

What’s your favourite gemstone? Don’t have one.

Do you bounce back well when things go wrong or does it take a while? It takes a while, but I always get there eventually.

What’s an underrated colour/shade you really like? Not sure; the colors I tend to lean towards I think are pretty popular choices.

What insult or label would hurt you the most to recieve? Being told I’m useless or a burden.

How often do you notice the attractiveness of strangers? I rarely find strangers attractive.

Are you good at hiding your emotions? No, I practically wear them on my face.

Are you romantic? More than I’d like to admit.

#survey #surveys

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