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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

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Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Four

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Series masterlist

Chapter summary: An understanding is reached and Aegon dishes family dirt at a BBQ.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Her phone vibrates on the coffee table, the buzzing causing it to move dangerously close to the edge. Quick as a flash, Mysaria lunges forward from the sofa to catch it before it topples to the floor, smirking when she sees the name that’s flashing up on the screen.

“How many times is that today now?” She asks, gently tossing the phone to her as a missed call notification replaces the incoming call alert.

She shrugs, not averting her gaze from the TV screen as a rerun of Come Dine with Me, that neither of them are particularly paying attention to, plays to itself. “Dunno. He’ll get the hint eventually.”

It’s Sunday evening and she hasn’t spoken to Aemond since she woke up alone in his flat the previous morning, despite the fact he texts and calls her more times than she can count. She deletes the messages without reading them, and lets each of his calls go to voicemail. He’d made her feel cheap, used, put a price on her body, and she had no desire to ever speak to him again.

Mysaria sighs, flopping back against the sofa cushions. “Can I be a bitch for a second?” She asks, turning her head to face her. “You aren’t going to like it, but I think you need to hear it.”

She leans her head back, eyes flitting to meet her flatmate’s, already feeling a prickle of annoyance heat her skin, but decides to let her say her piece. “Go on then.”

“Why are you punishing him because you’ve caught feelings?”

Her annoyance bursts forth into anger as her brow furrows, her body language becoming squared and defensive. “I haven’t–”

“Yes, you have,” Mysaria interrupts. “I get that he did a shitty thing by leaving you high and dry, but he clearly feels bad or he wouldn’t keep trying to reach you. Give the guy a chance to explain himself, if you don’t like what he has to say then break things off.”

She scoffs in frustration, turning back towards the TV and rolling her eyes. “You are so bloody annoying!”

“Because I’m right,” Mysaria says smugly, leaning over to tap her on the nose. “You gonna call him back then?”

She chews her lip absentmindedly, turning her phone around in her hands. She supposes it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to him, if only to ask how to return the five grand he’d transferred to her.

The buzzer to the flat startles her out of her train of thought and Mysaria peels herself off of the sofa with a groan of “Finally! I’m bloody starving!”

Pizza first, then she’ll call him. She’s definitely not putting it off, she reasons with herself, she just doesn’t want her food to go cold.

“Erm…so it’s not pizza…” Mysaria says awkwardly as she re-enters the living room, a silver haired figure a good deal taller than her trailing behind her.

Dread gnaws at her stomach as she takes in the sight of Aemond, hair thrown back in a bun, dressed in a tight black henley and fitted black jeans, holding the largest bouquet of lilies and roses she’s ever seen before. Even when she’s angry with him he still manages to look absolutely breathtaking, and it irritates her.

“I’ll just…uh…” Mysaria makes a gesture towards her bedroom, and quickly makes herself scarce.

Lucky bitch.

“You’ve not been returning my calls,” Aemond says flatly.

“No…” She responds quietly, feeling the warmth of embarrassment spread through her, as she plucks nervously at the legs of her jogging bottoms. He’s never seen her not put together, and she loathes that she feels shame for her appearance, when she hasn’t done anything wrong. Him seeing her with messy hair, an oversized t-shirt and threadbare joggers makes her feel weak and vulnerable in his presence.

“Or replying to my texts.”

“I know.”

“Listen, if the other night wasn’t good, or I hurt you–”

“Why don’t you sit down?” She interjects, suddenly realising how absurd he looks, stood in the middle of the living room, dwarfing everything around him with his obscenely large bunch of flowers.

Aemond nods gratefully, taking the seat next to hear. “These are you for, by the way,” He tells her, handing her the flowers.

She hums a quiet thanks, immediately overwhelmed by the sweetness of their aroma, and places them on the coffee table, knowing she’ll need no distractions if she’s to say what she needs to say.

“The other night was great, really great, actually,” She begins. “But you just left the next morning without a word, and that really upset me.”

“You were upset because I left?” He asks, sounding almost surprised.

“Yes!” She replies with exasperation. “You made me feel cheap, and used.”

“Cheap? But I bank transferred you afterwards.”

“Jesus, Aemond! I’m not a prostitute!” She throws up her hands angrily, gesticulating her point.

He swallows thickly, clearly considering his next words carefully. “I know you said you’ve never done anything like this before, but neither have I, and I made a mistake. My grandfather called me into the office early on Saturday morning. You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry that my carelessness has hurt you, but I am keen to continue our arrangement.”

It all seems so simple when he words it like that. She could easily have reached out to question his actions, but she’d allowed her emotions to guide her and now feels foolish because of it. When she says nothing, Aemond presses on.

“No funny business, I promise. We don’t have to sleep together again, but I’ve enjoyed having your company at family functions, it makes them more bearable. Please say you’ll consider it?”

She’s not sure what prompts the words from her mouth, perhaps it’s the pleading look in Aemond’s eye, or the fact that she enjoys his company too, but she says them before she fully has a chance to think about them. “Okay, we’ll carry on as before.”

“Thank you,” He says earnestly.

The buzzer sounding again prevents him from saying anything else, as Mysaria hurries from her room towards the door, in pursuit of her pizza delivery.

“I suppose that’s my cue to leave,” Aemond says softly. “I’ll text you, okay?”

She nods, and they both stand, hovering near each other, both unsure of what would be an appropriate goodbye. Eventually Aemond leans in, kissing the corner of her mouth lightly before pulling back and exiting the flat. She holds her fingers against the area, still able to feel the press of his lips even after he’s departed.

It takes three days for Aemond to message her again, and in that time it feels as though she could crawl out of her own skin with the apprehension that his silence brings. Had he changed his mind, decided her withdrawing contact over an honest mistake was too much to deal with? It fills her with a nervous energy that makes the days unbearable.

The relief she feels when he finally deigns to reach out is borderline humiliating.

Not sure if you remember my half sister, Rhaenyra, but she is having a BBQ on Saturday. Are you free?

I remember. Are you sure you want to go after what happened on your mum’s birthday? Xoxo

My mother will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t go. Will you come with me?

Yeah, I’m free :) xoxo

When Saturday finally rolls around, she keeps her hair and make-up simple, wearing a floral sundress and strappy sandals, but immediately feels underdressed as she recognises the house they pull up outside of as being the one they’d been to for Jace and Baela’s engagement party.

She has little time to dwell on her appearance though, as Aemond ushers her through the expanse of the house and out into the back garden. A sprawling, lush green lawn that could be considered more of a field due to its size plays host to various members of the Targaryen and Hightower families, as the smell of barbecued meat lingers on the breeze.

Aemond leads her around, his hand glued to the small of her back, so she can say polite hellos to everyone. Alicent and Criston greet her with warm hugs and kisses to both cheeks, Helaena does the same, while standing with Baela and Rhaena, the two girls offer a quick “hello” in sing-song unity. Aegon merely holds up a hand by way of greeting, looking less than enthusiastic to be there, and Otto says a polite “good to see you both”. The rest of the family’s greetings are a little more frosty, with Rhaenyra, Jace, Luke and Joffrey giving curt nods of acknowledgement, while Daemon is too preoccupied with the barbecue to notice they’ve even arrived.

“Viserys and Aegon not joining us?” Alicent asks Rhaenyra softly.

“It would mean having to switch off their Playstation, so I very much doubt it,” Rhaenyra says with a roll of her eyes.

The tension is palpable, but her nerves subside slightly when she sees a Rhodesian ridgeback galloping around the garden, with a copper coloured dachshund hot on its heels.

“Oh cute!” She says, turning to Aemond. “Could you not have brought Vhagar?”

“No,” He sighs. “She doesn’t get along with Syrax and Caraxes, so I’ve left her with the dog sitter.”

She gratefully accepts a glass of Pimm’s that’s offered to her by Otto, before he tells Aemond he needs a word.

“You’ll be okay for a moment won’t you, darling?” Aemond asks her.

The pet name causes her breath to catch in her throat and she merely nods, not trusting herself to speak. As they walk away together, she wanders over to a corner of the large garden, pretending to examine an ornate sundial to keep herself busy, when she feels a presence beside her.

Aegon has sidled up to her, beer in hand, a slight smirk on his face. “Having fun?”

“About as much as you are, by the looks of things,” She replies with a tight smile.

“At least you’re getting paid to be here.”

Her eyes go wide, her chest tightening as she realises he knows.

Aegon chuckles. “Ah, you didn’t think I knew? It’s fine, who do you think showed him the app?”

“O-oh…” is all she’s able to stammer, feeling too shocked to say anything else.

“You play a convincing part,” He takes a swig from his bottle. “Too good to be acting, actually. You can’t fake how you look at my brother.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She snaps, feeling the familiar heat of embarrassment tingle at her flesh.

Aegon snorts derisively. “Look, take it from me, don’t get attached. My brother is the last person you want to get involved with. This whole family is a fucking car crash.”

She sips anxiously at her drink, nodding slightly. “I’d noticed none of you seem to get along that well.”

“That is the fucking understatement of the century. Has Aemond told you much about us?”

“Nothing substantial.”

“Allow me to fill you in,” He gestures discreetly towards Alicent. “My mother used to be best friends with my half-sister, they went to school together. My grandfather and my father were business partners, tri-owners of multiple companies alongside Daemon. When my father’s wife, Rhaenyra’s mother, passed away suddenly, my mother started dating my father.”

“Jesus…” She mutters under her breath.

“Oh, it gets worse!” He says with a leer. “See, Rhaenyra wasn’t happy that her best friend had shacked up with her dad. I mean, who would be? She was even more pissed off when the three of us came along, as it meant she was no longer an only child. She started sleeping around to get back at my father, that’s how she ended up with those three.”

Aegon nods towards where Jace, Luke and Joffrey all stand.

“What about her other two children, Aegon and Viserys?”

“Those are the kids she’s had with Daemon. They got married shortly before my father passed away. Mum thinks she did it just to strengthen her claim of the assets, as Daemon’s a partner in the business and Dad didn’t bother to leave a will. Everything Mum has ever tried to claim for us she’s contested.”

“So that’s what all that talk of Dragonstone Cottage was about at your Mum’s birthday?”

“Yeah, ‘Nyra’s sneaky way of trying to hoard assets for her brood.”

“How do Baela and Rhaena fit into all of this?”

“They’re Daemon’s children from a previous marriage.”

“But Baela is engaged to Jace, isn’t that a bit…” She trails off, not knowing the exact word she wants to use.

“Incestuous?” Aegon lets out a laugh that borders on being too unhinged to come from a place of genuine mirth, before taking another swig of his beer. “Yeah, yeah, it is.”

“So what does this have to do with Aemond? Why should I not get involved?”

Aegon rounds on her. “Has he ever told you about, y’know…” He taps his eye.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Hmmm. Probably best to leave that to him to explain then.”

Their attention is pulled away by the sound of a fork being tapped against the side of a glass. She turns to see Daemon standing at the head of the garden. “Just wanted to thank you all for joining us today”, He says as everyone gathers closer, herself and Aegon included. “I think such an occasion is cause for celebration.” He brandishes a bottle of champagne, before popping the cork, a few that are stood closest step back out of its line of fire.

Luke smirks, elbowing Aemond. “He should be careful, almost had your other eye out.”

It happens so suddenly it seems like a blur, but Aemond has Luke by the collar and Aegon is rushing forward to tackle Jace away. Punches are thrown from both sides, until the ensuing scuffle is broken apart by Daemon and Otto.

Aemond’s eye is wild as he approaches her, his breathing ragged, and his usually immaculately styled hair tousled. “Come on, we’re leaving,” He grits out.

She has to hurry to keep up with his long strides through the house and to the car, and they drive in silence, Aemond’s knuckles blanched with the force of the grip he has on the steering wheel.

She drums her fingers anxiously against her thighs, not quite knowing what to say, but it is Aemond who eventually breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” He says quietly. “It was a bad idea for us to go today.”

“What was that all about?” She asks as gently as she can. “What got you so heated?”

Aemond sighs heavily, keeping his focus on the road ahead, and for a moment she doesn’t think he will answer her.

“Luke’s the reason I lost my eye,” He admits. “His little comment today got to me, and I lashed out.”

“What happened?” She turns slightly in the passenger seat to face him.

“It’s stupid really, an irresponsible rich family allowing their kids to roam the woods with Airsoft guns. The official story is that it was an accident, but accidents don’t happen at point blank range, accidents aren’t something you never apologise for.”

“Jesus, Aemond, I’m so sorry.” Her heart aches for him, having to play happy families with someone who has maimed him

“It is what it is,” He says with a slight shrug. “Makes being around them harder than it already is though. Thank you for being there with me today.”

“That’s alright,” She fidgets nervously with the hem of her dress as they pull up outside her block of flats. “Do you want to come inside for a bit? You shouldn’t be alone when you’re feeling like this.”

No funny business.

Her heart races as Aemond’s hands disappear up her skirt, reappearing with her underwear grasped in his fingers, dragging them down her legs.

We don’t have to sleep together again.

She buries her hands into the softness of his hair as he latches his mouth against her, bringing her to quick release with harsh strokes of his tongue. Every thought of what they’d discussed on Sunday evening leaves her mind as he pushes her back against the mattress, the force of his thrusts inside of her causing her toes to curl and her eyes to roll back, until he eventually collapses against her with a grunt, the faint pulsation of him inside of her signifying he’s reached his end.

They fall asleep, curled around each other in her tiny double bed and she’s pleased to see he’s still there when she awakens the following morning.

“Your mattress is fucking terrible,” Aemond grouses sleepily, pulling her tighter against him. “It feels like I’ve slept on a pile of loose change.”

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck.

They spend most mornings like that, over the coming weeks. Aemond becomes a frequent presence in the little flat. Her feet stay planted in his lap while they watch TV after work in the evenings, before he fucks her into the mattress like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Their mornings are lazy and indulgent, spent slowly exploring every inch of each other, before they part ways to go to work, only to do it all over again in the evening.

She buys a dog bed, which takes up half the floor space in her bedroom. Aemond raises an eyebrow at this.

“Vhagar’s quite fussy about where she sleeps,” He tells her, only to watch in disbelief as the elderly doberman circles several times on it, before settling down to nap. “I stand corrected.”

Their presence in her life becomes larger as time goes on, and it’s difficult not to feel that it is more than it is, but she is constantly reminded of the transactional nature with every shopping trip on Oxford Street, every visit to Champney’s Spa, each time he hands her his credit card.

The thought occurs to her that perhaps she ought to broach the topic of what they are, how their relationship is developing, but each time she decides against it, too afraid he’ll say something she doesn’t want to hear.

Mysaria smiles as she sees them snuggled together in front of the TV, when she comes home. “You’re here so often, we’ll have to start charging you rent,” She says playfully.

Aemond pulls out his phone, bringing up his banking app. “How much?” He asks, deadly serious.

“Aemond, she was joking!” She laughs, swatting his arm playfully.

It’s been a slow Saturday morning, almost midday and she sits at the kitchen table, a satisfied ache between her legs, as she sips at a coffee while Aemond plates up eggs benedict for them both. One of the things that surprises her most about him is that he’s able to cook, and he does it well.

She eyes him carefully as she pokes at her breakfast, unable to shift the feeling of how his fingers dug into her flesh, how he gazed at her so reverently, his lips featherlight against her throat just an hour before.

His money, his lavish lifestyle, she wants none of it. She just wants him, so she decides that this time she’ll be brave and shoot her shot before she has the opportunity to second guess herself.

Carefully, she sets down her cutlery and rests her chin against her hand. “So I’ve been thinking…about us.”

Aemond pauses, fixing her with his right eye.

Nerves flutter in her belly at his silence, but she continues anyway. “What we have, let’s make a proper go of it? I don’t care about your money, Aemond, I just want to be with you.”

He clears his throat, setting down his own knife and fork, before slowly wiping his mouth on a napkin. “I can’t do that,” He says quietly.

She is immediately struck by the hollowness in her chest, sucking in a harsh breath to ground herself against the lump forming in her throat.

Aemond reaches across the table, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re perfect,” He reassures her. “But I’m not, and I don’t do relationships. My circumstances are too complicated, I’d end up hurting you, and that’s the very last thing I want to do.”

She can’t argue with him, he’s being so bloody nice about it, and Aegon had warned her of this. She wants to scream at him, to cry, to tell him it isn’t fair, but it’s her that has asked for this, and at least he’s being honest with her, even if the truth does make her feel like her chest is being crushed under a vast weight. “I understand,” She chokes out.

“I’m sorry,” He says sadly, genuinely.

“Can you…can you just go, please?” She whispers, unable to look at him.

He nods, standing and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before leaving.

Only after she hears the front door click closed, and the feel of his lips have faded from her skin, does she allow herself to fall apart. Hot tears cascade down her cheeks, as she feels the presence that has taken up so much of her life leave behind a gaping void in its wake.

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ivystoryweaver · 9 months

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Steven Grant oblivious roommate headcanons pt. 4

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SGORH masterlist

Part 4: Sometimes he almost seems like two different people

"Steven, what are the chances that we both had terrible dates on the same night?” You pose the question.

You and Steven tipped the server at the steakhouse and walked home, arms linked.

“At least you had a date. I guess I misunderstood... I thought today was Friday.”

“You thought today was…”

Something is up. You and Steven sit side-by-side on the couch, arms touching from shoulders to elbows, feet stretched out on an old trunk that doubles as a coffee table

You remind Steven that he was visiting his mom on Friday - even missed work because of it

Something strange happens to him then. He gets flustered and he can't seem to string together a coherent sentence.

Then he goes completely statue-like, and deadly quiet. His breathing changes - it slows. And almost imperceptibly, he pulls away from you.

You ask if he's ok. He nods once, pushes off the couch and starts to walk away. "Just tired." His voice sounds different.

Did you say something wrong? Maybe he just feels terrible for getting stood up. Yeah, that's probably it. He's embarrassed.

You scurry behind him, reaching for his arm. He always likes your hugs, so you try to hug him.

You just want to see the tiniest smile from him, or at least to remind him that he's wonderful and it's Dylan's loss.

He stiffens at your touch - then he gently shrugs you off and says goodnight.

You feel like he's punched you square in the chest. Seriously, your breathing is affected.

The next morning, you find Steven talking to Gus - an adorable habit of his. "If you're Gus, then I'm the bloody Queen of Sheba," he mutters.

Things get weirder. Steven misses more work shifts, but whenever you ask him about it, he shrugs you off and acts different. Maybe this is why he can't keep a roommate?

Sometimes he almost seems like two different people

You try not to take things personally - after all, you're co-workers and roommates. Maybe he doesn't share your feelings about your friendship.

One day, after you switch from the train to the bus, on the final leg of the trip home, you notice a man watching you. In fact, you're pretty sure he was watching you on the train too. He's followed you onto the bus.

Steven wasn't at work today, so you're alone. Maybe you're just paranoid.

When you exit the bus at your stop, the same man exits behind you. Your heart beats wildly - you pick up your pace. So does he. You turn to take a different path home. He's not ten paces behind you.

Just when you think you might break out into a run, a hand grabs your arm. With a yelp, you see that it's Steven. He doesn't smile or give you a typical greeting. His hair is pushed back from his face, styled neatly.

"Come on, let's get you home." What is going on? He doesn't even sound British. He takes your hand and pulls you along.

"S-Steven?" You ask. "Where were you today? I thought you were sick."

"Not now," he answers, in a hushed tone. "It's not safe." He says nothing else. He simply maneuvers you home, keeping a possessive hold on you.

His mouth is set in a firm, thin line. His dark eyes scan your surroundings for danger. His defined jaw clenches in determination.

You're so confused, but you feel safe. "Thank you," you gasp.

He spares you a glance and a nod. Then he tucks you into the door of your flat and gives instructions. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

You protest.

"I just wanna make sure it's safe. Stay here." He leaves.

Twenty minutes later, after you've paced a hole in the floor, Steven comes back. "Oh...hi love. You hungry? Just got some takeaway."

what the hell

tbc...

Coming up: Don't worry, more Steven incoming

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wing-ed-thing · 5 months

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Jean Kirstein Relationship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 All around a fairly well-rounded partner who will treat you right in a simple, low-drama but loving relationship.

𓆃 Jean is the kind of guy who thinks he already knows it all, especially if it's his first relationship. Most of this has to do with his mom, who raised him "to be a gentleman."

𓆃 Buying chocolates, flowers, holding the door open, walking closest to the road on the sidewalk, and paying the bill to name a few, Jean has a strict list of behaviors that he's already designated as his to perform in a relationship.

𓆃 It'll surely throw him for a loop if you don't want him to do any of them, especially if your relationship leans on the more non-traditional side.

𓆃 But no matter the dynamic or how you present in a relationship, Jean continues to function with his own idea of "chivalry."

𓆃 Throwing your card or cash out to pay the bill on one of your first few dates will surely throw a wrench in your night.

𓆃 And it's not that Jean thinks that "you think he's weak" or is insecure that you might "have a higher income," but it comes more from the fact that he had a specific idea of how things were going to go and Jean isn't great at readjusting.

𓆃 He's upset and semi-moody the rest of the night because Mama Kirstein taught him that he's supposed to get the bill, but how the hell is he going to bring that up? He can't.

𓆃 Not to mention if his finances are a lot lower than he anticipated. He wants to pay, but who else isn't embarrassed by their card declining?

𓆃 He's not attached to an unhealthy extent to the concept of being a man (or masculinity in general), but it is very important to him and a part of who he is.

𓆃 While this correlated to physical strength and status to him in his youth, as he grows older, this will manifest as healthy self-grooming, confidence in his communication skills, and emotional sharing, using language that doesn't denigrate others, and strong and inclusive leadership skills.

𓆃 And it's important to note that Jean's idea of being a man also strongly correlates to taking care of and caring for you.

𓆃 He's especially skilled at baking, and prides himself on making meals for you. Whether it's baked goods for special occasions or little treats like breakfast in bed, Jean enjoys using his skill in the kitchen to surprise you.

𓆃 Even if his surprises are impractical. You might have to tell him that while some of his gestures are thoughtful, they aren't practical.

𓆃 Breakfast in bed means you have to change the sheets because crumbs got everywhere. His running you a nice bath with flower petals was thoughtful, but you had just seen the largest insect you had ever seen in your entire life and you think it ran to hide in the towels.

𓆃 He gets a bit down on himself the same way you paying for your date would. Where he almost sees it as a personal failure. That he wants to do nice things for you and it's embarrassing when he doesn't hit the mark.

𓆃 Jean has a bad habit of inadvertently taking this out on you by becoming quiet and pouting, making you regret saying anything. That's a conversation to have.

𓆃 And sometimes he's misguided about what he thinks is best: for you, for himself, and for both of you.

𓆃 Sometimes, he'll fixate on something "chivalrous" to an annoying extent.

𓆃 Perhaps he notices you're walking on the street side of the sidewalk, he might grab you by the shoulders and physically move you to the other side saying, "Nope, wrong side."

𓆃 That might be annoying to you, and you'll have to remind him multiple times to stop.

𓆃 That's one thing that might be concerning to you, is when he locks into something, he needs to be told multiple times before he actually listens to you.

𓆃 He also has a hard time setting boundaries with his mother, so hope you have a good relationship with Mama Kirstein.

𓆃 Overall, Jean clearly cares about you very much. He's just a little slow when it comes to change and admitting when one thing isn't the answer to everything.

𓆃 It might take you both some time to adjust to and communicate how you want your relationship to operate, but once Jean understands what you need, you'll never want for anything.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

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adamsvanrhijn · 10 months

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RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by @dnickels. like the last time i did this: i am not sharing all of my wips + nor tagging as many people as i have WIPs because we would be here all day. not even sure i follow enough people. ie i am going to limit it to my tga ones because there are fewer of those.

tooooo many basic bitch lyric titles incoming, INCLUDING at least one that is not even a song i like much but the lyrics spoke 2 me for blorbo, i posted about that one a while ago. i bet you can guess. i used to have good taste idk when i lost it (2020). also several untitled where it took the first lines of the document. such is the way of google docs. this feels deeply embarrassing

Untitled document

(your love was) handmade for somebody like me

[we were somewhere else]

1.01

1.09

5 times

1875 Adams gives the usher two dollars

at dinner parties i'll call you out on your contrarian shit <3

Boston (like it could be love)

drafting

first at oscar's

first meetings

hands

hold me in your humble grace (i can feel the sun on you)

home first time

house hunting

i keep a close watch on this heart of mine

incomplete list of men experiencing "college age man" syndrome

lunch bank holiday

moving in together something something

no working title 1.09

politics etc

post Newport

stargazing

we were a fresh page on the desk (filling in the blanks as we go)

he's been in ~europe~

mirror

noisy

Oscar catches him by the wrist, gently

vamp

you could be the one that i love

i can still make the whole place shimmer (i'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror)

"So soon

tagging: @likehandlingroses, @votsalot, @madeline-kahn, @javert, @whartonists, @effervescentyellow, @shortcrust, @sinceremercy, @marschallin, @torturelabyrinth

#fic talk tag

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thebookreader12345 · 3 years

Text

Friendly Parenting Pt. 2

Pairing: Connor Rhodes x reader

Summary: Owen is now a few months old, and Natalie and Will decide to set Y/N up on a date with Connor

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of a car accident and heart problems

Word Count: 1,509 Words

Pt. 1 Pt. 3

“You’re late,” Maggie told me as I entered the ED.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promised Natalie I would drop Owen off at her mother-in-law’s place, but just before I could leave, he spit up on me and I had to change and-”

Maggie cut me off. “If I didn’t know you and Nat’s situation, I’d say you sound like a mom. Hurry up and drop your stuff off. I’ve got a case for you.”

“All right. Give me two minutes,” I say and rush into the lounge. I practically threw everything into my locker and shoved my stethoscope into my coat pocket. Pulling my hair up into a ponytail, I made a beeline for the exit only to be blocked by Connor.

“What’s the rush?” Connor asked.

“I was late today, and if I don’t get back to Maggie in the next 45 seconds, I’m toast,” I exclaim. “Excuse me.” I went to walk around Connor, but he gently grabbed my arm and stopped me from leaving the lounge. “Connor, I said I have to go.”

“Calm down, would ya? You’re working with me today. And you’re not really late considering that our patient hasn’t even come in yet,” Connor notified me.

“Oh. Sorry,” I reply. Connor gave me a small smile, and I could feel a light blush creeping up onto my cheeks, so I turned around so that Connor couldn’t see it. I then made my way back to my locker to organize it since I had the time. “Got any info on our case?”

“Not much. All I know is that it’s a car crash vic. Apparently he lost consciousness at the wheel, hence the car crash,” Connor stated.

“Sounds exhilarating,” I joke.

“What? Not your kind of case?” Connor asked, even though he knew me well enough to already have the answer to that question.

“I prefer the cases that keep you on your toes. The ones that start as a mystery and have you dying to figure out what’s going on even though it’s staring you right in the face. Those are the cases that get my adrenaline pumping, and they’re the ones that make me feel like I’m really helping people out,” I admit.

“Connor! Y/N! Incoming!” Maggie shouted from the nurses’ station at the ED.

“Duty calls,” Connor proclaimed.

“Duty calls,” I repeat and follow him out of the lounge and into the ED. “What have we got?”

“Mason Porter. Age 63. He lost consciousness at the wheel and caused a two car collision at an intersection downtown,” one of the paramedics informed us.

“Mr. Porter? Can you hear me?” I question as the paramedics transferred him from the gurney to one of the beds in the ED.

“I may be old, but I’m not deaf,” Mr. Porter responded. I see we had ourselves a jokester on our hands.

“You ever lose consciousness like this before?” Connor asked.

Mr. Porter shook his head. “Never. The paramedics said there might me something wrong with my ticker?”

“That’s for us to find out. Did you feel dizzy before you passed out? Or was it more sudden?” My question wasn’t answered, and I glanced at Mr. Porter to see that he was staring off into space. “Mr. Porter?” Mr. Porter looked my way, and when he saw me, he smiled.

“Ah, my beautiful granddaughter is here!” Mr. Porter said and reached up to touch my cheek. “Mya, why haven’t you come by more?”

“He’s hallucinating. Chances are he’s got a severe case of endocarditis. We need a chest x-ray in here,” Connor called out into the ED. Seconds later, the machine was brought into the room, and Connor and I plus the others in the room put on our protective aprons. The x-ray tech positioned the x-ray over Mr. Porter’s chest, took a picture, and then the picture of Mr. Porter’s chest popped up on the computer connected to the machine. “What’d I say? Endocarditis,” Connor spoke and smiled at me.

“You’re always right, aren’t you?” I question teasingly as Connor grabbed onto one of the bed’s rails.

“Most of the time, yeah,” Connor replied with a small smirk. “Look, I’ve got to get Mr. Porter up to surgery.”

“Okay. Have fun,” I exclaim as Connor pushed Mr. Porter’s bed out of the room. I exited the trauma room and walked up to the nurses’ station to get another case, and as I was waiting for Maggie, Will walked over to me. “Hey, Will. What’s up?”

“You, me, Nat, Molly’s. Tonight after shift,” Will told me.

“Will, I was up for half of the night with Owen,” I confess.

“Right, which is exactly why you need a night out. Natalie’s getting Helen to keep Owen for a bit longer, so everything is taken care of. I’m not taking no for an answer,” Will declared.

I sighed. “Fine. Molly’s tonight after shift.” Later that night, after my shift had ended and I changed into some new clothes, I headed to Molly’s. When I walked inside, I didn’t see Natalie or Will, but I did spot Connor sitting at the bar. I made my way over to him and slid into the barstool at his side, waving Herrmann down. “Hey, Connor.”

“Hey,” Connor responded as Herrmann walked over to me.

“What’ll it be, Y/N? Just a beer?” Herrmann guessed.

“You know it,” I say.

“Herrmann, put her drink on my tab,” Connor requested.

“Gotcha,” Herrmann confirmed and placed a beer in front of me.

“You didn’t have to pay for my drink. I make money too, you know,” I remind him. Connor smiled and took a sip of his beer.

“I know, but I wanted to,” Connor disclosed. I only shook my head and took a sip of my drink. After about twenty minutes, Natalie and Will were still nowhere to be found. I sighed and glanced at my phone to see if either of them had texted, but I had no new notifications. “You waiting for a text or something?” Connor asked me.

“Not exactly. Will and Natalie were supposed to meet me here after shift,” I answer.

“Wait a minute. I’m also waiting for Will and Nat,” Connor claimed. At that moment, everything made sense. I groaned and took a big gulp of beer in front of me, enjoying the way the bitter alcohol burned my throat. “Something wrong?”

“Natalie and Will, they set us up,” I inform him.

“Set us up? What are you talking about?” Connor questioned.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “I may have told Natalie that I liked you, and in turn she told Will, and so they tried to set us up. I feel so embarrassed,” I murmur.

“Why? I told Will the exact same thing,” Connor spoke.

“Hold on. You like me?” I ask.

Connor nodded. “I’ve liked you since the moment I got back to Chicago and got a job at Med.”

“Well, I did not see this coming,” I state.

Connor laughed. “Me either. But since we’re here, and we both know that we like each other, Y/N, would you like to consider this our first date?”

“I would love to,” I say and wave Herrmann down towards us again. “Herrmann, we’re going to need some more beers.” The night went really well. It was nice getting to talk to Connor outside of work. There was so much we didn’t know about each other, and tonight gave us the opportunity to learn more. After a few drinks, it was getting late, so Connor and I decided to head out. Connor walked me to my car, and just before I could climb into the driver’s seat, I turned to Connor. “You know, there’s one thing we still have to do to make this first date official.”

“I think I already know what that one thing is,” Connor muttered and leaned forwards, pressing his lips to mine. I smiled against Connor’s mouth and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his body closer to mine. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was an amazing few seconds. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Connor,” I reply. The whole ride home, I was filled with happiness. I couldn’t believe I had kissed Connor. When I walked inside me and Nat’s shared house after about a five minute drive, I still had a smile on my face.

“You’re smiling,” Natalie pointed out. “And I’m guessing that because you’re smiling, things went well between you and Connor.”

“It was wonderful,” I breathe out and plop down on the couch next to her.

“And I’m ready to hear all about it. Spill,” Natalie demanded. The rest of that night was spent with me telling Natalie about what had happened between me and Connor. And when it was finally time for me to go to bed, all I could think about was our date. I was super excited to see where things would go with Connor and I, and I was ready to see what awaited us in the future.

______________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett

#one chicago #chicago med #chicago med imagines #chicago med imagine #chicago med x reader #connor rhodes #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagines #x reader #imagine #imagines

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smallheathgangsters · 4 years

Text

Second Youngest | Part Two

Part One

A/N: This took way longer than it should have and I thoroughly apologise for that! There have been so many people asking for a part two and I hope you are happy with what I came up with :) Also, I switched from third person to second person, because I felt more comfortable while writing. Love you all, stay safe and healthy! 🧡

Tag List: @annabethgranger123 @marvelschriss @bloodorangemoonlight @chill-bee

Shelby!Sister Reader

Word Count: 1599

Type: angst, some fluff

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

It was horrible, downright dreadful, hearing Finn argue with your family, while you were in the kitchen doing the dishes. The water in the sink was very hot, but the burning sensation was a distraction you welcomed. Still, it was impossible for you to ignore the conversation going on in the room next to you.

“She never once complained in all these years and now suddenly she’s upset about her situation?” you heard Polly scoff.

“The way you’re reacting to this is exactly the reason why she’d always been afraid to speak up about it!”

Finn’s voice sounded very frustrated and you felt bad for having him stand up for you. You hated yourself for not having the courage to hold the conversation yourself. To be your own fighter. You’d initially rejected Finn’s offer to talk to the family, but he’d insisted and there had been nothing you could’ve done to make him change his mind. He’d been very determined to start integrating you into the Shelby household in a way that was more respectful and loving.

But it seemed hopeless. The venom, the dripping poison in their words weren’t indicating any progress towards a compromise and all you wanted to do was get Finn out of the crossfire he was in. Tell him to leave it be, but that you were thankful for his dedication to make you part of the family.

“Pretty pathetic if you ask me,” Michael huffed, and Arthur agreed. “Sending her little brother? That’s exactly why she can’t be a part of our business.”

“Can’t you just give her a chance? She’s done nothing wrong!” Finn pleaded. You shuddered at Finn’s begging. There was no reason for him to put himself in a position like that. As the youngest of them all, he’d had it hard already, constantly having to prove himself to his brothers … he shouldn’t be risking the loss of respect he’d gained up until now because of you.

“Look Finn, if she’s not ready to speak up for herself, we’re not going to change anything to her satisfaction. Life isn’t easy and she apparently still needs to learn that.”

Tommy’s voice sounded calm, firm and bored. Bored of you. “Now please stop embarrassing yourself and get back to work.”

Immediately, there were chairs being pushed back and the footsteps of multiple people were audible. After only a few seconds, your brothers and Polly were out the door and peace returned. Finally. The house was quiet again and you let out the breath you were holding, freeing your lungs from the slight pain it had caused. Free of pain. The one thing you so desperately wished for.

You closed your eyes while your hands were holding a porcelain plate under water. When you heard a careful knock on the door, your eyelids sprung open and you started scrubbing the residue of food off the plate, almost a little forcefully.

You knew it was Finn, wanting to check up on you. He was aware that you’d been unintentionally eavesdropping from the kitchen and already knew what news he was bringing.

Finn pushed the kitchen door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I really tried–“

“I know, Finn,” you interrupted him, placing the last plate next to the sink and shaking the water off your hands. Then, you turned around to face him, your back leaning against the counter. “And it’s okay. You did more than I ever wanted you to do.”

Finn’s face turned into an angry frown. “But I don’t understand why they’re being so stubborn!”

“Finn!” you said a little louder. “I said it’s okay. I don’t want you to be upset. I really appreciate what you did.”

Finn let out a loud sigh. “It’s still not fair.”

“It’s what it is.”

A few seconds later the two of you ended up in a warm, comforting hug. One that reminded you that even though nothing was good at the moment, it’ll eventually be okay. That you’ll find happiness someday, somewhere. Just not here. A realisation you had needed for the longest time.

And that realisation lead to a decision. The decision to leave. For good.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Finn’s voice was shaky. You watched him nervously look around the train station. Nervous about being spotted with you. Well, not with you exactly. But being spotted at the train station with you.

“Yes, I’m more than sure,” you assured him, sending your brother a kind smile. “And to be honest, I’m actually really excited.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. And while the sun tickled Finn’s face, highlighting the countless, beautiful freckles, the train rolled in. Loudly, puffing angrily. Your eyes wandered over to the steel machine making its way closer and closer to you.

“You got the address?”

Another nod. “Thank you, Finn. For everything.”

“Please ring me as soon as possible.”

You promised and got on the train, although not before giving your sweet brother one last hug. One that was even warmer, more loving. More understanding. A friendly farewell.

London was busy. Just as Finn told you. Busy and noisy. But so pretty. And a lot less dirty than Birmingham. It smelled of luxury and wealth. Like the scent of an expensive perfume tingling in your sensitive nose. Tingling in a good way, one that gave you little butterflies in your stomach. Just like the kind you got when you passed a cute stranger on the streets.

You’d followed Finn’s instructions on the tiny paper note he’d given you the morning before you left for the new city. He had promised you that the man at the address had a job as a secretary for you. The initial feeling of doubt haunting you as you knocked on the door in one of the creepy back alleys of London had been unjustified. The man behind it was polite and very happy about getting a helping hand. The pay wasn’t huge, but enough for you. A small apartment and a place you felt home was all you needed. And that had been exactly what you’d received. Nothing more, nothing less.

And you were happy. Very happy. With every day the loneliness, the worthlessness, all the negativity Birmingham and your family had caused you, drifted further away. Up and away into the mostly cloudy, dark sky of the city. Your boss made you feel like you were relevant. Needed even. Some nights you laid awake, wondering how all of this had improved so quickly, swiftly. Huffing to yourself and shaking your head at how incapable and stubborn your family had been and how little it had taken to turn your whole world upside down. In a good way.

Unfortunately, only a few months in, on a rainy Tuesday morning, your boss was waiting for you with unlucky news.

“What does that mean?” you gasped.

“That means there’s no way for us to achieve the breakeven-point. Our incomes are too low,” he explained, the tone in his voice almost a little embarrassed.

You gulped audibly, playing with your fingers, unsure of what to do with yourself. “What now, Sir?”

“Don’t you worry, dear. I have a friend, a very talented businessman, who could use a motivated and diligent employee like you.”

“But what about you?” you asked him, genuinely worried about his future. “Do you have a plan for yourself?”

But just as he opened his mouth to respond, there was a knock on his office door, his gaze promptly leaving you. “Oh, that must be him already.”

“Him?”

“Your potential new employer.”

“Why–“

The loud exclamation leaving your boss’s mouth, inviting the stranger in, cut your sentence off. And with that, your conversation was finished already, leaving you with many open questions and a little overwhelmed.

Your eyes observed the door swinging open and a rather short man stepping into the room. Or maybe he wasn’t actually that short. Maybe his hunched posture made him seem smaller than he was. He was wearing a white shirt, one of his braces hanging loosely by his side, the other one over his shoulder, where it should be. He looked anything but a talented businessman.

“Brother! Glad you could make it!”

Had your boss’s voice just gotten slightly higher? Or was that your paranoia creeping up? The weird feeling tapping on your shoulder, reminding you of the fact that you frankly knew nothing about your boss and even less about the peculiar man standing in the doorframe.

“This the secretary you told me ‘bout?”

His steps were slow. Heavy. Dragging themselves over the floor.

You held your breath when he halted in front of you. A little too close. You were sure you were able to make out his eye colour from this distance. Blue? Greenish even?

Did he hear your heartbeat in your chest? Was he trying to make you uncomfortable? Nervous?

You gulped. But the lump in your throat was still there.

Then, you slowly held out a hand, hoping to stop him eyeing you up and down. He accepted your greeting, grabbing your hand firmly. His was rough and large.

“D’you have a name, lovely?”

You nodded, reminding yourself of Finn’s note. The last sentence on it. In bold letters. DO NOT USE YOUR REAL NAME, OR MY FAMILY WILL FIND YOU.

“Y/N … Smith.”

Smith. Your mother’s last name. One of the only things you knew about her.

The man kept shaking your hand, making you question if he’d ever let it go again.

“My pleasure. Call me Alfie. Solomons.”

#peaky blinders #second youngest #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders fanart #shelby!sister #shelby!sis #shelby reader #finn shelby

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Gun violence, child death, suicide, suffocation, cliffhanger

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess

~~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure about this, (L/N)?"

"Positive. It's all in the details. We needed to narrow down the suspects, and considering how this woman didn't just shoot these men, and the drugs aren't cheap, I had to make the connection." You insist, placing the map in front of Hotch and putting a finger on the highlighted neighborhood. Garcia had printed it out for you quickly so you could show Hotch and hopefully catch this bitch.

"It matches the profile in that our unsub is still a medical worker, just in a place where schooling isn't required. Such as a long-term care facility or an urgent care." Spencer cut in, backing up your statement.

Hotch sighed and looked from you to Spencer. "Alright, have Garcia run the profile by the urgent care near the neighborhood. See if it matches any of their employees. If we get any matches, we'll send out a few people to scout her house." He says, turning around and leaving the room as soon as he had walked in.

Pretty soon afterwards, you were alone with Spencer again. Not that you didn't to be.

"That was good work." He spoke up, gathering the map and papers up from the table. "You wanna call Garcia or should I?" He adds after a moment.

You keep your head down, afraid that if you look him in the eye he'd be able to see all of the covert thoughts you had about him. Even through the seriousness of this case, your mind wandered back to what had occured just days before. You were still unsure as to what he had meant by any of it. No matter how hard you tried to play it off as just an accidental touch, your heart wouldn't let you.

You nervously pull a strand of loose hair behind your ear and chuckle to distract Spencer from your lack of looking him in the eye. "I-I can do it. Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

You might've been looking down, but you still caught the wide smile that Spencer flashed towards you. "Of course. You'll sleep when we get home though." He insists, playfully pointing at you.

"I dunno, I might just live off coffee like my favorite Doctor." You tease, picking up your now cold coffee cup and taking a sip.

You heard a few footsteps, but no reply. Which confused you. Until you turned your head and finally met Spencer’s eyes that stared intently into yours.

"Oh, so I'm your favorite now? If I'm your favorite, you should listen to me." He says softly, standing so closely to you and giving you the most intense look with his brown, hazel eyes. You couldn't look into them, no matter how much you wanted to.

It took you longer than expected to finally respond, but when you did you felt like a flopping fish out of water. "B-but w-what if I don't want to? What if… I prefer coffee to sleep?" He had you in his hands almost like putty. And you knew he could mold you any way he wanted. You just hoped he didn't know that.

"You sure about that? Did you know that if a strong enough emotion is felt, your voice betrays you if you try to deny it?" You can feel your inner resolve crumbling. And he wasn't even doing anything! He was probably just trying to get you to take care of yourself. Which you should. But you just had to be a brat about it. "It's actually really interesting, we usually go for the facial expression one gives off, but most people can learn to fake an emotion through their face. But the voice…"

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest by now. You could feel his breathing against your neck. He was so damn close! And you had nowhere to run because of his damn legs. He'd catch you in an instant. You gulped and looked him back in the eyes. What were you doing?

"The voice can't really be trained to not give away how a person feels. Especially when it's strong enough. Now tell me, when did you get the confidence in the last three minutes and 43 seconds to look me in the eye again?" He finally backed away, raising an eyebrow at you as you finally straightened your posture and tried to compose yourself.

You stayed quiet however, unsure of whatever could be appropriate to respond with to that tone of voice. What was he doing? You wanted so bad to lean forward, take his soft, thick lips in yours and push him against the stale countertops inside the police station.

"I-I… I gotta c-call Garcia. I'll let you know if we get any matches." You almost feel like kicking yourself as you back away from him and practically flee the room. This was getting to be too much. Were you reading too much into your and his interactions? Or was this really something that he wanted to try?

You couldn't trust your own feelings anymore. So you did the next best thing: you called Garcia. You hoped that maybe you could chat a little more after you gave Garcia the addresses and the urgent care to go through. You had to talk to somebody and she was the only person that you had gotten the feeling that she wouldn't tease you for how you felt.

"Hello my lovely! Decided to call me finally? What can I do for you my fine furry friend?" Garcia asks cheerfully. You couldn't help but smile at how happily she greeted you. And she had only just met you.

"Yeah, sorry Penelope

Everyone else has been calling you for me. So now it's my turn." You tease. "Anyway, I thought maybe we were looking at the income of our unsub the wrong way."

"Ooh, thinking outside the box, I likey. Whatcha got, Darling?"

"The neighborhood I had you highlight, I want you to cross reference the residents with the people who work at the urgent care nearby. If any fit, run the profile by their employer. I think we may be able to catch this woman after all."

"Oh I love the way you think. I'll get on that at godspeed my queen. Garcia out-"

"Wait-!" You interject, sighing gently.

"Oh? Can I help you with something else, your gorgeous highness?" Garcia asked, and you could hear the eyebrow wiggle. Guess that's what you got from hanging out with Gabriel too much.

"Okay, uh, I gotta tell somebody about this before my mouth explodes all my secrets. You think you can keep it?" You ask nervously. You wanted to trust this woman so badly. You needed a girlfriend who didn't put you down for dating any guys. Or liking any for that matter, like Iris.

"Oh, some gossip! I will keep my lips sealed with superglue my lovely! Now tell me all the juicy details!"

You giggle and look around, being sure no one but Garcia could hear you. "Okay… I don't know what the hell is going on with Reid but… I kinda like him. He's cute, I'll admit it. I used to do some hacking and I found pictures of him. He was my celebrity crush. But make it FBI." You ranted. "And now I'm getting mixed signals from him. Like just a couple days ago, his hand like--brushed against my hip as I went to try and help him with the geographical profile, and he was so damn close!" You hiss into the phone. "A-and today? He got super close again. And he practically had me trapped. But other than that, I don't get any other signs that maybe he might like me. Even if he's just attracted to me. So you can understand my dilemma." You sigh, leaning against the wall.

Garcia was quiet for a few moments, making you worried that she was going to judge you or put you down for being so stupid. Then you had to pull the phone away from your ear for a few seconds as Garcia squealed.

"Oh my god I knew it! You two totally hit it off when you came in here for your first day! I knew there was something there! It's totally okay to feel like that. I don't know what you see in that boy, but go after him like the queen you are." She insists.

"Heh, I dunno if I'll do anything yet. I want to see if things go anywhere first. Even if he just wants to be friends. I just want to be sure I'm not adding another embarrassing memory that I will never forget. But thanks Garcia."

"Of course my sweetness. That's what I'm here for. Other than being the techie for the FBI." She says sweetly.

"I gotta go, let me know if there are any matches." You finally lead off.

"Of course! Wait, hold on,"

"What is it?"

"You'd think the search would massively decrease the amount of suspects, right? Well all of the suspect-women in this neighborhood, are working at this urgent care. It's like single mom central." Garcia answered, typing away on her computer.

"That's alright, thanks Garcia. Run that by the employer with the new list of names anyway, see if he'll give any of them up." You say.

"Will do. Talk soon!"

You can't help but smile to yourself as she hangs up. She really was untameable. Not that you would want to.

You turn your head and begin to head down the station hallway as you see Reid race out of the room with the evidence.

"He-hey! What's going on?" You ask in a mild panic.

"We have a witness, the unsub tried to kill again."

○●♡●○

"Any information at all would help, Mr.Greeley." You assure, sitting in front of the man in the chair with his head laid against the table.

"I want my wife. I want my son." He says in a hiccuped tone.

"I know, sir. But if you can give us any distinguishing features it can help us narrow down our suspects to find her." You assure again, laying a gentle hand on his.

"Are they on their way?" He asks, looking at you with sore, red eyes.

"Yes sir. We've called some of the nearby officers to come bring them. Alright?"

The door to the room opens and you both look up, seeing Prentiss join the two of you. "Everything okay?" She asks.

"Yeah, he's just shaken up. Who wouldn't be?" You say, sighing. "Darren, would you be up to having a sketch artist come in here? If you don't feel up to sharing what she looked like that's fine." You turn and ask the newest almost-victim.

"No it… I can give you a few things. She… she had dirty blond hair. It was… messy. Her skin was pale, her fingers were calloused. A-and… her eyes were brown. Oh god her eyes…" he whispered, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm deeply sorry this happened to you. This information will greatly help the investigation. We will find this woman. Do you still feel okay with the sketch artist coming in?" Emily asked, gesturing towards the door. Silently, the man nodded. You stood up and nodded to Emily, leaving the room to bring the news to everyone else.

"Did he see her?" Morgan asks, walking up to you from the semi-circle the team had formed near the room you had been talking with the victim.

"Yeah. Got a good look at her too. Apparently she missed his blood entirely and poured the drugs onto her shirt instead of injecting him with it. So when she pushed him to the ground he got to see her eyes. Garcia's working on faxing us the photos now, see if the sketch will match anything." You nod to him, noticing the fax machine beginning to run.

Once the photos were faxed, you carried them over to the desk Reid was currently leaning against. You dropped them onto the surface and sighed. "About 23 women, and one description that is super common. How fast do you think we'll get stuck?" You ask him, giving Spencer a teasing look.

"I doubt we will. Once we narrow these women down to what he saw, we can show them in a line-up fashion. See which one sparks a memory." Reid assures, looking down at the photos and closing the file in his hands.

"I cannot imagine being this woman and thinking that I should kill these men because they just became fathers. I mean, I can understand her not wanting other women to have to deal with becoming single mothers because their partners decide to skedaddle. But still, give him a chance first." You rant, beginning to sort through the photos by whether or not the suspects fit the description.

"True. However in her state of mind she probably views all men the same. That they'll all eventually leave her. Maybe her father left too." Spencer suggests, taking a few photos and sorting them with you once he noticed the pattern.

"That could be true. But I guess we won't know until we get a match-" you sigh.

Emily hurried out of the interview room and carried a sketch pad with her. "Here," she says, placing the drawing paper in front of you. "Do any of the suspects look like her?"

You push the unlikely suspects pile of photos away, about to find Emily her answer, when Spencer spoke up for you.

"Yes, she was one of the first women you sorted." He says, flipping through the pile faster than you ever could and pulling out a photo. "Here, this is her." He says.

"Let's get this photo back to Garcia, see if she can get us a name." You cut in, standing up and picking up the forgotten pictures. Emily nods to you and heads off to fax the photo back to Garcia.

○●♡●○

"What do you got, baby girl?"

"We got a name, Kathy Burgess. She's a single mother, recently gave birth to her son Jason about 7 months ago and--oh my god…" Garcia trails.

"What is it Garcia?" You ask, hurrying your feet towards the SUV's. She hadn't given you all an address yet, but it wasn't too late not to get ready to head out.

"Her husband was killed in Afghanistan 3 months ago after being deployed the week before her son was born. He had left them for another woman, who ended up getting pregnant." Garcia answered.

"Do you have an address Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"Y-yes, 176 Washington Blvd."

"Let's go." Hotch announces, pulling out his radio and letting the rest of the team and police know.

○●♡●○

You pulled into the road followed by a SWAT van, unknowing what was going to meet you behind this woman's door. You all piled out of the SUV's and headed towards the building.

"Is she here? Do we know for sure?" You ask, unholstering your gun and making sure it was loaded.

"She has to be. She has nowhere else to hide. Neighbors reported her coming home about 30 minutes ago." Hotch answered, beginning to fasten on his bullet proof vest. "I need Morgan and Reid to head in first, try and see if you can get the child out first."

"Wait, Hotch," you begin.

"What is it?"

"Kathy has been killing men because she doesn't trust them. So I don't think she's going to listen to Morgan or Reid. Why don't I go in? Try to negotiate with her. It'll get us more time to find a clear shot of her if she decides to retaliate." You reason.

"I don't know (L/N). You haven't gotten much experience with negotiating yet."

"Which is why I should start now. I… I may not know what it's like to have a child and then have the father walk away on me, but I know what it's like to feel abandoned and unwanted." You plead. Reid looks at Hotch hesitantly, turning his attention to you after a moment.

"She is right, Hotch. She's not gonna get any experience unless we let her." Morgan encourages.

"Alright. Keep her occupied. Try to negotiate with her. After five minutes, we'll head in after you."

You nod to Hotch and immediately grab a bullet proof vest, fastening it around your button down shirt you had packed and worn today. It was getting later and later, the sun was about a half hour from setting. You didn't have much time to get her out of there before light was a problem.

You then headed into the building, easing the burgundy wooden door open as you stalked inside. You aimed your pistol in each direction you looked. This building was a two story. You didn't know the layout, so you had to make it up as you went.

Once the lower level was cleared, you headed up the stairs, pushing open the door to the master bedroom and the bathroom before you found yourself in front of the only other room upstairs. You sighed and eased the door open.

Immediately Kathy turned around, clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest while clutching a gun in her other hand. "Don't get any fucking closer! I-i'll shoot him!" She threatened, aiming her gun at the small child in her hands.

"Ma'am, put the gun down, I just want to talk." You say, holding your hands up. "I'm just going to put my gun away, alright?" You cautiously alert her, putting the gun into your holster again. Pretty soon the gun in Kathy's hand gets trained on you.

"Leave us alone-I just wanted to save other women from this fate-!" Kathy says shakily, the gun in her hand wavering it's aim.

"I know, Kathy. What your husband did to you was unfair. But what you did to those women and their husbands is worse. Those men didn't want to leave their children."

"They would've! All men do it! Harris did! My father! My brother! Every man I've ever known has walked out on me! How would I have known that they wouldn't walk out on them too?!" Kathy screeches, tears building up in her eyes.

"Kathy, there are plenty of men in the world who would never walk out on a partner or their baby. You can't stereotype them all to be the same. Put the gun down, and I'll get you and your son some help." You assure, taking a step forward. You heard the stairs creaking behind you. You were too late.

"Who is that?!" Kathy asks, waving the gun towards you more threateningly.

"Don't worry about them, just focus on me."

"No! They're all men! All men lie! All men leave! My son's left me too!" She wailed, clutching at the baby in her arms.

You widen your eyes at her confession, becoming too stunned to listen for Hotch. "Kathy… what did you do?" You ask.

"Kathy Burgess, put the gun down and come with us quietly. We don't want any harm." Hotch called to her. You widen your eyes farther. You had her so close why did they have to come in now-

"No! All you men do is lie! Lie lie lie!" Kathy ranted, hitting the barrel of the gun against her head. "But I won't let you win again." She says darkly. You begin to jump into action, but it was too late.

As soon as you took another step, Kathy trained the gun onto herself and shot through her chin, splattering blood against the wall. You race over and catch her falling child before it can hit the ground, slamming your own chest in the process.

You stand up, holding the child, but feel an absence of warmth. You furrow your brow, a pit of worry in your chest beginning to grow heavier as each of the signs come together.

You feel a crack form in your heart as you clutch the tiny, blue-faced child in your arms. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. If only you had gotten here sooner. The body was still a bit warm. Meaning she had suffocated him recently. If only you had reached her and convinced her to put him down.

"(L/N), (L/N) is something wrong with-" you hear Reid begin, causing the hurt in your chest to magnify. You feel your lip tremble as you push past the genius and carry the child down the stairs, never letting go of his tiny body.

Reid must've taken the hint, as you heard him tell Hotch as you took the stairs to the bottom floor. You had seen your brother in this child. His little curly tuff of hair was something you had only seen in your younger brother. This was too personal. It was like holding a dead version of him in your arms.

You carried the child out of the house, closing your eyes tightly as the paramedics, who had been called, tried to approach you and take the child.

"Ma'am, ma'am we have to take him-" the paramedic began to explain, depleting the amount of control you cared to have over your response in an instant.

"There's no point, she suffocated him at least 5 minutes before I got to her." You answered, snapping just a tad.

The woman in front of you sighed, directing the rest of her team to head inside. "Ma'am, I'll take it from here." She says, gesturing for you to give her the child. If you were in your normal state of mind, you'd do it no questions asked. But this was different. You held the body even closer to your chest, trying not to cry in front of this woman.

"(L/N)..." it was Reid. How the hell was he upstairs and then back down to deal with your bullshit? The person you expected to come check on you had been Prentiss. Or JJ of all people. At the sound of Reid's voice, your resolve completely crumbled, and you handed the child to the paramedic.

"Based on the warmth of the skin and the blueness of the face, he died at least ten minutes before we got here." Spencer started, looking at the back of your head. It was the only way he knew to comfort you in the moment: statistics.

But that didn't matter to you.

Spencer sighed, looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. "You… you can cry you know. No one is going to judge you for it."

That's what broke the dam. You sniffled and turned your body towards his, hugging him tightly almost immediately. You could feel his body stiffen for a moment, almost making you pull back. But then he eased up and laid a hand on your back and one on your head, hoping to comfort you by holding you. He had read that was supposed to be helpful.

You couldn't help but cry, holding onto him like this. How could your first case go so badly?

○●♡●○

By the time you all had arrived home, you were drained of almost everything. You all piled into the bullpen, the eyes of everyone in the room turning to you as they noticed the tired eyes with the darker bags that you wore.

You sighed and took off your holster, storing it in one of the open drawers of your given desk. You run a tired hand through your hair, looking up at the rest of the team who were equally as tired and bummed out as you were. It was 8 in the morning after all. There had been a delay in getting in the air that had lasted a few hours, making you all late.

"(L/N), my office, please." Hotch called as soon as everyone was all through and settled into their desks. You exhale tiredly and place your bag down on the desk chair before heading towards Hotch's office.

You stepped in and closed the glass door behind you. You stood in front of Hotch's desk, nodding to him. "You… wanted to see me sir?" You asked.

"Yes, (Y/N). Yesterday, you did well on your negotiation. After some reevaluation of the situation I believe you could have gotten Kathy out on your own." Hotch informed, going over the papers. It felt weird for someone to call you by your first name after everyone on the team had been calling you by your last name for the entire case.

"Thank you, sir." You reply.

"However, I think the last part of the case got a little too personal for you. I have not looked in your file, but I assume this has something to do with something in that file."

"Actually… Hotch…" you sigh. "I… I saw my brother in that baby. I raised my brother for most of my childhood. And for me to have not reached him in time…" you take a deep breath, avoiding the increasingly obvious sob that wanted to escape your throat. "It was just sensitive for me, sir. I promise, it won't happen again."

"Since this is your first case, I'll give you a pass. But try to stay focused on the case and not on family matters. Understood?" Hotch clarifies, looking you in the eyes. You can see he's only saying this because he has to. He's flashing you a look of empathy, one you'd been given plenty of times, but never by a man in his authority.

"Y-yes sir." You reply, the tremor in your voice barely noticeable.

"Good. Now I expect to see you tomorrow. Go home and try to catch up on some sleep." He dismisses. You nod to him, and shortly thereafter leave his office.

"Hey."

You turn your head, brown eyes meeting yours. "Huh? Oh… hey." You reply back, swallowing a sigh as you turn to talk to the genius.

"Is… uh… is everything alright with Hotch?" He asked.

"Yeah, he just wanted to let me know how I did and what I could improve on. Nothing much." You reply, forcing your face to stiffen and wipe away the beginnings of tears. But then you remembered what Spencer had said about the voice often betraying the user when the emotion that is felt is strong enough.

"...Are you alright?"

You wanted to curse out your own heart for beginning to flutter. Now was not the time to be falling in love with the sexy doctor next to you.

"I… I think i'll be okay." You say semi-honestly, squeezing your eyes tight.

"Did you know that it's been proven that talking about one's problems can lead to catharsis, which is a feeling of calmness and relief. Of course… The pain is still there. But afterwards we have less built up feelings and the hurt hurts just a little less." He informed, putting one hand in his pocket and one on his messenger bag strap. You feel the beginnings of a smile form on your lips, making a small bit of the heaviness in your chest ease up.

"Is this your formal way of asking me for that coffee?" You tease gently. Spencer chuckled.

"Maybe…"

"Consider it a date then." You tease again, a small smile staying on your face. You look up at Spencer, not finding any indication that the idea of it being a date turned him off from the idea. "You wanna get out of here?"

"Sure. My car or yours?" He asks.

"Why not walk? Less pollution, and we can talk on the way." You insist.

"Considering the environment before our own needs. I didn't think that many people were like that anymore." He says, walking with you towards the elevator.

You giggle softly and press the down arrow. "Guess I'm not like most people." And you could almost swear you heard him reply with a soft 'No you're not.'

You both step into the elevator once the doors open, letting the doors close after you. Sure, you had left your bag inside, but you wouldn't need it till tomorrow. You had a date with your bed after you hung out with Spencer.

You both walked towards the exit once the elevator doors opened again, revealing to you the main lobby.

"So when are you going to reveal to me your favorite coffee order? Or are you going to keep that a secret too?" Spencer teased, walking beside you.

"Oh come on. I told you all I'd tell you my name soon. I just want to make sure this is where I wanna stay, that's all-" you begin, rolling your eyes with a growing smile on your face that soon plummeted when you saw who was in front of you.

"(Y/N) (M/N) Grant!"

Both you and Spencer jumped at the sudden sound, and you turned your head at the sound of your full name. You feel fear invade your heart as you recognize the woman who stood in front of you with shoulder pads and make-up that screamed 'I will squash you like a bug'

"Mother?"

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfic

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haos-the-tea · 4 years

Text

Rating: 18+ Pairing: Lee Seokmin x Fem!Reader Warning: Thigh riding, Semi Public, Daddy kink, light degradation WC: 1.6k+

A/N: So, this is the first fic like this i’ve ever done so I hope y’all like it <3

Tag List: @chewmycherry @suhdreams @hyeri-yah

“Fuck Princess, you’re really dirty aren’t you. Using me to get yourself off.” Seokmin’s voice urged you forward, grinding down on his thigh as your hands gripped his shoulders tightly. Slowly losing all sense of shame, along with your clothing, your jeans already thrown haphazardly across the small changing room. You weren’t sure exactly how you had gotten into this situation, especially considering you weren’t on the best terms with your co-star. Today you had simply tried to...extend an olive branch, complimenting how powerful his thighs were, and the next he was urging you to get off on them. This was not how you had expected this day to turn out.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Seokmin in this light, especially in those times were the two of you would stage kiss...and he would accidentally actually kiss you. He was an insufferable jock who somehow was also amazing at theatre, he was honestly just too perfect, there had to be something he was bad at. Turns out...that thing wasn’t sex. Honestly, It was almost unfair how quickly you were coming undone from just his thigh alone, but your grinding and his subtle flexing was definitely helping to send you closer to the edge. A strangled moan left you as he jerked his leg up ever so slightly, but it was just enough for you. You heard a small chuckle escape from his lips, much different from his usual boisterous laughter.

“You better hurry up, people are gonna start arriving soon. Call is at 6.” The warning set all your nerves alight. With all that had happened you had completely forgotten that rehearsals would be starting soon, and you would have to go out on stage with none other than the man you were currently using to get off. Your heart sputtered in your chest at the thought of getting caught by the rest of the cast. It brought a strange sense of anxiety mixed with pleasure as you lingered on the thought.

“S-Seok please.” You whimpered pitifully, your hips moving faster as you struggled to reach your high. You wanted more, no you needed him inside of you driving you to your climax with swift thrusts. You let out another moan, your eyes screwing shut as you imagined it. Though that outcome was unlikely, after all he hadn’t even touched you since this started, and at this point you were desperate for his hands.

“Please what, Princess? You’ve gotta use your words if you want something,” The innocent tone of his voice sent a sinful chill down your spine, he knew exactly what he was doing to you and he wasn’t even really doing anything yet. It was a completely different side of the man you knew, the face of pure sunshine that he usually embodied was still lingering below the surface but had taken on a much more blistering visage.

“Seok please please, I need you.” You muttered between moans, your hips not stopping their movement as you chased your high. You rested your head on his shoulder as you continued, low strangled moans escaping you at ever jut of your hips.

“Well, if you’re a good little Princess and cum for Daddy just like this, then maybe I’ll give you what you want.” You weren’t expecting your body to react in such a way to such words. You had never thought of yourself as an extremely kinky person, but hearing those words coming from Lee Seokmin was enough for you to rethink that stance.

His hands, which he had previously been using to prop himself up on the table of one of the many vanities inside the green room, reached up and firmly grabbed your hips to help you find your release. This was just enough to send you over the edge, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you tried your best to not moan too loudly. The risk of being caught was too high, especially when you weren’t exactly sure what time it was.

You felt the gentle press of a kiss on your head and his hand lifted to gently pat your head. “You did such a good job, do you think you can last a bit longer Princess?” he questioned. If it weren’t for the fact that you had just cum on his thigh, you would have almost imagined him to be in a much different situation. Taking a moment to catch your breath you nodded, not moving your head from his shoulder.

“I need you to use your words.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You honestly felt a bit embarrassed using the title, but couldn’t stop yourself from letting it slip out at his request. As soon as the words left your lips, he was pulling your panties to the side and letting his fingers play with your entrance before rubbing slow circles over your still sensitive clit, causing you to gasp and squirm against him as you were still far to sensitive from cumming once already. Whimpers leaving you as you as he slowly and teasingly slipped a single finger inside of you.

“You’re so loud Princess, does the thought of getting caught turn you on that much? Do you want everyone to know how filthy you are?” He questioned, his tone of voice far too cheerful for the words that passed from his lips. He slowly pumped his finger inside of you while he continued. You nodded once again, but this only seemed to cause the opposite of what you were wanting. He removed his hand from your core and laughed a bit as you whined.

“Such a needy Baby.” He muttered, pressing soft kisses onto your neck as you heard the slow sound of his zipper, lifting your head from his shoulder you glanced down and were met exactly what you were wanting to see. He had a nice curve, and was a bit thicker than your ex Soonyoung. You felt yourself clench around nothing, anticipating the pleasure you would soon be in. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what you want Princess.” You felt his soft kisses turn into small nips at your skin, causing more small moans to escape from you. Testing out different spots before he found one that caused your body to react the best, his lips attaching themselves to the spot, biting and sucking harshly to create a mark that you were sure would be visible at rehearsal.

You felt his thick member tease your entrance, getting close enough to touch but his hand kept your hips suspended in the air just above him. He seemed to enjoy taunting you more than he was enjoying the act itself.

“I need you Daddy, please. Please fuck me.” You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders as you bucked your hips down towards him. His grip hardened, and his lips detached themselves from your neck as he let out a small breathy laugh that caused your toes to curl.

“I guess since you asked so nicely, but you better keep quiet or I’ll stop.”

You did your best to nod in agreement as he slowly and teasingly lowered you down onto him, sliding into you with no issue and making sure to wait for you to adjust to his thicker girth before pulling out and thrusting firmly back into you. His hands gripping your hips and quickly finding a good pace. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and you tried your best to do as you were told. But one particularly hard thrust had you throwing your head back and letting out a sinfully loud moan.

Just as he had warned, Seokmin stopped and simply sat inside of you for a moment. His large hands holding your hips in place to keep you from squirming. You let out a soft sob, clenching around him as if pleading for him to continue.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry. Please daddy, please don’t stop.” You begged pitifully as you tried fruitlessly to move even slightly. Your body aching for another release, and he knew that, right now you were putty in his hands. “I’ll be quiet, i’ll be good!” You reassured, trying your best to whisper your pleas so that he would continue.

“You only get one more chance Princess,” the warning had you nodding rapidly, but despite your affirmation it took all of your willpower to not cry out as he picked up his pace once more. The sound of his grunts filled your ears like the sweetest music, which was saying something considering you had heard him sing.

“I wish I could take this slower, treat you to all the things I wanna do with you.” He moaned out as his pace quickened, desperately chasing his high so that the two of you wouldn’t be interrupted by the incoming drama club students. “Treat you like an actual Princess, spoil you real good. I’d eat you out for hours before finally taking you all night. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Oh god yes, yes. Please spoil me Daddy.” You begged, trying your best to keep your moans as quiet as possible so that he didn’t stop again. Despite his rule, your response seemed to be just what he wanted to hear. One of his hands left your thigh and reached down to rub your clit as he continued his quick pace.

“Of course you would, my spoiled little princess.” His thumb pressed harshly against your clit, causing you to sink your teeth into his clothed shoulder just to try and keep yourself from moaning too loudly. “Such a good girl, can you cum for me again?”

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kittasune · 3 years

Text

“winter warmth”

“WINTER WARMTH”

📘┊pairing. akaashi keiji x gn!reader

🔖┊tags. post-time skip, fluff, co-worker friends to lovers, mutual pinning, holidays, seasons abloom

📚┊wc. 4.3k

📖┊note. I wrote this for akaashi’s birthday but i’ve been meaning to write this fic for a long time now. well, here’s my first fic posted on tumblr! feel free to message me your thoughts! i plan to make this an on-going series of small one-shots so… please expect more in the future.

The biting cold that accompanies the change in seasons looms over the metropolitan city of Tokyo, the city where Akaasji Keiji was born, where his career is, and most importantly; where the love of his life is – the International Library of Children’s Literature. Literature has always been one of Akaashi’s passions to pursue as it opens endless doors of opportunities that could grant him success in the future. The majority of his stress stems from his work,

“Having a job and a stable career makes you successful!”

“You should have a steady income first before you pursue your passions so you have a stable foundation to fall back on just in case things don’t work out, Akaashi-san.”

He can hear the string of back-handed compliments and empty advice he’s received from co-workers and relatives alike echo in the back of his mind, clouding his thoughts and possible future realities he wishes to envision. Literature is one of his hobbies that became his career due to his love that caused him to become attached. Manga, novels, plays, poetry, and even textbooks sometimes caught Akaashi’s attention and he couldn’t help but consume the knowledge and navigate the uncharted waters that flow through the pages in inky waves. The beautiful thought of literature that had once been untouched and pure in Akaashi’s child-like wondrous mind has now become something as lifeless as house-hold chores to check off a list.

Now, as he sits at his desk in his office cubicle eying the unsurmountable manga panels that consume more than half of his desk with their shiny patent ink and crisp lines framing the edges of each page – he can’t help but sigh.

“You know, I’ve always been told that it’s bad luck to sigh.” Akaashi perked up at the sound of ceramic hitting the surface of his white acrylic desk. He looks up to see you holding a matching mug brimming with the café nectar that he so desperately needs.

“Is that so? You sound so sure of yourself considering that your break ended 5 minutes ago.” Akaashi hid his face in his hands to mask the upturned corners of his lips pulling into a smirk.

“Thank you for the coffee, I know that I’ll need it considering that Hide x Seek’s 100th Chapter is going to be released in this edition of Shonen Jump.”

“I heard that from Udai-san, he seemed so excited that he wanted to make this chapter special by making it holiday-themed with all the holidays being piled all together at the end of the year.” You said with a look of contemplation as you sipped the burning liquid in your mug.

“Have you read Hide x Seek before?” Akaashi leans back in his office chair and sets his gaze upon you while placing the cup next to his lips, the creaky sound apparent from the quality of wornness and evidence of sleepless nights he’s spent hunched over reviewing and editing the work assigned to him.

“I think I’ve read it once before, it’s the one where the high school students hide from an intruder but they don’t know who’s the intruder… but it ends up being the ghost of a former student that seeks to kill out of revenge and spite the higher-ups who have wronged her, right?” You said while fixating your gaze to the edge of his desk as if to recall the synopsis from memory, your coffee mug was left forgotten on Akaashi’s desk as you appear lost in your thoughts.

“Not quite, you just said the plot summary of Peek-a-boo? not Hide x Seek.”

Akaashi said while looking pointedly at your mug on his desk that would surely leave a faint circle as he knows you tend to haphazardly spill its contents as you “vigorously” stir your coffee to ensure that all additives are well-mixed. He recalls asking as to why making a vortex in a cup smaller than his hand is necessary, to which, you responded,

“I need everyone to get along harmoniously and seamlessly blend with one another, imagine drinking a cup of coffee that you’ve prepared and longed for only for it to have lumps and chunks at the bottom, no-thank-you!”

The dim grimace on your face spoke volumes of a less-than-happy experience you must have gone through and as a result, the chaotic meticulousness of your coffee shenanigans intrigued Akaashi to befriend you.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice you flush red at the realization that you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your co-worker, friend, and “potential suitor” as your friend lightly put as a shallow jab at your private love-life *hint – it’s practically non-existent.

You sigh. “Maybe I’ll give Hide x Seek a read during a vacation or something.” You mumble the words, cursing yourself for looking like a fool in front of your longtime friend, Akaashi Keiji.

The image of you grumbling and lamenting in front of Akaashi mirrors a panel sitting on his desk that has him fondly reminiscing the same image of you from last spring about how you had no one to accompany you to the Hanami Festival and so, he acquiesced to your invitation thus, establishing a tradition in your friendly relationship.

“I think it would be best to return to your desk, y/n, wouldn’t want to lose the privilege of seeing you every day and being the object of your admiration.” Akaashi propped himself up on his desk, resting his head on his forearms in a lazy slouch peering up at you with one eyebrow raised and a ghost of a smile playing upon his lips.

“You should really stop flirting with me at work, Akaashi. One of these days I might get the wrong idea and think you’re into me or something…” You chastise him while walking back to your desk which is conveniently next to Akaashi’s.

“I’m hopelessly enamored at the thought of you and it frightens me to think of a day where you’ll be missing from my side…” Akaashi thought as he proceeded to leaf through the panels laid out strategically on his desk. He looked over at you as you started to situate yourself with your work and said, “I wouldn’t sigh if I were you, I heard that if you sigh it brings you bad luck.”

“Stop mocking me and go do your work!”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The clock struck at 5:00 P.M., then at 6:00 P.M., just right before the clock struck at 7:00 P.M. you blearily glance at the time blaring in the corner of your monitor and drift your eyes to the decorative hourglass sitting on your desk. The intricate gold timepiece hid tucked away in the corner of your desk hiding behind a framed picture of you and Akaashi posed in front of a bookstore where a work-related event took place. A faint memory surfaces from the back of your subconscious from earlier this year.

“Akaashi, why do you have a plastic apple on your desk?” You glare at the object as a red plastic apple seems so peculiar to associate with Akaashi, in your mind at least, so you questioned its purpose. Is it for sentimental reasons? Are apples his favorite type of fruit? Do apples have an artistic appeal or is it just a trend?

“It’s a tomato.” He responded, not once looking up to acknowledge your effort to engage in conversation. As Akaashi is seemingly focused on the task at hand, you further prodded with your innocent questions wanting his attention so you could lose yourself in the oceans that reside in his deep blue eyes.

“Then, why do you have a tomato on your desk?”

“Keeps me focused on the task at hand. Have you heard of the Pomodoro technique before, y/n?” Akaashi still focused on his work while you continued questioning.

“The time management one, right? I think I’ve read about it somewhere before if I’m being honest…” You lose yourself in your thoughts as you attempted to recall the correct definition from an online blog you briefly glanced at.

“Then you should know about how it helps you complete your work in a timely manner while balancing the efficacy and quality of the work produced.” Akaashi stopped in his ministrations and averts his attention to the now glaringly pointless object occupying space on his desk that was a prize Bokuto won at the Momiji-gari festival they attended together last October.

“Yes, that’s the time management aspect after all.”

“If I may then, why is it you stress about not having enough seconds in a minute, enough minutes in an hour, and not enough hours in a day to complete your work and yet have all the time to talk to me well over your allotted break time?” he swivels around in his chair to face you, steel blue eyes locked in a heated rage-ridden gaze with yours.

Too stunned to talk from the blunt harshness of his words, you reply, “Quite snappy today are we? At least I know now you pay attention when I mindlessly make a fuss about my workload.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you with my statement, I was going for light-hearted banter at best… I guess I can blame it on the weather. The heatwave must be getting the better of me.” Akaashi said while pulling at his necktie, an excuse to keep his hands preoccupied and mind distracted in avoidance from the awkward silence beginning to build between the two of you.

“Tell me about it, I never really liked summer as a season or the heat.” You crinkle your upturned nose in an act of disdain as you face the glass windows doing nothing to shield you from the overbearing sunlight pouring into the office.

“With summer comes the sun, with the sun comes light, and with light comes warmth,” Akaashi says so matter-of-factly that makes you wonder what’s his favorite holiday. He interrupts your train of thought by asking, “What’s your favorite holiday, y/n- san?”

“Winter, I like the snow. Or more of what snow symbolizes…” you trail off towards the end of your sentence deep in thought.

“Usually people like winter because of the holidays and spending time with their loved ones under a kotatsu. What’s so enchanting about snow? When you touch it, it just melts… not to mention it’s cold.” Akaashi looks over at you inquisitively that could almost be mistaken for scrutiny if a stranger were to eavesdrop between you two.

“If you are out in the first snowfall of the season with someone you like, true love will blossom between you.” You recite from memory what the old woman who owned the corner store grocery near your place told you during your times as a highschooler.

“Besides love, if you make a wish when the first snow blankets the city your wish will come true.” You swing your legs to-and-fro underneath your desk covered from the public’s eye but Akaashi can tell it’s one of your habits you do when you’re excited. The sparkle in your eye accompanied by the ecstatic hand gestures would also giveaway your feelings of excitement but Akaashi knows better. You stop in your motions and jerk towards him almost like you’ve had an epiphany, the sparkle in your eye flashed again mimicking that of a light-bulb going off.

“Snow also signifies that all lies will be forgotten, isn’t that refreshing? The thought of new beginnings with the first snow sounds so romantic! I wish I had someone to enjoy it with…” You take a chance and glance at Akaashi to gauge his reaction to your statement, he already beat your intentions by turning back to face his desk at lightning speed so you wouldn’t see the faint flush of red on his cheeks that bloomed after your profession of love for snow. He didn’t want you to know he was flustered because of the way you turned to him and uttered the words ‘besides love,’ to his face, and the realization that he was going to respond with a simple, ‘hm?’ had him leaning further into his desk in embarrassment.

“Akaashi, what’s your favorite season? You know mine and my reason now.”

“Same as you, I like winter.”

“Why?”

“The holidays.”

“Boring!”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

You shake your head in strong efforts to clear the fog that clouded your mind during that flashback.

“Nodding off so soon?” Akaashi’s voice startled you back to reality as you whip your head towards him.

“It’s almost 7:00, we were supposed to get off work an hour ago like someone said..” you fix your steely gaze on his figure hoping he could feel the mock-resentment radiating off you in waves. “I hope we get overtime pay for this as this isn’t the first time this has happened.” You lean against the back of your chair raising your arms above your head in a half-stretch with valiant efforts to hear the satisfying pop of your back.

“I made no promises, I was going to tell you this when we got off but Udai-san said we have the day-off tomorrow. The reason behind it ‘to reward you guys for your dedication to the company’ were his exact words.” Akaashi said as he began to clear his desk wanting to get to his apartment as soon as possible to sleep. This week took more of a toll on him than he would like to admit, the endless piles of work, deadlines to meet, and the cold that accompanied the winter months were taking a toll on him. The holiday season’s cold seeped into the bitterness of Akaashi’s hidden emotions, like an ice pick scratching the surface of Akaashi’s lonesome facade he tried to hide under cool indifference. In stark contrast, you acted as sunshine that brought the warmth that he desired to thaw his endless winters.

“Done with your work, too? Let’s go home.” His sunshine that spread light and illuminated the darkness that clouds his mind.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The walk from the subway station to the shared apartment complex was only a 10-minute walk but tonight it seemed never-ending to Akaashi. The time was almost 8:00 and the streets seemed less deserted than usual. The city lights glimmer looked dim in comparison to past nights and the mood almost felt too solemn with the holidays around the corner. Akaashi was lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice the crosswalk light flickered to red signaling the oncoming traffic to cross the road, if it wasn’t for you pulling him by the back of his jacket… he ignores the thought that briefly filters across his mind.

“Akaashi, are you alright? I wasn’t going to mention it but you’ve seemed more aloof than usual.” You said while gripping onto the back of his jacket tightly almost grasping him in a silent plea.

“I’m fine.” He responds curtly while maneuvering his tall frame in an off-handed demeanor that cues for you to let-go. This action only fuels your act of defiance to pull him harder in your direction causing your bodies to collide clumsily disrupting the systematic ebb-and-flow that is pedestrian traffic. As you and Akaashi apologize and wait for the crosswalk sign to turn green, you can’t help but laugh which makes Akaashi let-out a small chuckle as he realizes what a commotion your exchange must have looked like.

“We make for entertaining crowd spectacles,” He spoke softly through a genuine small smile that washed over his handsome features that could have rivaled ‘any top celebrity that calls themselves a pretty boy,’ in your words, not his. The cold weather combined with the hotness radiating from his silent chuckles caused a light layer of condensation to form on his glasses’ lenses. As the haze rendered him sightless, he took off his glasses, pulled out his handkerchief he kept tucked away in his inner jacket pocket, and proceeded to clean his square frames. You took this opportunity to admire the man before you. His brown hair fell gracefully in a light tousled manner as a result of his hands raking through them from stress. Your gaze shifted to his hands, his hands easily engulfed the metal frames balancing delicately in between his slender fingers that looked natural holding the awkward position for prolonged periods of time. Your eyes flit over his face that was normally impassive and difficult to read, now his cool indifference shifted to a look of frustration. The furrow of his thick brows and the faint vertical lines creasing in the center of his eyebrows almost made Akaashi look younger.

‘He looks like a petulant child being told what to do’ you mused to yourself. When he felt content with the cleanliness of his glasses, Akaashi scanned his surroundings to see where you led him to. He realizes that you stopped right in front of the steps to his favorite place in all of Tokyo – the International Library of Children’s Literature. Even with the library being closed as evident by the lack of people and dimmed lights, he still found this place breathtaking.

“The architecture of this library looks similar to the Palace of Versailles don’t you think so, Akaashi? That was one of my first impressions when you first brought me here, I just forgot about it but remembered after seeing this place again” You said as you stared in awe at the smooth concrete walls and tall glass windows with lattice fixtures intricately lining the tall double doors that greeted over 1,000 visitors each day.

“The International Library of Children’s Literature, originally called the Imperial Library, was constructed by the Tokyo Metropolitan Government under the Meiji era in 1906. The artistic movement that inspired the architect was the Renaissance movement which explains the Western-like elements incorporated into the building’s design.” Akaashi recited from memory and turned to you after he finished his statement only to find you already facing him, eyes widened and mouth agape in surprise. After seeing your reaction he turns back to the building and says in a soft whisper, “This place brings back fond memories,” while unconsciously playing with his hands, fingers intertwining with one another in a playful open and close. He can feel your gaze openly assessing his figure standing awkwardly in the library’s pathway, he knows that you want the answers as to why he’s acting less like his “usual” self. You find yourself confused by Akaashi’s paradoxical behavior, sometimes he’s willing to let small cracks appear in his otherwise smooth facade of coolness, and other times he shrugs you off in efforts to maintain his cool indifference. His true emotions are caught and given to you in minuscule pieces and this frustrates you as you wish to be with the man that’s always beside you and occupies your mind all the time.

Akaashi can’t help but feel the subtle self-conscious feeling starting to arise after pondering how out of place you and him look at the moment, two people standing alone in front of a closed library engaged in a heated silent exchange. His heart sank when he realized that you two could almost be mistaken as a couple with the way the both of you look now, he wishes for this to be real, his wish is to be with you. Akaashi wishes for you to know his true feelings and declare his love for you and yet, he finds himself biting his lips to silence himself in spite of his friends saying he has a chance of being with you.

The shuffling of feet is heard as you shift your weight from right-to-left and your avoidance of all eye-contact are all tall tale signs of your unsureness, your actions break Akaashi from his own thoughts as he raises his head to see you standing closer to him than earlier.

‘You’re so close I could kiss you right now.’ He wants to say, even in a playful manner but is too afraid to be caught expressing his true feelings even through teasing comments.

“Akaashi, what are you thinking about right now?” You ask in a futile attempt for him to confide in you what thoughts occupy his brain that’s causing him to both distance himself from you emotionally.

Just as Akaashi begins to open his mouth he’s interrupted by an abrupt shout that causes the both of you to stop all conversation.

“Look mom, it’s snowing!”

Childlike excitement blanketed the distanced onlookers frolicking the crosswalks as snowflakes kissed the cherry red noses of daily commuters and people doing last-minute gift shopping. You and Akaashi fix your gazes up to the dark depths of the night sky now obstructed by the white flurries of snow clouds now hovering over all of Tokyo.

‘It’s now or never,” Akaashi thinks to himself, ‘if I can’t do it now, when will I ever get the chance again?’ Akaashi takes a deep inhale and closes his eyes to bask in the brisk coolness the winter air has brought with the changing of seasons.

“I think about how seasons shift out in a cycle of four and I find myself not being able to cope with each change.” He breathes out finally and continues, you stare at him in silent apprehension while anticipating each word.

“Seasons change, people change, and yet I find myself coming back to you… meeting in the same place where we first met each other. Fate has a funny way of telling us that we’re supposed to be together. Coincidence has a hand in pushing us together hinting that we’re meant to be. Destiny is telling me that you’re the one but, choice whispers it’s harsh words of reality only permissible when conditions are met that echoes in my thoughtless mind every sleepless night.” Akaashi locks your eyes in a steady gaze, your eyes widened in shock while his eyes portray a deep-rooted passion now surfacing after being hidden for so long.

“Our love is blossoming like the sakura trees in the spring, a love that mirrors the perennial endless summer hydrangeas in the courtyard in front of our apartment building. A love in which I catch myself falling for you like the leaves during the autumnal months. A love that engulfs me in the warmth of the fire, with its ember flicks illuminating your faint silhouette as we embrace each other in the moonlight. Falling in love with you was experiencing a life I have not lived before, for the first time I welcomed the uncertainty, my fears, my doubts never once clouded my mind. You are my moonlight that illuminates my path in the inky depths of nightfall. My starlight when I look to the sky brimming with untold stories in your constellations that guide me back to you. I want to be with you during the first snowfall of each winter. I want to experience each change of the seasons with you, I want you by my side to accompany me as we live our lives – I wish to be together with you.”

Akaashi finishes his confession of true feelings for you and a sense of relief washes over him as a weight has been lifted from his chest. Akaashi starts fiddling with a loose thread in his pockets starting to feel anxious at the sight of you as he begins to anticipate your response since you haven’t spoken since it started snowing. The feeling of temporary relief was now replaced with a sense of dread fueled by his self-doubts and the thought of rejection, he averts his gaze downward to avoid meeting your eyes.

Akaashi stayed cemented in his place with no signs of moving, so you decided to close the distance between you two. Feeling bolder after Akaashi’s profession as you were reeling from the excitement of seeing snow paired with your feelings being returned by the one you love, you grab his jacket sleeve to signal for him to remove his hand from his pocket and slowly begin to intertwine hands. He shifts his gaze from your interlocked hands to look at you, as he scans your face to gauge your reaction, he finds himself surprised by the beaming smile matching your bright energy and warmth that rivals the sun during the summer months. Your actions and the bright reaction is all the confirmation he needs to know if you reciprocate his feelings so he steers you, hands intertwined, in the direction of your shared apartment complex.

“What about your wish, did it come true?” Akaashi asks while he notices you started to swing your joined hands unconsciously, ‘probably out of habit,’ he thinks to himself silently while a smile threatens to breach his lips. You stop him and take his other-hand so now he’s facing you, you want his full attention as now, it’s your turn to confess.

“My wish was always to be with you, you’re my happiness and the reason for me to continue to live and grow. When I’m with you I’m at my happiest and your constant presence has always been comforting. The sureness in your voice and actions speak volumes about your reliability and the love you have for others. My wish was for you to see the light in yourself and for you to realize that you are loved and needed, not just I think this way but your friends Bokuto, Kuroo, Kenma, and everyone else you’ve met and encountered will agree with me on this point I’m trying to make. I love you, Akaashi Keiji and I wish to be with you… if you’d let me.”

Compared to the shuffling of footsteps and avoidance of eye-contact from earlier that hinted towards your unsureness, Akaashi can see the confidence in your stance and actions as you grasp onto his hands, the unwavering sureness you exude while maintaining eye-contact has Akaashi falling in love with you over again. The brightness in your eyes and cheery playfulness reminds him of the reasons he fell for you in the first place and he senses that he will keep finding reasons to fall in love with you over and over again.

“Let’s go home now, sunshine. I’m afraid that your warmth will melt the winter snow.”

68 notes · View notes

mistymazzello · 4 years

Text

Illicit Affairs | part one

Joe Mazzello x reader

summary- Y/N, a failing actress in New York City, is offered an internship as Joe Mazzello’s assistant on the set of a movie. Her seemingly small crush on her boss could get her into trouble, but what does she have to lose?

warnings- cussing

word count- 3.7

a/n- i’m sorry i promised this like 2 months ago and i’m just now posting it, but i’m so excited for you guys to read this!! please let me know what you think and if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

based on illicit affairs by taylor swift

You were finally starting to understand what people meant when they said “New York Minute”. It might seem like a silly phrase people use to describe when time is going fast, but now you’re sure that time is going faster than usual as you ran down the busy New York streets. You quickly wove through people as rain pounded on your hair and your brand new outfit, but you had no time to worry about your now drenched blouse. You were on the verge of tears as you ran down the steps to the subway, checking the time to see that you had 19 minutes.

You fished through your purse to retrieve your metrocard, shivering from the surprisingly freezing august rain. You swiped the card and the machine let out a loud beep at you. The card was declined. With only 18 minutes until your audition, tears finally began to well in your eyes.

“Please no. Please not now.” You groaned out loud, swiping the card again only to get the same result. “Please please please just work.” You whined.

“Havin’ some trouble there?” A man standing behind you observed.

You laughed sarcastically and tried the card again. “Yeah, seems like it. I think the universe just hates me today.”

“Maybe try swiping it the other way?” He wondered.

You tried. Nothing.

You groaned and put your face in your hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Hey, sweetheart, calm down.” He reached forward and swiped his own card twice. “See? All good.”

The small gate opened and he gestured for you to walk through. Your eyes softened and you sighed lightly. “Thank you.” He nodded as you walked through. “You didn’t need to do that.” You said as he walked through to join you on the other side. You crossed your arms as your hair dripped onto your shoulders, causing you to shiver again.

“I think I did, you were holding up the line.” He joked with a smile on his face. “I’m Joe.”

You let out a small laugh as you turned towards him. “Y/N.” You stated.

“Well, Y/N, your fucking soaked.” He laughed.

You nodded and looked down at your clothes. “I’m gonna have to go into an audition looking like this.”

He looked your body up and down and then met your eyes again. You watched as he began to take his jacket off of his shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that, seriously.” You stated.

He pulled the jacket fully off of himself and held it out to you. “Well I’m going to. Here.”

You gave him a small smile and took it from his hands. Slowly putting the jacket on, you looked at him. “It’s weird meeting a nice New Yorker.”

“Rare, I know.” He laughed.

You pulled the jacket over your shoulders and wrapped it tightly around your waist.

“Better?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You hummed. “I’m like, never gonna see you again, are you sure you wanna give this to me?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Your train was announced over the loudspeaker and you screwed your eyes shut.

“Shit, I’m sorry I have to go!” You said, backing up quickly.

“Good luck!” He shouted back, watching you disappear into the distance, a small part of him wishing he was 10 years younger so he could ask you for your number without seeming like a creep.

The second you turned around, you wished you had just ditched the audition and taken the same train as him, giving yourself 15 extra minutes with him. New York is a big city, and you knew you’d never see him again, but you couldn’t help but hope that there was some kind of invisible string that will pull the two of you back together. A small smile rested on your lips as you boarded the train, trying to remember the exact details of his face. Taking a seat, you drew in a breath, subconsciously wrapping the jacket tighter around your waist. Usually, you would find it weird and uncomfortable if a random stranger paid for your train ride and gave you his jacket, but something about him made you feel comforted and safe.

You soon realized that skipping the audition to stay with him would have been a much better decision. The audition lasted maybe 90 seconds, ending with a blunt, “That’s all we need, thank you.” It wasn’t much different from any of your other auditions, nobody showing any real interest in you. There’s hundreds-maybe even thousands-of girls who are in your exact situation. An aspiring actress using money she doesn’t have to stay in New York, no real roles to your name, struggling to keep your head above water. After graduating from NYU the previous year, you thought that this would be your time, but it’s anything but that.

By the time you arrived back at your apartment it had stopped raining. You were relieved to be back to the comfort of your bed, ready to go straight back to sleep (maybe in Joe’s jacket) but the second you walked in the door, your phone began ringing. It was your dad. You didn’t even have to pick up the phone to know what he was going to say. “What are you doing today?” “Do you have a job yet?” “What are you gonna do with your life? I can’t pay for your apartment forever.”

You couldn’t even be mad, either. He paid for your share of the rent in your preppy uptown apartment. He also sent you money weekly, claiming it’s to help you until you’re able to “Get on your feet.” You didn’t think it’d be taking over a year long to get there. Despite being upset about your career choice, and the fact that he could get you a perfect, well paid job at his company in a few cities over, he wanted his little girl to be happy.

I mean, who else was gonna pay for you to live in the most expensive city in the country? Your failed auditions?

With an over-dramatic sigh, you answered the phone. “Hi dad.”

“Hello Y/N. Whatcha doing?” He said.

“I just got back from an audition.” You said, walking into the living room, the eyes of your roommates Cameron and Jessica immediately falling on you, perking up as you set your bag down on the table.

“How’d it go?” Jessica asked excitedly.

“Whose jacket is that?” Cameron shouted.

You furrowed your eyebrows and pointed to your phone, both of them sinking back down into their seats.

“And how was that?” He asked.

“It was… okay. Not exactly how I wanted it to go.”

“Seems like that’s how they’ve all been going.” He said. You just knew he had a disappointed frown on his face. It almost made you wince.

“I mean, I think I’m gonna get there, dad.” You stepped into your room and shut the door behind you.

There was a silence on the line. “I don’t know, Y/N. I hate to be the wet blanket on your big city dreams but I think you’re being unrealistic. You should come back home and I can get you a job here in 5 seconds. I just-”

“Dad, we’ve had this conversation. I’m staying here.” You said, stuffing your hands into the jacket pockets. You pulled out a gum wrapper and a few quarters. It almost made you giggle.

“On my dime?” He shot back.

Your shoulders slumped and you sighed. “Nobody’s forcing you to pay for me.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s gonna pay for you if I don’t? Certainly not yourself.”

Now you were embarrassed. “Dad… Can you please just trust me? I’ll get on my feet, I don’t know, soon, okay?”

He sighed. “6 more months.” He said.

“What?” You asked.

“I’ll pay for you for 6 more months. If you don’t have some source of income by then, you're coming home and working here.” He knew that paying for you to live in the city wasn’t a financial burden for him, he owned a company. But, he wanted you to learn how to do things yourself, and he knew if he kept spoon feeding you through life, that you would never get there.

A bit taken back, you registered that there were no other options. “Okay. That seems… fair.”

“It’s not what I want to do, honey, but I want you to be productive. To do something with yourself.”

That stung.

“Okay.” You closed your eyes.

“Alright. I’ve got a meeting, so I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye dad.”

You set your phone down on your bed and set your chin on your elbow. You had better think of a better plan than going to an audition every week if you wanted to stay here. “Shit.” You mumbled.

Cameron burst into your room and you looked up at her. “Whose jacket is that?” She asked again.

“Nice to see you too, Cam.” You raised your eyebrows.

Cameron was a bold person. You had met in college, and you immediately clinged to each other’s sides. You grounded her, and she pushed you out of your comfort zone. Cameron was also kind of scary. You had seen what she’d done to people she didn’t like, how she’ll step on people to get where she wants. You’re just glad she likes you.

“Sorry, how was the audition?” She said, pushing the door fully open and leaning on your door frame.

You sighed and set your forehead in your palm.

“Oh, well.” She said, getting the message.

She came and sat on the bed next to you. “So… Now can I ask about the jacket.” She asked softly.

“Some random guy on the subway. It was raining and I was cold, so he offered it to me.”

“Ew! What if it has a tracking device or something in it?” Jessica asked, walking in the room.

Jessica came into the picture Junior year of college. She fit in perfectly between the two of you, bringing some sort of responsibility to the group. She was the stereotypical mom friend, but you loved her for it.

“Was he hot?” Cam asked. The difference in reaction made you chuckle.

“It was just some nice guy. We talked for like 20 seconds.” You stated.

“Did you get his number?” Cam asked.

“No, Cam, he was way older than me.” You said.

“Why does that matter?”

You flopped back onto your bed and sighed, the other two girls exchanging looks as you covered your face with your arms.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica asked as she walked over to sit on the other side of you.

“Nothing, I just… My dad. He says I need a job or else he’s gonna cut me off.” You said, flopping your arms down by your sides.

“Yikes.” Cam said.

“What’re you gonna do?” Jess asked.

“Get a fucking job I guess. What other choice do I have?”

They were both silent as you checked the time on your phone. It was still way early in the morning. “Guys, I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.” You said.

“Alright, babe. I have an audition at 11, so I probably won’t be here when you wake up.” Cam patted your leg.

You nodded. Cameron had already established herself as an actress. She mostly does theatre, but she did do an episode of Law and Order and a few smaller parts in other tv shows. You tried not to be jealous, but in situations like this, you couldn’t really help it.

“I have work too. I’ll be back at 4 though.” Jessica said. She worked as a journalist for a magazine, making way more money than either of you, so it made sense to be jealous.

“Ivy’s here though, don't know if she’s leaving or not.” Cameron said. Ivy was the fourth roommate, who wasn’t friends with any of you when she moved in. She needed a place to live and you guys needed one more roommate.

She was really reserved, and she didn’t talk to any of you much. This bothered Cameron, since she’s a chatter-box, but there wasn’t much anyone could do. She was going to business school in the city, so she was a few years younger than the three of you, but she didn’t start problems, so nobody paid too much mind to her. Coming up on a year of living with her, and you didn’t really know much about her.

You nodded and climbed under your comforter, still in the jacket and your audition clothes. The two girls stood up and walked out, Jessica turned off the light before she blew you a kiss and left.

Within minutes, you passed out. You woke up a few hours later to your phone ringing. Groaning, you picked it up.

“Y/N!” Cam shouted.

“What?” You said, sitting up in bed, all at once realizing how uncomfortable your pants and blouse were. Why did you sleep in these again?

“Okay, so I was at this audition right, and they’re like, ‘You’re so great but you just don’t have the look we’re going for for this role.’” She said. You could hear cars, horns, and the general bustle of the city in the background, so you assumed she was on her way home.

You ignored her subtle brag as you got out of bed to change. You put the phone on speaker and set it on your night stand as you slowly began to undress.

“And so then they were like ‘but, we love you so much, would you be interested in a paid internship as a film director assistant?’ And I would have done it except the 2 of the 5 months that it lasts for, I’m working on that off broadway production, you know the one wit-”

“Yes, I know the one.” You said.

“Okay, well I told them that I know a girl who would want it.” She smiled.

“Are you serious?” You said as you hung the jacket on the back of your door.

“Yes I’m serious! They said you’d have to apply though, so I have the application with me, but I put in a really good word for you, and pretend I didn’t tell you this, they basically said you have it in the bag.”

You smiled as you picked your phone up again and took a deep breath. “Cameron, thank you.” you said.

“Don’t mention it.” She said smugly. “And guess who the director is?”

“I don’t know, who?” You asked.

“Joe Mazzello.” She smiled.

“Remind me who that is?” You asked.

She groaned. “He’s an actor, Y/N, like a big one. This is gonna be a big movie.”

You let out a breath of happiness. “Thank you so much Cam.”

“I’ll see you when I get home.” She said “I’m about to get on the subway.”

“Ok,” You agreed. “See you.” You smiled.

The second she hung up, you had the overwhelming urge to call your dad. But you didn’t. It felt like he wouldn’t care, or he wouldn’t think that this was serious or that he would think you’re stupid for being excited about an internship.

But it didn’t matter. You had your source of income.

No one could have prepared you for how nerve-wracking your first day would be. You’re stomach had been churning all day, from when you woke up, to when Cam wished you luck and told you to mention her to the director, right up until you were walking into the large glass building that hopefully held your future as an actress.

After a 32 floor elevator ride, one of the producers met you and another boy your age at the front desk. You gave him a weak smile, trying not to let your jaw chatter from nervousness. He looked away.

“So this is where business is done, basically. Everything that’s not done on the set is done in this building. You guys, of course, will be spending a lot of time on set and here. I’d suggest familiarizing yourself with the surroundings.” The producer explained. She was older than you by quite a bit, with silver hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a few days and a kind smile that eased your nervousness. She led you down a hallway that looked like it never ended, never mentioning where she was taking you. “The set is about 45 minutes out of town, and unfortunately, we can’t offer you on set living, like the director and actors get, so you’ll have to travel back home every night.” She never looked back at the two of you as she walked, but it didn’t matter because neither of you said anything.

She stopped outside of a door, with a small plaque on the front that read “Director; Joseph Mazzello”. Her smile faded quickly as she turned around to look at you both. “This is a serious job. As directors assistants, you are to do whatever he tells you. He calls all of the shots. Hundreds of people applied for this position, and we chose you two. I could replace both of you in 5 seconds.” You gulped and glanced over at the boy, who seemed to stand a little taller when he heard how competitive this was. “He’s in here, he’s going to discuss expectations, and he’ll let you know what this job will consist of. Address him as Mr. Mazzello and whatever you do, don’t mess up.”

You nodded and she scanned both of your faces. “Alrighty then.” She smiled again, as if she hadn’t just made two 22 year olds question every decision they’ve ever made.

She knocked on the door and then opened it to poke her head in. “Joe? You assistants are here.” She opened the door to reveal the two of you, stiff as boards.

“Great! I’ve been so excited to meet the two of you!” He exclaimed, standing up from his desk. The second that he made eye contact with you, you realized who he was. Joe from the subway. You’re mouth nearly dropped open at the realization. A deep blush covered your face as you begged the universe to not let him remember you, you could hardly bear the thought of your new boss knowing that you have one of his jackets hanging in your closet right now.

He smiled as he walked around his desk to shake both of your hands. “I’m Joe.” He said as he took your hand. You smiled, keeping in mind that this wasn’t the first time he had introduced himself like this to you.

“Y/N.” He nodded, and as far as you could tell, he didn’t recognize you.

He moved on to the boy, who had neatly styled brown hair, light eyes, and broad shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Mazzello, I’m Beck.” He said hopefully, putting your mere ‘Y/N’ to shame.

Joe smiled. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Mazzello, seriously. That goes for both of you, call me Joe.” You promptly nodded as he looked between the two of you.

“Sit down, sit down.” He said.

The two of you sat down and he went back around behind his desk. “You look so nervous. I promise I’m not mean.” He pleaded with an awkward laugh.

He went on to tell you that you probably wouldn’t be doing much in the actual film production, which you were bummed to hear, but what did you expect? “So basically, directing is a big job, and I’ll need help with day to day things. Technical things, running stuff around for me, just random tasks that I don’t have time for.”

He explained more, and the whole time he spoke, you couldn’t help but think of meeting him on the subway. How sweet he’d been, how he had given his jacket to a complete stranger and paid for you to get on. You had let your mind wander to how handsome he was, how good his arms looked in his shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. Immediately, you scolded yourself. You weren’t going to mess up your first job by getting a stupid crush on your boss. Were you really that dumb?

“Mr. M-” He raised his eyebrows as you spoke “Joe. Sorry.” You laughed.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled. “What’s up, kid.”

“We haven’t gotten much information about scheduling, how is that gonna work?” You asked.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess you’ll need to know that. Do you guys have your phones with you?” He asked.

You both nodded and you pulled yours out of your purse.

“Ok, my number is 501 333, 7689.”

You were a bit taken back at the fact that he was giving you his phone number, he hardly knew the two of you and he’s a famous actor. But, you weren’t complaining.

“I’ll just text you where to be and when to be there, alright?” He asked.

“Ok.” You both agreed.

“Alright.” He clapped his hands together. “So, first, I need someone to take these to Alex in I.T. and-”

“I’ll do it.” Beck blurted out as he stood up.

“Oh, ok.” Joe said, just as startled as you were.

“Then I need you to tell him to email me a copy of the call sheet.” He said.

“Got it, Mr. Mazzello.” He said, starting towards the door.

“Come on, call me Joe.” He smiled.

“I prefer to keep things, you know, professional.” Beck sent you a nasty side glance as if to say you weren’t professional.

“Alright then, Mr. Beck.” Joe nodded.

Beck stepped out of his office and you turned back to Joe. “Who pissed in that kids cereal?” He said under his breath, sifting through a few papers on his desk

You giggled and Joe smiled, looking up at you to meet your eyes and then back down at his papers. “So you’re from New York?” He asked.

“Well, yeah. Rochester originally, but I went to college here and I plan on staying here.” He nodded.

“Do you wanna do film production or something else?” He questioned.

“Well, the goal is to become an actress.”

“So you’ve been auditioning for things then?” He looked up at you expectantly. You prayed that he wasn’t trying to figure out if you were the girl from the subway.

You were just opening your mouth to answer when Beck opened back up the door. You both turned to him.

“That was quick.” Joe said.

“What can I say.” He shrugged cockily.

Joe sent you a glance along with a small smile. You looked at your lap, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to show.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x reader #borhap boys x reader #joe mazzello headcanon #borhap boys imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #fan fiction #borhap cast #fan fic #illicit affairs #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon headcanon #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody boys

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kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, First Impressions, Slice of Life, Character Study

No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima Eijirou had stared at the grin on Bakugou’s face when he pulled the pin in his gauntlet and thought: Holy shit, this guy is insane.

Over multiple screens, a good chunk of Ground β went up in a blast so strong the floor trembled with its aftershocks even here, miles away. Concrete and steel and glass were incinerated in a gust of fire and debris until all that was left was Midoriya’s crumpled form amidst plumes of smoke and Bakugou standing tall in the ruins.

The cameras shorted out once, twice before the image stabilized; the transmission remained silent. There was no sound needed to see how Bakugou’s grin got an edge sharper in the wake of the explosion.

Insane and absolutely deadly.

It wasn’t Kirishima’s first impression of him, per se. Certainly he’d had some sort of reaction to the only name ranked above his own after the Entrance Exams and the total sum of zero rescue points listed beside it. He can even remember the twinge of something in his chest after seeing that infamous quirk in action on day one – be it awe or envy or plain curiosity, that innocent question of How does it work, though? that accompanies most encounters with a new power.

Still: In those first few days, when Kirishima thinks of Bakugou Katsuki, he thinks of the mad glint in his eyes as he went above and beyond in his attempt to murder their classmate (or seriously maim him, at the very least).

In hindsight, having him play the villain was perhaps less coincidence and more fate, given the optics of what could reasonably be described as a shitshow. And, okay, Kirishima knows it’s not exactly fair to judge someone based solely on fleeting observations. His parents taught him better than that. Crimson Riot showed him better than that. It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.

Endure and overcome, just like any other obstacle looming over the difficult path ahead. Kirishima smiles around the pencil he’s chewing on as Aizawa drones on, eyes trained on the uniquely tense set of shoulders across the room.

Yeah. Bakugou won’t even stand a chance.

It takes many cold shoulders, rebuffed lunch invitations and countless glares – and a villainous intervention Kirishima could’ve honestly lived without – for a rough voice to say:

“You there. Shark Teeth.”

The sun is starting to peek into the room as it hangs low and lazy in the sky. Class 1-A has just been released into a well-deserved weekend: Kirishima is very much aware his mothers want him home as fast as possible after what happened at U.S.J., and he’s throwing his things into his bag at peak velocity. Only after a tap on his shoulder and a subtle nod from Sero does he register it’s him Bakugou is talking to.

Perhaps ‘growling at’ would be a better description, but… semantics. Kirishima throws the guy a look and a smile over his shoulder either way, “Hey! What’s up, man?”, and given Bakugou’s eyes only narrow a little, he’s about 70% sure he’s not done something to land on his shit list.

Yet.

All Bakugou does is direct a decidedly less neutral look towards Sero, who jolts and stumbles over a quick “Um. Gotta– Yup, okay, bye!” before he books it out the classroom. Kirishima watches him go with some bemusement and a muttered “Dude”, not that Bakugou reacts to it in any way.

“Spar with me”, Bakugou says instead – demands, really – and Kirishima feels his brows tick upwards before he can stop himself, hands pausing in his quest to cram his notepad next to his books without wrinkling its cover page too badly.

“Uh. Like, right now? ‘Cause I can’t. Well, I could but I’m about to miss my train as is and I’d have to tell my–”

A slow blink, and even that is threatening when it’s coming from Bakugou. “No, asshole. This weekend, or something. I don’t care.”

Oh. Kirishima blinks. Something about Bakugou approaching him out of his own free will must be causing a substantial lag between different areas of his brain because– Oh.

“Wait. You wanna hang out?”

Maybe he could’ve hidden the clear surprise in his voice a bit better, that emphasis on you that sort of slipped in there without him really wanting it to. Kirishima’s heart sinks at the twitch to Bakugou’s brow that pretty much guarantees whatever he actually meant to say is forever lost to the ire perpetually simmering in that red gaze.

Well, it was nice knowing what going to U.A. is like. At least none of his classmates are present to see Kirishima’s inevitable – if incredibly untimely – demise.

Then Bakugou… rolls his eyes, exhales a harsh tch for good measure. “Whatever.” He shoves his bag further up his shoulder and, without a glance back, walks out the room–

Oh no, you don’t.

Out of all foolish thoughts it’s that one that shoots through Kirishima’s head before he grabs his stuff and goes after him. Bakugou somehow manages to maintain that no-fucks-given air to his gait despite how fast he walks, and Kirishima falls into a light jog to close the gap.

“It’s a great idea, man. Can’t have us going soft over the weekend! Plus Ultra, just like All Might said, right?”

Bakugou gives him a withering glance of a side-eye for his trouble. Kirishima notes the distinct lack of explode-y manslaughter, though, and allows himself to settle right into Bakugou’s pace.

“Besides, it’s been like a week and we’re already having villains crashing our lessons. I mean, we showed ‘em what’s what and all, but still! Some extra training can’t hurt.”

It’s not like Kirishima minds being the one to carry a conversation yet the fact that he hasn’t been told to shut up is… something? Not enough for Kirishima to point out, it’s just a thing he notices, just something, so he keeps talking. Past U.A.’s gates, down the stairs and onto the busy sidewalk they go, and Bakugou’s hands never leave the pockets of his pants as he marches past clusters of people in an unflinching line.

Head held high, eyes dead ahead. Cutting through the crowd with his presence alone, and in his wake Kirishima follows.

The afternoon light is hitting that glow-y hue that paints even the most mundane of things in shades of gold when Kirishima realizes they’re headed to the train station. He draws up short, slows his step in the split-second it takes to ask himself if the other even takes the train home or–

Bakugou’s eyes are on him, “What?”, that one word barked so impatiently Kirishima throws the thought right out the metaphorical window and keeps walking.

“Nothing!” A flash of his home screen proves: Five minutes left. They’re making good time. Which, actually– “So what time were you thinking for our sparring sesh? I’m good whenever, unless it’s super late at night. Overprotective parents, you know how it is.”

That gets a huff out of Bakugou. That, and a gesture that’s sort of a grab, sort of a wave that has Kirishima a little stumped until Bakugou sighs gruffly. “Your phone, dumbass.”

“Oh, sure! Here.”

The device changes hands. Kirishima contemplates feeling embarrassed about the obvious crack that takes up half the screen; he’d designed his hero costume without his delicate tech in mind, and with the whirlwind of starting and then surviving week one of the new school year, he hasn’t been able to spare a minute to get neither the phone fixed nor the costume amended.

Bakugou doesn’t comment on it – in fact, he pulls his sleeve down to hold the thing as if to cushion it, and when he taps the screen it’s with his knuckles. Before Kirishima can ask, the pre-installed voice control AI chirps its distinct jingle and Bakugou tells it to make a new contact, rattling off a long string of numbers.

Even before the AI has confirmed the input, Kirishima is catching the phone chucked rather carelessly at his head. “There”, Bakugou says, starting to climb the stairs to the tracks two steps at a time.

Kirishima doesn’t have much time to process any of that before the telltale rattling of an incoming train sounds above them. “Oh shit”, he breathes, hurrying onto the platform and to the closest door just in time to see the last passenger get out. Once inside, he pumps his fist.

“Hell yeah! Dude, we–”

The person next to him, who is not Bakugou, looks rather startled. What the…? Kirishima turns a full 360 degrees before a knock just inches from his face startles him and he meets Bakugou’s smirk, firmly on the other side of the window.

Not a moment later, the train starts pulling away. Kirishima presses close to the thick, faintly scratched glass to watch Bakugou turn and walk right back where they came from. His hand is raised, the light catching white and glinting on something in his hand.

A phone. Oh, right!

Kirishima swipes across an image of Crimson Riot’s iconic pose to unlock and reads Bakugou Katsuki, having left the tab open in his haste. First things first: With a soft snort and a few swift taps, the name is changed before Kirishima hits the speech bubble icon next to it.

Baku💣💥

bro what the hell (sent 17:14)

but thanks (sent 17:14)

it’s kirishima btw (sent 17:15)

just text me the details whenever 💪🏻 (sent 17:15)

He watches the tick next to his messages turn blue almost immediately and waits. One station passes, then two. By the third Kirishima is sure he’s been left on read and laughs, shaking his head. Of course.

The rest of his way home is spent assuring Sero he has not, in fact, exited life in a flurry of explosions as well as letting his moms know he’ll be home in a few. The next time Kirishima checks his phone is between brushing his teeth and climbing into bed, two unread messages waiting for him.

Baku💣💥

[link] (received 19:35)

6AM tomorrow, don’t be fucking late (received 19:35)

The link leads to a location which his phone matches to a quirk-friendly gym pretty close to the U.A. grounds. Kirishima scrolls through a few images of the facilities with some interest before his brain registers–

6AM. On a Saturday.

Baku💣💥

/dude/ (sent 22:08)

srsly?? (sent 22:09)

😩😩 (sent 22:19)

f @ my sleep schedule but ok (sent 22:25)

Minutes later, Kirishima stares at the near-painful sight of an alarm set to 5AM before he sighs and flops face-down into his pillow. The things he does in the name of friendship.

>>Chapter 2

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bnha fanfiction #this is just kiri and baku existing inbetween canon events tbh #this fic is also on AO3!!#my stuff

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) New World: PARADISE Main Story Translation (Chapter 24 选择 : Choice)

*For All Time Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Paradise’s main story tag will be #Welcome to Paradise

The figure sneaking about on the second floor of the building opposite us attempted to flee upon sighting us. However, another tremor occurred before he could.

In the next moment, everything happened in a flurry of sparks and fire as fire flashed from within the small room, blazing violently as it burned.

This explosion was unprecedented, strong, swift, and unstoppable.

Feng Yan rolled his sleeves as he came up, a look of slight surprise and playfulness on his face.

Feng Yan: Man, never thought the Boss would do it himself.

Boss…? I don’t think this has anything to do with him; is he nearby?

I squinted into the distance, trying to see Ayn’s silhouette, but to no avail. Only thick plumes of smoke and the smell of something burning permeated the air.

What sort of powerful weapon did he use? Or is this his… Ability, that I still couldn’t wrap my head around?

As if sensing my uncertainty, Feng Yan looked at me with a smile.

Feng Yan: Relax, lil’ greenleaf. He probably just couldn’t help taking action upon seeing how slip-shod the plot and the explosion here was.

Clarence frowned.

Clarence: Alright, enough.

Clarence: Let me bring the surviving Ability-users away from here now that the matter has been resolved. There are many newcomers here; I will teach them some things about the way of life around here.

He swept his gaze over to the newcomers, who were trembling in fear, beside him; not paying much attention to me.

He'd once given me the ticket to Paradise before, but he was calm and composed when we met again in the middle of conflict, handling the entire incident by himself.

Clarence: Everyone, with me.

The newcomers who'd been rescued slowly flocked towards Clarence one by one; looks like I should join them too…

Feng Yan: Hold up.

Feng Yan: I won’t stop you if you want to leave by yourself, but you can’t take the Battalion’s people with you.

Feng Yan smiled, refusing to back down; and Clarence couldn’t help but to frown at that.

Clarence: The Battalion's people?

Feng Yan: Lil’ greenleaf’s here. She’s the new rookie that’s been selected by our Boss...

Clarence contemplated Feng Yan for a moment before his gaze fell back onto me. Slowly, he shook his head.

Clarence: Only unilaterally. If you have some respect for her, then how about you ask her about what she thinks of that? When did she even become your rookie?

Before I could form a retort, I saw a dark shadow flit by.

Ayn: Now.

As Ayn headed in my direction, all the other members of the Battalion— Made way for him.

A wall of flames resembling a barrier was erected, effectively blocking me off from the other party. These flames weren't meant to harm, neither were they a threat. Rather, it simply served as a divider between the two opposing parties.

The glow from the setting sun slowly turned crimson as it shone on Ayn's cloak and face. He exuded an aura of determined finality as he walked towards me.

MC: I’m someone of unknown identity...

Ayn: You're of unknown identity and your origins are only half-true. But this isn't important at all. If the Battalion rejects anyone with unknown origins, then I should be the first one to get the boot.

His tone was surprisingly magnanimous— Almost as if the Ayn with the distaste for being "unprepared and not willing to identify oneself" was a whole other person.

His words made the Mercenary behind me widen their eyes in shock. The red-haired Mercenary was even a little more hostile about it; seemingly unable to understand nor imagine just why their boss would regard that highly of me.

Ayn: Whether or not you wish to join… Is up to you to decide.

He resumed his place within the members of the Battalion after he'd finished speaking, the fire dissipating in his wake. Feng Yan let his hands hang by his side, taking his position behind Ayn in a way akin to an advisor.

Clarence stood opposite them, looking straight at them, not shying away.

I heard that whenever a hurricane hits, only the heart of it would remain quiet and tranquil; and right now, I was pretty much right at the eye of the storm itself.

Clarence: It’s not convenient for me to say too much here, but… I hope that you will come with me.

Clarence looked at me through his windproof eye protector, his words firm.

Ayn: Who will you go with?

Ayn spoke so casually, that it was almost as if he was assured that he'd be the winner.

And it was right at this moment that something truly embarrassing happened…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

A couple of beeps sounded; notification sounds from the wristband, denoting new unread messages. It was clearly Rorschach; he was unreachable in the afternoon, but it looks like he finally got around to responding to me.

The beep of the notification was sudden and starkly out of place when placed with the atmosphere here along with the oddly silent dusk.

Should I answer either party here, or should I check the incoming message first…?

In my Journey of Paradise, my next course of action should be to—

▷Choice: Check Rorschach's message first (to be updated)

▷Choice: Leave with Clarence

▷Choice: Join Ayn's Battalion (to be updated)

▷Choice: Go to the small garden and ask Alkaid for help

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥Welcome to PARADISE ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Previous Part: (Chapter 23)

#时空中的绘旅人 #For All Time #Otome #Translations #Netease #司岚 #Si Lan #Clarence #风砚 #Feng Yan #艾因 #Ai Yin #Ayn #Welcome to Paradise

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lnarizakis · 4 years

Text

thanks for the food! | m. osamu

masterlist | cards against humanity x haikyuu!!

pairing: miya osamu x gen!reader

foreword: this took so long for me to get out omg but i hope you enjoy!! 💕

look out for: manga spoilers

“sorry for staring, mister. it’s just that i ain’t ever seen ___ before.” + “soup that is too hot.”

“You know, you should really eat something other than cold take out and cup ramen.”

(Y/N)’s roommate Chiba Sumiko sighed, resting a hand on her forehead. She watched (Y/N) sitting at their small kitchen table, currently chowing down on a half-empty box of take out from last night’s dinner. Disappointment washed over her as they let crumbs fall from the corners of their mouth.

“But you know I’m broke—“ (Y/N), with food still lodged in their cheeks, started. As the words left their mouth, they knew what Sumiko—who had a part-time job—would counter.

“Let me treat you. No, I will treat you,” Sumiko decided, sitting down next to (Y/N). The scenario was similar to a father sitting his son down for “The Talk.” Though, in this case, it was Sumiko lecturing (Y/N) that as a college student they should take better care of their health. This included eating a proper meal; eating only take out and cup ramen was definitely not beneficial to her health. As someone studying health and nutrition, they should know better.

And so Sumiko and her boyfriend planned a date, with (Y/N) unfortunately tagging along as a third-wheel. They decided on Onigiri Miya, a tiny restaurant near their campus. It was a quaint little restaurant, and the owner had just recently released their new line of ramen soups. It had been very well-received by the general public, at least the ones who had come in to try it out. Based on those reviews and the fact that they had never eaten there before (Sumiko claimed they had to “expand their horizons,” whatever that meant), the three decided that that was the perfect place to have lunch tomorrow (specifically, at 3).

—

The next day, (Y/N) arrived at the restaurant a little bit later than the couple, not wanting to be the first person to arrive. As they entered the restaurant, the aroma of ramen broth, vegetables, and rice flowed into their nose; the overall atmosphere just felt warm. It was a homely environment, one that (Y/N) would want to visit time and time again. Small talk filled the air, and the one person behind the counter, currently brewing new broth for any incoming customers, casually talked with the patrons that sat around the table. (Y/N) could hear the faint sound of the television sitting in the corner of the restaurant, playing a rerun of a two-year-old volleyball game.

“Ah, welcome in,” the restaurant owner called out to the three, a faint smile on his face. He was, for lack of a better word, extremely hot. (Y/N) could feel a slight blush painting their cheeks, and that most likely wasn’t because of the warm air of the hot food that filled the room.

(Y/N) sat down at the counter along with Sumiko, who had suggested they do so, and her boyfriend. From behind the counter, the man rolled up his sleeves and crossed his arms, handing (Y/N) three plastic menus, which they were to pass along sideways.

Promptly, he said, “Just let me know when you guys are ready to order.” The man pushed a small bell towards them, wordlessly telling them to signal him when they were ready. He turned back to the broth on the stove, also tending to the noodles in a pot beside the broth. He sighed contently— this was the life. He could have never pictured himself playing volleyball beside his brother, who was currently on the television screen, silencing the jeering crowd.

(Y/N)’s eyes scrolled through the menu. What were they to order? There was an array of onigiri to choose from; after all, she was in an onigiri restaurant. However, their eyes drew themselves towards the listing of newly released ramen labels. Why not stick to something they were used to eating?

“(Y/N)-chan, what are you going to have? I’m gonna get the spicy salmon onigiri. The ‘lil picture they have for it on the menu makes it look so good,” Sumiko said. Her words caught the attention of the restaurant owner, stirring the broth absentmindedly, letting out a chuckle. Being the kind partner he was, Sumiko’s boyfriend was content with having her leftovers.

“I think I’ll have the tonkotsu ramen,” (Y/N) stated, still scanning through the menu, making sure there wasn’t something that caught their eye even more than the ramen did. Luckily, there wasn’t, however, so they folded the menu back up and placed it atop the other two menus that Sumiko and her boyfriend had finished using.

Sumiko lightly tapped the bell, and the man behind the counter promptly turned around to collect the menus and finalize what they were going to have.

“I’ll have the spicy salmon onigiri and,” Sumiko pointed to (Y/N), “they’ll have the tonkotsu ramen.” The man nodded.

“Ah, yes. Those are good choices. I know so because I‘m gonna cook ‘em,” the man flatly said, earning a laugh out of the three customers. He set the menus away and began to work on their orders.

—

“Your salmon onigiri,” he said, after some fifteen minutes later. Four onigiri stood proudly on the plate he was holding side-by-side, just waiting to be eaten. The rice was still steaming. He presented the plate to Sumiko and her boyfriend, with an astonished gasp at its delicious appearance. Onigiri Miya was renowned for their aesthetically pleasing food designs.

“Your tonkotsu ramen.” The man then presented the bowl of ramen towards (Y/N), pushing it towards them. The hot steam of it rose up into their face, warming it up. (Y/N) breathed in the aroma of the soup, taking in everything all at once; looking down at it, the soup itself was presented oh-so perfectly, from the cut hard-boiled egg to the seaweed stacked atop each other along the side of the bowl, slowly mixing in with the broth. (Y/N) was practically mesmerized— they hadn’t seen anything like it since... they don’t remember when.

After some time, the man asked with concern, “You good there? You’re starin’ off into the abyss of the bowl.”

“S-Sorry for staring, mister. It’s just that I ain’t ever seen soup that is too hot before,” (Y/N) stuttered. Well, of course they had seen soup that is hot before. They mentally face-palmed themself. To their surprise, however, he laughed. Resting his (notably muscular) arms on the counter some distance away from where (Y/N) had set their phone down to eat, he had his full attention on (Y/N), smiling at them.

“That’s not what I meant. Y’see, I’ve been a little... not eatin’ properly. Simply put,” (Y/N) corrected themself. Taking the chopsticks into their hand, they began eating, looking down in embarrassment.

“Nah, I get it. My brother’s like that. Or, well, he was, in high school,” the man said. “His name’s Atsumu,” he continued, as he pointed to the screen, which currently displayed Atsumu setting for his teammate. The two of them watched the screen until the play ended. Atsumu’s team won the rally, earning them their point. His twin brother in front of (Y/N) pumped his fist, quietly cheering for Atsumu, even though he knew the outcome of the match. It was a two-year-old game, after all.

“I’m Osamu.” Gray eyes glanced over in (Y/N)’s direction, who was taken aback by the sudden introduction.

“Ah, uh, I’m (L/N) (Y/N),” they said, with a half-full mouth of food. Setting down their chopsticks, they wiped their mouth with a napkin. The ramen was so good, so warm, and just so affectionately cooked that (Y/N) gave up all their cares to messily eat the food in front of them.

“I can see you’re enjoyin’ it, (L/N)-han. I’m glad it’s that good.” Osamu watched (Y/N) enjoy the bowl in front of them. Their hunger was akin to his brother’s hunger to improve in volleyball. He felt a pang of familiarity in his chest.

“I love it, Miya-han. What do ya think, Sumiko-chan? How’s it for you?” (Y/N) turned their head towards the girl, taking her time with every bite of her onigiri. Her boyfriend held his own in his hands, ravishing down on it. His cheeks were red due to the warmth of the food. Sumiko turned towards (Y/N), smiling. She gave a thumbs up, a sign of her satisfaction. (Y/N) returned their own small smile.

“Looks like we’re all happy, Miya-han. Thanks for the food.” (Y/N) continued to eat, and Osamu departed from the counter.

—

“That was really good!” Sumiko exclaimed, walking out of the tiny restaurant. “We should go there again someday!” The two others beside her agreed.

(Y/N) shoved their hands into the pockets of their jacket. It was quite cold—colder than usual, at least—for a January afternoon. Though, the pockets of their jacket seemed to be emptier than normal. But (Y/N) paid no attention to that.

“Anyways, (Y/N), don’t you think that store owner was cute? I sure think he was. But you’re cuter, Ichiro, don’t worry.” Sumiko turned towards her boyfriend, giving her a small smile in return. Aw. Their relationship was so cute. (Y/N) wished they had a relationship at least a fraction as affectionate as theirs.

“Yeah, he was pretty cute, I guess,” (Y/N) started, drawing out their words. Though, they didn’t really know how to put it all together; there was just something about him that made them long for his affection (they didn’t know it at the time, but it was definitely his cooking). They hummed, trying to piece together what they were trying to say.

(Y/N)’s roommate looked on in curiosity. “Is there somethin’ wrong? Can ya feel your heartstrings tugging? Is this the sign of true love?” Ever the romantic she was. She’d been rooting for (Y/N) to find their one-and-only since the beginning of their first year of graduate school. Ever the supportive friend she was, as well.

“Agh, I’m just— I just can’t believe how much I stuttered around him... and ate so messily in front of him, too, and—“ (Y/N) sighed. Sumiko clasped a hand on their shoulder.

“It’s alright, (Y/N); you hit it off greatly with him! Didn’t you see it? He definitely did. I mean— the longing look in his eyes while he was talking to you was phenomenal! Ichiro, why don’t you look at me the way—“ Sumiko’s scold was cut short by a familiar voice calling out from behind them. It was Osamu. He held (Y/N)’s phone in his hands, as he made his way towards them. Ah, so that was why their pocket felt slightly emptier than usual.

“(L/N)-san. You, uh... you forgot this,” Osamu said, looking down at the phone. (Y/N) held out their hand, as he gave them back their phone using both of his hands.

“Oh, thank you, Miya-han,” (Y/N) replied with a little more fluster than they had before.

As they put their phone back in their pocket, Osamu whispered something under his breath, just barely audible. (Y/N) asked him to repeat what he had just said.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he started, “but I added my number to your phone.” (Y/N) smiled, their cheeks reddening—totally because of the cold January weather (yep, totally).

“No, I don’t mind at all. Let’s talk more often, and maybe you can cook something else for me as well.”

—

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