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jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 years

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not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.)

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not.

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look," you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him. First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions.

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him.

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

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crackheadgeminibby · 3 years

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better for you

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, angst, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and is very poorly edited, i’m sorry but on the plus side, i surpassed 400 followers yesterday!! so thank you to those 400+ people🤍🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape of form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. Much less a jealous girlfriend. Not at all. Never had and you thought you never would.

You had practically raised yourself as your parents had always been more preoccupied with their jobs. You loved your parents, you really did, but when your high school counselor told you that you could graduate high school a year and a half early, you took the opportunity to start college immediately and move out of your parents’ house. This drastic change when you were so young made you become extremely independent. Which is why your relationship with Chris worked almost perfectly. You valued your independence, as he did his, and you respected his independence, as he did yours.

As a corporate lawyer that had multiple firms around the country, you traveled a lot, needing to meet with clients. Chris, as an actor, also traveled a lot.

You both trusted the other without a doubt at the beginning of the relationship despite that Chris was, at first, a little wary of being with someone as young as you. As a 24-year-old, he thought that you should be living your life, partying, sleeping with whomever you wanted without being tied down, but you had explained to him that despite your age, those were not the things that you wanted.

You and Chris were truly made for each other, knowing the other more than they knew themselves. You would even dare to call yourselves soulmates.

Which is why you could not fathom why you were in your current situation.

You had left early in the day for California, where you were overseeing the opening and start-up of your newest firm. Chris, on the other hand, had left 3 days ago to go on some trip his publicist had arranged for him. You hadn’t bothered asking what it was about, assuming that it was about ASP. Plus, you didn’t mind it: he had to do what he had to do.

But now, you couldn’t believe yourself.

You were sitting on your hotel bed, in a white and fluffy robe, fresh out of the shower. Your computer was open in front of you, the TV was blaring the news and you had your phone in your hand. It was almost 11pm but you had been doing this for at least 3 hours. All three electronics were talking about the same thing: Are Chris Evans and Lily James dating??

It was a bit your fault that people gave themselves the right to assume things like that, to be honest, since you had been the one to pressure Chris about keeping your relationship secret. You knew that people would talk and judge you for your 15-year age gap. You, personally, didn’t care and neither did Chris but his career was dependent on his public image and you didn’t want to hold him back, especially not at a pivotal moment in his life like right now.

So, you had agreed on telling your families and your very close friends and Chris had convinced you to let him tell his publicist, Megan. God, she fucking hated you. When Chris arranged for you guys to meet, she had called you “a walking, breathing PR disaster”. You had laughed it off calling her funny, but you knew that she was 100% serious. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would do something so fucked up at some point.

A bunch of different news outlets were pumping out new stories every 30 minutes, each article a little more detailed than the previous. It was all over the Internet and it seemed to be the only thing that people cared about today.

Considering the 8-hour difference between London and San Francisco, you hadn’t been able to talk to Chris at all since you got to your hotel. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him. He hadn’t even tried to talk to you. Why was he avoiding you and acting like he had something to hide?

You’re reading the latest Daily Mail article on your computer about how Chris and Lily apparently got to his hotel in the same car when you hear your phone ring on the nightstand. You don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as you reach for your phone, eyes still glued to your computer and answer,

“Hello?”

You hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone before you hear Chris’ tired voice, “Baby, hi.”

You tense up slightly before asking, trying to seem nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“Have you watched the news today?”

You bite your lip, thinking, before replying, lying through your teeth, “No, why? What’s going on?”

Chris sighs again before answering, “Nothing, it’s fine. How was your day?”

You roll your eyes. Was he seriously not going to say anything?

“Fine, but it’s really late and I have to get up early tomorrow so good night.”

You hang up the phone before Chris can answer anything. You throw the phone at the end of your bed, frustrated beyond belief.

You continue to read the Daily Mail article as you hear a message coming in. You don’t bother to get up to pick up your phone as you see the message appear on your computer screen a couple of seconds later.

chris💙, 11:01pm:

Good night baby girl. Good luck tomorrow🤍

You groan loudly at his message. Even when he had pissed you the fuck off, his words still brought butterflies to your stomach.

You disregard his message and finish reading the article. You roll your eyes as you close your computer and get up to put it on the hotel desk. As you’re walking back to bed, you take your phone from the end of the bed and put it on its charger, ready to go to bed.

You’re not sure how you manage to fall asleep that night as your mind swirls with unending thoughts.

When your alarm wakes you up at 6am the next day, you feel groggy, having slept very badly last night. Which was to be expected.

You get up and change while eating a protein bar before heading to the hotel gym: you needed to do something to get your energy up. Once you finish your workout, you head back to your room to get ready for the day.

When you get out of the shower, you open your computer and, having left the Daily Mail website open last night, you see a new article posted 2 minutes ago: Chris Evans and Lily James seen on a date in a London park.You groan loudly, closing your computer as you hear that your cell phone is receiving multiple texts.

You reach for your phone on the hotel desk and your eyes widen as you see your lock screen.

5 missed calls

12 messages

You open your Phone app seeing one call from Chris, two from your best friend, one from your brother and one from your mom.

You open the Messages app as a new message from your brother comes in.

will, 7:31am:

When did you break up with your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell me?

you, 7:32am:

i didn’t

yet

will, 7:32am:

You know i’m gonna fucking murder him right?

You smile fondly at your brother’s concern, chuckling softly as you type your reply.

you, 7:33am:

as you should(:

You open the rest of your messages, mostly asking the same thing. You didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so, you ignore them until you get to your conversation with Chris.

chris💙, 5:22am:

Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now.

I’m so sorry

Call me when you can, please. I really need to talk to you.

You bite your lip as you think about what to answer. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this right before your firm’s opening. Shaking your head, you lock your phone, putting it back on the desk, getting dressed.

As you get back to your hotel room, exhausted from your day, you hear your phone signal an incoming text for the millionth time today.

You sigh loudly: you knew it was Chris texting you again. You had been ignoring his texts all day because you didn’t want to get in a bad mood while you were opening the firm.

You put your purse and work bag on the floor, unlocking your phone. You open the conversation with Chris, scrolling through his messages.

chris💙, 6:15pm:

I’m leaving a bit earlier than I planned, I should be home tomorrow morning.

Are you back in Boston or are you gonna stay in LA?

You sigh, feeling guilty that you had been ignoring his texts all day. You start typing a reply, your finger hovering over the send button for a couple of seconds before clicking on it.

you, 6:17pm:

i’m still in san francisco i’m leaving tomorrow morning

As soon as your message goes through, you see the three dots pop up in the conversation.

chris💙, 6:17pm:

Oh my God, hi. Are you okay?

Can I call you?

You chew on your bottom lip: you really didn’t think he was going to answer that fast.

you, 6:18pm:

i’m about to take a shower then i’m gonna go to bed i’m really tired sorry

chris💙, 6:18pm:

Okay, I’m sorry

Good night

You groan loudly. You really didn’t know why you felt so guilty: he was the one running around with another woman. As you think about this, you realize that you didn’t really know who she was.

You shake your head at yourself as you pull up Google on your phone and look for her. You don’t even realize it but, 20 minutes later, you were now at the oldest post on her Instagram.

You curse at yourself, dropping your phone on your bed, and head to the shower.

You stay under the hot stream of the shower for at least an hour before you finally get out, toweling off.

You order some room service for dinner, settling down in front of a random show playing on the TV. After pushing your food around for half an hour, you sigh loudly, put the tray on the hotel desk and get under the covers before finally falling asleep.

You had not slept very well so you had been in a rush to leave the hotel and catch your flight to LAX in the morning. You were exhausted and hungry when you got to your shared LA home with Chris but there was no food in sight, considering that neither of you had been here in a couple of months.

As it was not too late in the day, you decide to take a nap and order some food after.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun has already completely set and the house is pitch black. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and take your phone before heading to the living room to order some food.

As you enter the kitchen and are about to head to the living room, you hear a deep voice, “Hey, you’re up.”

Taken by surprise, you throw your phone in the direction of the sound and scream, “Holy shit!”

“Ow… What the fuck?”

You’re breathing heavily, clutching your chest as you turn on the kitchen lights, brightness illuminating the area as you see Chris holding the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ, Chris! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Chris rubs at his head as he looks towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you roll your eyes.

“What are you even doing here?”

Chris frowns and replies, “Well, you never told me where you were going to be but when I got back to Boston and you weren’t there, I assumed you were coming here.”

You groan silently, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows,

“So, London seemed to be very fun.”

Chris shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, before making eye contact with you, “I didn’t know that’s what the trip was about.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Really, Chris? Since when do you go on trips, not knowing what they’re about?”

Chris exhales loudly, taking a couple of steps towards you, “I promise that I didn’t know. Megan planned everything and just sent me the info.”

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. Chris frowns before asking, “What?”

“Megan, Chris? Really? She fucking hates me, of course she would pull a stunt like this.”

Chris frowns again, shaking his head, “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hate you.”

You laugh, this time, actually finding this funny, “Chris, she literally called me a walking disaster.”

Chris struggles to find an answer to that: he knew that Megan used this exact kind of formulation so he couldn’t deny it.

“And you know what? It’s fine. Maybe you really should be dating her instead of me.”

Chris’ face contorts in a mix of hurt and anger, “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, Chris. She’s better for you. She’s actually your age, not a fucking child compared to you. She can give you the things you want from life that I can’t. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What way?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at your feet, mumbling, “If we weren’t together.”

Chris scoffs, “You literally have to be kidding me.”

Chris takes large steps, making his way towards you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I do not give a shit about your age. And I thought you didn’t either. So, what’s the problem here?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously, “Because what if what Megan said is true? I mean… If people find out that we’re dating, the shit talking would never stop. I can’t do that to you.”

Chris sighs, enveloping you in a hug.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters if we’re not together.”

He lets you go, stroking your cheek, “You’re it for me. There is no one better for me than you. And no one is going to take that away from us. Not you. Not Megan. And certainly not my fans. If they love me as much as they say they do, then they’ll respect you.”

You chuckle slightly, “Chris, I don’t know what kind of fantasy you live in, but in real life, that’s not how things go.”

“Okay, but who cares? There’s two people in this relationship, you and me. Not you, me, Megan and my fans.”

You scoff, mumbling, “Yeah, tell Megan that.”

“I will. The same goes for her. I didn’t know she actually meant those things about you and I’ll tell her that she needs to knock that shit off.”

You sigh, nodding slightly, “Okay.”

“And, baby, I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, trying to understand, “I never should have agreed to Megan’s little plan thing. But, most importantly, I should have told you as soon as I knew. It’s just that I kinda owed Lily a favor and she needed this. But it doesn’t erase the fact that I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You sigh, “I know, it’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen when I decided to be with you, and I overreacted a bit so I’m sorry too. I knew it wasn’t true and I should have asked you about it instead of ignoring you. I just… couldn’t let go of the fact that maybe you should be with her.”

Chris shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. And I never will be.”

Chris laughs a bit before continuing, “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Looking back at Chris, you smile warmly before hugging him,

“I love you, Chris. Like, a lot.”

Chris chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I love you too.”

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfictions #chris evans fanfics

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escapewithbts · 3 years

Text

Charity Case - Yoongi

Not super edited, not sure if I love it, blah blah blah, please still enjoy...

I’ve been in such a Yoongi mood lately 😇

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

You stared at your bank statement, or more specifically, your savings account. You had saved up a decent amount of money, that was for sure, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to kickstart your dream.

It all happened a few days ago on a Tuesday afternoon. You had just finished lunch with a friend who was from your home country. The two of you had found a restaurant specializing in the traditional food from there since you both were craving a taste of home. On your walk back to your apartment, you noticed the road you usually took was blocked off with construction (typical for the summertime in Seoul you were learning), so ultimately you had to take a detour, pulling out your Maps app. Although you lived in Hongdae, you really only took the same few roads daily. Therefore, you still did not quite know your way around.

The new directions had you weave down a side street, one you had never been on before. To your surprise, it was full of restaurants, shops, and cafes, and since Hongdae was known for homing many foreigners within the city of Seoul, many of them featured things you were very familiar with from back home.

Strolling down the block you made mental notes of places you wanted to try, places that were bustling with people, figuring they must be good if that’s the case.

All of a sudden, between an American grocery store and floral shop, you noticed a beautiful empty store front. You peered in the large windows and was met with a decent sized space, white walls, white tile floors, a lot of natural lighting. It was perfect. In the corner of the same window there was a sign that read “FOR LEASE” with the name of the agent and a phone number.

You took a picture of said sign before stuffing your phone back in your pocket. There was no harm in calling, right? Even just getting a feel for the space was harmless…right?

For ever since coming to Seoul from abroad, it was your dream to open your own bakery. To make desserts and breads and pastries fresh daily for the Seoulites to try and the foreigners to feel nostalgic for their home countries. You were currently working a boring office job as a translator, saving for the moment you could follow your true dream.

And maybe this was a sign… this was it.

So, you did call. You did get a feel for the space. And it was perfect. Turns out it had been a pizza shop that went under, (too much competition) so there were already ovens and freezers and refrigeration, all in great working condition. The agent informed you the floor could be ripped up and replaced, there were already light fixtures attached in the ceiling that could connect to chandeliers and you were already picturing plants hanging from macrame in front of the large windows.

But there was just one problem.

As you stared at your savings account and compared it to the down payment in the brochure the realtor had given you… they didn’t match. You were short about 1/3 of the cost, especially since there was still some work to be done inside to really make it your own.

You heart sunk. You mentally scolded yourself for getting your hopes up. It was in such a prime location; how could you have been so stupid to think it was in your price range!

Suddenly, instead of staring at your lack of funds, you were staring at your face in your phone’s front camera as you received a FaceTime call request. ‘Yoongi’ was the name at the top of the phone screen, accompanied by your favorite picture you had taken of him candidly making a gummy smile caused by a joke you had told. Right on time for the daily call you two always had.

You sighed. Did you really want to speak to him right now? You were great friends, you had (stupidly) told him about the place and he had been so incredibly excited for you. He was so supportive and encouraging… it was incredibly endearing. Reminding yourself of that you pressed the green accept button.

Immediately you were met with the handsome face and bleach blonde hair of Min Yoongi. He was resting his head back on his black leather sofa, his narrow eyes meeting yours between screens.

“Hi Yoongi-ah,” you gave him a small smile.

“Hey (y/n).” he responded, returning the smile.

You stood up and walked over to the couch in your small apartment, sitting down and curling your legs underneath you.

“What are you up to?” you asked.

He reached towards the screen and flipped it, so it was now looking forward. An NBA basketball game was playing on the large tv in his living room.

“Watching the game. It’s game 4 of the finals so if Pheonix wins this one they only have one more game to win before they win it all.”

He returned the screen to face him.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you replied, “Did you have a lot on your work schedule today?”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“It wasn’t too bad. Practiced PTD for a Japanese tv performance we have coming up. Worked on some music between rehearsals,” he shrugged, “the usual.”

You nodded.

“You?” he questioned, “how was your day?”

You looked down at the couch cushions and fiddled with the blanket that laid beside you. You bit your lip before responding.

“Fine. It was fine. I, uh, I had that appointment. With the agent in charge of that space I was interested in?”

Yoongi’s eyes got wide, and he perked his head up.

“Shit, I forgot that was today. How was it? Did you like it as much as you thought you would?”

A small grin appeared on your face remembering how picturesque it had been.

“It was even better than I thought it would be, Yoongs,” you told him.

He smiled wide.

“That’s incredible! So wh-what now? Did you put down the money for it? Or did you need me to come with you to look at it again, see if there’s anything that needs fixing that I can do??”

You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head. He was so sweet, and it broke your heart even more.

“Thank you, Yoongi, for offering, but that… won’t be necessary.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, expecting his next question to make you feel uneasy.

He cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? Why not? I really don’t mind.”

You sighed, suddenly incredibly embarrassed to be admitting this to your friend.

“I just saw the statement of my bank account and, well, I don’t… I can’t afford the down payment. I don’t have enough saved up yet.”

You couldn’t help but look down in shame. Yoongi never talked about his money or how much he made being in BTS, but you weren’t stupid. He worked incredibly hard for everything he and his fellow members have achieved and you were nothing but proud of him. He deserved it all, even the unassumingly large income he was bringing in. He would never, ever flaunt it or make you feel inferior to him because of it, but you still felt slightly inefficient in your confession.

Yoongi’s face softened.

“Oh… I’m-I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You shrugged and gave him a small, hopeful smile.

“It’s alright. It just means it wasn’t meant to be, that’s all.”

He gave you a sympathetic frown.

“But you said it was perfect.” He reminded you.

You placed your fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Because it is, Yoongi-ah. It’s bright and cozy and practically ready. Not to mention it’s an incredible location,” you rolled your eyes at yourself, “I really should have known it would be too much.”

“How much is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You looked away again and scrunched your nose, before telling him the exact amount required to put down in order for the space to be yours.

His mouth formed into that straight line he was known for when he was neither happy nor displeased by something.

“Could you get a loan? Like from a bank?”

You shook your head.

“I already looked into it,” you informed him, “it’s weird because my bank is home, but I’m abroad so there would be a lot of hoops to jump through and the chances of being approved are slim to none. Basically, it’s not worth putting a mark on my credit for.”

He nodded in understanding, looking away for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together in thought, and as much as you appreciated him trying to help you, you had already thought of all the possible solutions, and you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore.

“It’s okay, Yoongs, really, I’ll find someplace else.” You smiled reassuringly at him.

He looked back at you and hummed in agreement before you began talking about something else.

The next day you had barely stepped out of your office building after a long day at work when your phone’s text message notification sound went off.

5:49pm from Yoongi: Are you off work yet?

5:49pm to Yoongi: Leaving now. What’s up?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Can you meet me here at the HYBE building ASAP?

You furrowed your eyebrows.

5:50pm to Yoongi: Sure. Is everything okay?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Yeah, everything is fine

5:51pm from Yoongi: Come to the Forum at the top floor when you get here, okay? I already told the front desk you’re coming

5:51pm to Yoongi: You’re being weird but okay

5:51pm from Yoongi: Don’t worry so much you pabo, it’s nothing bad

You rolled your eyes and locked your phone before hailing a taxi.

The ride to Yoongi’s work was longer than usual because of traffic, but eventually you made it, giving a wad of cash to the driver and stepping out of the cab. The tall, reflective HYBE building intimidated you a little bit, like you were going to get in trouble just for stepping foot on its grounds, but you confidently passed the transparent sign that read “HYBE We Believe in Music” and opened the doors to the main entrance. A woman at the front desk greeted you and asked to see your ID when you told her you were here to see Min Yoongi. When she confirmed your identity, she gestured toward the elevators.

“Yes, you may proceed to the Forum on the 19th floor, he is waiting near the café there.”

You nodded and thanked her before letting the elevator doors close in front of you.

The aroma of coffee wafted into your nose immediately upon stepping out of the elevators. It smelled heavenly. You walked past many groups of HYBE businessmen and women taking breaks or in small meetings before finally spotting Yoongi at a table in the corner near the large windows. He was fixated on his phone, an iced Americano on the table in front of him, and another iced drink sitting across. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him in person as his schedule was usually jam packed, but upon seeing him now your heart skipped a beat and a wide smile formed on your lips. You hadn’t seen his newly bleached hair in person yet and he looked even more handsome than you imagined. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight. It was good to see him again. You missed him.

“Hi,” you said, pulling out the chair and sitting down across from him, “the building is incredible.”

He glanced up at you and nodded in agreement.

“It’s nice. They did a great job. I don’t mind coming to work as much now.” He chuckled to himself, and you rolled your eyes.

He pointed to the beverage in front of you.

“The drinks are good, too, I got your favorite.”

You smiled at him and took a sip. He was right, it was delicious.

“Thanks, Yoongs.”

He stared at you for a moment, a grin forming on his face. Your face felt hot, and you had to look away.

“Sooo… why did you need me here so urgently?” you quickly wondered.

“Urgently?” he retaliated, “it sure took you long enough.”

Oh, how you loved his bluntness.

You scoffed.

“Well, excuuuuse me, Mr. Min, normal people go home from work around this time, so traffic was absolutely horrendous! Could you have picked any other time of day?”

He smiled and looked down at his hands while shaking his head.

“This was literally the only open slot I had today, sorry,” he glanced at the time on his phone, “and I’m already almost out of time as it is.”

You waved your hands, urging him on.

“Well then, what is it that it couldn’t wait?”

He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled nervously.

“Aiisshh okay, please don’t be mad.”

You narrowed your eyes and cocked your head.

“Mad? What? What is it, Min Suga?”

He took a deep breath and reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small piece of paper. Then he unfolded it carefully and placed it in the middle of the table facing you.

To your shock, it was a personal check. From Yoongi’s bank account. Written for the exact amount you had told him last night of the down payment for the perfect shop you couldn’t afford.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes left the rectangular paper to look into his. They were a little weary, maybe, but hopeful.

“Yoongi…” you started.

He held up his hand.

“Please. Just take it, (y/n).”

Your heart was pounding. There in front of you was the exact amount you needed to start your dream. Your very own bakery. And combined with the amount you had in your savings you could even add some extra touches!

But… you couldn’t do it. You knew you couldn’t. This was your dream, and even if that amount of money was nothing to someone like Yoongi, you wanted to be the one to earn it, like he had earned all his successes.

“I-I… I can’t, Yoongi.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“(y/n) …”

“Thank you, Yoongi, truly, it means so much.”

He shook his head and motioned to the check.

“Then just take it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“But you said so yourself that place is perfect! You were in love with it!”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. Did he have to keep reminding you how great it was?

“Yes. But I cannot afford it. There will be other places.”

“You can afford it if you take this. Please, (y/n), this won’t hurt me in anyway financially, I’m good. I want you to be, too.”

“I am good, Yoongi. I work hard and I’m saving. This place is just not it and I have to accept that. Maybe a time will come where I can afford someplace like it, and when it does it will be just as perfect.”

He rolled his eyes.

“How do you know you’ll find another place?? Jesus, you’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, (y/n).”

Your hands balled up into fists. Okay that was it. Calling you stubborn because you wanted to be self sufficient had made you hit your boiling point.

“I’m stubborn? How about I just don’t want to be your charity case, idol Min Yoongi, hmm?” you whispered harshly to him, “I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t want your help; I don’t need your help. I’m a fucking adult, too, you know, just because I don’t make millions doesn’t mean I can’t make smart financial decisions. God, do you think I’m just that pathetic?”

You got up to leave, so over this conversation.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut.

“What? Fuck, (y/n), no I don’t think you’re pathetic. If anything… I-I’m the pathetic one.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before marching back toward the elevators and hitting the down arrow button.

Yoongi followed.

“Do you know why?” he asked, jumping into the elevator with you before the doors could close.

It was just the two of you as it began its long descent down 19 floors.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why what? Why you’re pathetic?” you snorted, “Because you just offered your friend an obscene amount of money for something you have no part in?”

He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath.

Finally, he peered back up at you and his dark brown eyes met yours.

“Well, that, and because,” he paused, shuffling nervously on his feet, “because I’m having a really hard time telling that same friend how I truly feel about her.”

Your heart stopped and your mouth fell open again, in a different kind of shock.

“What?” you said softly.

“Fuck, I love you, (y/n)!” the pale skin of his face turned a bright red, and he took his gaze away again, “Aiiisshh, I’m sorry, I’m just horrible at showing my emotions and telling people how I feel. I guess I was hoping offering you the money would help you understand but I didn’t even think how it would come off, I just wanted you to know that I support you and I want to be apart of your decisions in life as more than a friend and- “

You cut off his worrisome rant by flinging yourself towards him and kissing him hard. It was his turn to be shocked, but he instantly got the memo and pushed you back against the wall of the elevator in passion. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands grazing the bare skin of your lower back under your shirt. You gripped your hands in his blonde locks.

The elevator let out a ding signaling you had reached the first floor. You pulled away from each other, panting from the heat of the moment. You smiled.

“I love you, too, Yoongs. But I’m still not taking your money.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted.

Then you started to exit the elevator, but you felt him grab your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned back toward him with confused eyes.

He grinned at you, his eyes suddenly full of lust.

“Do you maybe... want to see my new studio?”

Masterlist

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Men-Sitting (700+ Follower Special!)

Pairing: Colson ‘Machine Gun Kelly’ Baker x Female!reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, me not proofreading

Note: This is my final Follower-Special (until I hit another goal) and I just wanna say thank you so fucking much to all of my followers, readers who don’t follow, random people who stumble across my blog, friends irl and online, thank you so so so much. I never thought I’d make it past 100 followers to be honest, so this is really big to me heh, and I don’t even know how to thank you guys- I love you all so so much, please stay safe, take care, and yeah. Again, thank you!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace

Masterlist

“Are you sure you have everything?” Y/n asked, for what Colson felt like was the thousandth time.

“Yes, baby, I’m sure. If we forget anything, one of us can stay with Casie while the other goes and gets the thing we’ve forgotten, alright? I promise, we’ll be okay.” His hands ran up and down her arms in a comforting way, the smile on his face having a similar effect as what his hands were attempting to achieve.

“Thank you.” She leaned in to kiss her boyfriend, but was interrupted by a squeal and little arms wrapping around her waist.

“Y/n!” Casie yelled excitedly, causing the couple to separate. The woman opened her arms and bent down, picking Casie up and hugging her tightly, a series of kisses finding their way to the little girl’s face.

“Hey there Cas! Are you gonna enjoy your trip?” The girl nodded, allowing Y/n to pull her up fully, wrapping her legs tightly around her waist. “Take care of your dad for me, okay?”

Casie nodded again, “I promise!”

Colson sputtered out sounds, pretending to take offence. Unable to find the right wording for his feigned hurt, he gave up and grabbed Casie from Y/n, kissing her on the head before leaning over and kissing Y/n as well.

“We’ll miss you, right Casie?” The eight year old smiled and gave a small, “yea” before leaning over in Colson’s arms to hug Y/n again. He set her down, whispering in her ear to grab her stuff before he stood up again to kiss Y/n goodbye properly.

Their lips touched, then parted enough to speak, “Stay safe, alright?” Her fingers grasped his blond locks, they leaned in until their foreheads touched.

“Alright, I promise, we will.”

“So Casie, what do you wanna do first?” Pete raised his brows as he asked the girl, grabbing things from his suitcase to put in the hotel’s coat hanger part of their room. “Wanna eat ice-cream?”

“No.”

“Watch cartoons?”

“Nope.”

“Play a game?”

“No thanks.”

“Ummm...” He continued popping up questions, most of which he assumed a child around Casie’s age would want, but in truth, he really missed doing all those things. Eventually, he tired out, giving up with a groan as his back hit the bed. “I don’t know anymore kid, I’m all out of ideas.”

“We could listen to my dad’s music?”

Colson had gone to the store to get dinner, not something he’d forgotten, but something he’d promised to do. Buy food for their trip while they were there. The brunette bit his lip while he thought, even if it was different from his expectation, there was nothing wrong with listening to music instead, was there?

“Oh? Uh, yeah sure.” Pete leaned over to grab his phone, pulling up a random song of Colson’s and turning the volume up. He watched with amusement; Casie was dancing around and singling along, enjoying herself.

Maybe he misjudged Casie, or her age-range.

After a few more songs, Colson finally came back, arms full of bags filled with different assortments of food, beverages, and treats. The first thing Casie did was reach over to grab at one of the bags, examining it’s healthy contents with a grin.

“I’ve never seen a child so happy to see the opposite of junk-food in my entire life.” Pete snorted, walking over to help his best friend put everything away properly. “Casie, you want a candy?”

“No thank you. But can I have an apple?”

Even Colson turned his head towards the girl, the confusion laced through his brows as they scrunched, “You alright, Cas?”

“Yep. So is that yes or a no?”

He exchanged a look with Pete before tossing her the red fruit, mumbling something about how weird it was as he shook his head. Colson grabbed himself a small lollipop, popping it into his mouth and sitting next to Casie on the bed.

“So, what do you want to watch?” He grabbed the remote, flicking through the channels aimlessly. He paused on kids shows, only to receive a shake of the head from Casie. “You guys actually watch this shit?” Colson paused on one of the children’s shows, the look on his face displaying his incertitude.

“I don’t. Can we read instead?”

Colson’s head whipped to face his daughter so fast, he thought he broke it. “Who are you and what’ve you done with my baby girl?” Part of him was just trying to be a goof, but the other half was truly puzzled.

His phone began to ring, Y/n’s caller ID popping up. A smile made home on Colson’s, as well as Casie’s, lips when the beautiful bright e/c eyed girl appeared on the screen. “Hey baby!”

“Hey Y/n!”

“I wasn’t talking to you Colson, but hello to you too dork.” Hearing her laugh was worth the playful insult. ”So, Cas, you taking care of the boys for me?” the girl in question nodded, grabbing at the phone, only for her dad to pull it out of her reach.

“Not to be rude, Y/n, but why’d you call?” Pete sat next to the father-daughter duo, looking at the screen. “Also, where are you?” She was in a car, different from where the boys expected her to be at this hour.

“Well, since you guys are out, I decided to go shopping,” Y/n held up a candy bar, “so yeah. Hey, Casie, keep those two idiots safe, okay? I’ve got to go, love you all!”

She hang up, leaving Colson and Pete with a very uninterested looking Casie. The tv was still of no interest, the candy and others likewise. A heavy sigh escaped Colson’s mouth. He’d finally given up and gotten bored himself. Pete, however, came up with a theory.

“Dude, maybe Y/n put her up to this?” both guys sat up quickly as he continued, “I mean, she did seem mostly focused on how we were doing and if Casie was keeping us safe...whatever the fuck that means.”

Casie’s expression switched from neutral to one of horror for a quick second, until she corrected herself with a blank roll of her eyes. Noticing it, Pete smiled victoriously. He’d caught her. “Guess your game wasn’t as sneaky as you wanted it to be. Colson and I caught on in like, less than a day-”

“Actually,” the door creaked open, all three turning to face the door, “I think it was, Davidson.”

“Y/n!! It worked! I got ‘em good!” Casie jumped off the bed and ran up to her father’s girlfriend, jumping into her arms and hugging her tightly.

“Yes you did! You did amazing, baby!” She reached into one of her back pockets and pulled out the same candy bar she’d shown in their facetime, handing it to Casie with a pat on the head, “Here’s the promised payment, princess.”

The three adults couldn’t contain their laughter with what came next; Casie’s unintentional comedy was too much for them, “Oh thank goodness! I had to eat an apple, Y/n! An apple!! Can you believe that?!”

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write-orflight · 4 years

Text

Like Real People do. Chapter 2

*Gif not mine*

Chapter 1

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Death, talk about death, Mentions of past sexual assault and kidnapping

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N This is a little angsty chapter. lots of major plot details as well as mentions of assault. If that is Triggering to you i recommend skipping the first half. Also expect an update every week instead of this soon only posting this because I got inspired and finished early. much love, Cia

Chapter 2:About that night

“Hey dad, mom.” You said, sitting down on the cool grass, you began to pick at the blades like you did as a child as you spoke. “I know I haven’t visited in a while. In my defense, I was in school across the country, but it's not like I haven't been thinking of you guys.” You leaned back the cool marble chilling your back as well. You could practically hear your mother’s voice in your ear.

“Ladies don’t slouch, Y/N” She’d always say, your dad would always come to your defense, “Sit however you want, Angel.” He’d say. You smiled, sadly. You missed your parents in different ways but you still missed them regardless.

“Umm, so I suppose I should tell you guys what’s new with me.” You say. “I finished my masters, 2 actually and I uh… finished academy. I’m a profiler now at Quantico.” you winced slightly, you knew your mom would hate it, she hated when your dad was one. You couldn’t count the amount of times you hid in your room watching TV to drown out what they thought was hushed arguments. Your mom didn’t like that he wasn’t home a lot, sure but the main argument was always that she thought it was dangerous, and that he was recklessly putting their lives at risk.

If there’s one thing your mother always was, it was right.

“I know you guys probably wouldn’t have wanted this for me. I know mom wanted me to be a dancer despite my inability to dance.” you laughed, looking back fondly at the times you would just, for lack of a better word, flail around your childhood dance classes. “And I know dad never wanted me to know about that side of his job. But I did, and now I’m doing it and I’m happy because it’s the one place I finally feel like I fit.” You sigh. “And I’m good at it. So I feel like you guys would be proud.” You began to rattle off the details of your most recent case quietly to your dad. And how Spencer took a risk that had thankfully paid off but was terrifying in the meantime.

“Spencer is…” You paused, trying to think of the right words to describe Dr. Spencer Reid. “... A guy. Wait, not a guy, like that. He’s a coworker, who’s a guy.” you say, fumbling and probably flushing if you could see your face. Why were you blushing? No one was here, no one alive at least. You’d known Spencer for a little over a month now and the more you spoke, the more your crush on him developed. “He’s incredibly smart, like genius-level smart, and he’s nice. Dad, you would’ve liked him.” you felt tears coming up, as they typically did this day of the year. You stood up, placing the flowers you had purchased the day before. “I actually managed to find some good blue hydrangeas this year for you, mom.” You smiled, remembering the amount your mother would complain about how other people took care of their flowers in the neighborhood you grew up in specifically your neighbor’s blue hydrangea bush. You often found her in a rage that they were ‘practically butchering her favorite flower’ You laid the flowers down regarding your parents grave one more time.

Alice and Noah Y/L/N

Beloved Parents and Agents.

You stopped for hot chocolate on your way home, it always cheered you up in these winter months. Not that anything could cheer you up today but it couldn’t hurt. You made your way back to your apartment, picking up your textbook and making notes. When the words began to swim you laid down for a nap.

You hadn’t had the dream for a while but it was never really gone. The putrid smell of the basement you were kept in, the drip of the leaky ceiling, the small sealed shut window that was your only indication that days have passed. His hands, filthy dirty hands. Always covered in soot, fingernails always dirty. He’d always come in at night, the light from the hallway being the only amount of light you’d get. Every night, he’d grab your face roughly, making you meet him in his dead eyes, and ask

“Are you going to be good for me tonight, Beloved.”

You fought him the first couple of nights, but after a while you just let him take it. His hands always rough, pinning you, the knife pressing deep making shallow cuts in your side, the ringing of the phone

The ringing of the phone…?

You wake up startled, your phone is ringing. You look at the caller ID, it was Garcia.

“Hey Garcie.” You say, sleepily, calling her by the nickname you gave her a month into knowing her. “Is there a case?” You ask.

“Nope, sugarplum. I’m calling to ask if you wanted to come out and have a girls night. I was thinking maybe calling Prentiss and JJ, we go get drinks, have fun…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think so, Garcia, I might just sit and watch tv tonight.” You say, being in large crowds, especially today, didn’t sound fun.

“I know what today is, Y/N” she says, quietly. “So even if you don’t want to go out that’s fine, I’ll bring food, wine, and we can totally just sit and watch tv. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

She was right, you knew you shouldn’t be alone. You sigh. “Only if you bring thai food and we can watch Doctor Who.”

“Deal!” she says excitedly before hanging up.

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

You and Garcia proceeded to spend most of the day watching Doctor who and laughing around Thai food. You’re halfway through the 10’s second season when Garcia gets a call.

“What’s up, buttercup?” She says. You can’t make out the other person on the line. “I am sitting with Y/N in her apartment and we’re watching Doctor Who, can you believe she stopped watching after Nine?”

“I got busy!” You said around your mouth full of food.

“Hold on, I’ll ask.” Penelope says. “It’s Spencer, he wants to know if it’s ok he comes to watch with us. I’ll tell him no…” She trails off.

“No, it's fine.” You say, nodding. “Tell him he can come.”

“Spence, she said it’s fine. But I’d hurry up before she inhales all the Thai food.”

“Fuck you!” you exclaim, laughing.

You get up and head to your bathroom. You looked like you had been crying for sure. So you put some concealer under your eyes and blush on your cheeks. You look at yourself again and decide why not finish? And put eyeliner and lipgloss on. You change pajamas as well opting for shorts and a tank in case you get warm.

You come back and Garcia is full on smirking at you.

“What?” you ask?

“Nothing…” She said, smirk now turned to a full grin.

You pour more wine into your glass, feeling Garcia’s gaze still on you. You look over and you were right. She was looking at you, still smiling.

“Alright out with it, Garcie.”

“You like him.” She says.

“Pardon?” You question hoping that if you act like you didn’t know what she was talking about she’d let it go. Obviously that was not the case.

“Spencer.” She says, nonchalantly. “You like him.”

You pick up your glass. Now seemed like the best time to drink. “No, I don’t”

Garcia scoffed. “I may not be a profiler, but I’m not an idiot.” She laughed. “I tell you Spencer’s coming over suddenly you have on full makeup.”

“I just didn’t want to look like I was crying.” You pointed out.

“Uh-huh, and the changing into the super sexy pajama set was also so you didn’t look like you were crying?”

You roll your eyes, continuing to eat. “It’s not sexy, it’s pajamas.” you say around your food.

“If you say so, I think it’s cute though.” Penelope says. “You know, he asked me if you were dating anyone the other day.”

“Really?” You said, a little too excitedly.

“No!” She laughs. “But nice acting skills, you almost had me fooled that you didn’t like him.”

You sit back in your seat pouting. “That’s not a nice trick to play.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re only upset you've been had.” As if he knew you were talking about him, a knock came to the door. You both turned to look at the door neither moving to get it. “Are you going to get the door or do you want to change again.” She jokes.

“Shut up.” you mumble before opening the door. Spencer regards you with a tiny smile clutching his messenger bag. “Hey, Spencer.” You smiled moving to the side, letting him in. Garcia greets him too, patting the seat next to her in the middle of the couch. He sits his bag down before joining her. You return to your seat at the end immediately pulling your legs under you turning your attention to the TV. You feel eyes on you so you turn only to lock eyes with Spencer. He flushes immediately before awkwardly clearing his throat and turning toward the screen. Weird… you think.

The three of you watch a couple more episodes, at some point the Thai food is put away and replaced with popcorn. You’re laughing so much you almost forget what today is.

Almost.

Eventually, Garcia stands. “Well lovelies, I have an early day tomorrow. So I’m going to head out.”

Spencer moves to stand too. “Guess I’ll head out too.”

“No!” Garcia all but shouts. “Don’t stop on my account. You guys seem like you’re having fun.” She says. If you weren’t glaring at her before it was full on daggers now she was obviously trying to set you up.

“If I’m not putting you out, Y/N.”

“Never Spencer, I like hanging out with you.” You add. God, I sound lame. You think. But you instantly lose that thought when a bright smile crosses his lips. You can’t help but look and smile back. A throat being cleared brings you both back.

“I’m going to go.” Garcia says, smiling at you both. She hoped you guys figured it out you could be good for each other. “I’ll see you at work.”

“Bye Garcie! Thanks for today.” You call out to her, watching to make sure she got to her car safe. You turn back to Spencer. “Next Episode?” You ask, he nods furiously.

You’re about halfway through the second episode you’ve watched with just Spencer and you can’t help but be hyper aware of your body right now. Spencer was still so close, seated in the middle of your couch instead of the end where Garcia had been. You took in his relaxed frame, the furrow that was normally in his brow was almost entirely gone, his sharp jaw finally slack. You find yourself looking at his mouth for a while, he had such a pretty mouth, soft pink lips that you couldn’t help but wonder what they felt like, what they tasted like--

That thought was dashed short when you saw his eyes back on you. You flush looking into his eyes.

“You didn’t come to work today.” He says.

“I did not.”

“Hotch said it was a personal day.”

“It was.” You sighed. You knew someone would eventually ask about it, you worked with profilers, you're sure most of them deduced why you took a personal day even if they didn’t know the whole truth.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. He’s offering you an out, you decide not to take it.

“It’s been 11 years since my parents died today.” You say. “You’d think it’d get easier by now but it really really doesn’t.” You sigh.

Suddenly you felt arms around you. Spencer was hugging you tightly and that was enough to break the dam you thought you had closed before. You began clutching on to him sobbing giant messy cries into his shoulder. He rubs your back in smooth circles whispering it’s ok until he notices you calm. He still didn’t release his hold in you so now you were laying in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. ”You didn’t have to do this.” you say “I know you’re a germaphobe.”

“Yea to strangers, Y/N.” He points out. “Not to you, you’re my friend. I’m always going to try to protect you.” He says, smoothing your hair from your face. The action itself was so fond it hurt you. And while the friend comment stung a little you couldn’t bring yourself to care because right now even if it was just for the night you were in Spencer Reid’s arms. And you felt safe.

“Can we finish Doctor Who now?” You inquire, not moving from your spot, practically burying yourself into Spencer’s shoulder.

“Of course.” He says pressing play. You stay like that, pressed tightly together until David Tennant’s voice and Spencer body warmth lure you into slumber.

Taglist: @haylaansmi @yoruebeautiful @kianagilder-blog @l0ve-0f-my-life @bihoeofmanyfandoms

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #bau x reader #spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut

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1rintooru · 3 years

Text

Same Old Explosive Love

Pairing: post-timeskip Semi Eita x fem!reader

Themes: angst and some fluff in the end

Word count: 2273 - one-shot

Warnings: mention of alcohol and breaking up, swearing

Summary: You don’t know anyone that can fight like you and Semi. The rise of his music career has put a strain on your relationship and end up arguing over the same old things. Neither of you can let go of the other and so the cycle continues.

It always surprised you when you remembered how low Semi’s alcohol tolerance was. To his credit, he didn’t look like someone who couldn’t handle their liqueur. He was a member of an up-and-coming band that was rapidly gaining popularity across the globe. After months of being on the road, Semi had finally returned home where you, him and all of your friends celebrated the release of his latest single. You’d always thought that the lifestyle would have hardened him up, but as you watched him struggle to open the front door of your shared apartment, you knew nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Here, let me help,” you were already reaching for his keys before he pulled his hand away.

“Babe, I’ve got this,” he giggled as tried his luck once more. You heard the satisfactory sound of the key twist in the lock on cue with his words. You both stagger into the apartment and you couldn’t help but laugh. You were convinced that if anyone would have seen you two, they would have thought you were teen lovers caught up in a whirlwind romance. It didn’t matter how ungraceful you both looked or how loud you spoke or even how heavy Semi felt as he leaned on you for support. If it were up to you, this could go on forever.

You kicked off your heels, letting out a small gasp at the immediate relief you felt and watched as Semi clumsily tried to hang his coat. You giggled seeing him visibly deflate and grumble as the coat slid off its hanger and crumpled to the floor. He bent down to pick his coat up but the familiar jingle of his ringtone stopped him. He fished his phone out of his pocket with ease and glanced at the caller-ID before quickly sending you an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta take this. I promise I’ll make this quick; I’ll be back before you even know it.”

He didn’t wait for your response, instead giving you a swift peck on the cheek and disappearing into the bedroom to answer the call. To you, it felt like the room had gotten hotter; In reality you were actually seething. He hadn’t told you who had called him – he didn’t need to. Semi had given most of his contacts a specialized ringtone, so after a while you knew exactly who was on the other line before he would even answer. This particular jingle was one that you were only all too well acquainted with.

It was his manager.

You let out a terse sigh. While he promised he would be quick, you had come to learn the opposite to be true. Of course you were supportive of his career; you loved seeing Semi completely unravel on stage and make his dreams come into fruition. However, you’d slowly come to resent how accessible he needed to be even during his time off, whether it was for his bandmates, his producers, the fans or especially his manager.

You snuggled yourself onto the couch, engulfing yourself in a blanket. You were tired but too angry to sleep. Hearing Semi occasionally exclaim excitedly from the other room only cemented what you already believed. Even if their manager wasn’t around physically, he had still begun to feel like a third-party in your relationship. You were convinced that Semi mentioned their manager more than he even said your name.

This was also the core reason why you and Semi would fight. The couple of weeks you did spend together always came and went in the blink of an eye. It didn’t compensate for the months of separation, missed calls due to time zones or bad connection. It didn’t make up for all the nasty things you read online, whether from journalists or his own fans. Sometimes it felt like it was his world and you were just living in it. On the surface you and Semi had an idyllic relationship that most people coveted, little did anyone know that with you, Semi had finally met his match. The screaming matches you had, were fiery and explosive – you both shared a prideful stubbornness that only worked as gasoline to an already massive flame. Thankfully the fights were infrequent and would end as quickly as they started; neither Semi nor you held onto a grudge and you’d both quickly return to your gentle and chipper selves.

“Oh, you’re in here.” Semi’s gentle voice tore you out of your thoughts. You were so busy brooding that you hadn't noticed him leaning on the doorframe of the living room. His hair was more disheveled than usual, a lazy smile replaced his usual scowl and his cheeks were still flushed pink from the shots earlier. He’d even changed into a pair of comfier clothes. He stared at you intently with relaxed eyes before finally continuing, “Do you want to watch a movie or…” he paused briefly, “We can do something else.” There was a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No, not anymore,” you huffed. Your words were cutting and you were glad – you wanted them to be. Semi raised an eyebrow, his features quickly tensed up as concern replaced his formerly relaxed expression.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No Semi you didn’t do anything. I’m fine, really,” you patronized, freeing yourself from the blanket with an aggressive yank. A little too aggressive.

The jig was up.

“You’re clearly not.”

He already started to sound irritated – he hated to play these guessing games with you. You jumped off the couch, stopping abruptly in front of him as you held your phone up to his face, completely ignoring his accusation.

“What’s the time, Semi?”

His eyes flickered to the screen, then locked onto yours again. The grooves between his furrowed brows just seemed to get deeper and deeper.

“4:02”

You hummed agreeingly, turning around and flicking the television on with the remote. It was petulant, you knew that, but you felt like pressing every one of Semi’s buttons. Usually, infomercials would play at this hour – it didn’t matter though, anything was better than seeing him glare holes through you.

“Y/N.”

It wasn’t infomercials that were playing, instead the clear voice of the weather lady sounded through the room as she delivered the weather report for the following day.

“Y/N!”

You continued to ignore him, dialing the audio up until the bass made the walls tremor.

“Dammit Y/N, we have neighbors!”

He snatched the remote from your hands and quickly shut the TV off. The two of you now stood face to face. The light buzz you felt from earlier was completely gone and you could tell that Semi had sobered up as well. He was trying his hardest to stay composed; you could tell by how he was breathing – slow and deliberate.

“What is going on? You were fine just earlier.”

His face softened slightly, almost as if to plead with you. You hesitated for a moment before finally relenting. You didn’t even try to conceal the bitterness that was wrapped around every single word you spoke.

“Hmm, I don’t know Semi, maybe ask your manager since you spend so much time with him.”

His eyes widened for a brief moment, shocked by the coolness of your tone. “I didn’t think the call would drag on for that long – I can’t just not answer!”

You opened your mouth but Semi quickly cut you off, “Are we really doing this? Are we really going to fight about this again?”

“You answer his calls more than you answer mine!” you snapped back, “maybe we wouldn’t fight about this if you weren’t always working.”

“Oh my god,” he ran his hands through his hair, the clamminess of his palms made tufts of hair stand upright. If the two of you weren’t fighting, you probably would have laughed because of how odd it looked. But seeing him with his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes filled with a seething rage was no laughing matter. He continued, his voice a low growl, “this is my job, Y/N. Actually no, fuck that, it’s my dream. It’s been my dream since I was a kid!”

“I know that,” you hissed, “But you’re the one always complaining about you and the band being overworked. That one time you almost collapsed due to exhaustion, yet as soon as you get time off you start working from home. Make it make sense!”

He smiled at you – a wicked and deceitful smile – as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. You were reminded again of just how tall and imposing Semi could be. “Well then babe, tell me,” his tone was condescending, “what do you expect me to do? Ignore my manager? Ignore our producer? Maybe even block my bandmates from contacting me?”

“That’s not what I said Semi and you know it,” your words came out as pure venom.

Your body relaxed once he took a couple of steps back. But if you had learnt anything from all the other times you’ve fought, it was that that wasn’t necessarily a good sign. It only meant he was going to get louder. You breathed deeply, frantically trying to organize your thoughts. No, you didn’t actually want to fight with him. You loved Semi, after all.

“I wish that you would actually take me into consideration for fucking once, Semi. It’s always about you, but when the hell was it ever about us? I only get a couple of weeks to spend with you and you’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“Well maybe if you stopped bitching all the time, I would actually want to spend time with you.”

“You treat me like I’m an afterthought!” You screamed. At least, that was what you wanted to do. Your voice came out more like a shallow squeak compared to Semi’s wall-shaking shouts. The lump in your throat grew; no matter how much you tried to swallow it down, it wouldn’t go away. You realized that the warmth radiating off your face wasn’t from the alcohol, nor was it from the anger; you hadn’t even noticed how your hot tears rolled off your face, staining your cheeks. He shook his head, almost as if to physically shake off your remarks.

“Don’t come with that shit now. Why do you think I work so much? I’m the only one that works around here. I’ve paid for the TV, for the couch – for every single piece of furniture. I pay the bills, I pay your bills and I paid for this goddamn apartment,” he jerkily motioned to the space around him as he shouted this, making you flinch. His whole body had started to shake in anger.

“Did you already forget who paid for your university tuition fees?” He sneered. “Without me, you’d be nothing and you know it. So don’t fucking tell me to work less when it’s your life on the line too!”

“Well, maybe I should leave since I’m such an inconvenience to you!”

There was a pause. The tension in the air was suffocating as your words seemed to echo through the room. Semi cleared his throat, cutting through the deafening silence.

“Then leave. Just don’t come back.”

“You’re the worst,” is all you managed to utter as you quickly brushed passed him, avoiding his death glare as you escaped into the solace of your bedroom. You crumbled onto the floor once you heard the door slam, desperately stifling your cries into the fabric of your shirt.

He left.

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You weren’t entirely sure how much time had passed once your eyes fluttered open. Based on the bright light that was cascading in from the window, you could only assume it was midday. The confusion you felt when you saw yourself on the floor quickly dissipated as you felt the pain in your throat and the swollenness of your eyes. Your chest ached just thinking about what happened hours earlier.

You gingerly got up off the ground and opened the door and paused. You could faintly hear the sound of a guitar. You recognized the song, making your heart race and you instinctively followed the sound of the music, it finally leading you to a separate room. You didn’t even think twice before opening the door and what you saw inside made your heart leap.

His hair was still disheveled and much like you, he was wearing the same clothes from before. His face was relaxed, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he focused on hitting the notes and his mouth had dropped into a small ‘o’. There was something incredibly enamoring about seeing him like this and it was a stark contrast to the Semi you’d experienced earlier. You liked this side of him more.

His eyes darted to yours and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards upon realizing it was you. He nodded at the empty space next to him, inviting you to sit down and you happily complied. The song you recognized was one that Semi had written for you – a confession of his love essentially. He knew, even back then, how straining his job was on the relationship and he wanted to give you something that would remind you he was always there. The words that he failed to find to describe how he felt got poured into his music. He never apologized to you for all the things he said and as you listened to him hum alongside the melody that sounded from the guitar, you knew he didn’t have to, either. You knew exactly what he meant.

You and Semi were going to be ok.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu x reader #semi eita x reader #semi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #selfmade

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

Autumn in My Heart (Taeyong x you, you x Jaehyun)

hello, another fic I made that flopped, but I want to bring this back with another pairing. I love this, still one of the angst I made that I feel okay to post.

One shot - angst/fluff

a/n : Taeyong sounds like a bad boyfriend, but trust me he isn’t. Jaehyun is the rebound you found in the middle of a storm.

(Posted on wattpad before, and one in tumblr as an exo pairing but only got 1 notes ☹)

Enjoy

The picturesque scene of red and orange trees cannot fool the dull and sombre race of falling leaves pulled by the gravity. Be honest, autumn is depressing. See the falling leaves, dying every time a gush of cold wind tingles. (y/n) hates seeing the piles of dead leaves on the ground, she feels like the trees are selfish that they let the leaves die in order to survive.

The clock strikes six when you have put on your tailor fitted Pea coat from Schott’s. Tonight, your favorite fragrance from Chloe accompanies you. You inhale your favorite floral scent and get ready as your smart watch rings with a caller ID you love dearly. Your lover has rung you up saying he is downstairs waiting for you to take your time. You make your last tuck on your Pea coat and pocket your phone as you slipped your feet to the leather boots. You make sure to kiss your corgi good bye before keeping the key in your pocket and slightly run to meet the waiting prince; your waiting prince!

The elevator ride almost killed you; you frown whenever the door opens and what greet you are the foreign faces of your neighbor from other floors; after pressing the close button five more times, you finally reach your destination. With your round eyes you scan the whole room and find your prince in no time. His fashion and his tall body make him easy to spot.

“Taeyong! I’m here, let’s go!” you cling into the taller man’s arm and giddily drag him out of the warm lobby. The early cold wind harshly welcomes both of you outside; Taeyong clears his throat and pulls you closer. He takes in your small hand, holds it firm in his big hand, and pops it nicely into his toasty pocket of his Burberry trench coat. “It’s starting to get cold,” Taeyong smiles.

You blush, even when Taeyong had done this for three consecutive autumns, your heart will always beat like it was your first time. You did nothing though and just follow his long legs that bring them to a place you know a bit too much.

“Usual place Yong?”

The tall blonde man nods and after walking through the busy streets, you found yourself in a restaurant district. Your stomach growl when the delicious smell of your favorite food can be smelled from a meter. You both sit down on your usual chairs, place the same ordinary menu; a Hawaiian pizza slice for you and a Pepperoni for Taeyong. Though Taeyong never agrees that pineapple goes with pizza, he never speaks his opinion out loud to you, he just can’t. Try and say that to a person who really enjoys it and do you dare see their heart breaks? No Taeyong doesn’t want to break her heart; it’s the last thing he wanted to do to (Y/n).

Dinner is amazing. Over two slices of giant pizza and soda, you exchange stories, laugh over new jokes, and secretly treasure this sweet moment. You both end their pizza date with a split bill and with the warmth of a full stomach. The couple make their way out of the bright, fragrance road and move to another crowded and romantic district.

You told Taeyong about a new milkshake shop opening in here in Gangnam, and Taeyong will do everything that brings a smile to your face. With you standing close by his side, Taeyong naturally slides his arm to hug your slim waist from the side as he reads the menu in the TV from the queuing line.

The café is full of sweet couples, the atmosphere here is so warm and comfortable, Taeyong knows this will 99% become their favorite hangout place.

“We’re so sorry, but we sold the second last cup already… We only have one left for the special house favorite’s chocolate,” the man with a name tag reading Doyoung, smiles apologetically to the two sweet couple across him.

You run your eyes to the TV screen to look for another substitute, but Taeyong was faster.

“No problem, an extra straw will do. How much for the last cup?” Taeyong hands Doyoung his card and swipes the bill.

You squeal deep inside your heart, how come Taeyong could always do a new sweet action every time we go out?!

“You sure don’t want anything else?” you ask when Taeyong lets go off his straw after a good five sips.

Taeyong shakes his head and raises his thumb to wipe a trace of chocolate from your lips, “No, you can have them all. It tastes good and I know you like them so much.” Taeyong kisses his thumb and cleans the chocolate from your lips.

You playfully punch Taeyong, “What’s into you?! Why are you suddenly this sweet!”

Taeyong laughs it off and rolls his eyes, “Because I am a nice boyfriend? Come on admit it—” you shut him off with a quick peck “—I’m going to have heart attack (y/n), if you are making that a habit.”

After making a loud sip to ensure you leave nothing on the bottom of the glass, you and Taeyong step out of the lovely café. Both of you freeze when you see people carrying umbrellas and celebrating something.

“The first snow!” Both of you choir and giggle upon welcoming the cold winter!

You reach for a folded umbrella you had brought in your pocket and this time take the lead to pull the taller man closer and tries your best to raise the umbrella to his height. Taeyong cannot oppress his gummy smile and allows you do your thing.

“I am not taking care of a sick Taeyong again, that’s why I read the weather forecast earlier and they predicted the first snow the fall. Turns out they were accurate this year, come Yong let’s walk under the first snow!” you sneakily place your hand into Taeyong’s coat and the taller simply holds your hand.

You both have fun for a moment under the first snow, took some pictures and updated your social media platforms.

“The snow is falling harder; shall we head home?” Taeyong worries for your health. The two of you are responsible for coming on working days, falling sick is something you two can’t afford.

You do not refuse; along your careful steps on the slippery grounds the couple doesn’t stop talking at all. You will find new topics whenever a topic seems to come to an end. Tonight is a good date night. The date night ends with Taeyong ushering you back to your Apartment room.

“Goodbye Yongie, thank you for tonight!” you shake your wet umbrella.

“No problem sweetie, I’ll be going now,”

“Wait—” you run to your room and return not long after it, you get on the tip of your toes and wrap a warm red scarf over Taeyong “—take that with you, it’s my winter present. Stay safe okay and call me when you got home.” you bury your face on his chest as he hugs you tight.

“Thanks honey, Good night.” Taeyong steps back and waves his hand.

You wiggle your hand in panic, “Oh take the umbrella! And please just grab a taxi!” you push your umbrella to Taeyong’s hand.

Taeyong chuckles and tousles your soft hairs, “Yes maam! I can take care of myself—” Taeyong winks and you only roll your eyes. The tall blonde makes his stealing move and kiss the plump lips of yours before finally going back home.

Sun rises and sets, moon shines and hides, the world rotates, and time runs. Your love for each other blooms, although the relationship has ups and downs, the two of you can overcome the big waves and sail your ship to another calm ocean. A calm sea will never make a skilful sailor, and one day the biggest wave crashes to their ship, and you feel like you are forcefully drowned into the dark deep grief of heart breaks.

The road is crowded, well at least there are cars speeding in the road, and your sparkly eyes are fixed on a “sweet” scene in front of you. Yeah sweet if the people you saw were someone you did not know, or your best friend; but seriously not sweet if it’s your boyfriend you saw over the road holding hands with another pretty girl, wrapped in an expensive suit looking all lovey dovey with your man. Maybe Taeyong did not know or see you on the other side of the road, but you cannot mistake that man as someone else. Your eyes turn red; you fetch your phone and take the speed dial to call Taeyong. You wait for a moment with your eyes fixed on the two people across you.

The pedestrian traffic turns green, and you see the two of them walking to cross the road. You quickly hide yourself in an old payphone box while still listening to the waiting tone and keeping an eye on Taeyong. When Taeyong made it with the sweet smiling guy to the same street as yours, you swear your call was sent to voicemail. Taeyong also presses his screen earlier, hufth he didn’t even hesitate to reject your call. Insteaad, Taeyong looks so happy walking with this new girl. Your jealousy and suspicion completely take over you, you lean over the small phone box and stare at your screen emptily.

“Sorry, busy can’t pick up your call.” taeyong’s message appears in his notification bar.

You swallow the stuck lump in your throat; disappointed and angry, you run back to your apartment. You were planning to buy dinner and surprise Taeyong in his office for working overtime. If his vocabulary for overtime means having a walk with another woman, heol you won’t bother coming to see him.

You lock yourself in your room and cry your heart out, your stomach grumbles, but your heart aches more. You ignore all of the calls and messages in your phone. Thirty minutes later you wipe your eyes and after ensuring your heart you need to do this: you text a number.

“Yuta, you’re right… I’m coming to the dinner tomorrow. What’s his name again?”

This time you regret not listening to your friends when they warned you about your boyfriend playing fire behind your back. You are too naïve and blunt to realize Taeyong has slowly changed. He was not as sweet as he used to, he got busy, and he rarely picked your calls. At first you simply forgive him; thinking he must be busy with his works, turns out you are living blindly.

Taeyong paces in his room while sticking phone to his ear. He bites his lips when the line beeps but no one seems to answer the call.

“Pick up. Pick up (Y/n)…. Please… I’m worried sick…” Taeyong ends the waiting and jumps to the message room. He sends more messages asking if you are okay, why are you not picking up calls, and why are you not reading his messages.

Taeyong feels guilty rejecting your call earlier, but he cannot pick the call there when he thinks his coworker has a big crush and is flirting with him. Taeyong cannot bring himself to answer the call and crushes the cute girl’s dream. Yes, his co-worker is lately clinging on his side, and Taeyong cannot lie and say she’s unattractive. She is a calm and nice woman, good with works, and Taeyong finds it hard to keep his heart stable when she’s around.

Taeyong thought he saved the girl from crying in the streets, when in reality his real girlfriend is the one crying on the busy streets… by herself. Poor Taeyong doesn’t know this.

The next morning, you did not bat an eye nor reply any of Taeyong’s messages. You muted his number and prepare for work. As you spray your perfume, the front door beeps open and a tall man you used to love, but now hate, shows up with a bouquet of yellow flowers on his hand.

“Good morning sunshine! What’s with the cloudy face?” Taeyong extends his hand to give you the arrangement.

You look at his sickening handsome smile and walk to take your working bag. “Nothing. I’m tired of work and this life full of lies.”

Taeyong frowns, “What do you mean?”

You just hum an “I don’t know” tone and occupy yourself with packing your lunch and laptop.

Taeyong walks to the kitchen table and picks your phone, he scrolls through the notifications and shakes his head, “WOW! You haven’t opened my text, not a single one! Why?” he sounds confused.

You’re the type to always have your phone on your nose almost every second, what’s with leaving him unread?

You snatch your phone, “I fell asleep earlier yesterday after you said I shouldn’t come and have dinner with you, since you’re taking overtime.”

Taeyong sighs, “Come on (y/n), you’re acting like this just because I denied your offer to eat dinner together?” you walk away.

“Don’t act so childish. We can always have dinner together tonight or other nights.” Taeyong snaps.

You keep your cold face on; take your lunch and working bag, and slip into your shoes. Taeyong shadows you all over the place.

“Really? Then why did you cancel it yesterday?” You hold on to the door knob.

“I had a sudden meeting.” Taeyong lies quickly.

“Oh so now you call walking with another woman without companion, while acting lovely is your definition of meeting. To me I call that a secret date mister!” you stomp your foot, “Now go! Leave! I am tired of your lies!!” you exit the room, but Taeyong holds a grip of your hand.

“but…” Taeyong is cut off by your voice “For your information Taeyong, I saw you with my own eyes walking with a woman and rejecting my call.” you raise your tone and his face turns red. You break your hand free and rush to the parking lot.

Taeyong runs after you, but luck must’ve left him today for the lift closes before he can reach you. You are clearly mad and fed up, for you are not trying to do anything to clean up the misunderstanding.

Your day goes on differently, you are still absorbed in the sadness and pain, while Taeyong… Taeyong thinks today’s problem will end like any others. His day is smooth and the woman from yesterday even offers him coffee. Upon seeing Taeyong busy checking his phone; waiting for someone to call or chat; she asks him, “What’s bothering you?”

Taeyong thinks for a while, should he tell her what actually happened, but what if things get darker and dangerous? After some consideration, Taeyong decides to use the help chance. He told her what happened yesterday and earlier this morning. She just laughs and comes up with a solution, “I can help you clarify this… Give me her number, I’ll talk to her.”

Taeyong denies that idea at first, but after some more convincing words from her, he gave up your phone number to her. He thought maybe you would listen to her.

Sure, her idea was not completely wrong, You answers her call in a friendly manner and you did not blame her for anything. You listened to all of her kind and sincere explanation, but your heart still cannot easily forgive Taeyong for doing it.

You dress up nicely in a bomber jacket and put on a cap to hide your puffy eyes. You take your step to greet your date tonight, the man Yuta told him about. Jung Jaehyun, son of the CEO of Neo corporation: Korea’s first leading group in food supply, while Taeyong is the son of the second leading group.

To put it into words, Jaehyun is a man of daydream. He is everything you expected when meeting a living prince charming. He talks in his deep voice, his choice of words are amazing, his fashion taste is casual yet daydreaming, his manners are polished as perfect as one can be, but no matter how nice and perfect Jaehyun is, your heart cannot stop comparing him to Taeyong. Taeyong is not as perfect as him, Taeyong is more of the clumsy type and silly. However, one thing for sure, you like Jaehyun’s jokes better than Taeyong’s.

His choice of place for a first meeting is way beyond expectation. You would have dressed up properly if you knew Jaehyun is bringing you to a secluded private restaurant. You seal your mouth tightly about this date, yet Taeyong knows.

You come home with a bright smiling face, Jaehyun had just dropped you off from his Mercedes-Benz G65. You secretly smile to yourself and wrap your jacket tighter as you enter the lift to reach the floor. You can’t stop humming small tunes while taking steps.

With a big surprised face, you take a step back when Taeyong greets you in his stern voice.

“Why are you here?” you sound annoyed. Your mood totally jumped from hype to down.

Taeyong raises his brow, “Am I not allowed to visit my lover? Beside I came here to check if she’s here yet, since she ignored my calls and texts.” You make your way to the kitchen and fill yourself a glass of water, “Well, sorry but I have someone to see tonight,” you shrug your shoulder.

Taeyong joins you to the small kitchen, “Yeah and I just found out my girl, without my acknowledge, went to meet another man and came home—” he glances at his watch, “—late, my girl came home pretty late. It’s 10!”

You finish your glass of water, and slam the cup a bit too hard, “So what? I’m big enough to come home whenever I want and I can take care of myself.”

“Who’s that man? How are you sure he is someone good?” Taeyong elevates his tone.

You take a deep breath and speak out loud clearly, “it’s none of your business! Even I did not know who the woman you’re with yesterday was and I did not ask you anything! I did not interrogate you Lee Taeyong!” you spit those words in one breath. You toss your jacket then lock yourself in the room. Taeyong knocks on your door relentlessly and all he gets is silence.

Silence from the loudest person is the scariest thing

You wake up with heavy head, puffy blood shot eyes, and a runny nose. You force yourselfto leave the bed and calls in for a day off today. You have called Jaehyun last night and told the new man everything, something in your heart screams that Jaehyun can help and Jaehyun will not hurt you like Taeyong did. With your beloved corgi walking beside you, You open the apartment door and freeze when you see Taeyong sleeping uncomfortably on the floor.

“Babo-ya,” You scoff in your mind and leave the big baby on the floor. You make yourself a glass of tea and gul an aspirin down your dry throat. You take your time writing a short note and stick it on Taeyong’s free arm. You bend to place a soft kiss on his temple, probably your last, and secretly leave.

Taeyong wakes up from the pain his back screams for sleeping on the floor, he yawns and stretches then looks around and realizes he had fallen asleep when begging you to open the door. He sees the post it on his arm and he quickly read it. His brow scrunches as the line gets down, and finally they widen and his mouth fell. Taeyong lost his sense of touch, hearing, and sight… he feels like a thunder just hit him and he’s drowned in his emotions. He slowly sits on the sofa and re-reads the nicely written letter. He makes sure to not miss any single word or get the wrong idea. But no matter how many times he checks the letter again, the words don’t change.

“(y/n) wants us to end it here,” Taeyong speaks to himself, the blonde quickly searches the house. Hoping to find the woman he was looking for, he needs to discuss this with you. Seriously you did not need to break up over a silly matter!

“(y/n)-ie, what do you mean? We can talk about this… where are you?” Taeyong puts on his shoes and coat.

“We don’t have to discuss anything Tae. We’re not meant to be, I realized we’re not made for each other. Our parents don’t even support this relationship we had for three and a half years. It’s over Taeyong, go get that woman and I will go my way.” You explain as best as you can.

“No, We need to meet. We’re not breaking up over phone. I don’t consider our relationship over just because you decided it by yourself. We need to meet.” Taeyong grips his phone harder.

“I can’t Tae, I’m no longer near you. Bye,” you said.

Taeyong hears the faint background sound and damn that you are in the airport, where the hell are you going now without telling him.

You turn off your call and sadly stare at the wallpaper. It’s a picture of happy Taeyong and you laughing under the mistletoe from last Christmas.

“Are we ready to go?” Jaehyun’s deep voice resonates beside you. You groggily nod and copy his steps to the boarding gate. You take one last heavy breath; yes you are leaving Korea and Taeyong behind. This is what your family wants, this is for the best.

You come from the family of the leading electronic cooperation in Korea; turns out your parents had made an agreement to make you and Jaehyun an official pair. Simply said your parents arranged your marriage with Jung family for the sake of business. Your family does not have a good history with the Lee family. Both Taeyong and you had been trying your best to keep your boat sailing despite the harsh wind made by your own families, but you have had enough. Both of you used to think if you are together, you can fight your families and live happily ever after, but that’s too good to be true.

Now, your parents have made a lot of agreements with The Jung family, and that explains why you are sent to leave Korea with Jaehyun the night when you reported Taeyong’s actions. Your father used the situation to break you apart, and he partly succeeded.

Right now, you are seated on the first-class flight to Britain, with your future fiancé (That’s what your parents insisted).

The loving couple separated without a clear ending, Taeyong still lives his life to the fullest he can, but everything is pointless when you are not in his life. He did not date anyone, he still holds on to the belief that you are still his girlfriend, and he is still committed to you, he woman he loves.

His colleague has tried a lot of things to set Taeyong up with a new date, but none of them seems to win his heart. Taeyong only attends the blind dates she made, just to respect her kindness and attention. That woman herself has won the heart of the cute guy in the milkshake shop Taeyong and you once visited, Doyoung. She was close with Taeyong because she needs help with winning the cute man’s heart. The night when you went home with Jaehyun, Taeyong was actually waiting for you to explain everything. Taeyong wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be jealous of the woman, for she has her heart and eyes for another man. Fate did not let him explain anything that night, and the next day you were already gone from his life.

Taeyong changes into a cold and quiet man, while you have opened your heart to the new man. You realize Jaehyun shares a lot of things in common with you. Knowing the new tall man with dimple is easy and both of you get along so well. You spend a good two years in England, and have to return to Korea when the working contract for Jaehyun ended.

–

The plane touched down on the land of Korea, where the leaves are starting to fall and the winds getting colder. You sigh it’s once again autumn, you always hate autumn.

Jaehyun feels he needs to check the office and sends you home by yourself. You did not mind, instead you are happy you can have your time alone here.

You take the taxi to a park you missed. A small park with benches for couples to seat and enjoy the falling leaves with the big Han River across them. You breathe in the autumn leaves and slightly smile when the memories you made here with Taeyong slowly floods his mind. A small tug is felt in your heart, how is that handsome blonde doing? You walk and walk then sit at one of the empty benches, your hand traces the old wood and smile when your eyes caught a small scribble that still managed to be intact even when seasons has changed.

You trace the craving and secretly hide a smile when the memory comes back in your mind.

The writing of Taeyong and (y/n) in a big heart, deriving from four years ago. You remembered craving your names cheesily on a park bench when the first leaf fell. You scoff when you realize a lot of things you did with Taeyong are associated with autumn.

You close your eyes for a while and found yourself awaken in surprise when a familiar voice greets you.

“(y/n)?” the voice sounds unsure, “(y/n)?! It’s really you?” this time it sounds surprised and a bit happy.

You open your eyes and gulp when the same man you left without news is here again in front of you. The man you shared love, the man you secretly hate and love, the same man who used to be your happiness. He looks different! He definitely loses weight, his hair is now plain and boring brown, his eyes no longer offers the star and galaxy you used to spend your time gazing. His voice didn’t change though, still the same deep voice that never fails to make you tremble.

“Taeyong, well… yes this is me.” you sheepishly admit.

“It’s been a while,” Taeyong opens his mouth. He takes the empty spot beside you.

“Look Taeyong, I don’t have much time,” you dare yourself to face him and hold your tears back. You almost broke down in tears when you once again sees the man you love standing here across you.

“I know it was hard for both of us, but that was the best for us. This is the best for us.” Taeyong stays quiet despite wanting to kiss you and tell you everything he kept to himself for a good two years, but no he wants to listen to you. He reflected for two years and he wanted to make up all his bad mistakes.

“Fate doesn’t let us be together… our family hates one another… we can’t… we just can’t be one Taeyong.” You bite your lips and hold your tears back. Your heart is breaking right now when you see the broken look in Taeyong’s eyes.

When you first saw Taeyong sitting beside you, you swore you saw a glint of hope in his eyes but now you completely kill it. You hate yourself for once again hurting Taeyong, but this is for their own goods.

You can no longer hold back your tears, the wall you made breaks down right in front of Taeyong. You hide your face in your hands and your shoulder moves as you express all of your bottled-up emotions. Something glints under the last rays of the sun and Taeyong moves closer to your side. He bravely takes you into a hug and he brings his thumb to wipe the crystals falling over your smooth cheeks. Taeyong cannot speak a word, his mouth goes mute all he knows is his life is completely dark now without you. It was dark already before when you left, but now when you clearly said that… Taeyong feels like dying.

“Goodbye Taeyong,” you stand up and walk to leave the broken hearted man. You turn one last time to see your unrequited love; and you force your last sweet smile, “Thank you for the memories.” you take quick steps to leave the park and Taeyong. A strong wind blows and makes the piles of orange dried leaves fly around and when it’s over. You are completely not anywhere to be seen.

Taeyong closes his eyes and memorizes the last words from his love, you left him completely now. (y/n) left his presence, his world, and his hopes. Taeyong fishes his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, he snaps it open and a simple diamond ring is shining there. Well, he’s been carrying this around since you left, he wanted to propose to you whenever he got the chance to see you , but turns out your ring finger is occupied already with the same diamond ring he had in mind will fit your slender finger. Taeyong keeps the ring again in the box and he pockets it again in his left chest. He lets his tears run through his face as he walks along with the last falling leaf.

He leaves the love of his life with tears and thousands of memories. Taeyong smiles bitterly when he remembers how you always hate autumn. Turns out all memories with you are prominent in autumn: your least favorite season.

flashback <<<

“I hate autumn Yong, can you imagine how selfless the tree is, letting the leaf die so it can live longer.” you pointed to an almost bald tree.

Taeyong pinches your cute cheeks, “Well yes the trees are selfish Sweetie, but did you see how sincere the leaves are? I’m sure the tree did not want the leaves to die, instead I think the leaf sacrifice itself so the tree can live,” you cut him, “But why Yong? Why must the leaves die for the tree?”

Taeyong holds his lover’s hand tighter in his jacket, “Because my (y/n)-ie, that way the tree can survive the harsh cold winter and make new leaf later on spring. That way the leaf and the tree are once again together!”

You nod your head, “Woah that’s a better theory! You should definitely be the one telling our kids bed time stories later on!” You cheerfully peck a kiss on Taeyong’s lips and blushes.

“Just like love, you must sacrifice for the one you love.” Taeyong leans in for another kiss.

“I love you Yong, now and forever!” You lean your head on Taeyong’s strong and wide shoulder.

“I love you most (y/n), I’ll be like the leaf in autumn!” Taeyong whispers to his world; you

The two people in different place share the same memory tonight.

As the moon shines and the first snow falls, they secretly whisper each other “I still love you.”

end

:”) thank you for reading

47 notes · View notes

just-random-imagines · 4 years

Text

Don’t Scream

IMAGINE: The original Ghostface killers have focused on their new target, you. Their plans change, however, when someone else threatens your life. After that night, nothing will ever be the same for you. Set in modern times! WORD COUNT:  3.4k WARNINGS: Mentions of blood & gore, shitty ending.

“Darcy, how do you expect Lizzie to accept your proposal if you keep insulting her by bringing up the differences between your classes?” You shout at the tv screen.

Here you were, alone in your house on a Friday night, watching Pride and Prejudice. Fun, huh?

“Matthew, don’t pout like that!” You tell the actor on screen. “You knew this was coming, don’t act like an idiot!”

But how could you stay angry at Matthew for so long? He was only playing his part.

As the scene moves on, you suddenly find yourself distracted by a sudden noise. Thinking it might’ve been your parents, you tentatively call out for them. “Mom? Dad? You guys back already?”

When nothing else happens, you shrug your shoulders and shut everything down. It was getting late anyway, and you just wanted to fall asleep in your own bed.

Just as you finally cleaned up the mess you had made, you were taken aback when the house phone rang. Against your better judgment, you picked up the phone without even looking at the ID on the dim screen.

“Hello, (Last Name) residence,” you utter into the speaker, attempting to seem more awake than you were.

“Hello there,” a voice on the other line drawled.

“Hi,” you reply, scrunching your forehead in confusion. This voice didn’t seem to register in your half-asleep mind as you tried to figure out who it was.

“Who’s this?” You ask politely.

“No one,” the voice answered. “I must have called the wrong number.”

Stifling a laugh, you feel yourself shake your head. “Oh, I hate it when that happens,” you say honestly. “Lemme guess you accidentally butt-dialed me?”

“No,” the voice chuckled, the smooth tone of it convincing you it was a man on the other side of the line. “I was just-”

You quickly tuned out the man when you heard another noise, slightly louder than the one you heard before. As you try to figure out what it was, you quickly remember your unseen guest.

“-hat noise?”

“What?” You whisper into the phone.

“What was that noise I heard?” The man asked.

“I’m not-” You stick your head around the corner and quickly clamp a hand over your mouth.

A duo of men was standing in front of your open door. They had broken a nearby window from the outside and the door looked like someone had kicked it open.

Seeing as the men had not noticed you yet, you quickly slip back into the living room and search for a hiding spot. A few whimpers escaped your throat, just soft enough for the intruders to dismiss but loud enough for the phone’s microphone to pick up.

“What’s going on?!” The voice demanded.

“There are men… In my house,” you hiss, trying not to catch unwanted attention.

Silence was all you heard. You were afraid they had cut the phone line when the man came back, his voice sounding harsh and cold.

“Find somewhere to hide and stay there,” he commanded stiffly. Your body suddenly hesitated, and for good reason.

You didn’t even know whoever was on the other side of the line, and yet they were here, helping keep you alive. But you quickly snapped out of your trance as you heeded his words. Fear was eating you alive as you struggled to not lose it.

If you weren’t so panic-stricken, you might’ve hung up the phone and called the police!

Pressing the phone to your chest, you sneakily made your way past the burglars as they ransacked your home. You thought your heart would just burst out of your chest as you crept into your bedroom. With shaky hands, you locked the door.

“What now?” You whisper into the phone, terrified that one of your guests might hear you.

“Get in the closet and stay there,” the man ordered.

“I-I…. I c-can’t,” you stutter quietly, finding yourself rooted to the floor. You couldn’t move, no matter how much you wanted to.

“DO IT NOW!” The voice snarled, scaring you out of your wits.

Suddenly frightened at the anger in his voice, you toss the phone away. The fear grew stronger as the device smacked into the wall. The sheer force of it had created a sharp ‘smack’ that rattled you to the core.

Sending out a silent plea that you hadn’t been heard, you hold in a shriek as you hear the men from before start talking to one another.

“Did you hear that, Antoine?” One of them questioned, his voice hoarse and in desperate need of a glass of water.

“Yes, I did. It seems we’re not the only ones here,” came a dark reply, the voice rougher than the sharpest piece of sandpaper.

You could feel the air harshly leave your body as you struggled to gain a proper breath.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to-

Your panicked thoughts were quickly interrupted as you heard the front door slam against the wall. You heard the men shout in alarm as they focused on their new distraction.

The sounds of blood-curdling wails filled your ears as you listened to the men grunt and shout as they fought.

But what was there to fight? Besides the intruders, you were the only one in the house. Surely, they weren’t stupid enough to turn on each other.

“Get away from him!” Said the second man as a series of crashes echoed through the hall. He let out a cry as he too was attacked.

A mangled sob escaped your lips as you listened to the men scream and scream until their pitiful wails suddenly cut off rather quickly.

Tears ran down your face, creating a steady stream that cascaded down your chin like heavy rain. As they fell to the floor, you realized that the third party made himself known as heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway causing a ruckus.

The fear in your chest grew as you realized they were heading towards your room.

Snapping out your immobile state, you rushed to your open closet and hid inside, quietly closing the doors. Almost immediately, you heard someone banging on your bedroom door as they struggled to open it. A series of low grunts reached your ears as you heard someone throwing themselves against the weakening slab of wood.

Definitely going to die. Going to die right now. I will never tell (Favorite Actor) that I love them. I-

You stopped your internal rambling once you realized that you no longer heard that awful banging. You couldn’t help but hope that whoever was on the other side of the door left and wouldn’t return.

What luck you had.

You screamed out into your hand as the door slammed open, falling onto your hardwood floors with another harsh bang. With both hands cupping your mouth now, you tried to control your breathing that came out in short, uneven puffs that resembled a panting bear.

You listened carefully as you looked under the small gap under the closet to watch a dark shadow pace around your room. You heard them shuffle around as they ransacked the area.

The surrounding air grew thick as the shadow suddenly froze. Within seconds, the closet door flew open to reveal your unknown attacker.

A tall figure wearing a Father Death costume glared down at you from above. The mask was splattered with a dark crimson fluid that trailed down the face like murky tears. He carried a hunting dagger coated in the same substance by his side and held it menacingly.

You couldn’t help but stare at the knife as blood dripped to the floor almost hypnotically. The killer noticed you staring and tilted his head to the side as he looked you over.

Guessing that he was planning on how to kill you, you asked for a last request before your time was over.

“Please,” you tell the killer, unable to get your voice louder than a whisper. “Just make it quick.”

You looked away from the messenger of death as he raised the blade. This was it. Your life was over and you’d never taste another (Favorite Snack) again.

It surprised you when you felt nothing. Not the swing of a knife cutting through your flesh. The pain of having blood filling your throat. Not even the warmth leaving your body as you died.

With stiff movements, you slowly open your eyes, only to see the masked figure offering a gloved hand. Seeing that you were wary, the man twitched his fingers, repeating his silent request.

“Just take it,” he finally spat.

Recognizing that smooth tone to be the same one from the call, you finally grasp his hand. The second you closed your fingers around his covered palm, he hoisted you to your feet. Once you had your feet firmly planted on the ground, you realized the killer hadn’t let go of you.

The stillness in the room reminded you of what had happened only minutes ago. Just recalling the horrible screams made your skin crawl as you looked at the masked man.

“What happened to those men?” You ask meekly.

When he doesn’t answer, you look at the blade in his other hand. The killer followed your gaze and quickly pocketed the knife.

“I have dealt with them,” was the reply you received. Without another word, the man dragged you out of your bedroom.

“Stop!” You shout at him, immediately tugging at your wrist.

This guy slaughtered two burglars in such a way that made your stomach twist and recoil in ways it shouldn’t. There was no way in hell that you would go with this man willingly.

“Stop struggling,” the man spat out, squeezing your arm painfully as he led you to the front door. You passed the bodies as you did so, and it only made your fear increase tenfold.

“Please,” you cried out softly, catching the man’s attention.

He turned around to face you; his covered eyes boring into your own as he waited for you to speak. Your mouth suddenly became dry as you struggled to talk.

“Don’t prolong the inevitable. Just kill me and get it over with. I know that’s what you’re going to do, anyway.”

The man observed you as you eyed his frozen figure as if he were a predator ready to pounce on his prey. And you were the cute fuzzy bunny the big bad wolf wanted for dinner.

“I will not kill you,” the man told you stiffly. “I’m here to... Help.”

"Help?" You repeated. "But why-"

"Don't ask questions!" The man snarled. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shutting your mouth, you let the man drag you onto your front lawn with no more complaints. It doesn’t stop you from dragging your feet just the tiniest bit. This didn’t go unnoticed by your rescuer.

“Would you stop?!” He practically growled at you. With his free hand, he whipped out his knife he had planned on leaving out of this. “Don’t fight me!”

His words only spurred you to struggle more. This was part of his plan somehow. He would get you to lower your guard, and when you least expected it? He’d rip you apart, just like he did those burglars.

When you refused to listen to him, he let out an angry grunt before bashing the butt of the knife on the back of your head. The sheer force of it sent you tumbling down like JENGA® blocks.

“Son of a-”

It seemed so fuzzy to you. You could register the mask hovering over your face, the steady droning sound in your ears, pale moonlight glimmering on his knife. Then it disappeared out of your line of sight.

If you could think clearly, you would have worried where it was going. Instead, you could only whine softly, slowly blinking as you waited for something to happen.

“They’ll find you here,” you heard him mumble to himself, his voice sounding as if he were underwater. “You’ll be ok.”

What the hell is he talking about?

You stared at the midnight sky behind his head, your mind refusing to focus on anything. The buzzing grew louder, forcing you to shut your eyes. It drowned everything out, leaving you with your rambling thoughts.

For a moment you could think before you felt yourself slip away. The sudden fear overwhelmed you, reminding you of what was happening in the actual world.

Please don’t let me die, not like this.

You didn’t remember much after that.

The next time you opened your eyes, you had been in the hospital, attempting to focus on a doctor. With the help of a nurse, they explained you had been attacked. Luckily, someone had tipped off the authorities who rescued you in time before anything else happened.

The interrogation with the cops was a blur. They spun some story about 3 intruders being breaking into your house, with the third one turning his back on his partners and sparing you from his rage.

One officer offered this as being connected to the other murders, but they had shot it down. While they had found records of someone calling the house before the killings, nothing else had fit the profile. They figured the mutilation only occurred because of an unknown argument between the intruders.

They tried pushing you into remembering what happened, but you couldn’t. All you could focus on was the fear you felt at the moment, sending you in tears each time.

It took you a few days after getting released from the hospital, but you finally convinced your parents to let you return to school. You were just so tired of being afraid; you wanted to return to some normalcy.

It was a rocky start. The second you stepped on school grounds, all eyes were on you. You could hear the whispers as you walked by, everyone trying to figure out how you lived. Keeping your head high, you blocked all of it out, intent on putting that behind you.

Unbeknownst to you, you failed to notice two boys during the newfound attention, the two of them sharing unnerving grins as their eyes followed your every move.

You couldn’t stop the cry that escaped your throat as you shut your locker, coming face to face with a guy you recognized from your history class. “Fuck!” You practically shouted in his face.

“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his Cheshire grin implying he was anything but sorry.

“It's ok,” you replied, shaking it off. No one says anything at that point, leaving him staring while you shuffled nervously.

“You’re uh... You’re Stu, right?” You asked suddenly. “I sit behind you in history. You’re funny.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he gave a mock bow. “That’s me, at your service!” Stu glanced around the hallway, frowning when he saw teenagers scattered about. “You got anyone to sit with?” He asked.

You shook your head sadly. Your friends didn’t have the same lunch period as you, leaving you munching on your food alone often.

“That won’t do,” Stu complained as he held out his hand. He managed a reassuring smile when you seemed hesitant to take it. “I won’t bite, my friend and I could use the company, anyway. Let’s go.” By the time you had reached the courtyard fountain, Stu practically had you in tears from how hard you were laughing.

You noticed his friend was another guy you recognized class, Billy; you think his name was.

“What’s so funny?” He chuckled, noticing the way you two were struggling to breathe.

“Listen to this,” Stu struggled to say. “The other day, my sister asked me to pass her lipstick, but I accidentally passed her a glue stick. She still isn't talking to me.”

The boy chuckled. “That would be funny, except you don’t have a sister Stu.”

Stu rolled his eyes, gently sitting you down between the two of them. Billy spares you a glance before holding out a bag of chips. When you just stared at it, he rolled his eyes.

“Do you want one or not?” He finally asked. You a shy nod, thanking him when you took a chip.

“So...” You drawled out, tired of the silence that had fallen on the three of you. That, and you were desperate to know why they were so interested in you suddenly. Both of them look surprised when you voiced your concerns.

“After what happened,” Billy began, “you looked like you just needed a friend.”

“Yeah!” Stu added. “You laugh at my jokes, and you’re pretty easy on the eyes too!”

Billy couldn’t help but think about the knife hidden in his backpack as you squirmed in your spot. Stu couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked in those pants.

It had been Stu’s idea to make you Ghostface’s next target. The two had seen you around the school; no one would suspect them if you were killed. You were barely a blip on their radar, publicly at least.

Billy was the one on the phone with you that night, putting on the facade he had contacted the wrong house. It had been going fine until Stu reported that someone was at the front door. He had been posted at the side, waiting for his partner’s word to break into the window.

The two hadn’t counted on their unexpected company to ruin their plans. You were theirs to kill; they would not let two low-life burglars take the money shot.

Stu was the one who ran inside, killing the men with no mercy to spare. He had been the one to sneak into your bedroom, fully prepared to finish you as planned. Billy warned him you had hidden in the closet, the perfect place for an easy target.

There had been something about the way you looked at Stu, your (Eye Color) eyes practically boring into his own. Then, instead of pleading with him to spare your life, you had asked that he kill you quickly. Not a single one of his victims had done that.

Somewhere in his sick, twisted little mind, he couldn’t find it in him to murder you.

It pissed Billy off when Stu returned, admitting that he didn’t finish the job. He had almost gone back to do it himself when Stu wrestled him back.

“They’re different!” The taller one shouted in his ear, attempting to keep the argument as quiet as he could. They were killers in public. “We already got in some kills; the police will never think it was us! And Y/N will never know either!”

It was pure luck that Billy agreed to his partner’s demands. It was the same luck that later spared your life; when it came out that you couldn’t remember the night of the attack, Billy let you live. To ensure that you wouldn’t squeal to the authorities if the memories ever came back, the boys came to the idea that they needed to insert themselves into your life.

“You guys are nice,” you admitted. “But you wouldn’t hurt me, right? I don’t want to get my feelings hurt.”

It wouldn’t just be your feelings getting hurt! Stu thought maniacally.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” Billy assured you, his thoughts straying away from his weapon.

For the moment Billy believed his own words. He could pretend that he and his best friend never tried killing you, befriending you on the idea that maybe you were a good person to be friends with. He wouldn’t have to worry about you discovering that they had plotted to kill you for their demented pleasure.

If things went right in this friendship, you would never have to discover their dark secret.

#Stu Macher x Reader #Stu Macher Imagine #Billy Loomis x Reader #Billy Loomis Imagine #Stu Macher x Reader x Billy Loomis #Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher #Ghostface x Reader #Ghostface Imagine #Slasher Imagine #Slasher x Reader #Slashers x Reader #poly!ghostface x reader #poly Ghostface x reader

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atseemzy · 3 years

Text

Ateez Hongjoong/Mingi x Male Reader

Warning: slight warning through the whole thing

Words: 3319

A/n: I wrote this for a school project but of course not with Ateez names in it but I change it for here!

——————————————————————————

I watch students crowd in the courtyard. I guess it's 2 o'clock. I look back at London who was still talking about some boys again like always and Paris ignore her as she play on her phone. Yup I said to myself just like any other day. I look to see what Paris was playing but instead she was mocking her sister. I shook my head as London punch her and continue to talk. I look away one more time looking at all the people walking around talking and laughing with their friends. I turn back around to find that the twins walk off without me again. I ran to catch up with them until my phone went out.

I stop and pull my phone out of my pocket looking at the ID that pop up on my screen. I didn't want to pick it up so I swipe the reject bubble and quickly ran to the twins who stop when they saw me stop.

"Was it your mom again." London ask.

I didn't really want to answer her at the moment. So I shrugged my shoulders and continue to walk.

Paris stop in front of me and said," you know that you have to talk to her now or later right."

I shook my head and said," Talking to her is like talking to a wall. She never listens and she won't tell me anything. Why should I answer her just to hear her complain and tell me I should have just done nothing with my life."

I watch as the two back away a little bit. I look down to the ground not wanting to see their face. I know somewhere that they were disappointed in me because of what I just said. I felt a hand be place on my shoulder.

"You know that we never meant to upset you M/n." Paris said to me.

I kept my head down some they would see how much I hate myself at the moment. They just didn't understand how frustrating it was when you want to know about family and all your mom ever says is that they didn't love her or me. That my dad left because he known that I was never going to be good son for him.

That what she says to me all the time over and over again. I look at the ground trying to think of a time that she didn't lie to me.

The twins were gone by the time I snap back to reality. I sigh and watch people walk by with their life. I wonder what the truth has in store for me. If I ever find out what the truth is. It like the same question all the time. Why did he leave? Why didn't my family love me? Is it my mom's fault for this? Why must there be so many question that need to be answer? Taking a deep breath I continue to walk to class that seem to be miles away from where I'm standing. It seem that every time I get closer to something it moves far away from my reach.

After class I walk back to the bench think of what to do now. I could go hang out with London and Paris or I could go home and catch up on some TV series. Maybe I could finally go to the store so that I have food in my apartment. Hm I look down at my feet trying to figure out what to do. I could do all three and just call it even after I'm done. I was snap back to reality again but a big gust of wind.

I look up to the sky to find large holes start to form in the sky. Everyone watch the hole in sky wondering or scared of what was happening. I stop looking around and rush to the math building. London and Paris have math so maybe they are safe. I quickly ran down the hallway looking for room 609. I stop in front of the door walking into the room to find that there was no one there.

"London," I yell through the empty room hoping they were hiding.

After waiting awhile and I didn't hear anything in the room but now I was looking out the window watching people after people be killed or people killing people in the courtyard. I thought back just couple of hours ago with happy people talking and laughing but now the courtyard was filled with bodies and blood.

The thought of one of them could be London or Paris or both made me sick. The sick feeling made want to know where the two where.

I made my way out the building looking around for anything that could kill me and looking at the ground for London or Paris. The scene in front of me was too much but it the only way to get out of the mess that lay down around me. I took a deep breath and continue to walk through the bodies till I made it to the street. The road was covered in red and the eerily silent made me uneasy.

"What do we have here," I heard a voice behind.

I turn around to see who it was but only to find two men there. I step back little bit once they got closer. They both seem to watch my every move not letting me get away from their stares.

"He doesn't seem to have a voice. What an idiot," the one with brown eyes said.

"Hmm it seem you might be right Hongjoong but we should still give him a chance to answer for himself or killing him wouldn't be fun like the others," the other said.

I quickly said," what are you?"

The question was the only thing that I had on my mind. The only stupid thing I could says might be my last words.

I felt chills run up my spine as the sun started to set. This isn't good I don't want to be here in the dark with them.

"We are running out of time Mingi." Hongjoong said.

Mingi look up to the sky and smile," I guess you're right."

I watch them closely so if they did try to kill me I could run.

Mingi step forward then stop," there something about you that I wonder." Hongjoong look at me and nodded to Mingi.

How did I get into this mess now? I step back but I trip on something and fell.

Hongjoong laugh out," look at that he scare Mingi."

Mingi smile and look down at me. I quickly got up in embarrassment.

Mingi ask," so do you have anything to say beside that stupid question you ask?"

I nodded and said," why does it matter?"

Hongjoong snap and grab my shirt bring me closer to them.

"Listen here brat you are wasting our time and I think it time for yours to be over," he yell to me.

I closed my eyes waiting for something but before anything could happen Mingi said," wait Hongjoong we might could use him if need too. Let keep him maybe he will be a good slave to keep."

Hongjoong drop me onto the ground and look back at Minhi then nodded. I got up but looking down at my hand that were now covered in blood. I felt light headed because of all the blood and the smell of dead bodies. I look around feeling dizzy and all the bodies blur into on dark red blurry circles. I step back kind of scared of what was going on.

"Catch him Hongjoong ," I heard Mingi says.

I felt arms pull me up as gravity pull down on me. The room I woke up in was a small room with no windows and one door stood to my right. The walls were a rusted brown color and the floor were damp. The only light that was coming into the room was a wall light that didn't give out much light. I look around the poor lighting room looking for something that maybe help me know where I was. I walk over to the door pulling on in then pushing on it but nothing the door was lock.

After for what felt like years the door open. I look at Jimin as he cross the room to me. I back away from him as he tried to touch me.

"Get away from me," I said to him.

He stood there looking at me and drag me over to the door.

"Sometimes you humans never listen," he said under his breath but just enough for me to hear him.

I tried to get up to walk but he was moving too fast causing me to fall and be drag to where he was taking me. I wasn't mad just frustrated that I can't get up. I felt tears in my eye as my frustration increase.

"Let me get up," I yell to him.

He stop and turn to me," you ever do that again and I will kill you where you stand next time."

He then wait for me to get up but as soon as I did he pull me harshly causing me to fall back down. The hallway was dark and at the end of it was a single door. Hongjoong didn't really talk much just turn around here and there to see what I was doing. Hongjoong open the door and threw me. I land on the ground and groan in pain.

"Hongjoong you should be careful with our guest," Mingi said.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and walk over me to go sit down. I got up slowly making sure that Hongjoong stay where he was as I got up. I brush off my clothes from being on the floor. I didn't know what was going to happen but whatever it is I don't like it. I stood there waiting for something from the two but nothing came at all. The room was silent as I look around....

They didn't get up or say anything just went back to looking at the many maps and plans. I wish I could understand what they were saying but the language didn't sound like anything I knew or heard before.... it wasn't long before Hongjoong caught me trying to get out of the room that they were in. He quickly grab and pull me down the hallway and into the room where I was lock in early.....

Once I was in the room, he lock the door and walk away. I got up fast trying to get the door open again but fail. How could this room be so old but this door won't break..... I cry a bit as I hurt myself many time just trying to get the door open..... why won't it open....

After a couple of days being in the room that I woke up in I was finally got the door to open. I look down the long hallway where there was only one door at the end. I walk down the hallway slowly making sure that I didn't make to much sound. I place both of my hands on each wall to make sure that if the was hidden door I would find it.

Couple of minutes later my hand pass a bump in the wall. I stop and went back to it looking at it closely. I put my hand on the bump and push to see if it would move. Nothing happen so I grab onto the edge of the bump was pull back. It slowly open and I look in and there at the bottom I could see a road and hear noise. The noise was so loud that it sound like it came from the courtyard from the college. The thoughts about the college made me think of London and Paris. I wonder if they are trying to find me or at least trying to keep themselves safe. I snap back and sat down on the edge of the door step. I took a deep breath feeling my anxiety rising in my crest as I push myself off the edge.

The fall wasn't long and I landed on my knees. I rush to stand up and run but stop in this alleyway for safety. I look around and ran to the street where a whole bunch of people crowd. I look around the street till I saw a pair of eye that were familiar. He watch me closely like he was telling me to stay still and not move from that spot. Then it hit me that it was Hongjoong and he just saw me. I kept an eye out for him but then took off hoping that I would find a way out of this place.

After running for a while I came to a weird hole that was on the ground. I look down at it to see the half ruin college that I went to. I look back to see if Hongjoong had found me but nothing but silence was heard. I place myself over the hole and slowly push my foot down to see if it was open. My foot went down below the ground to the ground in my universe. I didn't waste anymore time and step into my universe.

The buildings look like war had spend out and the bodies made the air smell so bad. The blood on the street had stain the sidewalk and road. I look around thinking of a place that London and Paris might have went. I wasn't worried about Hongjoong or Mingi because I knew where I was going here and they didn't know where to go. I quick ran down the street to the apartment building that belong to the college. I quickly threw the door open and climb the stairs. I made my way to London's apartment. I open the door to find nothing but a notice that London wrote.

'To whoever is reading this there is a group of us that is moving to a safer place. There are clues to where we are. Hopefully you can find us. M/n if this is you I hope your safe and you find me because there is something I must tell you.'

I place the notice down and ran down the stair then into the road. I look around the street to try to a find a the clue. There wasn't nothing that look different but I don't know how long i have been and the other universe. It was frustrating and I slam my hand into the side of a building. I press my back against the building and side down. I sat there for a while not knowing what to do. I'm so lost and there is no one here.

The day was gone and I woke up looking at the mess of my town. Nothing is going to change what they ruined. The people that live here are now gone and all that is left is building from us. The sky was a greyish color with no sunlight at all. This universe had became their just from one attack. I felt tears run down my face knowing that this is the end of us.

I got up and continue to walk down the street watching for anything that could lead me to somewhere safe. I already made my mind up if I get caught by Mingi and Hongjoong I wouldn't fight it and go with them. I came to a stop at the cross road in front of me this was it wasn't there was a white mark on one of the stop sign. I went to the right to follow the mark way. After couple of more signs there was another one.

It seem like forever when I finally made it to the end of the white marks. It took couple of day to make it to the camp. I walk around slowly to see where everyone was. The silent made my stomach turn as I turn the corner of the building. I fell to my knees looking around at the bodies that laid on the ground. I didn't want to get up to check who they were because I was afraid to see London or Paris there on the ground just like the beginning.

I slowly got up and walk through all the bodies looking closely to tell if one was London or Paris. There she was on the ground and little bit farther was Paris. After an hour of checking there they were. I look away knowing that they wasn't alive. I fell to my knees and cry to myself. I felt like everything was done that there was nothing left. I step back having thoughts that clouded my mind and ran off. I didn't know where I was going but I didn't care. I stop and lay down in a grass area. I had let my thoughts take over and the tears wouldn't stop. I lost everything even my mom someone I didn't care about but it still hurt. I closed my eyes hoping that sleep would take over and in a couple of minutes it did.

The sound of voices fill my ear as I open my eye. Where was I? I got up off the bed and walk to the window. I look down at the street to find people walking down the road like nothing had happen just a couple of weeks ago. I look to find the college but instead I found a park. This was my universe so why isn't anything the same. I look down at the people that fill the street and remember the blood and bodies that were there before. I remember the twins and how I rudely told them to leave me alone.

I step out of room that I was in to find some answer somewhere. I walk down a long stairway and there was only two people at the end of the stairway.

"Mister Hongjoong would like to see you in his office," one of them said to me and I follow her.

When we got there I sat down in front of a desk waiting for her to leave so that I could get some answers. Hongjoong turn around and look at me.

"You really surprise me on what you did," he said to me.

I didn't say anything not knowing what I did.

He seem to understand me and explain," you were under so much stress you time travel to the future but Mingi and I ready knew you could." "

We waited to see if you would really do it," he continued.

"You made our job a lot easier and we thank you for that," a voice said from behind me.

I knew who it was Mingi. I didn't turn around but felt a hand be place on my shoulder and Hongjoong stood up to go to Mingi. I felt his hand be place on my shoulder too.

"We been planing this for years now and it was to just to put you in stressful situations to get what we needed." Mingi said.

I felt my energy slowly leave me as they continue to tell me of all the things that they had planned.

"To think now you just belong us now,"Hongjoong said.

This was it. This was my story to a painful past and a misery future.

- M/n

#ateez #ateez x male reader #atiny #ateez hongjoong #ateez mingi #male reader #ateez angst #ateez reactions #ateez horror

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marvelousstevetony · 3 years

Note

If you’re still taking prompts, could you please do 39. “Those sounded strong, baby.” For stony?

Another lovely prompt, thank you, anon! Hope you like this tiny, little ficlet of our baby boys being soft <3

***

“The titles and end credits are always the best part of the movie, hm?”

Tony’s leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips as Steve flinches, head sticking up over the back of the sofa, and looks over his shoulder with a startled expression, his eyebrows raised and mouth hanging slightly agape. His eyes soften when he sees Tony, and a corner of his mouth curls into a faint smile. He glances over at the TV where a long list of names is being displayed, then turns back to Tony and shrugs.

“What were you watching?” Tony asks and pushes himself from the door and moves to sit down next to Steve, who’s huddled under at least three blankets. His hair is all rumpled and disheveled, and his cheeks have this pink tint to them that he always gets when he wakes up from a nap. Which, from what Tony can tell, is what was going on before he entered.

“What? Oh.” Steve looks at the screen again, confusedly, then back at Tony. “I umb… snff! I don’t remember. I think I fell asleep.”

Tony smiles and threads his fingers through the blonde locks. “I figured as much,” Tony says, twisting a strand of golden hair around his index finger. “You look sleepy… and snifflish,” Tony adds, noting the box of Kleenex on the coffee table and the tissues that a scattered across the sofa, table, and the floor.

Steve winces as he looks around. “Sorry… I’ll cleand id— snffSNFF! clean it up,” he says apologetically and starts picking up the tissues he can reach from his sitting position.

Grabbing Steve’s wrist, Tony shakes his head lightly. “I’ll do it in a bit,” he murmurs. “I guess I don’t have to ask if your cold’s gotten better then?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer, but a series of damp sniffles interrupts him. He snuffles into his sweater paw and presses his nose into he back of his hand. The sniffles trigger a few ticklish coughs, prompting him to clear his throat before replying. “Not really, ndo… still cad’t SNFF! breathe through mby ndose and— snf! and my head feels so heavy… ears feels kinda funny, too.”

Tony’s heart clenches at the small defeated sigh Steve lets out. His head is probably full of cold, the congestion affecting his hearing and making his eyes watery and red-rimmed. “You’re so stuffy, honey,” he sympathizes. “Have you taken anything or…?”

Steve shakes his head no. “‘Makes me drowsy. Though, I guess I felt kinda sluggish anyway…”

“You want meds? Or tea, maybe?” Tony suggests, stroking Steve’s cheek. It’s warm, a little feverish. Nothing too bad, though.

Steve considers Tony’s proposal for a few seconds. “Tea might be nice?” he decides, his face going all soft and hopeful.

“Tea it is,” Tony confirms and gets to his feet, gathering the littered tissues on his ways to the kitchen and shows them in the bin. He grabs the small stash of teabags from a cabinet, debating whether he should go with peppermint or ginger tea for Steve’s cold.

In the end, he chooses peppermint and pulls out a mug to pour the warm drink into.

When he re-enters the living room, Steve’s face is scrunched up around his nose, eyes narrowed and teary. He’s holding his arm half-way to his face, breath trembling, but the sneeze’s so obviously stuck and he looks absolutely adorable, Tony thinks.

“You look adorable,” Tony voices his thought, announcing his presence. He hands Steve the mug, fingers curling around it, and Steve immediately brings it closer to his chest, snuggling closer into the blankets.

“I probably look as bad as I feel,” Steve mutters, taking a small sip of his tea.

“You could never look bad,” Tony assures, but Steve shoots him a dubious look. “What? It’s true! You look more…”

“More what?”

“More like you could use a cuddle,” Tony says gently, and Steve ducks his head bashfully.

Tony loves this. He loves when Steve goes shy, especially when Tony’s the one who made the heat rise up his neck and color his face flush this perfect pink shade. Steve will try to deny it and roll his eyes, but he’s about as transparent as air when it comes to hiding how Tony always makes him blush.

Steve sniffles again and wrinkles his nose.

“Try breathing in the steam, see if it helps,” Tony instructs.

Steve does as he’s told, snuffling into the warm mist. It doesn’t take long before his nose is beginning to run and the sniffles are coming more frequently. It provokes a tingle to rise in his sinuses, too, slowly growing more and more insistent, and when his breath starts coming in short, desperate gasps, he gives the mug back to Tony and buries his face in his elbow.

“huh… h’uhh… uhhCHUSh’oo! TCHUSH’oo! huh— CHUSH!” The sneezes aren’t particularly loud, but they’re strong, and Steve’s body jerks with each one, shoulders tensing in anticipation for another. “huh’TCHssh!”

His shoulders relax when he emerges from the sleeve of his sweater, bleary-eyed and a hazy expression on his face.

“Bless you,” Tony whimpers in sympathy. “Those sounded strong, baby.”

He smooths circles around Steve’s back with his palm, then places the mug on the coffee table and draws both arms around Steve when the blonde rubs his face into Tony’s shoulder.

“Hmm…” Steve hums in agreement, sleepily, and proceeds to press his face into the crook of Tony’s neck, breath and sniffles tickling on his skin.

“What do you think, babe, is another nap in store for us?” Tony asks, shuffling under the blankets to get even closer to his boyfriend, making sure they’re both lying down comfortably.

Steve doesn’t answer, not with words, anyway, but Tony’s fairly certain that the deep, pleased sigh Steve gives is confirmation enough. He asks JARVIS to put another movie on, but neither of them will be able to tell which movie it was afterwards. They’re both fast asleep, cuddled up in each other’s arms, before the opening credits come on.

#my fic #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #i love them so much #!!! they’re babies🥺#ask box

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dandy-writes · 4 years

Text

Crowley x Reader - Chapter Nine

Chapter Eight

Crowley sat on his throne as one of his many underlings droned on before him. He was sure that if he thought about it for long enough he’d be able to remember their name, but at the moment, he didn’t care enough to. The reports were always the same, the only difference being the numbers, but those were falling further and further out of interest for Crowley as of late. It’d been over a week since he’d left Y/N in the bunker after tending their wounds, and he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to visit them since. Yet another rogue sect of demons had sprung up in Hell, a problem which had required immediate and thorough attention. But now it was over with, and still he found himself bored to pieces regarding the more underwhelming affairs of Hell. He didn’t really care how many souls they were pulling in each week; it never seemed to matter in the long run.

The buzzing of Crowley’s cell phone came as a welcome interruption, even more so when he read the caller ID shining up at him. Lifting a hand, he silenced the demon mid-sentence and picked up the call, holding the phone up to his ear. “Hello, kitten.”

“Hey Crowley,” Y/N responded on the other end. “How, uh… How’s Hell?”

“Oh, boring as usual.” Crowley smirked as the demon’s face fell. “How’s the bunker?”

“Not that interesting either,” They laughed lightly. “But, y’know, I keep myself occupied. So…” Y/N cleared their throat. “So you’re not busy then?”

“Not with anything that can’t be postponed. Why, did you have something in mind?” He glanced back at the demon, whose expression had by now turned to one of frustration, and gestured for them to leave.

“Oh, not really. I just… well, I’ve had this bottle of Craig lying around for a while, and I was going to open it up by myself, but I remembered that Sam mentioned it was one of your favorites, and with the boys out on a hunt…” They paused. “I don’t know, I thought you might want to share.”

“I’d be delighted to. I’ve got a few matters to finish up, but I’ll be over in a few minutes. Talk to you then, darling.”

“See you,” Y/N replied and hung up. Crowley smiled down at the black screen; finally.

~ ~ ~

Y/N was standing at one of the library’s several tables, two glasses and a bottle of Craig set down atop it. They were leaning forwards slightly, both palms pressed against the cool wooden surface, fingers tapping absentmindedly. Crowley would be arriving any second now, and the anticipation was messing with their nerves. For what felt like the billionth time they took a look around the room, only to once more find it empty .

Body still twisted to their right, Y/N paused and let out a sigh. Maybe the business he needed to wrap up was taking longer than he’d thought it would. Maybe something else had come up. Maybe he simply wouldn’t come.

“Something troubling you, darling?”

Y/N turned quickly, the movement causing a sting of pain in their still somewhat tender stomach. Crowley was standing directly to their left, amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that,” They huffed, furrowing their brow slightly.

He merely grinned before looking down at the table. “Shall I pour our drinks?”

“Sure,” They said before pulling out one of the chairs and taking a seat. After he’d finished with the drinks and slid one over to Y/N, Crowley did the same.

“Cheers,” He said, raising his glass. “To your health. I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Yes, very much so,” They smiled and lifted their own, clinking them before taking a sip. “Thank you for helping me. Well,” They paused, looking down at the scotch thoughtfully. “For saving my life, really.”

“No need to thank me, love. All in a day’s work,” He winked at them. They averted their gaze, laughing a little. He raised a brow expectantly. “What’s so funny?”

“Crowley, you’re the King of Hell,” Y/N glanced up at him, and something in their expression shifted. “It’s not ‘all in a day’s work’. It’s the opposite, really. I may not exactly be a hunter, but -- I mean, I work with the Winchesters of all people. So…” Their smile faded. “Why?”

“Well…” Crowley started, but he’d found that the words had dried up in his throat. The way Y/N was looking at him, it was as if they were pleading with him. Begging him to say… to say what? He cleared his throat. “You… intrigue me, Y/N.” When they didn’t respond, he proceded. “You’re right, you’re not a hunter, and you’re nothing like those bloody Winchesters. And yet here you are, working with them, helping them however you can. Thrusting yourself into a dangerous life that tends to end only in bloodshed, something you’ve experienced firsthand.”

“I want to help people,” Y/N interjected, but their tone was soft.

“That much is clear, but Y/N, I’m not ‘people’.” He kept his eyes locked on theirs. “I’m a demon. The King of Hell, as you pointed out yourself, but you still treated me with kindness, right from the very beginning.” He laid an elbow on the table, resting his cheek against his hand as he watched Y/N. “Why?”

“I mean, I’d just met you. I didn’t know you, I wasn’t about to be rude,” Y/N reasoned.

“The Winchesters would’ve been, after learning my occupation. In fact, they were, if I recall correctly.” He smiled, almost sadly. “You know demons don’t express emotions, don’t you?”

Y/N broke eye contact, looking down at their hands which lay in their lap, fidgeting with the hem of their shirt. “I always kind of thought that was a little exaggerated.” They frowned. “But I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s another reason why you’ve fascinated me,” Crowley continued. They shifted their gaze to meet his. “I can’t quite explain why or how, but for whatever reason, I’ve found that with you…” Leaning forwards a little, he raised his other hand and brushed it over Y/N’s cheek. “It’s different. I’m different.” He paused in thought. “I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. Do you have any idea how strange that is?”

They blinked at him incredulously. “I don’t understand. You--”

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, kitten. I just thought you should know.” Crowley looked away, beginning to remove his hand from their cheek. But before he could, Y/N clutched it in their own, drawing his focus once more.

“No,” They blurted. “No, I…” They found their eyes darting around the room, their mind unable to find the right words for what they so desperately wanted to say to the demon sitting before them. But the feeling of his hand on their skin kept them grounded. “I do. Feel the same way, I mean.”

They looked into his eyes. Suddenly they realized how close the two of them were -- they’d both subconsciously been leaning in towards each other this whole time, and now they could almost feel one another’s breath.

“May I?” Crowley asked, voice quiet.

Y/N simply nodded.

The hand on their cheek slipped further back to cup the back of their head, pulling their lips to his. The kiss was warm and gentle; not quite what Y/N had been expecting from a powerful demon, but it was welcome nonetheless. His scruff rubbed against their cheek lightly, leaving a faint burning sensation as he pulled away.

“Darling…” He muttered against their lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now.”

“Is that so?” Y/N smiled playfully. “Then why don’t you do it again?”

“Happily,” Crowley replied, tugging them towards him. Just as they began to kiss again, the sound of a ringtone came from Y/N’s back pocket. They leant back a little, shooting Crowley an apologetic glance as they did so. Taking the phone out of their pocket they glanced down at it.

“It’s Sam,” They sighed and picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. How’re you doing?”

“Good, y’know. Same ol’, same ol’.” Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically, forcing them to stifle a giggle. “How’s the hunt going?”

“Good, good. Definitely a vampire nest. It’ll take us a few more days to clear it all up.” He paused. “Say, Y/N… Crowley hasn’t dropped by, has he?”

They felt their heart drop. Turning slightly from Crowley, they frowned. “Crowley?” In their periphery they could see the demon’s brow furrow as he heard his name. “No, why?”

“Well, this is the first time you’ve been alone in the bunker since you were attacked.”

“And?”

“I just…” He sighed. “Dean and I have been talking, and… Y/N, we don’t know what he wants from you.”

“What do you mean? He saved my life,” Y/N replied, trying their best to sound calm. However, Crowley clearly wasn’t believing it, and scooted his seat a little closer to them.

“Exactly. He had no reason to do that. He might use this to ask you or us for some favor or something in return, I don’t know.”

“I--” They exhaled sharply. “Maybe he was just being nice.”

“I know you like to see the good in people, Y/N, but he’s the King of Hell. Just, if he does show up--”

“Give me the phone,” Crowley said quietly, one hand outstretched. Y/N frowned at him, but didn’t move to do as he’d said.

“Y/N? Are you with someone?” Sam asked, voice laced with concern.

“No, it’s just the TV.” Y/N replied, but there was no hiding the nervousness in their tone now.

“Y/N,” Crowley insisted.

“Who’s with you? Is it Crowley? Y/N, if you need help, just--”

“No, Sam, I’m alright, I promise.” They took a moment, closing their eyes. “I… Sam, you trust me, right?”

“Of course I do, Y/N, but--”

“Then trust me when I say that I trust him.” They reopened their eyes, staring down at the table. Laying their free hand on the wooden surface, they saw that it was trembling. Quickly, Crowley held it with his own.

Sam was silent for a moment. “You’re not going to change your mind about this, are you?”

“No, probably not.”

“Listen. I…” Faintly, Y/N could hear a door closing on the other end, accompanied by a voice. “I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk about this when Dean and I get back, okay?”

Y/N furrowed their brow. “Okay.”

There was a click, and then nothing. Y/N placed the phone on the table and looked back at Crowley. He squeezed their hand lightly, a concerned look on his face.

“What’d he say?”

They let out a long breath, turning their head to better face him. “That we’ll talk more when they’re here. They don’t even…” They swallowed. “They’re already so upset, and they don’t even know that--”

“Darling, listen to me,” Crowley moved towards them a little, tilting his head slightly as he did so. “It’s going to be alright. If they’ve got any sense at all in their heads, they’ll listen to you.” He glanced at their interlaced fingers. “And if they don’t, I’ll handle them. You don’t have to worry.”

“You’ll be here? When they get back?”

“Of course, kitten,” He smiled softly. When their worried expression didn’t shift, he tugged their hand gently. “Come here.”

Y/N leant forwards, letting him wrap them in his arms as he pulled them in for a hug. Resting their head against him, they closed their eyes, letting themselves be soothed by the rising and falling of his chest.

“Everything’s going to be alright.”

AN: Thank you all so much for reading! This is the last chapter of this story. I wanted to leave it a little bit open-ended for y’all to think about what might happen next! I’m definitely planning on writing some more fanfics in the future (probably more crowley x reader lol), so look forward to that. See y’all then :]

#fanfic #fanfiction #crowley x reader #crowley supernatural #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #crowley king of hell #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #original fanfiction #fergus mcleod #supernatural fic #fluffy fic #king of hell #marzipan writes

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voidselfshipp · 3 years

Text

Lucky To Have Eachother

Cw: swearing, food, ask to tag

Ok to rb

Taglist: @girlboss-mrsschnee @lilacslovers @imaginesforallkindoflove

Jerico got into wrenchs garage, as soon as she stepped in she knew it was going to be an emotional day.

After ray Turned his beloved Junior into an EMP bomb the hacker has been trying to rebuild Him.

But with the circuits fried and the data database wiped clean he had to work from scratch.

Jer kneeled besides him, the garage Doors close.

-- fuck fuck fuck!-- wrench throws the screwdriver into the floor.

He sits down turning to his girlfriend-- oh..hey babe.. sorry you had to see that...

She shakes her head and sits with him, putting a hand on his thigh, jerico Gently presses her head against his chest.

--Its not working?

He shakes his head pulling her closer,the mask showing two dashboards in its screen-- Ive been trying to bring Junior back for a month, that EMP bomb was very strong...or I just cant Fix this

Jerico lifts his face up by the chin--hey hey...dont say that-- her accent makes herself present, he loved it so much-- theres nothing my wrench cant do, youre a genius, but maybe you should take a break, Junior wouldnt want to see you stressed

He sighs hugging her just a bit more tightly-- ill Grab my laptop and go to the hackers space, M should be there with the food already, and I told the rest that Id be there anyway

--i like that plan-- he helps her stand up.

Jerico and wrench get into the car as soon as he grabs his laptop.

The drive is silent, the hacker had a hand on his girlfriends thigh all the ride there, in silence with longing stares, giggles and soft music.

The hot summer was the perfect time to turn on the cars AC, wich made wrench eventually hand over his vest to jerico.

Not that he complained of course, it looked good on her.

When they arrived sitara hugged jer tightly-- the two lovebirds arrived, too busy kissing instead of working?-- marcus asked handing them both some pizza.

Wrench just nodds his head and goes to sit on the sofas right Next to the lockers.

--And whats up with wrench?

Jer sighed eating from her food-- its junior, he hasnt been able to bring him back

Sitara and marcus let out a "oh".

--well,if theres someone that can bring our wrench back is you!-- sitara said.

Jerico giggled and goes to sit with her boyfriend.

After eating, they both cuddle there, jer traces invisible patterns on wrenchs clothes as he has one hand behind his head and the other around his girlfriends waist.

They dont say anything, the lights dim, granting some coziness to the place

Jer tugs a nearby blanket and drapes it over them both.

--whats the matter?-- jerico asked.

He shakes his head-- not now babe

Nodding she speaks up-- I understand, can I do anything to make you feel better?

--i dont know...

Jer nodds and puts her hands on his mask-- can I?

He nodds-- y you do know you dont have to ask that after five years togheter right?

-- I know, but I just want you to be comfortable-- jerico lifts his mask up , kissing wrench softly.

He kisses back pulling her closer, a hand on the shaved back of her neck.

He yawns-- I think you should get some sleep-- she says

-- im....fine...no need to--his voice becomes increasily lower--...rest

With that he falls asleep, snoring softly.

Some hours later, jerico is asleep, wrench kneeled besides her covering her up and lifting his mask to kiss her cheek-- sleep tight sweetheart

He stands up deciding to go back to the garage and work on Junior.

When she wakes up, jer helps sitara with some Art for dedsec-- yknow marcus went to pick wrench up, they should be here at any moment

Jerico is about to say someone when wrench bursts in grabbing jer by the waist and lifting her up-- babe babe babe!!!-- he sounded like an excited puppy-- Junior is working again! Hes back! -- he hugs her tightly-- I couldnt have done it without your support babe!

Jer kisses his mask-- thats wonderfull amor!,im proud of you

He lets out a soft laugh and hugs her tightly.

The dedsec members all smile at the scene,but of course work called.

When the day was over wrench and jerico crash at their appartment.

Laying in bed,with Junior recharging in the opposite side of the room with the closet and the TV wrench pulls jerico closer.

-- im honestly so lucky to have you-- he says.

-- no wrench im the lucky one

The Man shakes his head, his blonde short locks draping over his face, he brushes them back, his mask on the nightstand.

--Lets just agree that we are lucky to have eachother yeah?

Jer nodds-- yeah lets do that

They stay in silence for a bit, wrench looks away-- can I ask you something?

--Sure,what is it?

--Why do you hide your accent? You barely speak spanish around us, even thought we all learnt it just because of you

Jer looks away too-- I dont wanna bother

--oh babe, you dont bother,I Love it when you speak in spanish, d d'you mind speaking some for me now?

Jerico shakes her head-- no, para nada (no, not at all)

Wrench falls asleep with her speaking spanish, the calming voice and her accent were music to his ears

Jer followed suit, tired too from todays work.

They were both lucky indeed.

#cw swearing #tw swearing #cw food #tw food #ask to tag #f/o fic #🖤🔥anarchists in love🔥🖤

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slashermom · 5 years

Note

Prompt #5: “Don’t you love me?” Female s/o at Billy Loomis when ghostface goes to kill her. He’s about to stab her when she pulls his mask off of his dumb cute face. When she realizes it’s Billy, she’s asks him “don’t you love me” with tears welling in her eyes. Billy starts to feel bad, realizing his s/o isn’t faking her feelings to him. he drops the knife and s/o hugs him. She accepts him for the murderer he is and they like talk it out?? ^ • ^

#5: “Don’t you love me?”

It was an uneventful evening filled with dull homework and even duller date line TV. You weren’t really paying to either, your mind finding minute things to distract itself from what actually needed to be done. As if the universe was listening, your cell phone rings right beside you. You pick up immediately not paying attention to the caller ID, at this rate even talking to a telemarketer is better than the work sprawled out in front of you.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Y/N.” A strange and sharp voice comes through, not one you recognize.

“And who is this?” You sit up a little from your slouched position on the couch.

“Do you like scary movies Y/N?” Completely avoiding your reasonable question. Your eyebrows knit together at this, not seeing what it has to do with anything but you play along.

“Sure.” You shrug and nod your head as if he could see you.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The voice carries an almost mocking and fierce tone that makes the hair on your neck stand up.

“(Insert favorite movie here)... Why?” A deep chuckle resonates from the other side of the receiver, at this point you’re already on your feet, an impending feeling washing over you.

“Let’s see if you remember this scene.” They goaded before the call ended and your lock screen lit up. Your palms sweat as you realize what just happened, letting out a laugh of disbelief. You decide that it was probably just some asshole from school who wanted to get a kick out of scaring someone, but that idea was quickly shut down when a deafening bang sounded from somewhere in the house.

You felt your heart fall into your stomach as this overwhelming sense of dread and pure, unadulterated, fear set into your bones.

You weren’t alone.

That thought was confirmed when you heard the telltale sound of the floor creaking, whipping around to the source you are met with a terrorifying sight. A tall figure was looming in the doorway, dressed head to toe in all black, the only striking feature was the screaming ghost face that adorned the intruder’s face.

As you took a step backwards, they took a calculated step forwards. You both would repeat this motion until the back of your knees hit a coffee table that was placed at the end of the couch. Your fingers grazing a turquoise vase that your family purchased on a trip down to the coast, curling fingers around the neck, you waited until they took another step forward and then quickly raised your arm and threw the glass vase as hard as you could in their direction.

Watching it break into a million pieces on the arm they raised to defend themselve, you took this opportunity to make a break for it. Vaulting over the coffee table and running in the direction of the back door, you could hear the heavy footsteps of trespasser making impeccable time toward you. You didn’t get very far before a gloved hand grabbed a hold of your hair and spinning you around so they could strike you across your face.

You hit the ground with thump and directly put your eyes back on the attacker as you feel blood seep from your nose and taste it on your gums. They stalked over your form before kneeling over your body, but you were prepared. Landing a resilient kick square in the chest, they fall back and smash against the hard wall. You once against seize the opportunity to flee, crawling on your stomach forcing your arms to push you up. But before you can, a hand curls around your ankle and pulls you back, you scream in frustration and terror as you thrash before ultimate are turned on your back.

Another ruthless blow in dealt to your stomach in order to subdue you, you scream in pain and suddenly the masked individual puts their weight on to yours and a knife is held above your chest, survival instincts rack through your body and you snatch up the arm holding the knife and push back. You two fight for the upper hand as your other arm is being held against the cold floor. But even then, the adrenaline running through your body is stopping Ghostface from driving the knife into your heart.

Having enough of the push and pull, a savage hand wraps around your throat, lifting your head up before harshly slamming it back down on the floor. This ruthless action is repeated a few more times before the hand that you had grasped tightly around your assailant’s arm which held the knife just above your chest began to slack.

The clawing of the hand on your throat stopped as your eyes squeezed shut from the excruciating thudding in your head and the suffocating hold on your wind pipe. You were finally able to focus you vision, staring up at what you could only make out to be death itself.

You knew you weren’t going to win this fight, your time was up. But you sure as hell weren’t going to meet your maker without knowing who took your life. With the last bit of strength, you hastily reached a meek hand up to the mask of your future murderer, tugging it off with one quick motion.

Your heart fell into your stomach for the second time that night, but this time it shattered.

You weren’t staring into the eyes of a total stranger, no... You knew these eyes like the back of your hand. They belonged to your boyfriend, your lover, your confidant, the only man in this whole world who you thought would never wrong you, Billy Loomis.

It was the tears that burned in your eyes that brought you back to your situation, you choked out a breath as only what you could describe as pure sadness reached it’s breaking point and erupted.

“Don’t you love me?” It was intended to come out a lot stronger but instead came out a choked sob that made Billy’s skin raise with goosebumps. “I... I thought you loved me.” The tears spilling over in heavy, warm streaks that ran down your cheeks and mixed in with the blood from nose.

You don’t know why but in that moment, you felt like you could truly see the the real Billy Loomis. The guard that was constantly up had disappeared and all resolve had disapated. Looking into his eyes, you saw anger, frustration, regret and most prevalent of them all, pain. You didn’t know what he was thinking about right in this moment and to be frank, neither did Billy.

He was so sure he had it figured it out, figured you out. That you were a good for nothing whore who was just gonna be a problem, someone who was gonna hurt him. That he was just using you, he had a plan and he was gonna stick to it. Hell, he stayed up all night convincing himself that this was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But now he wasn’t sure, looking at your broken figure beneath him.

He wasn’t sure of anything... Until he was.

The delicate fingers that had interlaced with his many times before found their way up to his face once again, but the blow that he was expecting never came. Soft digets laid on his lawline while the pad of your thumb rubbed lovingly across his cheekbone to swipe away the tear that he hadn’t realize was traveling down his face. A melancholy smile graced your features as you spoke once again.

“It’s okay.”

All it took was the those two words and Billy had made up his mind. Throwing the buck knife across the room and scooping you up into his arms, an iron type grip around your shoulders. His whole body seemed to shake as he tried to take deep breaths of air in order to calm himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He chanted over and over again into your hair as you white knuckle gripped on to the costume, trying to get as close to him as possible. There you two laid, clinging desperately on to each other like the other would turn to dust. Nothing with ever be the same, but neither of you can escape this overwhelming sense of understanding and unconditional love. So you’ll just have to weather the storm together.

#slasher #slasher x reader #slasher community #billy loomis x reader #scream 1996 #im sorry this took so long fuck

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @inatshej!

I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful holiday season!

Read of AO3

*****

When Darkness Knocks (Knock Back)

He stared at the plate of food balanced on the U-haul box. Around him, half-empty boxes littered the floor, shoved up against the walls and stacked in a feeble attempt to get them out of the way.

Throughout the house almost every room was in a similar state of disorder.

“The moving truck should be here tomorrow with our furniture.”

His gaze slid up, glancing over the TV dinners and mugs of water until he met John’s gaze.

The move took its toll on both of them. John had deep circles under his eyes and the wrinkles on his face seemed to have deepened overnight, adding years to his face, making him seem older than he was.

John stretched one leg, wincing as the unforgiving linoleum dug into his backside. “It’ll be nice to have a table again.” He settled, pulling his other leg up so he could rest his elbow on his knee, head falling into his palm. He stared glassy eyed at the meatloaf in the thin black tray like he could will it into being something more edible.

The sound of John’s breathing seemed exceptionally loud in the empty eat-in kitchen, wheezy and labored after ten trips back and forth from the trailer they’d towed behind the Jeep.

He looked up again, eyes crinkling slightly. “You hanging in there, kiddo?”

His shoulder jerked in a shrug, a plastic smile curled up over his lips. “Of course.” His voice was too chipper, bordering on fake, but John only nodded, head tilting forward to stare at their makeshift table.

“I managed to get my old job back at the police department,” John said. He dug his fork into the fake mashed potatoes, pushing them mindlessly from one side of the tray to the other. “You probably don’t remember Jordan, but he managed to pull some strings to get me back on the force.” He huffed, smiling, “He invited us to the holiday party for the station, said they’re holding it at the Hales’ place.” He looked up, still smiling. “Isn’t that nice?”

He nodded, reaching for his mug. His palm hit the cool ceramic, nudging the mug forward across the cardboard.

John didn’t seem to notice.

“You were a toddler the last time we went.”

His fingers twitched, hovering just out of grasping range of the mug. The handle glanced off his palm.

“I think it’ll be fun,” John finished. His fork thudded softly down onto the tray next to the abandoned potatoes.

His fingers jerked hard enough to touch the glass; he yanked his hand back, dropping it on his lap to try and smooth the gesture. “Goodnight.”

John’s eyes widened slightly, then his brow furrowed in concern. “You alright?”

He barely managed to lifted and lower his head. “Just tired.”

John’s face softened, a thin, weary smile crossing his lips. “I feel you. Goodnight. Love you.”

He unfolded his legs, rising stiffly to his feet. He stepped out of the kitchen and into the dark hallway. The unfamiliar scent of the house made his sinuses burn; it would take some time to get used to.

He rubbed his face against his shoulder, turning to go up the stairs to the second floor. His fingers trailed lightly over the handrail, his every step just loud enough that he knew John could hear in the kitchen below. Slowly, he reached the top of the steps.

His turned into the room on the left, flinging a hand out to smack the light switch. His knuckles clacked painfully against the wall, inches away from their mark. The door swung closed behind him with a solid click and he leaned against the counter. The cool granite cut through his thin sleep pants, biting into his hips. His hands went to the edge of the sink, fingers curling around the porcelain as he leaned forward toward the mirror.

Even in the dark he could see his eyes staring back at him, set in sockets too deep and dark against a pallor.

His fingers scrabbled against the sink, each one twitching against his control.

He scrunched his nose, top lip curling. “Stop.” His fingers forcibly curled back around the sink, his knuckles white.

“Leave me alone,” Stiles whispered, it was more of a weak echo than a sound.

“Stop.” Black flooded across his eyes and he straightened, rolling his neck and loosening his grip on the sink. He flexed his fingers until the ache subsided. “Good boy.”

He opened the door, crossing the distance to his room in three steps. The scent of stale air greeted him when he opened the door; he paused, staring into the darkness.

He’d tossed his sleeping bag in the middle of the room earlier. The sleeping bag and a couple stacks of books were the only thing he’d put on the trailer. Tomorrow he would have his bed again.

He slowly closed the door, bracing one hand on the door jam and the other on the handle to make as little sound as possible. He let out a long breath, closing his eyes. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t win.”

He opened his eyes and dropped to his hands and knees, crawling across the floor to the sleeping bag. He burrowed under the side of the slick material, slithering and twisting until he was completely covered. “Goodnight Stiles.”

XXX Beacon Hills High School looked boring. The bland red bricks, the dead grass in the fields, even the maroon School Spirit! signs blended into the background to the point of being unnoticeable.

He made his way up the front steps. Since he was late, the halls were already empty, clear of the usual cattle-herd shuffle of noise, pushy students. Good. He wouldn’t have to deal with other students for a little bit longer.

His footsteps echoed against the tile as he ducked into the front office.

Fake plants were the only source of color.

A woman looked up from behind the desk; her brow twitched, lips pursed in thought. “Can I help you?”

He shifted his weight, tucking his thumb under the strap of his bag to adjust it. “I’m new.” He paused, not sure if he needed to sign in or just say ‘lead me to my doom’.

Papers rustled as she grabbed things from various piles in front of her.

“You must be Stiles,” she said. A warm smile replaced her bland expression. “I have a syllabus for you, and a handbook— make sure your dad signs it and bring it back to the office.”

She kept talking, babbling about the layout of the school, what classes he had and the teachers names. He only half listened. Each school had the same typical routine.

He shifted over to a chair in front of a blue screen when she said she needed to take his picture for his school ID. A countdown and an awful imitation of a shutter click later, she frowned at the picture on her computer screen.

“It looks like the camera caught a glare, how about we retake it real fast?”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. It wouldn’t be any use retaking it, the flare around his eyes would still be there. He flashed her a false smile and said, forcefully perky, “It’s just a picture.”

After a beat, she shrugged, giving in. “It’s your ID.”

“Thank you,” he beamed. He plucked the schedule from the stack of papers she’d laid out for him. Chemistry with someone named Harris was first. This ought to be a blast. Or, he thought with a wide smile, at the very least he could make it one. Though nothing had been proven, he was still suspected for a minor chemistry lab explosion at his last school.

She offered him a small yellow slip of paper with instructions to give that to the teacher when he got there. “Last door on the left,” she said as he slipped back out into the hall.

He found the classroom easily. He stared at the cheap wooden door for a second, then, reluctantly, knocked.

The gentle murmur of conversation on the other side stopped. He waited.

A dark haired man with glasses opened it, his gaze flicking dismissively over him.

He stared back, impassive and unimpressed. This worm was meant to intimidate a room full of hormone drenched adolescents? Please.

“You must be Stillinski.” Harris’s eyes narrowed. “You’re late.”

“Congratulations, you can tell time,” he deadpanned.

Harris’s lip twitched, revealing a hint of teeth.

He smiled back, all teeth, and no happiness.

“Get in here before you delay the class longer.” Harris held the door open wider and stepped aside the side to allow him to pass.

Desks were set side by side, forming long rows throughout the room. At least two dozen eyes were locked on him, and a handfull of those closest to the door blatantly stared, wide eyed and shocked after hearing the conversation.

“Sit between McCall and Hale,” Harris snapped, slamming the door shut behind them.

He looked over the sea of faces. A brunette boy dead center smiled and waved, tugging out an empty chair between him and a brown haired girl.

“Hey dude, welcome to Beacon Hills.” McCall grinned as he made his way through the maze of bodies toward them. “I’m Scott.”

He dropped his bag, toeing it under the desk. “Stiles.”

Scott’s smile didn’t falter.

Hale snorted; what little of her expression he could see looked bored beyond relief.

He could relate to her.

“That’s Cora,” Scott said. “She may seem mean but she’s actually pretty nice. It’s like a family trait of theirs to come across as pissed off ninety-nine percent of the time.”

Cora rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat. Though she was trying to be subtle, he could see her casting curious glances at him from the corner of her eye.

“Do you have something to share with the class, McCall?” Harris demanded, taking his spot back at the front of the class.

“Nope.”

By the end of class he’d learned the pipes next to the sinks at the back of the room that should have held gasses for the class to experiment and learn from had in fact been shut off years ago. He sighed sadly, he’d need to find another way to entertain himself while he was here.

Scott, it turned out, was in his second class also, along with a girl he introduced as Erica, and her boyfriend and partner in crime Boyd. He’d forced out a semi-polite greeting and resigned himself to the readings of Throeau.

After third period math, he thought he’d officially escaped the overly friendly group. He trudged his way through the cafeteria line, carrying the tray of bland food out into the large dining room. He could see tables outside through the large windows, presumably to use when the weather is nice.

He’d spotted an empty table tucked away in the back corner when familiar voice reached his ears.

“Guys, he’s hurting.” That simpering earnest voice had to be McCall.

He rolled his eyes. He’d be willing to bet his immortality that if the McCall boy saw him he’d be immediately invited over to their table. And he wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to be babbled at. He shifted his weight stiffly, casting his gaze around the room until he spotted McCall at a table to the right.

Next to Scott sat Cora, Erica, Boyd, Lydia- she was in his math class- and a boy and girl he hadn’t met yet.

The unknown girl placed her hand on top of Scott’s reassuringly. “Leave him alone, he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

“He needs friends, Allison. A big move like that has to be hard. This is probably just his way of coping.”

“You can’t help everyone, Scotty. Especially those who don’t want help.”

Cora shook her head slowly. “Drop it, something’s off about him anyway. I kept getting bad vibes from him.”

He beamed. Now this… this could be fun. He switched directions, cutting between the two tables between him and Scott’s table. With each step he adjusted his posture: his shoulders slumped, his face muscles relaxed, and a pleasant smile rolled out across his mouth.

The unnamed boy noticed him first. Thick dark brows rose and his nostrils flared.

The rest of the table turned, noticing him at last.

“Hey Stiles.” Scott beamed with an inhuman measure of goodwill. “Want to sit with us?”

“Yes, please, thank you.”

Cora and Allison stared at Scott, expressions flat and disapproving, who opened his eyes wider and shrugged innocently.

“Stiles, this is Lydia.” Scott motioned to the red head.

“We’re in math together,” Lydia cut in, nodding cooly at Stiles.

“Oh,” Scott’s face fell a fraction, then lit back up. “That’s Derek, Cora’s older brother, he’s a senior.”

Derek scowled the he took the seat next to him. It was the only one available, but it also put him directly next to Scott. And Scott was the one he’d chosen. He could play sweet, become friends, learn Scott’s ins and outs and destroy him by the end of the semester. It’d be great.

He smiled at Derek. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Derek said. He looked at Stiles for a second more before focusing on his food.

The table had gone silent. No one was looking at him directly but the hair on his arms stood on end, they were wary of him. Usually humans didn’t notice anything off, definitely not this quickly. Well, there was that one person in San Francisco, but they had accused everyone of having demons inside them. They hadn’t known what to do when Stiles burst out laughing.

He lifted his hand, forcing his fingers to curl around the plastic fork. The movements were still jerky, like an unpracticed puppet master was pulling at his strings, but it was smoother than they’d been the night before at the dinner table. It was easier to control his body when Stiles wasn’t fighting against him.

Derek shifted, leaning into his space for half a second before straightening quickly, face tensed and closed off.

He looked up, prepared to tell the guy to back off, when sunlight caught Cora’s eyes and for a brief moment, it looked like they flashed gold. He tilted his head, fascinated. That was new. THere was so much about this human world he didn’t understand, it was easy to get distracted by the sensations, sights, and smells.

Perhaps it was the potential flash of gold in Cora’s eyes, or the distraction of Derek leaning in when everyone else always leaned away. Perhaps it was just that Stiles had been quiet all day. Regardless, he was not prepared for his right side to seize out of his control.

His hand snapped out, grabbing Derek’s forearm and digging his fingertips into his skin. “Help.” His voice was a bare tremble of sound, his face still turned forward, away from Derek.

Immediately, he yanked his hand back, eyes wide in shock. He’d never lost control like that.

You know better than that, Stiles.

He swept his arm across the table, sending his tray and carton of milk flying. He jumped to his feet and bolted. He’d have to do damage control later, figure out a way to fix the scene Stiles had caused. Sure, he’d talked his way out of more, but if this threw a wrench in his plan for Scott he was going to be pissed.

He power walked down the hall until he found a bathroom; he ran inside, ducking in the first stall he came across.

He waited, ears straining to hear if anyone from the table had followed him. Aside from his heavy breathing and the sound of blood rushing in his ears, there was nothing.

XXX

His gaze never wavered from the clock mounted above the whiteboard, even though he could feel the teacher’s withering stare. What did he care?

The bell rang, bringing with it a collective sigh of relief and a flurry of movement. The teacher didn’t even bother trying to stop them. She went to her desk to gather her things, as eager to leave as her students.

He zipped his bag up and stood, already halfway to the door when someone stepped in front of him. Big, earnest brown eyes, dopey, wide-open expression. Scott. Right.

He grinned crookedly as he blocked their path, with Derek flanking him and a tall unfamiliar boy hovering uncertainly in the background. “Hey, Derek said he can drive everyone home.”

“Did I?” Derek muttered, making the tall boy huff an almost silent laugh.

“Yes,” Scott said, firm and cheery, “and I’m sure Stiles would like to ride with us. Right?”

He bet that easy assumption of friendless worked on plenty of people, weak, simpering worms that they were. He looked at Derek and twisted his lips into a smirk.

Fine, he said, you want to talk to your new friend? Let’s talk. The stirring of panic and fear fed him, sent a shiver of power through him and made his smile widen delightedly.

Scotts answering smile was blinding.

“This is Isaac.” Scott motioned to the kid behind Derek.

Isaac nodded at him in greeting and took half a step back, letting them leave the classroom first.

“Derek drove his dad’s van today so there’s totally room for all of us.” His step faltered. “Your dad wasn’t supposed to pick you up, right?”

“No.” He shrugged. “I walked this morning. I don’t live too far away.”

“Great!” Scott beamed.

Derek huffed, herding them down the hall.

“The van can hold like ten people-“

“Eight,” Derek interjected.

“Like eight people,” Scott corrected without missing a beat.

“Who all’s getting a ride?” he asked.

Scott stopped next to the vending machines by the exit. Crowds of students shoved their way by, causing Derek and Isaac to take refuge next to them.

“Me, my bike has a flat tire, Isaac, he basically lives at the Hale house, Cora, she actually lives there, Erica, Boyd, Lydia, and her boyfriend Jackson.”

There was a pause before he asked, “Who’s riding in the trunk?”

The perpetual smile on Scott’s face faltered. “What? That’s seven people, the van fits eight.” He ticked his fingers for each of the names he’d said, brow furrowing.

“Then Derek as the driver, and me,” he said, delight filling him at the anxious expression on Scott’s face.

Derek crossed his arms and leaned against the machine, a deep scowl on his face. His eyes locked him. “Laura picked Cora up early for a swim meet,” he said stiffly. “We’ll all fit.

Scott’s face lit up once again. “That’s awesome!” He slapped Stiles on the shoulder.

xxx

They piled into the van, at Scott’s insistence he took passenger seat since he was going to be the second stop.

Erica and Boyd were the first. They said something about a science project and finishing it at Erica’s before adding almost sadly that Cora, Scott, and Stiles were going to probably be getting the project next.

Lydia sat between Jackson and Isaac in the third row.

Derek pulled out of the school lot, breezing past the parent brigade and onto the main road.

Trees and buildings blurred past the windows.

Scott chatted happily at Boyd and Erica. Apparently they’d all been friends since elementary school. It was cute, in a human sort of way. He could fix that.

The tires rumbled over the pavement, the low beat of the radio and occasional crunch of gravel under the tires almost mesmerizing.

He tilted his head. Rocks. Scott said he had a flat tire on his bike; what a good idea. That would certainly liven up the drive home, and perhaps concuss someone in the process.

Don’t! Stiles yelped, but he barely felt any resistance. His little stunt at lunch must have exhausted him.

BANG.

The car tilted, careening toward the curb at the ear splitting explosion of the back tire.

Derek twisted the wheel, cursing as the car skidded to a stop.

The radio crackled, cutting between static and the DJ of a local station.

“Everyone okay?” Derek asked, looking at them in the rearview mirror when the car finally came to a stop.

You almost hurt them! Stiles yelled, fear and anxiety flooding his veins.

Pity it didn’t, he sighed. His fingers curled around the handle on the door to hide the trembling as Stiles fought for control. He was getting tired. He huffed in irritation; sleep was almost as boring as school. But if he wanted to remain in control, he needed to be strong, and if he wanted to be strong, he needed to take a break every now and then.

You’re a monster, Stiles spat.

I’m a demon, darling. This was just for fun. He caught sight of his reflection in the side view mirror and grinned, knowing full well Stiles could see him.

After everyone assured Derek they were okay, he climbed out, Scott on his heels to help with the spare.

Behind him, in the reflection of the mirror, Lydia stared. Her eyes were slightly too wide, mouth set in uncertainty. She jerked her eyes away, ushering Jackson and Isaac out so the van would be lighter.

He frowned, tracking her movements. Sure, the accident could have shaken her, but would she have been looking at him like that? The radio cackled again. He glanced at it. Surely she hadn’t heard him and Stiles.

What?Stiles asked, his voice wobbling.

Nothing. He’d have to be more careful around her. He tossed the door opening, leaping out to join everyone on the sidewalk. If Lydia became a problem, he’d just kill her.

XXX

“I don’t understand.”

If Stiles laid still enough, he could hear his dad talking on the phone. To whom, he didn’t know, but the sound of John’s voice still soothing, despite the soul-crushing things he was saying.

“He’s a different kid.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” The talking stopped, replaced by the soft creaking of floorboards as he paced between the kitchen and living room.

A low thrum deep in the back of his head indicated the demon’s absence. It had gone dormant as soon as they’d reached Stiles’s room after dinner and making a show of saying goodnight to John. Stiles had fought again at dinner, even managed to knock his slice of pizza off the counter, but the demon played it off as clumsiness from being tired.

It wasn’t often it needed to rest. It was always there, just below the surface, waiting to wake at any moment.

He strained his ears but John’s voice had become a distant murmur as he moved deeper into the house.

Tears ran down his cheeks. He’d tried to tell John what was wrong before. The first time the demon went dormant he’d run to him for help, woke him up out of a dead sleep, but as soon as John asked him what was wrong, the demon snapped awake and lied. Said he’d had a nightmare.

Months later, the second time, Stiles thought he was clever, and wrote a letter. If he moved slowly and spoke softly, the demon didn’t stir. So he wrote a letter explaining he was possessed and he was scared. He slipped the note under his dad’s bedroom door, and ducked back off to bed. The next morning when John woke and asked him about it, the demon had promptly ripped the note away before John could read it, and played the whole thing off as a prank. And John believed it.

He rolled over, levering himself off the bed. He wasn’t alone, not really, not ever. The toxic presence pressed into his skull, a constant reminder even when he wasn’t fully there.

He crossed the room to the window, staring at the large tree that sat just outside in the yard, it’s thick branches curling close the the glass.

At first he thought it was a bush in the yard. A tall one, just next to the property line. But when it moved he froze, his heart skipped a beat. Was someone breaking in?

The figure stepped forward until their face was illuminated by the floodlight on the side of the house, and Stiles relaxed. Derek. He shook his head, trying to brush off the fright. He was glad Derek was okay after the stunt earlier. They’d changed the tire quickly and had been on their way with little fuss. He was probably just coming over to make sure Stiles was okay, too.

He glanced at the clock on the floor by the wall; it was barely after seven.

Anxiety gripped his chest. He took a step back, away from the window. If the demon woke up while Derek was here, he’d hurt him.

But there was something about Derek that Stiles couldn’t shake. It felt like one of the crushes he’d gotten in middle school, but stronger. An insistent pull, a desire to go to him, to seek out his company. He stepped back up to the window.

Derek was closer now, hesitating between going around to the front door and looking up at the window with an ‘oh, fuck it’ expression.

Stiles chuckled.

He could try to warn Derek that Scott was in danger at least. Maybe. Derek cared about Scott, they were friends. Even if he didn’t believe him, planting a seed of suspicion might help them later.

“Please don’t talk,” Stiles whispered, hand coming up to rest on the glass. “I’ll let you in, but please don’t talk.”

Derek stopped at the base of the tree, head tilting like he’d heard him. But that wasn’t possible. There was glass and easily twenty feet between them.

Derek looked up at the window, an eyebrow lifted curiously.

Stiles smiled. He fumbled with the latch on the window, wincing as it groaned open. Holding his breath, he listened for any indication John might have heard. There were no creaking floorboards, or thundering steps up the stairs. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

The demon hadn’t stirred either.

“Please don’t talk,” he said again.

Derek reached up, pulling himself on to the lowest branch with ease, then reached for the next one. Before Stiles could back out of the way, Derek was easing himself through the window.

Stiles lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for Derek to stay quiet.

Derek straightened in the dark room, glancing around as if looking for a threat. He opened his mouth and Stiles darted forward, hands flying up to cover his mouth.

“No talking,” Stiles good, eyes wide. “No whispering, no words.” He shook his head. This was a bad idea on so many levels. John was downstairs and if the demon thought he liked Derek, he would target Derek just to hurt him. He’d already tried and that was just because he was bored. He put Derek in danger by letting him in his room. It was too late now.

“Only I can talk, or you’ll wake him,” Stiles said softly. He stared at him until Derek nodded. Stiles let his hands fall away, the warmth of Derek’s lips lingering on his skin. He sucked in a long breath. This was such a bad idea. But, he realized, Derek hadn’t spoken yet. He could still warn him about Scott. Maybe Derek could keep his friends away from him. Keep them safe.

His heart twisted painfully; that would mean Derek probably wouldn’t want to be around him either. He bit the inside of his cheeks, reminding himself that it was for the best. The demon woud be in control anyway, so whether Derek stayed or not, he was out of Stiles’s reach.

Derek flicked his wrist, waving his hand to get Stiles’s attention.

Stiles looked up in time to see Derek drag his finger across his opposite palm, eyebrows raised in question.

Writing.

“Maybe?” Stiles looked around the disorganized room. “I haven’t been able to try that yet.” He reached for his school bag, catching Derek’s concerned expression in the corner of his eye. He pulled out a notebook and the first pen he touched—a neon blue highlighter. He offered the items to Derek, who stared at the highlighter, then shrugged.

Stiles shuffled over to his makeshift sleeping area, reaching for the small lamp John had dug out for him earlier that day. He turned it on, casting the room in a dull yellow light.

Derek winced, blinking as his eyes adjusted.

“If,” Stiles began.

Derek looked up from the notebook, flipping it open to the first blank page.

“If,” Stiles began again, “I start acting strange, you need to leave, alright?”

Derek frowned, not understanding. He flicked the cap off the highlighter, scrawling across the paper. ‘What’s wrong?’

Stiles stared at the words. It was such a simple question. What’s wrong? Everything? A nervous laugh bubbled up from his chest and he sat back in his nest of blankets. He patted the floor next to him, inviting Derek to sit down.

He stilled, but the steady thrum of the demon didn’t change. Hope briefly filled him; maybe passing notes like this could work but... “You won’t believe me.”

Derek rolled his eyes, taking a seat where Stiles indicated. He hunched over the paper, then held up, ‘Try me’.

Stiles tried to smile, but it only wobbled and vanished. He looked at the still open window. He wrung his hands together to stop the trembling. The demon wasn’t even fighting for control and he was shaking. So pathetic. He pulled his knees to his chest, trying to warm up.

What would happen if he told Derek? Would the demon still know? Would he be able to play off what Stiles tells him like he did with John?

His breathing grew faster, his knees beginning to shake. He fucked up. He should have left Derek out of this. But he needed to warn him about Scott. He took a slow breath. He had to tell Derek at least that much.

Derek’s hand reached out toward him, then stopped, inches from his leg.

Stiles tensed, he had to tell Derek something. “Scott’s in danger,” he blurted. Derek cocked his head to the side.

‘From what?’

Stiles laughed humorlessly. “Me?” He rested his forehead on his knees, fingers carding through his hair nervously. He listened to the gentle squeak of the pen against the paper. When the sound stopped he took a moment before looking up.

‘Why would you hurt Scott?’

“Well, not me exactly.” He fixated on the logo on Derek’s shirt, a man riding a horse with a stick in the air; it was easier to talk if he wasn’t looking directly at him. “I’m,” he dug his thumb into his palm, eyes burning, “I’m a demon.”

Derek stiffened, pulling away.

Stiles flinched, eyes squeezing shut, not sure if it would have been easier or harder for Derek to just laugh at him. Demons weren’t real, they were like ghosts, or bigfoot, something to scare kids into acting straight.

He hadn’t been prepared for Derek to back away, despite it being a logical reaction. He wanted Derek to like him. He wanted to be friends with him. He didn’t want to drive him away.

The squeak of the marker was louder this time. Derek was writing heavier, faster.

The thrum in his mind wavered. He was getting too worked up.

Stiles took several deep breaths, in through his nose, out through his mouth. It was too late to back out now. The squeaking stopped. He couldn’t look. “I need help,” he whispered.

“I can help you!”

“No!” Stiles gasped, leaping to his feet. It was too late. The thrumming blared as numbness spread through him, like the demon was stretching out inside of him, one limb at a time. He slapped his hands to his ears, eyes widening in horror.

Derek jumped up, hands held out like he was unsure if he should offer support or keep his distance. “I’m sorry, I-“

Oh, Stiles, the demon purred. What have you done?

His vision flickered in and out of focus. If there had been a mirror close by, he knew his eyes would be black and void.

Derek took a step to the side, toward the window.

“What might you be?” he demanded, gaze wracking Derek from top to bottom. Maybe it was him he should be concerned about and not that nosy little redhead.

Leave him alone! Stiles shouted.

His head jerking to the side was the only outward sign of Stiles’s struggle. He rolled his neck, shoving the inferior human down.

Derek bared his teeth. His gaze darted around the room, but there wasn’t anything he could attack the demon with without hurting Stiles, which he seemed to realize.

“Boo!” He lunged forward, hands outstretched.

Derek jumped back, turning and diving out the window. He landed on all fours, and bolted across the yard.

He smiled. What do you see in him?

He looked down at the discarded notebook.

‘I believe you’ was written in bold and underlined crossed the page.

Stiles, he tisked, you don’t understand, do you? He picked up the notebook, slowly tearing the page out. Each rip of the paper against the spirals seemed louder than the last. You’re mine. He yanked the rest of the page out, balling it into his fist. Smoke streamed from between his fingers, the burning paper seared into his palm. I think you need a time out.

NO! Stiles shouted, then the world went black and silent.

XXX

Sound came back first, distant voices that floated in and out. When he could finally distinguish the different tones, sight came next. It started in a similar manner. Colorful blurs, just out of focus.

Wherever he was, there were quite a few people. He could feel something both hard and soft beneath him, he was sitting on the floor, on a carpet. Next to someone? A dark green shape stood, saying something loudly to someone Stiles couldn’t see.

“Just water, please.” Stiles recognized his own voice, though he wasn’t the the one who had spoken.

He was watching the demons actions again.

His fingers flexed, twitching into the carpet beneath him. He was sitting on the floor in an unfamiliar living room. It certainly wasn’t his and John’s place, it was much too big and bordering on fancy.

As his vision came back, he examined the things around him in a daze.

The couch was huge, curved around the room in front of a massive fireplace. Above the fireplace, a TV was playing a music channel.

Green Shape came back. And then Cora became clear when she leaned close to him. She frowned. “Are you going to get sick?”

Stiles sure hoped not. “No.” He shook his head.

How are you back? the demon demanded in a furious hiss.

Stiles shook his head; he didn’t understand... Where had he gone? Where were they? He tried to open his mouth, but the demon clenched it shut. So he focused on the room around them again.

“Good,” Cora chirped, “we need to get this project done.”

A large catwalk stretched above their heads, stopping on the other side of the house where the living room blended into the kitchen. Father past that, was a dining room.

The thrum in his head pulsed.

“Cora, be nice.” A dark haired man with a goatee watched them from the kitchen. Who was he?

Stiles lifted his hand.

The demon forced it back down in his lap.

Stiles blinked.

The demon glowered.

You need to listen to me. The demon’s voice cracked.

Stiles blinked again. A hand held a water bottle out to him; his gaze traced the hand, up the arm attached to it, finally landing on Scott’s face.

Scott couldn’t smile fast enough to hide his worried expression.

Scott was here! That was good. He was alive. His heart pounded erratically in his chest. But where were the others? Where was Derek?

The man in the kitchen didn’t look away from him, his gaze hard, calculating. Even with the distance between them, he was sure he saw him take a deep breath and wince. The following flash of emotion was too quick for him to place.

“You alright, Stiles?” the man asked.

Stiles flinched. It was over. Someone had spoken to him while the demon wasn’t in control. He waited for the pressure of the being to take over. His stomach clenched with anticipation.

The music from the TV was the only sound as everyone waited for his response.

His head ached, a low pounding in his forehead, each pulse of his heart sending the pain deeper into his skull until he imagined he could feel it on his brain stem. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was a low murmur of conversation around him, but the words didn’t make sense. Was he saying them? Or were they speaking to him?

The demon roared, flinging itself at the edges of his consciousness. Stiles’s shoulder jerked forward, but it was only one hit. For once it was the demon fighting while Stiles held the advantage, the demon struggling for control while Stiles held him back. Stiles had the upper hand finally.

Something snapped. The thrum vanished, pain gone, rapidly replaced with nausea. He wheezed, chest heaving. “Bathroom?”

“First door on the left, next to the front door,” Cora replied quickly.

He stood on trembling knees. He didn’t know where the front door was, but Cora had glanced over the couch so he took that as a good direction. He bounced off the corner of the wall, and cracked his knee against the stair banister, but found his way to the half bath just in time. He kicked the door closed, dropped over the toilet, and heaved. Nothing came out.

What did you do? the demon demanded, his voice soft and distant.

Nothing, Stiles said. But clearly something had changed, something had happened, he’d never gained control like this before.

His fingers curled and uncurled around the toilet bowl. Stiles fought the grasp when the demon tried to move his hands away.

The demon howled.

Several minutes passed before Stiles felt it was safe for him to move. He hadn’t actually gotten sick, but the nausea lingered.

The demon was still there, recognizable by the annoying itch, the impulse to do something he didn’t want to do. But he could ignore him.

He laughed nervously. This didn’t make sense, but he was going to go with it. For the first time, he had more power than the demon.

He opened the bathroom door, stepping into the hall. Voices came from the direction of the living room, so he followed them.

“—the wards.”

“Talia should be home tomorrow.”

“Is that soon enough?”

He thought he recognized the man’s voice who had been in the kitchen, but the second wasn’t familiar. His knees had gone from trembling to shaking by the time he made it to the living room. He balked, one hand resting on the back of the couch, as he came face to face with two men talking to Cora and Scott.

Goatee Guy looked him up and down while the man next to him smiled warmly. “Hello Stiles, I’m Chris.” He glanced at Goatee Guy. “I’m sure you’ve met my husband, Peter.”

“Nice to meet you,” Stiles croaked. He tensed, waiting for the moment he lost control. Like before, it never came.

Peter and Chris excused themselves back to the kitchen to finish making dinner, calling out that Laura, Derek, and Aaron should be home shortly.

Stiles beamed at the mention of Derek. He was alright! Relief washed through him. It seemed everyone the demon had been intent on hurting was okay so far. Everything was might end up being okay.

He, Cora, and Scott finished the project easily. It turned out they’d already built the model volcano and only needed to write the essay part now. It was also, Stiles found out, the same project Erica and Boyd had been grumbling about weeks before in the car ride home.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized how much time had passed. Weeks? He stared at the carpet where it met the wall. He’d been gone for that long? His heart began to beat faster. Was his dad okay? Was he really over here for just a project, or was it something more? He pictured his dad, pale, lying helpless in a hospital bed. He could have hurt him.

“Stiles?”

His head snapped up. Green eyes bore into his, warm hands resting on his shoulders. Derek.

Stiles lurched forward, gripping the front of his shirt and clinging.

“Take deep breaths.”

He could feel Derek’s chest moving, and he tried to match the movement, but his chest just shook, breaths stuttering stuttering ineffectively at his lips.

“Everything’s okay, I promise.” Derek held him tighter, lowering himself to the floor next to him. “Everyone’s okay.”

Stiles clung to him. If Derek said everything was alright, then it had to be. He trusted him. But the nagging feeling of dread didn’t go away.

“Come on.” Derek helped him to his feet, gently leading him away from the living room, and the rest of the house’s watchful eyes. Derek guided him past the stairs and bathroom he’d been in earlier to a set of double doors. A library, Stiles realized as they swung open. Bookshelves lined all four walls, a comfy looking couch in the center of the room.

Derek sat on the couch with Stiles tucked against his side, his arm draped protectively across his shoulders.

The room had a calming effect, or maybe it was being with Derek. He leaned against him and breathed. “What happened?” Stiles asked. He needed to know, rip it off like a bandaid. The last thing he remembered was talking with Derek in his room and gods know what happened between now and then.

“Beacon Hills isn’t normal,” Derek said evenly.

Stiles frowned, but waited. Beacon Hills seemed normal.

Derek stilled, “I came home and told my dad what happened.”

Stiles jerked back, looking up searching his face wildy, but he only saw determination in his expression.

“My mom would have been able to help you faster.” Derek winced apologetically. “But she’s busy with pack business at the moment though. She won’t be home until tomorrow.”

“How long has it been since we talked?” Stiles asked slowly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

“Three weeks.”

Stiles flinched, and Derek continued, “Dad and Deaton put wards around your house to try and drive the demon out.”

“Are they witches?” Stiles’s brow pulled down. Witches aren’t real. Then again, neither are demons for most people.

“Druids.” Derek smiled, watching Stiles carefully, like he was expecting Stiles to freak out and run. “I can stop if you’d like, wait until you’re feeling better.”

Stiles shook his head. “I want to know.” He curled his fingers in Derek’s sleeve. “Did you know before you came over to my house?”

There was a pause. “Lydia had an idea. When the tire blew, and the radio cut to static, she said she could hear you arguing with something, so she wanted me to check on you that night.” He took a breath. “Not that I didn’t want to see you, I just figured you wanted your space. But dad and Deaton thought the wards would help, and we did think they worked at first.” His face tightened with anger. “But it was playing with us.”

A burst of happiness inside him made Stiles wince. The demon was still there, weak but gloating about how much fun he’d had playing with the emotions of those around them. “I’m shocked,” he said dryly.

Derek rubbed comforting circles into his shoulder. “They put the same ones up here when Cora said you, her, and Scott had a project due together over fall break. You and Scott were going to stay over here and work on it until after the holiday party.”

Stiles shifted. “How long have I been over here?”

“This is the first day. No one was expecting these ward to work any different than the ones at your house. But, clearly something worked, right?” Derek smiled down at him.

Uneasiness grew inside him, it seemed to be working, but the sublevel thrum continued; “My dad knows I’m here?”

"Yes, and about what's going on."

Stiles gaped soundlessly for a moment, then managed to squeak out, "My dad…knows? About--about the demon, the...everything?"

Derek nodded, his eyes gone soft with sympathy. "Yeah, he knows everything. He's thrilled that we can help you."

Tears pricked Stiles's eyes, so he looked away. "When's the party?" he asked, to distract himself.

"Tomorrow. Mom will be home way before it starts; she'll help you, I promise."

Stiles smiled sincerely for the first time in a year as exhaustion crept into every bone and muscle. How exactly was she going to help him? “Thank you.” Perhaps they were going to try with more wards. Were wards the same as spells? It seemed like they’d be similar. Stiles chuckled. Druids. It felt like he was caught in some D&D game.

It took a second for him to realize his eyes were closed.

Derek spoke soft, reassuring words, and that made him more tired. He let out a content sigh. Everything was going to be okay. Derek’s mom would fix it.

XXX

Everything was grey and in slow motion.

Stiles saw himself push open the doors to the library and step into the hall. The house was dark, the air eerily still.

He didn’t need to look behind him to know Derek was asleep on the couch where he’d left him.

A slow smile curled over his lips. He wouldn’t be asleep for long.

He’d wanted to wait until this Talia person and John were here before killing them all. But an unsettling warning kept stirring in his gut. If he wanted anyone to die, he’d have to do it before she got here.

It was almost sad that Stiles didn’t know how close to freedom he’d actually come.

He padded silently across the hall, through the formal dining room that looped through the kitchen. He trailed his fingers over the closed wooden drawers and cabinets, eyes set on the knife set by the stove. A gas stove, he realized with delight.

He flicked each of the burners, and grabbed the largest knife in the set. It was too perfect; he’d kill who he could and burn the evidence.

You thought you won? he asked Stiles with a shiver of excitement.

Stiles recoiled in horror, then exploded into life, thrashing useless, proverbially clawing at his insides to no avail.

He grinned, looping out through the living room and down the hall, back toward the library.

How about we kill your soulmate first? The demon thumbed the blade of the knife, drawing a thin line of blood. It’s really a pity humans take longer to notice soulmates, but the aftermath will be delightful.

Stiles screamed in rage.

The demon didn’t notice.

Behind him, something clicked. “Freeze.”

He stopped, hand outstretched for the door he’d left ajar. He turned his head slowly, looking back the way he’d come.

Chris stood, legs braced, gun drawn and pointed straight at his chest.

“Are you going to shoot him, Christopher?” he asked sweetly. His lips curled up in a cheshire grin. “You’ll kill both of us.”

Chris sniffed, jaw clenching when he caught the slithering scent of gas from the kitchen.

“If you wait too long, the discharge might blow up the whole house. Tick-tock.”

Chris didn’t move.

If he moved quick enough he could bolt through the doorway. The doors swung inward, so they’d be easy to barricade, then it’d just be him and Derek.

Chris’s gaze cut to the arched doorway of the dining room.

He spun, knife raised, lashing out at the figure flying toward him.

Yellow eyes flashed, and a low growl reverberated through the darkness.

He snarled back, twisting as strong arms wrapped around him, pinning his hands to his sides.

Peter.

He gripped Peter’s wrist, his hands growing hotter by the second. The smell of burning flesh mixed with the gas.

Peter growled but didn’t let go.

Footsteps pounded above them, thundering down the steps to their right. The library doors flew open as Derek spilled out, disheveled and furious.

“Get back.” Aaron lifted his hands.

Laura snarled, eyes glowing, claws descending.

Peter let go, leaving only an ache in his borrowed bones where he’d been squeezing too tight.

He twisted and flung the knife out, burying it deep in Peter’s shoulder.

Something slammed into his back, making his knees buckle. He screamed.

XXX

His hands were bound behind him and something hard was digging into his back. A quick test of his legs told him they were tied to something hard, and not on the ground.

He lifted his head. It wobbled for a second as everything spun into view.

He was in the dining room, the table and other chairs had been pushed out, leaving him alone in the center. From where he was seated, he could see into the kitchen, and across the hall through the library door. All the lights in the house were on.

“Talia’s on her way,” Aaron said, sounding exhausted. Good.

The smell of gas was gone now. He snarled. He’d kill them.

Derek’s concerned face appeared in the entry of the kitchen. “Stiles?”

He sneered, head falling back.

Please stop, Stiles begged. Leave them alone.

No.

Derek had said Aaron was a druid, which was a nuisance but something he’d been able to handle in the past. It was the rest of them that he was having growing concerns about. The banshee wasn’t in the house right now, so that just meant he had to figure out what the rest of them were so he’d know how to handle them.

He tested the restraints holding his wrists. Whoever tied them knew what they were doing. The knot didn’t budge. He took a breath, shooting flames out around his hands. If he couldn’t untie them, he’d burn them off.

The talking in the other room halted.

The ropes smoldered and smoked but didn’t fall away.

He roared, jerking forward against them so hard his shoulders strained, threatening to pop out of their sockets.

Derek flinched and Chris stepped around him into the room. He crossed the short distance, careful not to get too close.

He looked down; There was a ring of salt around the chair. He outright laughed.

Chris stiffened.

He didn’t know how to deal with them, and they didn’t know how to deal with him! A salt ring wouldn't hold shit, he wasn’t some lowly ghost.

Chris squatted in front of him so they were eye to eye. He could see the gun holstered on his hip, and this close could smell something strange lingering on the bullets lodged inside.

“Why don’t you kill me already, hunter?”

Chris’s face didn’t falter, didn’t give away if the question surprised him, or made him mad. He only shrugged. “That’d be too easy, and would hurt someone who doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

A big smile curled across his face. “You don’t know what we’ve done together. He might deserve it.” He jostled the rope so it rubbed against the chair and squeaked.

“You have two options,” Chris said, speaking clearly and slowly. “You can remove yourself from Stiles, or be removed.”

“I can’t be exorcised, this isn’t some shitty horror movie,” he spat.

Chris smiled, rising to his feet. “Alright.”

He waited. He expected Chris to hit him, for Aaron to come forward and cast some useless spell. For them to try and beat him out of the kid. Instead, Chris walked away, vanishing into the kitchen. He snarled, and jerked and rocked in the chair, left then right, trying to topple the chair. He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily when the front door opened. A cold gust of air rushed by, drawing his attention.

A stately, dark haired woman stood in the door, backlit by the slow-to-rise winter sun, studying him with a clinical, detached expression.

Her demeanor and expression were so much like Derek and Cora’s that she must have been Talia Hale.

“Hello,” he greeted cheerfully like he wasn’t strapped to a piece of furniture in her home.

“Hello.” She dropped her bag where she stood, head tilted, brow pinched as she assessed him.

He smiled pleasantly.

She stepped forward across the threshold of the dining room. Her eyes flashed red.

A primitive fear rose through him, along with the growing urge to flee.

She stepped over the salt barrier and reached for him, one hand curling around the back of his neck.

He turned, sinking his teeth into the soft part of her arm.

Her eyes flared, fangs dropping from her mouth, but she didn’t attack or fight back. The tips of her claws pressed into the tender skin on the back of his neck, a split second of warning before they pierced his flesh, digging in deep and flexing against him. She smiled. “Got it.” She pulled her hand out, yanking the demon right out of the shadows of the Stiles’s soul.

Stiles slumped forward, a sudden weight gone. Trembles shook his body. He felt whole and empty at the same time.

The demon shrieked, a whispy black entity clutched in Talia’s claws. Claws? Her eyes were red, face twisted into an animalistic snarl.

His heart sunk; he’d escaped one monster and fell into the clutches of another. He tried to curl in on himself, make himself as small and unappealing as possible. A sob ripped itself out of his chest. He was so tired.

Derek knelt in front of him, tearing the binds on his feet free before moving onto his hands.

Pack. Derek said pack. The claws, the fangs. Stiles couldn’t breathe.

Derek stilled, hands hovering over him like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

Stiles leaned forward, burying his face into Derek’s shoulder. He didn’t know what was going on, but Derek was safe.

“You have to breathe.” Derek wrapped his arms around him, drawing him into a loose comforting hug.

Stiles tried. Each breath felt like a thousand pound weight being dragged up from his core.

Stars danced in his vision.

“Breathe with me.” Derek took an exaggerated breath in.

Stiles sucked in a smaller shaky one.

“Good, now out.”

It took a couple breaths before the stars went away, and a few more after that for the constriction in his chest to lessen.

He and Derek were on the floor next to the chair, the rest of the family hovering in the kitchen and hallway.

“Pack,” Stiles said softly. “Werewolves?”

Derek tensed. “Some of us.” He ran a hand up and down Stiles’s back. “Dad’s a druid.”

Stiles nodded, he said that earlier.

“Chris is a hunter, he hunts bad supernaturals, and Lydia’s a banshee, that’s how she heard you, along with the static.”

Stiles nodded, too exhausted to freak out again.

“How about we talk about this later?” Derek suggested cautiously. “You can ask as many questions as you’d like.”

He pressed the tips of his fingers against Derek’s.

Derek obliged the silent question, letting long claws extend from his fingertips.

XXX

It took quite a bit of convincing to make sure Aaron didn’t call Jordan and move the holiday party to the high school football fields.

“We’re on break, we don’t want to go back to school, even for a party,” Stiles reasoned. “And whether it was held here or there, I’m still going.”

Aaron eventually sighed, resigned, and Talia smiled.

John arrived first, hours before the cooking started.

Stiles leapt up from the couch, darting across the house, and threw his arms around John’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

John held him back, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

The rest of the force trickled in as the morning dragged on. Everyone greeted each other with warm smiles and hugs, like they were genuinely happy to see each other. People mingled in the living room and out on the deck where Laura stood by the barbeque, fending off the hungry with her spatula.

Stiles smiled at the scene, and even chuckled at few of the jokes the officers cracked. It felt foreign to be so much in control, and slightly overwhelming. He made his way back to the couch where Derek sat with a book. He had a good system, get up, go say hi to a few people, and then return until he felt recharged enough to get up again. He dropped to the cushin next to Derek, leaning up against his side.

Something crashed in the kitchen, followed by a long stream of curses mixed with apologies. Stiles smiled, looping his arm through Derek’s.

With everyone distracted, he turned to Derek. “Are we really soulmates?”

Derek looked up from his book, closing it without marking the page.

Stiles pushed on nervously when Derek didn’t answer right away. “The demon said it takes humans longer to notice, which implies that you may or may not have felt something already. And I certainly feel something for you.” He stared, braced for rejection. The demon had lied before, after all.

“Yes,” Derek said, stalling anything else Stiles was going to say. “I felt it at the lunch table. But it was... different, weak.” He gave a small smile. “Guess we know why.”

“I swear!” Chris dropped to the opposite end of the couch. “Every party, without fail, birthday party, holiday party, promotional party. Someone gets sick, there’s some kind of accident, someone cries, and someone gets kissed.”

“What happened?” Derek asked, draping an arm around Stiles’s shoulders.

“Talia and Peter are arguing over the last turkey leg.” Chris rolled his eyes, collapsing back against the couch.

“Was that the crash in the kitchen?” Stiles smiled.

“Yes! Jordan made himself sick on cream puffs, at least one dish is broken, and either Talia or Peter are going to end up in tears from losing.”

“Or both of them if Cora snatches it from between them like she did the ham last year.” Derek chuckled.

Chris’s eyes flew open, a loud laugh bubbling up from his chest. “I forgot about that.” He rubbed his eyes. “That was the most stunned I’ve seen either of them, ever.”

“She grabbed the whole ham and ran,” Derek told Stiles.

Stiles’s smile widened. “I would have liked to see that.”

“I should probably go play damage control.” Chris stood, eyeing the kitchen warily.

“Let them fight it out!” Aaron called from the porch.

Stiles laughed. The sound reverberating through the room, light and free. Derek grinned over at him, eyes sparkling.

“Can I kiss you?” Stiles asked.

“Of course.” Derek leaned forward, brushing their lips together. It was chaste, but perfect, lighting up the darkest parts of Stiles’s heart, banishing the lingering ache of the demon. This was happiness.

#inatshej #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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shawnmendesprefs · 5 years

Text

Boundaries (s.m)

A/N: Hello! This is part one of hopefully what will be a series!! First time writing Shawn and not 5sos so lol here we go. Hope you guys love it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Make sure to check to check our 5sos account https://5sauceprefs.tumblr.com/

Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Swearing Summary: Y/N is a producer for The Late Late Show With James Corden. It’s time to prepare for Shawn Mendes Week and Y/N has to not only produce and organise the promotion but also has to remember Y/N’s professional boundaries for the ridiculously cheeky and good-looking client. Slow burner!

“Order for Y/N!” The barrister’s blood shot eyes acknowledge you. His stoned look doesn’t change as you thank him for the two lattes. Just what you needed for this semi-cold, LA morning. Or any morning really, if you’re being honest; coffee is everything. As soon as you grab the two coffee cups you feel your soul returning to your body.

“Quick, Y/N! I don’t want to be late,” your best friend, and work partner, Gianna was bouncing up and down, grinning widely at you. You laughed and handed her a coffee. She took it and raised an eyebrow at your silence. “Are you nervous?” She asked you. The question alone made your heart beat faster.

“I’m very nervous,” you insisted, trying to calm yourself down by not thinking about work this morning.

“Okay, I’m actually going to have to nervous poo,” she said as you walked over to the sugar station. You laughed again, shaking your head at your best friend. However, you couldn’t say that you weren’t feeling nervous for today’s work. Ever since you had woken up a group of butterflies had been flying around your stomach. At least it was sunny here in Los Angeles; the sun always puts you in a good mood.

“Same here, do you think he’ll be nice?” You asked. Gi stirred her coffee, her lips pursed and moving side to side as she thought about it.

“I mean, you and I both know that a lot of celebrities aren’t the same as they are on TV,” she said, giving you a look. You nodded, knowing what she meant all too well. As the head producers of The Late Late Show with James Corden, you’d had your fair share of rude celebrities who seemed to be so nice on TV. They all had their weird requests and didn’t want anything to do with you or Giana; the people that literally ran the show that was promoting them. But, as soon as the cameras turned on, their charming personalities were back and they were wooing audiences around the world.

“Isn’t Shawn Canadian; they’re all nice,” Gi winked, interrupting your thoughts, and held the door open for you as you both left the café. You laughed at the stereotype, shaking your head as you walked out and were welcomed with a cool breeze, clinging to your coffee cup harder, unsure if it was due to nerves or the cold.

“I hope you’re right,” You said, sipping your coffee to calm your nerves. You headed to your company car; a black Range Rover of course. The only car James wanted anyone using ever since the Carpool Karaoke became so famous.

You turned the car on and as if the timing couldn’t have been more impeccable, Shawn Mendes’ new song In My Blood was playing on the radio.

“Well, that’s fucking weird,” You chuckled as you reversed out of the park.

Shawn Mendes, one of the biggest pop stars in the world currently, was just about to release his new self-titled album. In order for it to be promoted even further than it was, in two weeks’ time it was Shawn Mendes Week on Late Late. Whilst you’d had quite a few famous celebrities on your show, Shawn was probably one of the biggest yet; he was going to bring in lots of younger viewers for the live show and definitely increase both your social media and YouTube platforms. It’s supposed to be an exciting week, but all you feel are nerves. You and Giana always get nervous before meeting new guests, but this time it’s multiplied simply because he’s your age. It’s always easier dealing with people you have nothing in common with, especially the older ones.

“I’d definitely go there,” Gi said, bringing you from your thoughts. You laughed as she raised her eyebrows at you suggestively. You pulled out of the car park and headed towards CBS Television City, your absolute favourite place in all of LA. Was it sad that work was your favourite place? Probably.

“He is cute,” You admitted and Gi held a hand over her chest, mocking offence to your comment.

“Cute? He’s fucking gorgeous,” she cried as you neared the studio. It wasn’t far from the cafe, and it was also pretty much near the middle of Los Angeles, even though the “middle” was basically the coast because of Santa Monica. You pulled into the boom gates, you flashed security and ID card and were soon travelling down the all too familiar carpark to prepare for a big day of work.

“Do I look okay?” Gi asked for the thousandth time and you gave her the thumbs up, putting the car into park. Her long blonde hair was tied back into a high ponytail, and she was dressed in gingham trousers and a white blouse. You were basically the same, hair pulled back into a bun, with a white blouse speckled with blue flowers that you’d borrowed from Gi, and white trousers. You were dressed to impress. Literally.

“We have to be professional. Keep it in your pants,” you joked.

“No promises, Shawn is a Godsent,” Gi winked as you walked into the CBS building.

“I’m thinking; we start with the simple monologue but Shawn does it to make it funny. It worked with Justin.”

“Honestly, James, you’re so predictable,” you call as Gi and you enter into the main stage. It’s not the largest studio in the CBS area, but it does the trick. The main stage is average; only around ten rows of seats inclining. There’s a second level of seats but there’s only a few rows as well. It’s always weird when the seats are empty and it’s just you guys doing the behind the scenes work. The main man turns around, a grin plastered on his face.

“Aren’t I just glad to see you two!” He cheered. James is the best host to work with. Ever. His charisma doesn’t change from filming to in person; he’s always nice and cheery. It’s what made going to work so exciting for Giana and yourself.

“We’ll give you the monologue but we printed out how Shawn’s week is going to go anyways,” Gi handed him a printout from her bag. You both had a lot of things to run through this and next week before you started the promo for Shawn’s album. You all had to run through all the skits, film the carpool karaoke, do what seems like one million sound checks, and now add in the comedic monologue. You could already feel your hair turning grey from stress.

“This is brilliant,” James smiled, nodding with approval.

“You came up with it, we just made the table,” you joked and he nudged you. “Okay, where is the star of the show, we need to go through this week’s events,” you clapped your hands together, looking around. There was literally no one else here as all the set up guys, the script writer, and the band had dispersed once Gi and you had entered. They knew it was serious business now.

“I think he’s in his dressing room,” James said, still admiring your time table work.

You walked over to Gi, who was on her phone texting and organising everything for today, tomorrow, probably five years from now. You and Giana were very organised. You chewed on my nails, refraining from pacing around impatiently, only hoping that you were going to get along, but if he couldn’t even do something as simple as show up to a meeting on time then you had your doubts that he would be another ‘wooer’.

“Stop stressing Y/N, you’re going to get sweat all over my blouse!” She laughed, eyes still locked on the screen. You nudged her, removing your hands from your mouth and flattening out your pants one more time. “It’s going to be fine!” She reassured you.

This was going to be a big couple of weeks. If you both got through it as successfully as you hoped, you and Gi could go up even further in your careers. The bigger the show gets, the more successful you both become as producers. You needed this to go fantastically swell. If only you could calm down first.

“Honestly, where the fuck is this guy? I’m going to have a nervous breakdown,” You threw my hands up in the air; checking the time. You were already ten minutes late into our ‘meeting’.

“Damn, I’ll have to look out for this one.” An unfamiliar, extremely Canadian voice made your stomach sink to your toes. Despite not wanting to, you turned around with a sheepish smile on your face.

You were met with a tall, handsome man (boy?), arms folded across his chest making his muscles bulge in an enticing way through his white long sleeve shirt and dark denim jacket. His chestnut eyes were lit up in amusement, a smirk playing on his lips. A dark brown curl hung over his forehead but for all you cared it could have curled right out and suffocated you until you passed out because you were beyond embarrassed right now.

“Hello Shawn, welcome to The Late Late Show.” Giana cut in, stepping in front of you, allowing yourself to have a hot minute to just recollect your shit. You weren’t a perfect producer, you definitely had your moments, but never had you ever, ever swore and yelled about a client right in front of their face without meaning for them to hear. You were lucky that it had only been just a couple of people in the room otherwise there would have been trouble.

“Thanks for the friendly welcome,” Shawn broke out into a toothy grin (wow, his teeth were perfect), and stuck his hand out in front of Giana, getting introductions out of the way. Giana took a small step to the side, a queue for you to stop standing around like a dickhead and actually say something.

“I’m Y/N, and I am so sorry about that,” you could barely keep eye contact as Shawn’s big hand engulfed yours as you shook hands. He chuckled, waving his tattooed hand as if to brush it off like it was no big deal.

“I’ll make sure to be on time next time,” he playfully smiled as your cheeks blushed a deeper red. “Save you a nervous breakdown and all that.”

You tried to laugh naturally but it was more of a nervous crying sound that came out of your mouth, and honestly you were ready to claim your accumulated sick leave and go home and not return until Shawn Mendes Week was done.

“Shawn, I’ll let the girls head into the board room for our meeting but I’ll give you a quick tour around the stage, yeah?” James smiled, making eye contact with you and then Giana as if to say fix your fucking mess of a partner and then turned Shawn around to show him the studio.

You and Giana practically ran to the board room, slamming the glass door closed as you fell into a chair and let your head fall into your hands.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You mumbled into your palms.

“Okay, so,” Giana rocked back and forth on her heels, “you need to get your shit together.” She had her producer-boss voice on and it instantly made you raise your head out of your hands. “Y/N, this isn’t our first rodeo. We’re not going to let that inhumanely good looking man out there ruin our chances of going up in the industry. We need to prove that we are worthy of bigger things, which we are.” Giana placed two hands on the table, obviously feeling her motivational talk as she looked you right in the eye.

“They’re going to walk in, you’re going to do this meeting, and you’re going to fucking crush it. Like we always do.” She gave you a stern look and knowing she meant well, you sat up, dusted yourself off, and pushed yourself out of the chair.

“We have got this,” you nodded, opening up your computer to project the timetable you both had made on to the projector screen behind you for the meeting. “But fuck, you weren’t kidding. He is sexy.” You muttered as you opened up the file.

“Thanks, I’m not a piece of meat though,” you startled as James and Shawn entered the room, James having your back again as you fucked up again. He looked quite proud of his comeback and Shawn gave you a cheeky grin as he took a seat.

Before you knew it, a whole bunch of managers, promoters, security, and random entourage were also in the room and it wasn’t just about Shawn himself anymore. It was nice having the board room full because it was where you and Giana really shined and were able to be the boss bitches you were. All previous events had gone from your mind as you flicked through the timetable, giving elaborate explanations of what the next three weeks would entail as Gi handed out printed versions. The room was nodding appreciatively, and you tried to ignore the fact that from the corner of your eye you could see Shawn leaning far back in his chair, a small and cheeky smirk on his face just daring you to make a fool out of yourself again. The chain on his neck was also reflecting in the corner of your eye, which had little to do with distracting you and making a fool out of yourself and all to do with the fact that it was fucking blinding you when it caught reflections of lights from the ceiling lights.

“Wonderfully done, girls,” James stood up as everyone prepared to leave and you sighed in relief. Despite the mess that this morning was, you had gotten through it. Thankfully, barely scathed but definitely one hundred percent embarrassed. You were definitely treating yourself to a wine and bath tonight.

You and Giana shook the hands of all the people that had been occupying the office, informing them you were looking forward to working with them.

“So, what do you think Shawn?” James asked, once everyone had left the room and it was just the four of you in here. You didn’t know if it was the fact that his necklace had been burning into your retinas and your eyes were playing tricks on you because of it, but as Shawn playfully spun around in the big chair and came to a slow stop, you swore he looked directly at you, chestnut eyes locking with yours for just one second before looking back up to James with a grin.

“I think this is going to be a very fun couple of weeks.”

#shawn mendes #shawnmendes #shawnmendespreferences #shawn mendes preferences #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes AU #5 seconds of summer #shawn mendes smut #slowburn #slow burn

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