#just feel like i *should* have one' and i'm kind of leaning towards the second option. bc it feels Good but in like.. i don't even know how | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaisacobra · 3 months

Text

Let You Go - Tara Carpenter

Summary: It's been a while since Tara has seen you. She misses you, but maybe she's broken your relationship to a point beyond repair.

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of death, angst

Word Count: 7.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the ride guys! Here we have part 3 of second best, which (kind of) ends this trilogy. Of course, I'm still writing the alternate ending so stay tuned if you're interested!

third part of Second Best

It was two in the afternoon when Tara began rummaging through that box she kept at the back of her closet, sorting the contents into "burn" and "don't burn," all in line with what her therapist had advised. She needed to overcome the past, even if in small steps, and what better way to start than by burning traces of when everything started going wrong?

She looked into the box, examining the contents that would survive the purge. To no one's surprise, most of the photos contained you.

Tara reached for a specific photo among the others. A polaroid depicting a hug between the two of you, both with radiant smiles and faces so close that your cheeks touched. Mindy had taken this photo just before you both visited an amusement park that had been in town for a while. Tara's heart throbbed painfully. She missed you. A lot.

The girl sat on the bed with slumped shoulders, clutching the polaroid as if it were a precious possession. She couldn't take her eyes off the image of the two of you, with a happiness and innocence that would soon be ruined by her own actions. With a tired sigh, Tara closed her eyes, remembering her therapist's words.

The initial sessions were slow and unproductive, mainly because Tara kept her guard up and refused to talk much about her life to a stranger. Over time, the man became a pleasant presence, and Tara began to see him as some sort of a grandfather figure trying to advise his granddaughter. That's when she started sharing her problems and actively sought solutions.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" she remembered asking, looking at her hands with shame. The bright white light in the room made the sweat on her palms stand out on her tan skin.

"Tara..." The man sighed, taking off his glasses as if he was preparing for a battle. "Don't you think you should worry about forgiving yourself first?"

The girl frowned and looked at him as if he were crazy. If anything, she was guilty of not only ruining her own life but also becoming a problem in everyone else's. She had no right to see herself as a victim. "What do you mean?"

"From what you've told me, I've realized you harbor a lot of resentment towards yourself on the inside." He pointed to Tara's chest, and she noticed no hint of judgment in his expression. Still, she felt strangely exposed. "Have you ever really reflected on this internal conflict you feel? About feeling guilty for things beyond your control?"

Tara scoffed and leaned back until her shoulders rested against the chair again, crossing her arms and staring at the walls like a stubborn child avoiding conflicts. "Beyond my control? I was awful to the best person in my life! I let a murderer into our life for-"

"See? You're doing it again." He smiled with a patience that bordered on irritating for the girl, crossing his hands on the glass table that separated them. "I'm not saying you're not at fault for being rude to your friend, but I'd like to focus on your past. That girl's attacks, parental abandonment... You're not to blame for that, Tara, but it doesn't stop you from carrying the pain anyways. Don't you think it affects you?"

She remained silent, but now her head was bowed in embarrassment. Her arms, once crossed, now enveloped her elbows in a half-hug, as if that would protect her from something. Without more exchanging words, the therapist followed the cue and continued speaking in a gentle tone, as if trying to educate a wounded animal.

"Tara, have you ever talked about your concerns with anyone, or have you just kept all these grievances inside until they exploded? Have you ever had any healthy coping mechanism?"

I don't deserve one. That's what she wanted to say, but didn't, because she knew it would make the situation even worse.

"Do you think I don't recognize the signs? Troubled young adult refuses help out of fear of abandonment and ends up driving everyone away, taking the opportunity to take out your emotional wounds on others? You won't be the first or the last person I've seen with this pattern." He spoke as if he could read her thoughts, leaving the girl a little scared.

Sitting up straighter in the chair, Tara turned her gaze back to the therapist, momentarily becoming interested in the conversation again. "Okay, what do I do to end this? What do I do to not be like this anymore?"

Broken, she wanted to say.

The man smiled gently and pulled open a drawer in the wooden cabinet to his left. Tara watched impatiently as he took out a black notebook and placed it on the table between them, looking between her and the object with a certain expectation. "I thought you could start documenting your feelings on paper, instead of keeping them locked within you. I think it can help you in the long run."

"Do you think writing in a journal will make me less of an ass and make y/n forgive me?" Tara replied with a sarcastic tone.

"I think it can influence a change in behavior, yes." The therapist reaffirmed, deliberately ignoring the girl's foul language. "And this exercise is not about y/n; it's about you. How do you expect her to forgive you if you can't do it for yourself?"

As stubborn as Tara was, the words had truly left an impression on her. That's why, on top of her messy desk, was the damn black notebook. The calluses on her hand throbbed with the memory of the force with which she wrote each new entry, trying to release her negative feelings onto paper.

She knew that your name was probably the most repeated word on all the pages, like a sacred mantra that she had to honor. Tara couldn't escape the fact that many of her emotions were so directly intertwined with the idea of you, and honestly, she accepted having to carry that burden as her own Sisyphean stone. She deserved it, after all.

Looking again at the polaroid, she sighed and slowly ran her thumb over the smiling image of your face, almost wishing she could offer you the same affection in person.

She was going to change. She had to change. For you.

"That was pretty good!"

The floodlights on the university’s sports field lit up as it began to get dark, allowing the young athletes to continue their training even at night. There weren't many people around, but you could see that the track team seemed to be gearing up to practice for the 100 meters a little to your left.

"Kate, I hit the white part." You grumbled in response to your friend's encouraging words. Kate Bishop had convinced you to attend one of her archery practices to "see her talents firsthand," and at some point, she thought just watching wouldn't be enough, and that you had to experience the sport for yourself.

That's why you were now on the archery training field with her, holding a semi-professional bow that was much heavier than you expected, proving over and over again that you were definitely not a natural at this.

It didn't seem to discourage Kate, however, as the girl still smiled with enthusiasm while looking at your target with a single arrow stuck in it. "At least you hit the target! You're improving; it could be worse."

"True! You could have hit someone's foot, like Miss Bishop did once." One of Kate's teammates, Yelena, commented with a laugh. The two, along with Maya Lopez, made up the Blackmore University women's archery team and were surprisingly good at it, having won all the recent competitions.

You laughed along with the other two while Kate gradually turned redder and assumed a betrayed expression. "Hey!" She protested.

It was amazing how people you had known for such a short time could make you feel so good. You couldn't even remember the last time you had laughed so freely since the incident with Tara happened, and that was already a significant victory for you. It's not like being with Mindy, Chad, Anika, and the others didn't make you happy, but it was hard to enjoy the moments with them when you remembered that, in any other situation, Tara would be there with you too.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you leaned the tip of the bow on your foot, letting its weight rest on your shoulder so you could reach the device with your hands. Through the lockscreen, you could see a message notification from Mindy, as if she had read your thoughts.

Best Twin: Movie night at the Carpenters' house, are you coming?

Best Twin: Sam misses you

Best Twin: We all do

You sighed deeply and looked at the notification with a grimace, not sure exactly what to do. Of course, you would love to spend time with your friends, and you definitely felt guilty for avoiding Sam by extension, even though she understood the reason. But your palms started to sweat just at the thought of sharing a small space with Tara again.

Mindy had already told you that Tara had started therapy after the encounter you had in some of the university’s corridors some time ago, but she had also said that it was entirely valid if you still didn't feel ready to see Tara after everything.

It was a strange feeling, as if two forces were fighting for dominance within you when it came to Tara. On one hand, just thinking about her made your chest ache. A wave of anger, sadness, and pure humiliation invaded you, and your eyes threatened to well up. What she did to you, what she said to you, marked you like a painful burn that might never stop pulsating.

But on the other hand, you wondered if there were still traces of that other Tara who loved and treated you well. The Tara who made you soup when you were sick and promised never to leave you. Maybe it was your foolishness, but you didn't want to believe that that part of her had simply gone away forever.

"Are you okay?" A soft voice reached your ears and quickly snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to loosen the tight grip with which you had involuntarily held the phone. Looking up, you came face to face with Kate's kind blue eyes, patiently waiting for your response.

Kate Bishop had been an angel in your life, fitting in perfectly at the moment you needed her most. You had met her in the waiting room of the counseling center after spending a week living like a zombie following everything that happened with Tara, and you could barely comprehend that you were sharing the same space with someone like her.

At first glance, Kate Bishop didn't seem like someone who needed to be in a counseling center. She carried herself with confidence, always with impeccable posture and a calm expression on a model-like face. Always dressed in neat clothes that you were sure were designer and carrying a sports bag indicating her athletic background.

But when she approached you and started a conversation, saying she needed to talk to someone or she'd explode with anxiety before her first appointment, you began to realize that Kate might not be what you expected. She was, in fact, much kinder and more attentive than you could have predicted.

You talked a lot that day, and the next day, and the day after, until there came a point where you got along well enough to consider her a friend. Kate listened to everything about your issues with Tara and provided advice and emotional support. In return, you listened to her vent about her problems with a father who died in childhood, a mother imprisoned for fraud, and an inherited company she didn't want to have to run at that age.

They were quite different dilemmas, just as you were quite different people, but still, you felt at ease in her presence, and it was good to have someone who truly noticed you for once in your life.

"Hm? Okay. It's fine, yes, I just..." You searched for words but gave up, opting to speak the truth about what was bothering you. "Mindy invited me to watch movies with the others, and it's at Tara's house, and I didn't want to have to refuse, but I don't know if I'm ready for-"

Kate widened her eyes and raised her hands as if asking for a pause, interrupting your rapid and anxious flow of words. "Woah, hold on, champ. You don't have to go if you don't feel okay. They'll understand."

"Yeah, I know, it's just that..." You sighed, looking down at your feet planted in the field's grass. "I miss them, but... I can't."

As much as it hurt and was embarrassing to admit, you knew it still wasn't the right time. Not when you sometimes still woke up crying in the middle of the night with nightmares involving her.

"Then how about this?" Kate began to suggest, getting closer to you and gently shaking your shoulders. Physical touches had always been her way of offering comfort. "There's a party at my place tonight with some of my childhood friends, and I'm officially inviting you. You can tell your friend that you'll be busy spending time with a very beautiful, charming, and talented company."

You smiled as you let yourself be shaken by the cheerful girl in front of you. "A very humble company, apparently." You teased, poking her ribs playfully. "I don't want to disturb you, but thanks for the invite."

"Disturb? I'd be the one disturbing your illustrious evening by forcing you to hang out with my friends! Believe me, it's torture listening to Peter for 2 hours when he gets excited about his nerd stuff." Kate tried again, and by the way she looked at you with the expression of a begging puppy, you knew there would be no escape. "Please? It'll be nice to have you there."

There were two available possibilities. In the first, you could go back to your dorm, watch a bad movie alone, and spend the rest of the night thinking about how your friends would be having fun, specifically wondering if she would be having fun. In the second, you could take another step in getting rid of your codependent friendship (if it still existed) and enjoy the night with new people and a person who was becoming more and more important to you every day.

If Tara didn't want to be stuck in the past, you also had the right to do that. You deserved it too.

So, you accepted and only remembered to inform Mindy when you were already in the passenger seat of Kate's black Audi RS7.

Tara was distraught. Actually, saying that she was distraught was an understatement.

Last night had already started off as garbage from the moment Mindy announced that you wouldn't be coming to see them at the apartment. Sure, she should have expected it, but that didn't mean she didn't have any hope. She couldn't stop thinking about what you might be doing, the reasons why you hadn't come, how everything would have been better if you had.

But mostly, she felt relieved that you hadn't been there, because that meant she hadn't put you in danger again with another ghostface attack. It was a selfish thought. Quinn, her roommate, had died in front of her, Anika had her belly almost cut from end to end and was now in surgery, and all Tara could think about was finding you to see with her own eyes that you were okay.

She urgently searched for your face in the midst of the crowd of students walking through the Blackmore University campus, seeking the slightest fragment of your presence anywhere. She cursed herself again for not being able to just call you like she would if she hadn't messed up and made you block her in practically every possible place.

Finding you and making sure you were okay, in addition to delivering the terrible news, was her obligation. Mindy and Sam were with Anika at the hospital, and Chad had gone to check Ethan's alibi in the damn economics class. She needed to find you.

Fortunately, her prayers seemed to be answered by whatever entity it was. She saw you in the distance, radiant as she hadn't seen you in a long time. Tara's heart skipped a beat, and she opened her own smile after yours. It was bittersweet, the feeling of seeing you so happy but knowing that this happiness would be ruined the moment you laid eyes on her.

In a moment of distraction, a new wave of people passed in front of her, blocking her view of you. Fucking height. She thought with some annoyance as she tried to make her way through the students, trying to get closer to where you were.

When Tara finally managed to locate you again, the scene was quite different from before. Instead of laughing, looking forward, you had your back turned, seemingly struggling while a girl wrapped her arms around your neck. Tara felt a wave of anger rise through her veins and marched in your direction, ready to free you from whoever that crazy bitch was.

The younger Carpenter approached you with a speed she couldn't quite explain, and her motivation only seemed to grow when she noticed that the mysterious girl looked a lot like that senior she had seen with you in the hallway some time ago. Choosing to embrace her negative feelings, she used her strength in a way that would make her sister proud and aggressively pushed the girl away. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Tara?!" You exclaimed in shock, your voice carrying surprise, and your expression wavering between anger, astonishment, and anguish. "What do you think you're doing, are you crazy?!"

Tara saw you getting closer to the girl (Karen, Kendra, she couldn't remember.) and gently placing your hand on her shoulder, as if checking her condition. That small gesture made more anger bubble in her stomach. She wanted to scream, throw a fit, damn, she wanted to destroy something just to get rid of that rotten feeling corroding her from the inside.

But she looked into your eyes and could see a glimpse of the sadness she had caused in the past by this same line of thinking. She couldn't do this to you again, especially because that wasn't even why she had come looking for you. Tara swallowed hard and clenched her fists, deciding to save her frustration to take it out on calluses on her own fingers later.

"She was attacking you," Tara mumbled reluctantly, knowing that the explanation sounded stupid but that she also owed some reasoning for her actions.

You clearly didn't seem satisfied with her motivation, as you only stared at her with a frown and crossed arms. "Kate is a martial arts expert, Tara. She was just showing me how to escape from an arm lock."

Well, how was I supposed to know that? Tara thought, but she decided it was better not to worsen the situation. Before you could ask why she had been clearly looking at you for some time, she decided to explain.

"Look, I'm sorry. There was a ghostface attack in the apartment yesterday, and I just needed to know if you were safe."

"What?! An attack?! How- Are you guys okay?!" You asked exasperated, and Tara saw it. She saw the exact moment when you had to restrain your arms by your sides before doing something you would regret.

Tara remembered that being the first thing you did when you could see her after the surgeries last year. You ran to her on the gurney and held her face with both hands, as if she were fragile. You ran your thumbs over her cheeks, right above the freckles, wanting to make sure nothing was injured. She remembered feeling well cared for and loved.

But that was before she messed everything up. Now, all that was left was that. You restraining yourself from offering your heart to Tara, and she wanting to die realizing the damage she had done between you two.

"Sort of. Anika is in critical condition in the hospital, and... Quinn died." Tara delivered the news with a solemn voice, trying to control her own tears as she remembered what happened. She saw when Kate raised her arm to offer a comforting stroke on your back, and, for the first time, all Tara felt was emptiness knowing she couldn't comfort you in that way.

You let out a few sobs before trying to compose yourself. It was clear that you had been affected by the events, and Tara knew you well enough to know that you would want to go after the others to comfort them. "Which hospital is Anika in? And where are Sam, Mindy, and Chad, I... I need to talk to them."

Tara felt a bit of pride in realizing that she still knew your way of dealing with things, even though she was worried that your priority was always to take care of others' pains. Of course, much of that was her fault, and a knot closed in her throat every time she remembered that fact. "Sam and Mindy are at the hospital waiting for Anika to be discharged. Chad went with Ethan to handle something about an alibi."

"I can take you if you want," Kate offered you in a chivalry that almost made Tara vomit. "It will be faster if we go by car."

"Or maybe it would be faster for her to take the subway with someone who knows the address, like me." Tara retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms to try to cause, at least, the minimal intimidation to her rival. It didn't seem to be working, which made her even more irritated. "Speaking of addresses, where were you last night, Kate?"

Feeling that the conversation would only escalate, you quickly shook your head. "Stop it, Tara. There's no way Kate could be the ghostface."

"And why not?" The girl asked defensively, with an offended tone almost similar to one she would have if you had accused her. It was frustrating for Tara that you seemed willing to vouch for a person you had barely known. "She suddenly appeared in your life, got so close to you in such a short time, don't you find that a bit suspicious?"

"This might sound a bit surprising to you, Tara, but some people actually like having me around." You retorted with irritation, throwing daggers at the girl with a look so intense that she almost stumbled backward. "Kate can't be ghostface because I spent the whole night with her, okay?"

Suddenly, Tara felt dizzy, with a buzzing in her ears. Apparently, you hadn't had the best problem in overcoming your feelings for her. She felt weird inside, as if something were stuck in her throat. "Oh, I didn't know you guys..."

"No! Not like that, I just..." You widened your eyes and hurried to correct the double meaning of the sentence, waving your hands frantically in a way that made Kate open a smile in amusement beside you. "...I slept at her apartment, but not with her. Not that I owe you an explanation anyway."

Your phone vibrated with a notification, and all three pairs of eyes turned to the device. You quickly checked the message and let out a sigh of relief. "It's Sam. She sent me the address of the hospital; I'm going there now. Without any of you, please."

"Okay. Just be careful, alright? And call me if you need anything." Tara watched reluctantly as Kate pulled you closer by the shoulders and planted a small kiss on your forehead. She swallowed the envy and looked away, trying to think of the last time she had offered you any kind of affection.

You said goodbye to Kate with a warm smile and a hug. For Tara, your lips pressed into a line, and you nodded briefly, almost as if you were greeting a stranger.

She wondered if that's what you two were now.

The Carpenter girl prepared to leave, maybe to find Chad and help him or just take a walk to ease the tornado swirling in her chest. However, she was interrupted by a hand on her arm. Kate Bishop tried to get her attention, wearing a conflicted expression on her face.

"What is it?" Tara grumbled, shaking her arm to free herself from the other girl's touch. She was used to being shorter than most people, but with Kate, it became even more annoying, especially when she had to look down at her.

"Look, I know you don't like me, and, to be honest, I don't like you one bit, but I need you to do something for me," Kate said seriously, putting a hand in her pocket and retrieving an object that Tara could only identify as a car key.

The shorter one scoffed. "Listen, I know Y/N and I are on bad terms, but I don't need you to ask me to take care of her. I'm going to do that anyway because I care about her, believe it or not."

Kate rolled her eyes impatiently. "I know. I can see that in you the same way you can see it in me."

It was true, as much as it bothered Tara to admit. She wasn't blind, and she had enough experience in reading people to know that the way Kate looked at you was sincere, and the girl genuinely cared about you. Putting aside her own jealousy and envy, Tara was relieved to know that there was someone good enough to show these feelings for you. You deserved it, after all.

The girl continued, "This device here is a prototype from my mom’s—my company. It's for security." She raised the object and placed it in Tara's hand, who could now see the details of what she had previously thought was a car key. It was a black oval keychain with a single button in the middle, also black. "I pulled some strings and turned it into an emergency button. As soon as you press it, a signal will be sent to police cars and ambulances, and it will be their priority to get to you. That's one of the advantages of being rich and having contacts, I guess."

Tara turned the button in her hands, feeling the object weigh more now that she knew its function. "And why are you giving this to me and not Y/N?"

"Because I know she would use it on anyone but herself." Kate sighed in frustration. Tara knew it was implied in the sentence that you would use the button for her. "I'm giving it to you because... despite the fighting and you being a jerk..."

"Wow. Thanks for the honesty."

"... I can still see that you care." The taller one finished her sentence without caring about the interruption. She looked between Tara and the button with a bit of uncertainty. "When you press it, a signal will also be sent to my phone, and I'll come running wherever it is."

There were more implicit intentions in that sentence that Tara could pick up. I'll come running to help Y/N. I'll take her away from you. I can protect her better than you can.

Tara just offered a short nod and turned to leave, with the emergency button weighing as much in her pocket as her heart weighed in her chest. Thousands of thoughts filled her head, and all of them were about you and your safety. It was Tara's duty to keep you safe, first because it was her fault that you were even in that situation, and second because she had already hurt you enough.

It was her mission to protect you. To prove to herself that she could still be good for you. To prove to you how much she still cared.

And if she couldn't, if she had to press that button... well...

Maybe it would be the sign she needed to understand that Kate Bishop deserved more of a place in your life than she did.

The lobby of the abandoned cinema ironically looked like something straight out of a horror movie that Tara would hate. Dust had piled up in heaps on all surfaces, and the orange lights were so dim that they threatened to go out at any moment.

The others were in the center of the other room, where Richie Kirsch, being the maniac he was, left his extensive collection of items from stab movies and real life ghostfaces. Tara, however, thought it would be a better idea to follow you wherever your feet and lost expression took you, just so she wouldn't have to leave you alone, of course.

You had your back turned to her while leaning on the filthy counter with your elbows. Tara couldn't tell what you were thinking, but obviously, you were not okay, just like everyone else in that situation.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a box of Milk Duds on the other side of the counter that seemed untouched, just a few inches to your left. She approached with light steps, not wanting to make any sudden movements as if that would scare you away, and reached out to bring the box closer. "You like these, right? You can have them if you want."

You didn't respond to the joke, and you didn't even turn around to look at Tara. She felt your indifference like a stab to the chest, but she continued nonetheless. "Or not. This must be like a thousand years old anywa-"

"Tara, shut up." You finally responded sharply, making the younger girl look down in shame. She really needed to get used to your new treatment of her. You ran your hands over your face, covering it as if you were tired.

"Sorry." Tara whispered back weakly. She deserved it, but more than anything, she wanted to be able to offer you some kind of support in that difficult moment, just as you had given her all the support she needed in the past.

You scoffed, in a gesture so hostile that the younger Carpenter almost couldn't believe it came from you. You were still facing away from her, but now slowly taking steps away with tense shoulders. "Did you learn a new word? Didn't know it was in your vocabulary."

Tara felt the anger in your voice, and it made her hands begin to tremble with anxiety. You were right, and it was long overdue for you to know that. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it's too late for this, but I'm sorry for everything I did."

"Do you even care? Seriously, Tara, do you really feel sorry, or do you just miss having some idiot around who would do anything for you?" You retorted, your voice rising even as your vocal cords trembled. A dam had just burst open between you two, and now it was time to deal with the flood.

"Of course, I care, I love you!"

"SHUT UP!" You shouted in response. Tara recoiled from you with a start, startled as she had never seen you raise your voice at anyone. You were still facing away, but Tara could see that, even though you had wrapped yourself in a hug to control your reactions, it wasn't working. Your entire body was tense, as if your brain was struggling to choose between fight or flight, and the result was the tremors that seemed to spread through your system. "You have no right to do this to me! To play with me like this!"

"I'm not lying!" The shorter one retorted, and in an impulsive move, she grabbed you by the shoulder and forced you to turn until your gazes met. Tears were already streaming down your eyes like waterfalls, and your entire face seemed contorted in excruciating pain. Tara wished she could absorb all your hurt for herself. "I know I messed up, but I really love you!"

"You're toxic, Tara! That's what you are!" You shouted back with strength, holding the girl's gaze as if it were a challenge you needed to win. "You hurt me! And I was getting better, damn it, I was getting better away from you!"

"I know you were! I know! That's why I'm apologizing, okay? Because you're the best person I've ever met, and I ruined you like I ruin everyone! Because the best moments I've ever had were with you, and I feel like tearing my eyes out when I remember that I hurt you by being this way!"

"Tara..."

"No! Please let me finish." She rejected your interruption, taking the opportunity to relieve all the pain and guilt she felt inside her. "I'm getting treatment, okay? And I know you're not obligated to forgive me for anything, but I want you to know that I'm trying to be better for you! I'm trying to fix my shit to be someone you and Sam and the others can be proud of!"

"Tara..."

"And I know I hurt you a lot, but please don't doubt the love I feel for you because it's the only good thing left in me. I won't blame you if you never want to see me again, but..."

"TARA, GET DOWN!" You shouted, and before Tara could react, you were already pushing her toward the dusty wooden floor.

Everything was happening too fast for the Carpenter's mind to process. She hit the ground with a grunt of pain and a potential bruise on her arm, but she could see the exact moment when an arm covered in a black cloak descended toward your leg, making a deep cut in your thigh.

You screamed in pain, and Tara screamed next, watching your blood soak through the fabric of your pants and start dripping onto the floor. In a surge of adrenaline, the small girl ran to your side and almost reached for your arm when she was suddenly engulfed in a tight grip, with her two arms pinned to her back and a hand holding a knife to her neck.

She struggled against the masked person holding her, futilely trying to break free to get to you. Tears streamed so quickly down her face that she could taste the saltiness invading her senses. "Let me go! Y/N, run! Please, run!"

A sinister laugh reached her ears like the hiss of a snake. "Oh, Tara. Did you think it would be that easy?"

She recognized that distorted voice with effects all too well. She still heard it in her nightmares, calling her name in the dark. Ghostface was back. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucker!"

"Oh, but I don't think so." The voice spoke in an amused tone as another killer, wearing the same mask and black cloak, approached your figure on the ground. Tara wailed like a banshee when the other pulled your hair forcefully, forcing you to stand up as he placed a knife on your neck.

She struggled a little more. "Leave her alone!"

"And where's the fun in that?" The ghostface holding her responded, almost as if they were laughing. "Come on, Tara. Weren't you the one who liked to release your anger by hurting Y/N? Why should only you have that privilege? Let's see, where was it that you got stabbed again?"

At the same time, as if reacting to a code, the ghostface holding you advanced in quick and precise movements, gripping you by the waist with one arm while thrusting the knife into you with the other, just above your kidney.

You let out another gasping scream as the blade pierced your skin, and Tara felt your body sagging as if you were about to collapse. She herself wanted to fall to her knees and plead for you to be released, but she couldn't. Whoever was holding her had great strength.

"Don’t you want her to feel the same pain you felt, huh, Tara? Don't want her to suffer what you suffered?" The voice continued to growl in her ear, sounding increasingly excited by the escalating violence. The knife on Tara's neck kept her head in place, so she couldn't look at anything other than your agony.

"No, I don't. Please, PLEASE." Tara pleaded with a tearful voice as another stab was delivered to you, this time in the center of your abdomen. Your shirt gradually turned into a pool of blood, and Tara feared you would faint at any moment.

"Tara..." You could barely pronounce her name, your voice choked and your own blood streaming down your lips. Tara's gaze met yours, and she shivered when you shook your head. She knew what that meant.

You looked feverish. Sweat and blood mingled on your skin, creating the most disturbing of the paintings. Your eyes were vacant, and Tara was so afraid they would close at any moment, never to open again.

And yet, with that nod of your head, Tara understood that your top priority at the moment was to make her understand that it wasn't her fault.

The girl's knees threatened to give up as the knife entered you one, two, three times. She shook her head but couldn't close her eyes because she needed to see you, needed to see that your eyes were still open, that you were still alive.

You couldn't die. You promised not to leave, even if everyone else did. You couldn't die. You couldn't die. You. Couldn't. Die.

"I love you. I'm sorry for loving you, I'm sorry," Tara whispered because she had no strength to speak louder. She felt on the verge of giving up and letting those maniacs do whatever they wanted with her. Nothing mattered anymore if you weren't here, and it was all her fault.

The ghostface holding her laughed with a deep voice. "You know, I could turn this into a Romeo and Juliet scene, but I think it would be more fun to kill you while Sam is watching."

With that, Tara felt her body being thrown backward, and she hit the dirty wooden floor again, this time landing with her head in a wound that would undoubtedly become a concussion.

She got up in a frenzied pace, in an adrenaline rush, thinking she could try to save you now that she was free. But, looking ahead, she realized she was outside the lobby’s door, and the maniac murderer already held the handles. Despite Tara's attempt to advance, the ghostface had already sarcastically waved and locked the doors, creating a deadly separation between you and herself.

Tara pounded on the hard wooden door, ignoring the pain in her knuckles. She hit and hit and hit, feeling cuts open on her skin and burn from the repetitive contact. She was crying, screaming, punching, cursing, doing things she couldn't even rationalize because it didn't matter anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not without you.

She collapsed on the floor, tired, injured, and desperate for you. Her sobs echoed in the seemingly empty hallway, and she was too afraid to put her ear to the door and hear screams of pain like your last breath. Tara felt lost until she remembered that she was no longer trapped.

Rushing to reach the device in her pocket, she sighed in relief to find it unbroken. She pressed the button multiple times without a second thought. If she had a chance to maybe save your life, she would grab it without a doubt.

Tara remembered what she had thought before, how pressing that button might symbolize that she shouldn't be in your life. She stood up and leaned against the wall, trying to rid herself of the wave of nausea, and left the button hidden near the door. If help came following the signal, the first place they would look would be where you were.

If help came and you made it out alive, that was a promise. Tara would finally leave you alone. That's what you deserved.

---

Tara was almost sure she had developed a hospital phobia since the events of last year.

There was no other explanation for why she felt uneasy in that environment, even after they had taken all precautions for her. She still hated the white walls and the smell of chemicals and couldn't wait to get out of there.

For now, she decided to ignore this feeling and continued following Sam through the corridors of fluorescent lighting. It was important for her to stay inside until they finally found the doctor who could tell them what they wanted to know.

She checked her hands again, finding the tanned skin covered in some bandages but free from the mixture of her blood and Ethan's after she... lost control.

After she was separated from you, everything happened so fast that Tara could almost think it was all a delusion. All the revelations, the attacks, her adding another victim to her count, the police arriving... All of that had taken a back seat because nothing was more important than you.

It was as if her life had turned into a black and white movie in the moments she was without you. Everything felt colorless, purposeless. Fortunately, she was pulled out of her own spiral of melancholy when she saw you being taken out of the old movie theater on a stretcher by paramedics. She tried to get closer, but it was needed to give you space so that nothing touched your wounds and caused an infection.

Tara tried to go in the ambulance with you, but she and Sam were pulled for another checkup, and you needed to be rushed to a surgery room urgently if you wanted to have the slightest chance of survival. So, Tara let you go, but there was not a moment when you weren't on her mind.

That's why now, she desperately searched for your surgeon with Sam. No one seemed to know about your condition, and she already felt like tearing her hair out from anxiety. Tara just needed to know if you were at least breathing.

"Dr. Isley?" Sam called the attention of a red-haired doctor who was passing by them in a hurry. Tara sighed in relief that her sister was paying attention to her surroundings because her mind was in a completely different place. "We were informed that you performed emergency surgery on a family member. Her name is Y/n Y/L, admitted with multiple stab wounds."

"Oh, yes. Miss Y/L." The doctor replied in a professional tone, but there was impatiency all over her body language. "It was a difficult surgery, and she lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, no vital organs were hit. I won't lie, the recovery will be painful, but at least she survived the operation without any apparent severe collateral effects."

This was the best news Tara had heard in days. She opened a smile and didn't even try to hide her own happiness as she prolonged the conversation. "Is she in any room? Can we see her?"

"Miss Y/L is in room 604, but I'm afraid only one person is allowed in at a time to avoid any disturbance."

"No problem, we can take turns." Sam pointed between her and her sister. Despite seeming much calmer than the younger one, Tara knew Sam was just as relieved as she was to know that you were still alive.

"No, you didn't understand. There's already someone in Miss Y/L's room." Dr. Isley warned and, seemingly losing the rest of her patience, she began to walk away. "Sorry, but I have other patients to attend to."

The two Carpenter sisters looked at each other alarmed. Who could be in your room? Chad was still in his own surgery, Anika had gone to stay with Mindy while she received some stitches, and frankly, your parents had never been present enough to travel between states so quickly for your sake.

They walked down the corridor, moving as fast as possible without disturbing the other people being treated or working in the area. Tara's heart threatened to jump out of her mouth as she looked from door to door, searching for the numbering of your room. 601. 602. 603.

Tara stopped so abruptly at the door that she and Sam bumped into each other, their sneakers making noise against the shiny white floor. The simple door had a small window through which it was possible to see the inside of the room without necessarily entering. Tara looked inside, ready to break the handle and force her way in if necessary.

But it wasn't, because Tara Carpenter recognized exactly the girl sitting next to your bed, holding your hand gently and stroking your hair, even though you were sleeping. She remembered, with a tightness in her chest, that Kate Bishop would be notified the moment she pressed the button.

And, in her own words, she would come running to take care of you.

"Tara, who-"

"I have to go." Tara interrupted her sister's words, looking at the scene in front of her without blinking. She knew what she had to do; there was no reason to fight the facts.

"What? What do you mean? You just got here." Sam asked, partially annoyed and partially confused by the younger one's actions.

"You heard the doctor. Her recovery will be painful, and if I stay around, all I'll cause is more pain." Tara opened a small smile just to try to pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. She knew Sam could see the truth, that she could see her broken heart and internal conflict, but she also knew that was the only possible solution.

"Tara..."

"Sam, you know I'm right. You told me that yourself a few days ago, remember? I hurt her." The girl shook her head in surrender and took a few steps away from the door. Away from you. "She needs peace, Sam. And the only way she can get that now is if I'm not around."

Tara took one last look inside the room, seeing how peaceful you looked. Sleeping, without any worries, and with an incredible and caring person by your side, ready to help you in whatever you needed.

Someone much better than her.

Perhaps that was the first time Tara had made a selfless decision in a long time, but she didn't feel deserving of any credit for it. What she had to do now was get better. Maybe more entries in her journal and more visits to her therapist would eventually fill the void she felt within her.

For now, she just turned around and started walking away from room 604. Each step hurt, like a razor cutting her skin, but it was the right thing to do. Tara had hurt you for far too long, and now...

Now it was time to let you go.

#scream #scream vi #scream 2022 #scream x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #scream imagine #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter #Spotify

730 notes · View notes

zoeykallus · 5 months

Note

Hello Zoey

First , I wanted to tell you again that I love the stories you gave us , thank you , really , you're one of the few who can make me forget time when I'm reading 👌❤️

It's my first request so I'm sorry if it's a bit clumsy 😅

I had an idea , imagine that after a mission the reader is so tired that they took the first bunk they saw but it's not their's , how would the batchers react ? x)

Aloha!

Very happy to read this! 😊 Thank you so much!

There is a first time for everything. Don't worry, there is nothing clumsy about it. I think I got it. So pre Relationship, but with already growing yet unspoken feelings? At least that would be my guess. Let me see, this could be fun 😁🤭

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Sleepy Mix-Ups

__________

Warnings: None I guess/SFW/Fluff

__________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

__________

Hunter

He almost threw his equipment at you. At the last moment, he sees you lying in his bunk and just manages to stop himself. Hunter is puzzled, raises his eyebrows questioningly and looks at you for a moment. A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. You look kind of cute lying there in his bunk. He sighs softly and looks around, his gaze falling on your actual bunk. He walks towards it, takes off his equipment, and even before he lies down in it, he smells it. The bedding and the pillow smell of your shampoo, your perfume, of you. A strange, warm shiver runs through his entire body. Hunter looks back over his shoulder to his own bunk, where you are slumbering blissfully. He knows the scent of you will keep him awake for a while, make him woozy. He feels a tingling restlessness under his skin, a silent longing for more of what reaches his nose, more of you. Hunter lies down anyway, the other bunks are occupied, and he doesn't want to wake you. He lies awake half the night and dreams of you await him in his sleep, some gentle, some wild. When he wakes up, his heart is beating fast, his pulse racing as if he has just experienced a pleasantly exciting adventure.

He grins a little stupidly to himself and flinches when he hears your voice. "Sorry, I must have gotten the wrong bunk last night because I was so tired." Hunter clears his throat, straightens up and says with a wink, "It's no problem" He looks nervous and a little shaky, you have no idea why, but as he leaves the room to use the refresher, you don't give it a second thought.

Echo

He stands in front of his bunk and looks down at you. He scratches his chin uncertainly with the scomp link. Echo doesn't really know what to do, he doesn't really want to wake you up, you look so peaceful and relaxed. The day has been hard and exhausting for all of you. He holds his hand over his mouth as he yawns. Tired, he rubs his eyes a moment later. His gaze wanders to your bunk and back again. Echo doesn't quite know whether he should just lie down. You've probably made a mistake out of tiredness, if he were to just lie down in your bed now, he would feel like an intruder. Even if the thought of lying on your pillow, which certainly smells like you, is incredibly tempting. Echo sighs softly, sits down on the floor next to his bunk where you are lying and leans against it. It's anything but cozy, but he's tired enough to fall asleep after a short time sitting up, his head resting halfway on the edge of the bunk. He wakes up when something brushes against his head. The blanket you covered yourself with. You move, it's early morning, you're still half asleep when you see Echo looking at you over the edge of the bunk.

You blink several times, a little startled. "Echo? What are you doing down there?" He straightens up a little awkwardly, his back aching a little from the position he's been sleeping in. He smirks wryly and says, "Well, you occupied my bed, so I had to improvise" You rub the sleep from your eyes and look around the bunk. Echo is right, this is not your bedding, not your bunk. Heat rises in your cheeks, and you stare at him. Others might be angry, but Echo just smiles at you. "Why didn't you just use my bunk?" you ask, confused. Echo shrugs, scratches the back of his head uncertainly and says, "Well, I don't know, I didn't want to just do it without being asked" You laugh softly. "But Echo, I climbed into your bed without being asked" Wrecker in the background, still half asleep himself, grins at you from his bunk, "Echo just wished you'd done it while he was in there"

Echo's eyes widen and his heart races. He feels he has been caught, but grumbles at his brother, "Would you please keep your comments to yourself?" When he looks at you again, you both smile shyly, barely able to meet each other's gaze.

Wrecker

He looks into his bunk, puzzled. Wrecker wasn't expecting this. A little unsettled, he scratches the back of his head and looks around. Everyone else is already asleep, or about to fall asleep. His huge figure stands bent over you next to the bunk you're lying in, his bunk. Normally you would probably have woken up just from the feeling of being watched, by his presence, but you're so wiped out today, probably not even a bomb would wake you up. Wrecker's bunk is bigger than the standardized bunks, because he himself is also bigger than the norm among soldiers, so you should have noticed that alone, but you didn't. He looks over to your bunk, the only one that is still empty and much smaller than he is used to. You mumble something in your sleep. A smile spreads across his face. He was actually toying with the idea of waking you up, but you look so cute, he can't bring himself to do it. Wrecker heads for your bunk, gets ready for bed, and squeezes himself in. When you wake up the next morning, it takes a moment, but you realize you're in the wrong bunk. "Oops," you mumble quietly, straighten up and look around. Everyone is still asleep.

Wrecker is lying in your bunk. He can't stretch out his legs, he's curled up like a fetus, his knees sticking out over the edge of the bunk. It looks uncomfortable, but also adorable. You slip out of bed and quietly walk over to him. You gently nudge him a few times until he opens his eyes. "Hey, big guy," you whisper to him. He blinks, finally grins at you and mumbles back, "Mornin' sweetheart" "Sorry about the bunk, I was so tired I didn't realize which bunk I was in," you say apologetically. Wrecker peels himself out of the too-small bunk and says with a shrug, "It's okay, it can happen" You are relieved that he takes it so lightly. He adds, "Your bunk is pretty tiny, but it smells damn good" You smile shyly and feel your cheeks heat up.

Tech

He almost sits down on you because he is so engrossed in his holopad. At the last moment, he realizes that his bunk is already occupied. Tech lowers the holopad and stares at you silently, as if he could wake you up with his gaze alone. His brow furrowed, he looks at his bunk and wonders how you could have mistaken it. The walls are scrawled with drawings and calculations he made at some point, it's hard to miss. Were you really that tired? He reaches out for you, but just above your arm, his hand stops, he holds it there uncertainly in the air for a while, undecided whether to wake you or not. Actually, this is his bunk, Tech thinks, you shouldn't sleep in it. But there's another thought, a feeling. Because you are sleeping in his bed, you are very close to him in a way. In the morning, his pillow will certainly smell of you. A part of him that he doesn't really understand at the moment, likes that, a lot. He stands there for a long time, the datapad in his hand, watching you. Echo whispers softly over the snoring of the others, "Why don't you go to their bunk, the staring is getting creepy" Tech blinks, startled, and turns to his brother.

He whispers back, "But this is my bunk" Echo sighs and says a little impatiently, "They were extremely tired, I'm sure it was an accident. Now just let them sleep and lie down in their bunk" Tech walks to your bunk, stares at it for a while, then finally lies down. It feels very different, strange, but somehow also pleasant. It smells good, although foreign, but at the same time familiar, because it smells like you. Lost in thought, he begins to paint the walls of the bunk with drawings and calculations. When he falls asleep, Tech still has the pen in his hand and your smell in his nose. It feels like he's falling asleep in your arms and all night long, Tech has a little smile on his lips. When he wakes up, it's still night, and you're already standing next to his bunk. "Sorry," you say quietly. Tech needs a moment to collect himself, the fog of sleep hasn't quite left him yet. "It's okay," he says just as softly, and peels himself out of bed to swap bunks back with you.

You lie down and look around in the semi-darkness. Tech has painted practically every free space. As you lie on your back, you look directly at the sketch of a podracer and a wild sequence of numbers that probably only he understands. You smile. Tech has slept in your bed and left something like his signature, somehow you are so happy about it that you want to kick your feet and squeak.

Crosshair

He is taking off his equipment, turns around and pauses in mid-motion. His brows draw together critically. There's someone lying in his bunk, you. He mutters quietly, "You're kidding me" He lets out an annoyed sigh and stares at you. The intensity of his gaze alone might even have woken you up under normal circumstances, but not today. His gaze finally moves to your bunk, which is empty at the moment, but then his eyes narrow to critical slits. Crosshair has no intention of being evicted from his bunk, accident or not. He grabs you and pushes you to the back of the bunk. Just as you open your eyes in shock and blink, trying to get your bearings, he joins you and takes part of the blanket, decently enough to keep you covered. Startled, you stare at him.

"But... what...?" He cocks a brow at you. "This is my bunk, if you want to sleep in it, fine, but I'm not swapping, so you better get used to me being close or crawl back into your own, kitten" he grumbles. Your heart is racing, you're confused and speechless, trying to untangle the situation in your mind. Just having him so close to you makes you nervous enough. But to be honest, you have no desire to go back to your own bunk. All you say is a quiet, "Okay" A smirk twitches briefly at the corner of his mouth, barely noticeable. Quietly and much more softly, in his smoky voice, he says as he closes his eyes, "Good night, Kitten"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

891 notes · View notes

joelscruff · 1 year

Text

this one thing you did (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

this is totally self indulgent smut based on a night out i had. i don't usually put songs into my fic but this song was playing on said night out and how could i not include it?? anyway, enjoy 🎉 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: dancing with a stranger at your favorite club leads to something filthy. (early 2000s!joel, no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: grinding, unprotected p in v sex with a stranger (don't do this), creampie, comeplay, dirty talk, bathroom sex word count: 3.5k

The booming bass and flashing lights are their own kind of high, regardless of how many shots you've already taken tonight. The club is your playground, bodies swaying back and forth, bare skin reflecting sweat and glitter as you playfully grind against a nameless and faceless man on the dancefloor, hips rotating to the beat of the music as he grips your hips tightly from behind. This is your favorite place.

You spot your friend over at the bar, still chatting up her date enthusiastically; she's barely danced tonight, too distracted by her handsome new friend she met last weekend. You figured this would happen; third wheeling has become a skill in and of itself for you after being single for so long, but you don't mind. She seems happy, he seems sweet, it's all good. Besides, you have other plans.

The song is winding down and you turn around to finally match a face to the hands on your body; he's cute, albeit a bit young, blonde hair and blue eyed with a goatee he should probably reconsider. He's hot though, and he smells good. The alcohol still buzzing in your body, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, smirking playfully.

"You got plans after this?" you ask over the pumping bass, flipping your damp hair out of your face and feeling a cascade of glitter zip past your ear.

"Kinda," he replies back just as loudly, hands traveling down to your ass, "I'm at a bachelor party, we're going to another club after this," he squeezes you through your dress and smirks, "You wanna come?"

You bite your lip and your eyes dart back to your friend at the bar, still chatting it up with her new man. You've met him, got a good vibe, but you still feel uncomfortable leaving her here, even if she'd probably tell you to go on ahead. You turn back to the blonde and shake your head.

"Can't leave my friend," you shout, "Sorry, maybe next time!"

He makes a face, frustration suddenly flooding his expression, "But there won't be a next time!"

"Why?"

"It's my bachelor party," he replies, like this should have been obvious to you, "I get married tomorrow!" He squeezes your ass tighter and leans down to speak directly in your ear, "Be my last, come on."

You pull back from him immediately, yanking yourself out of his grip with disgust, "CREEP!" you yell loudly, pointing to him as people begin to turn to look at the two of you. The song has ended, a few seconds of silence granting you the attention you desire, "GET OUT, CREEP!"

"Creep!" you hear another girl call near you, "Leave!"

"CREEP," someone else calls, and soon most of the people in your general vicinity are shouting at the man to leave; he backs away, looking at your angrily as he turns around and lurches toward the front of the club to find his friends. You smile after him. That's how it's done.

The next song has already started and you feel your face light up when you recognize 1 Thing by Amerie blasting through the club speakers, the unmistakable sound of percussion reverberating in your bones as you look frantically around the crowded floor for someone else to dance with.

"That was ballsy," you hear a voice behind you, deep and southern, and you look down with surprise to see a large hand pressed firmly against your belly through your tight dress, "Wanna dance?"

"You're not married or getting married, are you?" you call back, twisting your face a bit to catch the slightest glimpse of brown hair and a beard; hot.

"Single as they come," he replies, and that's all you need.

You grind back on him immediately, loving how his grip around your middle tightens as he pushes his groin against your ass. Your dress certainly doesn't leave much to the imagination, ridiculously short and covered in silver glitter; you can feel the swell of him through his jeans and you smirk as you lean back against him and start to sway your hips to the beat.

His hands are a godsend; he knows exactly how to touch you, hands moving from your midsection to squeeze your hips, thumbing the shape of your thong beneath your dress. It's not visible but it's like he knows it's there, caressing the V of your hips and grinding himself into you a bit firmer. You feel your brows furrow, a bit taken aback by this level of intimacy; you're so used to club guys who just take what they need, view you as more of a warm body than anything else. Which is fine, it's not like you view them any different.

But the way this man dances with you is entirely new. He pulls you in closer as the song progresses, noses your hair and helps you sway back and forth. He smells good, even better than the blonde guy, a more mature and masculine scent that's musked and piney. He's big and tall too, you can tell how much larger he is than you when you lean back further and press your entire body against him, feel the broad expanse of his chest against your back.

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, knowing he can't hear you, "That's good."

It feels almost impossible for him to hold you any closer but he somehow does, tightening his grip around you in his arms, one of the hands on your hips trailing upwards to press flat against the space between your breasts where you're bare. You look down, eyes hazy, and see the large shape of his hand firm on your chest, fingers splayed out and lightly brushing the sides of your breasts, only held up by some tape you'd applied before leaving the house.

"Fuck," you repeat, but you can't hear it, biting down on your lip in a pleasured pout and grinding back into the man even more, feeling yourself begin to throb under your dress. Almost like he can sense where you're aching, he moves his other hand down from your hip to grip your thigh, thumb tracing the innermost part gently. You shiver in his grasp.

You bring your gaze back over to the bar and are surprised to see your friend looking over at you, a wide grin plastered on her face. She mouths something and you squint to see her, making a confused face.

"He's fucking hot," she mouths again, throwing you a thumbs up, "Good job."

You feel yourself grin back at her, "Is he?" you mouth back.

She nods quickly and mouths, "He's perfect!"

You feel a flutter of pride and contentedness rise in your chest at her blessing. It's rare that either of you ever call a guy perfect, but you'd seen the hint of brown hair and the beard and hoped he was your type. You like big, tall men. Strong, ones who can take care of you, lift you up if necessary, take control. Brunettes with beards have always been your favorite. Obviously she can see that he's completely your type.

The song is winding down but you're desperate to stay as close to this man as possible, pressing back against him and closing your eyes. You feel his breath at your ear, both hands returning to their familiar spots on your hips, fingertips lightly touching your bare thighs. You suddenly want him to lift up the dress and start fucking you right there on the dancefloor; you're down bad.

You lean your head upwards a bit, trying to speak loud enough so he can hear you, but also not so loud that people in the vicinity can hear as you say, "Wanna fuck me?"

You feel him smirk against your skin, "Lead the way."

Still not turning to look at him you reach down and take his hand, the final notes of the song ringing out in the club as you lead him to the women's bathroom. You've had sex in here before, many times, so you know how to give yourself the privacy you need for the short period of time you need it.

You drag him inside the bathroom and finally turn around to look at him, grinning again when you get a good look. Oh, your friend was so right. He's perfect; tall and broad, scruffy and unkempt in the sexiest way possible. He's got brown eyes, dark and seductive, and a playful smirk that's already driving you wild. Before you put your hands on him you quickly reach down under one the sinks and grab the edge of a ridiculously heavy box with god knows what inside; no one questions the box.

"Help me put this in front of the door." you say, and he doesn't need telling twice, immediately reaching down to pull it out. You know from experience that this box is heavy, which is the whole point people leave it here to begin with. However, he seems to move it with ease, biceps flexing under his black t-shirt as he places it in front of the bathroom door.

As soon as it's in place you grab his forearm and pull him toward you, worrying your lip between your teeth as you both move toward the sinks with what's probably a pathetically debauched expression on your face.

He grins and carefully picks you up and places you on one of the counters like you weigh nothing, leaning down to plant wet kisses along your neck as he pushes your thighs apart and stands between them. Your dress is so tight that he has to roll it up a bit, leaving you sitting bare-assed on the countertop; you're definitely gonna need a shower later.

"You do this a lot?" he asks you, that southern drawl back in full force and making you pulse even more in your panties, "Seems like you know what you're doin'."

You nod unabashedly, "It's not my first rodeo."

He laughs at that, deep and rough, then brings his hands down to grip your thighs tightly beneath his wide palms, "Let's make it a memorable one, then."

You lean forward to capture his lips in a hot kiss, wet and sloppy. He tastes like whisky and you're sure you probably taste like vodka, the strong flavors mixing together as he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and inches his fingers upwards to grip your thong. He tugs it down easily and keeps kissing you hard, licking inside your mouth and humming at the taste. You hear the unmistakable jangle of his belt buckle as he pulls it free, making you open your eyes and pull back from the kiss to watch with hooded eyes as he pulls out his dick.

"Knew you were big," you say with a smirk, batting your eyelashes at him, "Could feel it on the dancefloor."

He chuckles and pulls your dress up even more, leaning back to look down and assess where you're bare. He reaches down and thumbs your wet cunt, smirking when a moan immediately falls from your mouth.

"And I knew you were dripping," he replies roughly, "Could feel it on your thighs."

Fuck. You let out another moan when he quickly shoves two fingers inside without any warning; you take him easily, pussy sucking his fingers in with an obscene squelch that makes both of you groan. He pulls his fingers out and drags them along the length of his cock, mixing your juices with the precum leaking from his weeping tip.

"How long we got? Since you're the expert." He doesn't say it in a way that's shameful or disgusted; if anything he seems more turned on by the fact that this isn't new for you, shuffling forward to bump the fat head of his cock against your opening.

"Maybe five minutes," you reply quickly, gaze jumping to the closed door, "Before someone starts knocking."

You realize then that he's not wearing a condom and that neither of you have even suggested the prospect of being safe. You know for a fact there's some in that box; whether staff or people coming in and out are responsible for that, you're not sure. Regardless, you only briefly consider asking him to put one on before deciding it doesn't matter - you're drunk and horny and you want to feel him raw.

You can practically hear your friend calling you an idiot already.

You hitch your arms up around his neck and hear yourself emit a guttural moan as he pushes his cock inside you. He goes a bit slow at first, just to get you adjusted to his size, but then he's filling you completely to the hilt and you have to hold on tightly to him so you don't topple off the counter. He's so large, practically in your stomach as he starts to steadily thrust in and out, holding you close.

"Oh fuck," you whimper into his shoulder, hands scrambling for purchase against his back, "Shit."

"Yeah, that's it," he murmurs in your ear, low and seductive, "Take it."

You take it, that's for sure. It's not like you have any other choice. You're glad he can't see your face because you're sure it's twisted into a ridiculous expression, mouth agape and eyes crossing slightly as he fucks you deep. You've taken big dicks before but never from somebody who actually knew how to use it, how to drag it back and forth at the perfect speed, be sure to prod that special spot deep inside you. Your friend was right, he's perfect.

The bass of the music continues to boom outside the bathroom, muffled and echoey; you don't recognize the song but that's the last thing on your mind as this gorgeous man fucks you into a state of pure nirvana. You whimper pathetically in his ear, feeling your back bump the bathroom mirror every time he thrusts, one hand coming up to get lost in his hair.

"Fuck, you take it good," he mutters, slamming his hips back and forth and tightening his grip around your body, "Perfect pussy. You fuckin' love gettin' filled up, don't you?"

You nod into his shoulder and whimper again when he starts fucking you even faster, body practically vibrating on the counter. You pull back to look at him and find your head bobbing wildly back and forth like you're a ragdoll, completely at his mercy. You lock eyes with him and moan when you see his blissed out expression, the glitter from your face now clinging to his sweaty skin.

"Oh fuck, what a face," he groans, "You're cross-eyed, baby. I'm fuckin' you stupid, huh?"

You nod frantically again, "I-" you try to speak, voice shaky and weak as he relentlessly pounds into you without stopping, "I'm-"

He nods along with you, "I know, baby, I know," he murmurs, "Don't talk, just take that cock."

You grip him tightly again and bury your face in his shoulder. It's perfect timing because you almost feel yourself start to cry out when he starts rubbing your clit, bringing you to your release. Your legs wrap around his waist and you practically scream into his shoulder, your whole body shaking and vibrating as your orgasm takes over.

"That's it," he hisses through his teeth, clearly close to his own release, "That's it, come all over my cock."

Your pussy tightens and pulses around his thick length as you come, clit throbbing beneath the man's steady touch. You whine into his shirt as he fucks you faster, impossibly harder, the wide head of his cock repeatedly pushing against your favorite spot. It's too much and you have to bite down on the fabric to stop yourself from sobbing.

He doesn't ask where you want his come; he knows.

He fucks you once, twice, three times more before stilling inside of you and letting out a deep and rough groan, pulling back to watch your expression as he fills you up. Your jaw drops, legs shaking around his waist as you feel his thick spurts of release paint your insides. You both stare into each other's eyes with mirrored looks of pleasure, eyes hooded and dark.

"I'm clean," he says, voice breaking slightly, "Probably shoulda told you that before we started."

"It's okay," you whimper, still focused on the feeling of his cock, the way it pushes his come further inside, "I wanted it."

"Yeah, you did," he murmurs, eyes scanning your face, "You wanted it bad, didn't you?"

You nod and he leans in to kiss you. It's sweeter this time, not as hurried or sloppy, and you moan faintly against his lips when he carefully slides his dick out of you.

"Want me to clean you up?" he asks, and you shake your head.

"No," you whisper, "Wanna feel it dripping when I dance."

He groans and reaches down to pull your thong back up your legs. You shimmy off the counter, legs like jelly as you shakily stand and pull them up all the way.

"That'll keep it in there," he murmurs, pulling your dress down and patting your pussy gently through the material, "For a little while."

A loud knock at the door and the sound of a girl yelling "I have to pee!" notifies the both of you that your time is up. You watch as the man stuffs his softening cock back inside his pants and starts to do up his belt quickly, still eyeing you. He wastes no time in kissing you one last time, holding you close and trailing his fingers up and down your back.

"I gotta head home," he murmurs against your lips after a few seconds, "But thank you for this, I needed it."

You giggle and pull back to take one last look at his face, aware of the girl outside the door still steadily knocking and begging to be let in, "We should do it again."

"I'll hold you to that."

You both pull away from each other and he reaches down to move the box away from the door. Immediately a girl and a few of her friends rush inside, barely batting an eye when they see a man in the women's bathroom; this isn't an uncommon occurrence here. You leave the bathroom with him and walk with him to the exit, making sure to check the bar for your friend. She's still sitting there, lost in her own world. You smile.

"Are you sure you have to go home?" you ask once you're both outside the club, alone together on the sidewalk; the question is probably a little pathetic but you don't care.

He smiles softly, "I do, I'm sorry. I have to be somewhere early tomorrow and if I take you home..." he trails off, eyes scanning up and down your body, "Well, let's just say neither of us will be getting any sleep."

You shiver, more from his words than the cold air, but he still reaches forward to rub your bare shoulders gently, giving you some heat. It's a small and quiet gesture, but it makes your heart flutter.

"Can I get your number?" you ask, suddenly a bit shy despite the fact that you can feel his come beginning to leak out of you. He nods with a smile and you pull your phone out of the top of your dress to hand it over to him.

He takes it from you, looking down and pressing a few buttons to program his number into your contacts, then hands it back to you. You suddenly feel a strange tickle between your legs and your brow furrows.

"Shit," you mutter, realizing what it is.

"What?"

You look down at yourself and see a thick drip of his come inching down your inner thigh. He follows your gaze and makes a strange noise in his throat, taking a few steps forward and watching with dark eyes as it slowly dribbles down your leg.

"You're on the pill, right?" he murmurs.

"Yes," you whisper, still watching his release drip from you.

He pulls you into his arms one more time and kisses you long and deep, slipping his hand under your dress to gently ease some of his come back inside you. You whimper against his mouth as his thick thumb slips inside your hole and carefully pushes his release as deep as he can.

When he pulls back he tilts your chin up and smiles softly at you, eyes still full of desire as you keen beneath his touch.

"Now go dance with all that still inside," he murmurs, "I know you want to."

You're back inside the club a few moments later, skin tingling with the rush of what's happened in the last twenty minutes. You take out your phone quickly to make sure his number is definitely there, that he did it right. You feel your face warm when you see the new name listed in your contacts:

Joel.

You slip your phone back inside your dress and head for the dance floor, pushing past the gyrating bodies and the couples making out, the dudes looking for whichever girl will grind on them. Just one more song, you think to yourself. The bass booms, the lights flash, and you dance with abandon.

This is your favorite place.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*

2K notes · View notes

satansindexfinger · 2 years

Note

Hc of The brothers and accidental kiss

Note: Thanks for the request! I'm a sucker for these ahshd

Warnings: none

Summary: You leaned over the demons shoulder, intending on handing him a report/class notes. You called his name while doing so, naturally prompting him to turn his head your direction... only for your lips to connect due to the miscalculation of distance between your faces.

Fluff; GN! MC, Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeous;Beelzebub; Belphegor

Lucifer

Oh.

O h. Lucifer certainly didn't expect to meet your lips when he was about to thank you for handing the paperwork. He had been too engrossed in his work to notice where you were situated.

Aside from his pupils dilating, he makes no visable reaction. Expects you to be the first to separate from the kiss. Definently not because he's internally flustered beyond belief and stuck in place. No sir.

Once you pull away his eyes will linger on you for a few beats, taking in your expression; you liked that, right? Your face is adorable when you're flushed like that. It takes Lucifer every bit of will he has not to let his own blush show.

Has the nerve to appear completely unbothered and even smirk.

"Well.. that was unexpected. I must say, I am kind of dissappointed - it wasn't a proper kiss. How about we try that again, if you don't mind? Come closer."

Mammon

It takes a moment for Mammon's brain to send him signals about what's happening. As soon as it does, this man is shooting backwards so fast he trips over air and falls on his back.

An absolute mess. Stuttering, blushing, covering his mouth, the whole nine yards. His fingers keep trailing on his lips, you notice. Cannot look you in the eyes to save his life.

"W-what's the big idea, sneakin' up on me like that?! Scared the crap outta me.. give me a warnin' n-next time, ya dumb human! How bold can ya get, doin' that to me?!"

Mammon, you're the one who turned.

Once he's calmed down he gets back up and makes an attempt to face you again. Albeit with a blush going up his ears and fingers still on his lips; as if he's savoring your exchange.

"No fair.. I wanted our first kiss to be special, damnit. So this one doesn't count, okay?!"

Immediate regret felt and tantrum thrown after he realizes what he just said.

Leviathan

If you thought Mammon had a freakout... oh boy. Levi is ten the times embarrassed and overreacting. Looks like he's committed every possible crime; he's that emotional about it.

Both hands covering his overly red face, speech too frantic for you to understand aside from a few 'sorry's and some self deprecating comments.

The situation reminds Levi of a certain anime and that only makes him more flushed, and somewhat wistful. He liked it, dont get him wrong! He just thinks you might have not appreciated it like he did.

Please reassure him. The avatar of envy needs it as to not regret it for the rest of his life.

"A-are you sure it's okay? I mean, we just k-kissed, y'know?! This kind of thing only happens in my fantasy world.. wait, h-hold on, I didn't mean-"

Has trouble looking you in the eyes after that little incident. Keeps the memory of it close to his heart though, and always will.

Satan

It takes him off guard for about two seconds. In those two seconds he debates on whether he should deepen the kiss, since it's something he's been wanting for awhile, or if he should pull away. He decides on the latter as he wants to confirm your feelings (if you have any) before doing that.

"Ah.. sorry about that. I didn't realize you were that close."

Treats it like it's no big deal, but his heart it hammering inside his chest. And you don't miss the faint blush on his cheeks as he coughs in his hand in an attempt to change topic.

Thanks you for the notes and makes casual conversation, hoping to change the mood and pretend the kiss never happened.

Satan's eyes seem to, unconsciously, trail towards your lips when he's talking to you for the next week or so.

Try as he might he cannot forget that brief moment and will bring it up to you, asking if you liked it and if you'd rather get a proper kiss from him.

Asmodeous

Surprised as he is, Asmo wastes no time in keeping your lips pressed just a second longer than would be considered accidental. It's his way of enticing you, hoping you liked the taste of him enough to ask for more.

Pretends to be shocked, squealing and giggling like a high school girl. All the while teasing you like

"Oh, sorry honey! Then again.. was it really an accident~? It's okay to admit you just wanted to kiss me! I would never deny you that. You were so sneaky with it too~ Ahh, it's adorable!"

You'd think the avatar of lust doesn't think much of it.. if it weren't for all the situations he'd tried to get both of you into where just a turn of his head would result in you "accidentally" kissing again.

Is honestly flabbergasted you don't intentionally seek out his lips after that! Maybe he should try harder to captivate you next time~

Beelzebub

It takes you pulling away sharply for Beel to realize what had just happened. He's a bit frozen in place, the hands holding his snacks at a standstill while a faint blush decorates his face.

"Ah, sorry... thanks for the homework, MC."

His face doesn't return to its normal colour the rest of the day. He apologizes again if he's made you uncomfortable, even if it was an accident and he had no way of predicting it.

It is kind of a problem for Beel.. he enjoyed the taste of your lips, brief as it was, more than any kind of food he'd put past them. He's hungry in a way he didn't even conceive before.

But Beel is respectful. Will not bring the incident up until you do, and if you do he will make it known he enjoyed it.

"Sorry again, MC. It's just... I want more. You don't have to kiss me again if you don't want to but.. Could you?"

Belphegor

Tries to appear unbothered and apathetic but the colour on his cheeks, going all the way up his ears gives his true feelings away. He cannot meet your eyes too, trying to distract himself.

"Jeez... thanks for the papers, but you didn't have to get all close like that. What if I butted my head on yours? You'd probably be crying instead of giving me the face you are right now."

Belphie, you can't even see their face with how you refuse to look at them-

Waves his hand in an attempt to dismiss you and assures you he's got whatever it is he needed the notes for.

Although as soon as you make your move to leave, Belphie is giving you a confused look and tugging at your sleeve.

"Really? You're gonna pretend this didn't happen and just leave me like that? I don't think so. Either tell me what you thought about it or just.. let me redo it."

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader

4K notes · View notes

violetarks · 6 months

Text

fooled around and fell in love!

anime: ouran high school host club

characters: fujioka haruhi, suoh tamaki, ootori kyoya

summary: you have enough charm to make even a host fall for you! why haven't you joined the club yet?

a/n: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, reader isn't necessarily in love with them, they're just unintentionally getting the others to fall for them, but it can be read however you would like

↣ fujioka haruhi:

being the little plaything for the host club was not fun at all for haruhi. she would literally rather do anything else than this.

carrying four bags of food for the hosts, haruhi groans in frustration, "stupid rich people... why do they have to drink so many different brands of coffee?" she reaches into one bag, pulling out an order for hikaru. "he doesn't even like the ingredients in this. he just wanted me to say that long order for no reason..."

people watched the student struggle down the hall towards the host club room. haruhi felt a bit annoyed; didn't rich people have maids or something to do these things? a turn around the corner makes her stop on her tracks, nearly dropping the bags onto the floor.

a hand is held out to catch her elbow, steadying her feet. "sorry, i didn't see you." she apologises, holding the bags even tighter.

"it's okay." you retort, sliding your book bag onto your shoulder. you blink at her, noticing who she was. "oh, haruhi. good morning. you seem pretty busy already."

"good morning, y/n." she replies, nodding her head at you, "yeah, the host club needed a refill on a couple things."

"do you... need help?" you ask, tilting your head at her.

"oh no, it's okay." she spoke, shaking her head with a nervous smile, "i'm nearly there, and club activities are going to start soon."

you shrugged your shoulders, taking some of the bags from her hold. "it's okay, my meeting's been cancelled. i can help." you explain, giving haruhi a smile, "i don't mind spending a little more time getting to know you."

she held her breath for a moment as you led her to the music room that the host club occupied. you were well-known around the school yourself, not as much as the infamous tamaki but still. you shared world history class together and sat in front of her. she knew the sound of your voice by the end of the first month here at ouran academy, and it was no wonder why many of your classmates would seek your help for work. haruhi was good at reading people, so she could tell that you yourself didn't have any bad intentions.

you two became friends quite easily, and you had visited her a few times at the host club. you acted as a cool escape from the strange world of the rich that haruhi had to get used to. you spoke to her as if she was always a friend of yours, sweet and kind. she thought that, if you had tried to, you could knock even tamaki off of his pedestal.

"i heard from hikaru that your theme for this week is the opposite of a 'maid cafe'." your voice cuts through her thoughts, and she drags her eyes to meet with yours. heat rushes to her cheeks at the idea that kyoya had brought up to make a rise in sales. you chuckle at her reaction. "well, i'll have to make sure to stop by to see you."

haruhi rolls her eyes, looking out the window to her left. "please spare me the humiliation, y/n." she huffed out, frown tugging on her lips.

you only grin wider. "c'mon, haruhi, you know that’s the only reason i show up." you say, leaning forward to get a look at her face. she was burning even brighter, and it didn't help that when she glanced back at you, you were staring at her with that welcoming and heart-warming grin you always had for her. "should i switch to always visiting the twins, then?"

haruhi gives you a deadpan look, which makes you laugh. she knows you wouldn't, you literally only asked for her. but she couldn't help the feeling she experienced when you would say her name or look at her like that.

at the host club, you help drop off the bags as kyoya checks everything on his clipboard. at the bell, haruhi escorts you to the door.

"thank you again, y/n, for your help. i'll repay you." she says, knowing full well that all her payments were going to the host club for her initial incident.

you ruffle her hair a little with a smile. "no problem, haruhi. i'll always be here to lend a hand." you say, walking down the hall with your 'goodbye'.

haruhi spares you a wave, closing the door after seeing you turn the corner. when she looks back to her clubroom, she notices kyoya standing a few feet away, back against the wall. "oh, kyoya-senpai. i forgot you—”

“taking a liking to l/n, have we?” he taunts, clipboard under his arm. his glasses gleam with mischief and haruhi gulps. picking it up from the table, he hands her the costume for the day. “is that why they’ve become a regular now?”

she rolls her eyes and grabs it from him. “believe what you want, i’m not doing this out of pleasure.” she admits, hurrying to the change rooms. she passes the other hosts, all standing in the doorway and watching the two interact. haruhi stops on her tracks yet again, furrowing her brows. “what now?”

“what’s this? have haruhi and y/n finally begun dating?” the twins chime, wrapping their arms around haruhi as she begins to heat up, “the love story of the century, two pining young students unable to keep their affections a secret.”

kaoru glances to tamaki, who is fixing up his tie. “what do you say, boss? should we invite y/n to join the host club?” he suggests.

honey jumps up, holding his toy up in the air. “they would be so cute together, right taka-chan?” mori simply nods his head, looking indifferent.

“hmm. perhaps a new addition would spark some rivalry between haruhi and y/n.” tamaki concludes, “many of our guests would love to see the lovers battle to be the best! yes, that is a splendid idea! haruhi—”

turning around, he sees haruhi exit the change rooms in her butler outfit. she huffs back, shaking her head, “i am not inviting y/n to join the host club, you idiots.”

she walks passed them, ignoring the banter they were spouting and the arguments they had for you joining the club. in the end, it was a definite no.

she didn’t know what it was. maybe she just really wanted you to herself.

↣ suoh tamaki:

tamaki, like always, was surrounded by the girls of ouran academy.

if there were any sign that today was just going to be another day, it would be that. the sounds of screams and dreamy sighs, the voice of tamaki swooning them all, and the trail of hearts left behind. another day here at school for you.

but, like always, the club members would make fun of him for his eccentric ideas and whatnot. as they leave to go to class, tamaki stands in the music room with a disappointed look on his face. whenever he would put a frown on his face, the customers would come rushing in! hold his face, cling to his side! why must his friends be so disheartening?

when the door opens to the music room, he expects it to be kyoya to drag him back, and he throws on his frown again. "oh, kyoya! i'm so sad!"

"why is that, tamaki?" you ask, closing the door with your sheet music under your arm and your violin in hand. he blinks at you, obviously not expecting anyone other than the club members. "my apologies, i walked into the wrong room. why are you here by yourself?"

to play it off (although he has never seen you attend any club activities, only ever seeing you in his literature class) he stands up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. he chuckles out, arms thrown to his sides, "o-oh! don't mind me, i'm just a bit down. i didn't expect such a sweet maiden to make herself known at such a time! how are you on this fine day, mx l/n?"

when you tilt your head, walking closer to his spot at the couch. "a sweet boy like you should never be left alone to sulk." you state, sitting down across from him. he widens his eyes, gulping. "where are your friends?"

"uh... they are in, um, class!" he says as the end-of-the-day bell rings. you only smile. tamaki sighs, dropping his whole get-up and looking to his hands, leaning back against the softness of the couch, "i suppose they left me here while they went home."

"you don't want to go home yet?" you question. he shakes his head. you only exhale, placing your sheet music on the table and your violin next to you. "well, if that is the case, then i'd be happy to keep you company, my lovely."

he widens his eyes as he looks to you. a faint blush paints his cheeks. "you... would?" you nod your head twice. he then smiles. "truthfully, i have no business being here right now. kyoya had called off our club meeting because of exams coming up and the twins failing some classes. and if they fail, they can't be in the club."

"is that so?" you say, making conversation, "well, i suppose you can spend your time with me."

"do you not have a lesson to get to?" tamaki asks, concerned as he glances to your sheet music, "i wouldn't want to keep you—"

"would you like to come to my practice, then?" you offer, smiling softly that it makes him hold his breath for a moment. you were so charming, in such a different way than he was. it was enticing. "i'm sure you wouldn't distract me. not on purpose, that is."

your little joke at the end makes him nervously laugh. "oh, i... i wouldn't want to bother."

"you're not bothering me, tamaki." you honestly say. he unconsciously leans towards you, eager to get closer. you stay where you are, smiling at his actions. "and it seems you just can't resist me."

he catches himself falling. he almost can't believe it, but he then fixes himself and his posture, standing up straight. "r—right, well, i... you...!"

you chuckle, standing up and taking his arm linked in yours, "alright, prince, let's go."

he gasps as you guide him to your practice room, so confident through the halls. he's scared someone will see him in such a flustered state and his cool prince facade will fade. but luckily enough, you navigate your way easily and shut the door behind you.

except, it doesn't take you to the music room. no, in fact, you and tamaki end up on one of the balconies that overlook the quieter side of school — opposite side from the host club.

"i practice here during our breaks and study sessions." you admit, placing a music stand and clipping your sheet music to it. unlatching you violin, you glance to tamaki. "away from all your fangirls, that is."

he raises a brow, catching himself finding his confidence again, "jealous, perhaps?"

"what do you think?" you say, tuning your instrument.

tamaki blinks, staring at the ground as he sits at the bench in front of you. he states, "there is no possible way you could've gotten the wrong room, you know."

you raise your brows, looking back at him. a slow smile creeps onto your lips. "your club passed me in the hallway before i saw you." you admit, waxing your bow, "i just wanted to make sure ouran's pride and joy was okay."

his heart swells at your words. he doesn't know why, but all of a sudden birds sings for you, flowers bloom in your presence the breeze smells sweeter.

"thank you..." he hums, smiling at you sweetly, "may i hear something?"

you lift your bow, nodding your head, "yes, your highness."

his heart explodes at the first note.

↣ ootori kyoya:

if there was one thing kyoya was good at, it was analysing people's strengths and weaknesses. the smart one, glasses-wearing, everything. he was it.

but one thing he couldn't understand was why you were so popular.

you were a part of the school student committee, and as a part of your duties, you hd to do monthly check-ups on clubs to see if they were still eligible to continue. while the host club never failed, you would still drop by without a doubt.

today was one of those days.

kyoya could tell you were near by the increase in whispers and gasps around the hallway. once heard, he excused himself and walked off to grab the folder that held the statistics for their monthly report.

as if on cue, you enter, herd of admirers behind you.

"ah, good evening, mx l/n." he says, offering a bow, "to what do i owe the pleasure?"

"it's good to see you too, ootori." you chime, bowing yourself, "is your report ready for this month? it is the 31st after all."

kyoya can almost hear the agonising tone in your voice, hidden by your politeness. but he doesn't waver, holding out the folder. "indeed. like always, we are right on time." he tells you.

you take it from him, opening it up and falting. kyoya raises a brow. "is something the matter, l/n?" he questions.

you look up at him with the faintest smile. "perhaps you're pulling my leg here, ootori. this appears to be last month's report." you chime, pinpointing his mistakes at its core.

he takes the folder from you and reviews the dates. you were correct, this was last month's report. he scans the room until he locks eyes with the twins, who shrug their shoulders innocently and walk off.

"i... apologise. it seems the twins have taken it into their own hands to file the report for this month." he sighs, fixing his glasses, "if you'll follow me, i will find it for you."

you agree, smiling as those you pass before you enter the side room with kyoya in front of you.

as the doors shut, you click your tongue, "oh kyoya, those two run circles around you, don't they?"

the host rolls his eyes, taking out the box of reports from the cabinet and setting them on the desk. he does miss how his name sounds on your lips. so soft.

"they are a pain, but we make do." he huffs, "must your enterage always follow you when you come see us?"

"oh it's not just when i come here." you state, hand on your hip, "it's everywhere."

you were so smug it made him scowl. he opens the box and notices that they are all out of order. he groans, "we have to look through every individual file, i'm afraid."

"luckily this is my last club for tonight." you sigh, taking out a couple folders, "i can help you organise these."

"but wouldn't your fanclub miss you too much, y/n?" kyoya speaks, doing the same thing and looking through them.

"you're one to talk." you chuckle.

"i truly don't understand how you manage to gather so many followers. you're merely treasurer." he complains, shrugging his shoulders, "do you like being followed around like that?"

you roll your eyes at his dramatic personality. you and kyoya had been friends for ages now, and it seems the popularity you acquire puts a strain on your relationship.

"i don't mind being followed, but i do like all of my friends." you state, flipping through pages, "i speak to all of them regularly."

"so they talk to you and you enjoy it?" he questions, raising a brow at you. the thought irked him. why did you speak to so many people? he could call bullshit. but you shrug your shoulders.

"everybody wants to be liked by the person they have a crush on." you say, knowing tone. every one of your "friends" have or have had a crush on you, which is why they speak to you in the first place. "it just so happens that i like making friends."

"that's preposterous." he huffs back, "i don't understand the severity. i don't feel the need to be liked by you."

"that's because i already like you, kyoya. we were friends since forever, after all." you state, putting one report into the correct folder as you glance at him working, "do you not feel the same?"

"frankly, it doesn't matter to me." kyoya says, ignoring how his chest felt at what you said. it was reassuring to know you still liked him.

"what, are you saying that you don't like me, kyoya?" you say, overdramatic voice on. you move closer to kyoya, tilting your head and jutting our your lip. he swallows his nerves "even after everything we've been through? i'm hurt."

"quiet." he grunts, pushing you away as you laugh. his face grows warmer. "just... find that report and get out of here. it's almost time for club activities to end."

you stare at him for a moment, watching red grow on his cheeks in frustration. your friend has always been this way, even though he acts more familiar with you in private, his embarrassed look never changes. you just see it more than anyone else. that's just how you were.

"okay, kyo." you chuckle, moving to the other side of the table and continuing your work.

kyoya sighs to himself, fixing his glasses and calming himself down. how could you be so... charming? and effortlessly so? is this why everyone fawned over you in a similar way to how they fawn over tamaki?

a few more minutes pass before you've found the file and managed to organise the rest of them. kyoya breathes in relief, putting the box away and silently cursing the twins out.

"thank you, kyoya." you hum out, tucking the folder under your arm, "i'll let you know what we come to."

he puts his hand on the door and before he opens it, he turns to you. "you're welcome. please do. it's the only time we ever... see you." he admits, seeing your raised brows.

your smile drops for a second before you sigh, patting his back, "i'll be sure to come and visit more often then. just for you."

when he opens the door, tamaki is trying to swoon your crowd to leave. he cheers and waves his hands, but to no avail. when they see you, they follow after.

"i apologise for extending my stay, suoh." you say, nodding at him as you stand in the exit, your crowd behind you, "i'll see you all soon."

with a wave of your hand, you leave, smiling at kyoya one last time. the twins turn to him immediately.

"so, how was your date with y/n?" they chime, leaning on his shoulders.

"it wasn't a date, you morons. you do realise how much trouble you caused." he says, a sly smile on his face, "seems like a punishment is in order."

the twins dash out of the room before he can say another word, the other members talking quietly amongst themselves about you.

but kyoya only looks down at his clipboard, once again counting the days til you come again for your monthly report.

#ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club x reader #ohshc #ohshc x reader #fujioka haruhi #fujioka haruhi x reader #suoh tamaki #suoh tamaki x reader #ootori kyoya #ootori kyoya x reader #anime #anime x reader

660 notes · View notes

stellamancer · 9 months

Text

hey lonely stranger (won't you meet my eye?) — reader x satoru gojo

notes: yes, hello, here it is, the infamous lonely stranger fic. i mentioned the idea a couple months back to @willowser i thought i'd write it after finishing shine on the sea, but as usual, where gojo is concerned i'm eating my words. title comes from this song. i apologize for me love of weeb music. anyway. i hope you enjoy.

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns, no physical description), typical annoying satoru gojo antics, the faintest hint of possessive/jealous gojo, unresolved romantic tension, allusions to canon typical violence

wc: 6.4k [ao3 link; account required]

There are a lot of places where you’d expect to run into Satoru Gojo.

A match-making party is most definitely not one of them.

First of all, why is he even here? You have no doubt that the world’s strongest sorcerer has much more important things to do than attend a match-making party. Not that he even needs to in the first place. Even without the status and the prestige that his family name brings, his looks alone are more than enough to get people to throw themselves at his feet. That being said, his personality is definitely off-putting enough to make some marriage candidates run the other way. So, who knows, maybe he does need help finding a spouse after all.

You grimace, watching in real time as some of the bolder participants make a beeline toward him, eager to mingle with objectively the most attractive man in the room before the event officially begins. Even from your spot across the hotel ballroom you can see him basking in all the attention. Maybe that’s the real reason why he’s here.

After all, there’s no one who owns the limelight like Satoru Gojo.

Even though it is nothing new to you, there’s something about watching all these people fawn over him that makes you sick to your stomach. You tell yourself it’s because they’re being fooled by him and his offensively handsome face and not because you’re upset that he’s here.

You were actually kind of looking forward to this match-making party, but now you’re annoyed and it's all Gojo’s fault. You’ll have to avoid him as much as you can. It shouldn’t be too hard later on when everyone is free to converse with whoever they want, but before that is the speed dating portion. It’s an unfortunate inevitability that you will have to sit across from Satoru Gojo for two minutes of the hour-long speed-dating session, but maybe you’ll be lucky and maybe he’ll be one of the last, if not the last person for you.

In hindsight, you feel like you should have known better than to hope that luck would have your back when it’s always, always favored Satoru Gojo.

At first, you think it's merciful, sparing you from having to deal with him first. It would have really sucked for you to go through all your speed-dates in a Gojo-induced bad mood. But as he comes closer and closer one two minute interval at a time, you start to wish that you'd started with him first, and just gotten it out of the way.

Despite the threat of Satoru Gojo looming over your head, you do your best to focus on the people who come to your table. Two minutes is not a lot of time at all. Some seem to realize that and try to squeeze as much talking as they can in that amount of time. Some are paralyzed by it; awkwardly floundering for the hundred twenty seconds given to them. There are a couple people that you manage to enjoy a nice, albeit short, conversation with. Despite that, you still find yourself sneaking glances in Gojo's direction, hyper aware of the dwindling number of people sitting between you.

The man sitting before you now, Tasuke Tomoda, you think his name is, leans in toward you and gestures for you to do the same. He's the last person separating you from Gojo and he's been pretty pleasant so far, so you do as he asks and move a little bit closer to him.

"So, uh, I've noticed that you keep looking over there." His voice is barely audible as he inclines his head just slightly in Gojo's direction. “At him.”

You inhale sharply. This guy is the first one who’s noticed, or, at least, the first who's decided to say anything about it. You feel a bit ashamed to have been caught, especially when you thought you’d been discreet.

Just as you’re about to offer an apology, Tomoda adds, “I’m not mad or anything. I mean… he’s quite the looker, isn’t he?”

Before you can stop it, you grimace and Tomoda catches it, his eyes widening in obvious surprise. “You don’t think so?”

You don’t need to think so; you know so— for as long as you have been unfortunate to know him, Satoru Gojo has taken great pleasure in flaunting his good looks whenever possible. You scowl and admit, your voice an annoyed sort of murmur, “His looks are fine, I guess, but his personality…”

You don't know where to begin and you don't know if you should.

Tomoda’s gaze flits toward Gojo and he moves even closer, whispering so quiet that nobody else can hear. “...yeah, he does kinda look like an asshole, doesn’t he?”

You reel backwards, laughing so loud that everyone else can hear. Embarrassment flashes throughout your entire body when you realize that both couples on either side of you have gone completely silent and four pairs of eyes are now on you and Tomoda. Oops. Immediately, the both of you bow your heads in unison to one couple, then the next (with you taking great care to not look at Gojo).

Once their conversations resume, you give Tomoda an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that."

"It's fine!" Tomoda gives you a good natured sort of chuckle. "I'm just glad to have gotten a laugh out of you."

You blink, confused. "Why?"

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and you think it’s kind of cute. “Well, it’s just that I think—"

You lean in.

"—that you're really—"

The bell signifying to change partners echoes throughout the event hall, startling Tomoda out of whatever he was going to say.

Has it really been two minutes already?

Tomoda starts to rise to switch seats, but he looks conflicted, like he still wants to say his piece.

"Wait," you tell him and you're not sure if it's because you want to delay Gojo's inevitable arrival or because you actually want to know what Tomoda was going to say.

He stops, his mouth half open. Tomoda stares and you see the hesitation swimming in his eyes. It only lasts a second though and his mouth shuts as he makes his decision. He takes a deep breath and—

"Excuse me!"

Your stomach lurches at the sound of the playful voice you know far, far too well. Tomoda looks like his soul is about to leave his body rather than his words. Slowly, reluctantly, you both turn your heads to look at the interloper.

You’d tried not to pay too close attention to Gojo when he’d walked in, but with him practically in your face right now, your eyes can’t seem to help but be drawn in. It feels like he really went all out tonight. His suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his long legs and slender yet built figure. The colors compliment his pale, flawless skin, his snow white hair and his infamous sky blue eyes. Gojo’s entire look is completed with a pair of sunglasses, over which he’s peering down at you and Tomoda.

There’s something about the amused glow in those dumb eyes of his that manages to royally pisses you off. You scowl at him, but he ignores you, his expression unchanging as he directs his attention to Tomoda.

"It's my turn now, you know," Gojo points out and while his tone is friendly enough, both you and Tomoda can clearly hear what Gojo is actually saying.

Leave.

"Right! I'm really sorry about that!" Tomoda exclaims as he basically leaps out of his seat and scrambles over to the next table. His table mate stares— not just at Tomoda, but at you and Gojo as well. You can feel the pair on the other side staring too.

Fucking Gojo.

He is completely and unwholly unbothered as he plops down in the seat opposite you, a self-satisfying smile plastered to his face. Annoyed, you cross your arms over your chest and huff, “Did you really need to cause a scene?”

“Hey, you started it,” Gojo says with a chuckle. “Actually, I think you were so loud that everyone heard.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, throwing your most venomous glare in Gojo’s direction, hoping that, for once in his damn life he listens.

Naturally, he doesn’t.

“So, what’d that guy say that was so funny?” Gojo’s tone is casual, almost nonchalant as he leans in your direction. He reaches up with one hand to adjust his glasses, pulling them down just enough to reveal the shocking blue of his eyes staring you down.

You know he means to disarm you this way, to make you spill, but you manage to hold your ground. “Who knows? That’s between me and him.”

Gojo tilts his head to the side, still smiling as he responds. “Oh? You into that guy?”

“And if I was?” you ask, your words nearly a challenge. In all honesty, you don’t know if you can say if you’re into Tomoda or not. He’s certainly made the biggest impression out of everyone you’ve talked to so far and you wouldn’t be against hitting him up during the free talk section of the event. Who knows? Maybe you just need to talk to him a little more to find out.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s not going to work out.”

“You don’t know that,” you shoot back, feeling defensive because Gojo doesn’t know. There’s no way he could. His stupid Six Eyes can see a lot of things, but the future is not one of them.

“I do actually,” Gojo responds simply. His voice is even, with none of his characteristic smugness woven in. That being said, you think you catch the meaning in his words and it angers you even more. Just because you’re a sorcerer that doesn’t mean your dating pool needs to be confined to the members of jujutsu society. You know a few sorcerers who have dated, and even married non-sorcerers.

“Wrong! You don’t know anything,” you insist viciously and if you were anywhere else you’d be just about ready to start throwing punches. You’ve never beaten Gojo in a fight (except maybe once, but you don’t count that because you know he threw that fight), but he’s always down to brawl with you.

“I happen to know plenty of things,” Gojo grins at you, pleased and you watch, in real time, as his delight turns devious. “Like I know that you were checkin’ me out earlier.”

Your entire body heats up and you’re not quite sure if it’s from rage or embarrassment. Another eyeful of the smirk on Gojo’s face is enough for you to decide that it must be rage. “I was not.”

“You so were,” Gojo teases, infuriatingly gleeful in his retort. “I totally get it, and it’s completely okay if you want to tell me how sexy I look tonight.”

“Hell no!” you almost yell, ignoring the growing heat in your stomach. Has it been two minutes yet? There’s no way that this clown’s time isn’t up yet. You glance at the big timer the event’s organizers have set up and… you still have half a minute with this fool.

It’s going to be the longest thirty seconds of your goddamn life.

“Come on,” Gojo nudges at you in that playful tone of his, seemingly determined to use every second he has to annoy you. “Don’t you want to tell me?”

“For someone as confident as you claim to be, you sure are desperate for validation,” you dead pan.

He ignores you. “Okay, okay, since you're feeling shy, I'll go ahead and say it: Satoru Gojo is the hottest guy here!"

You think you're going to hurl from all the second hand embarrassment. It's not like it's unnatural for Gojo to be so unashamedly confident but at an event like this you think it's probably a big no-no. "Gojo?"

“Yes?” He sounds chipper, like he thinks you’re going to compliment him after all, but when it comes to Gojo, you live to disappoint.

“Why the hell are you even here?” you ask in exasperation. Gojo has fifteen or so seconds left but you figure you might as well get something out of this exchange with him, “I doubt someone like you has a need to come to things like this, so why?”

A surprised look flashes across Gojo’s features, but he quickly conceals it behind a mischievous smirk. "You jealous?"

He punctuates his question with a wink and you roll your eyes. "As if.”

“Uh huh.”

Five seconds left. “Maybe the jealous one here is actually you.”

You don’t entirely mean it when you say it; you really intend to make one last dig at Gojo before he moves on to the next person. Plus, you don’t even really think it’ll affect him all that much, things like that never really do. At least, you’ll get the last word here.

Or that’s what you think. You should have known better.

Gojo flashes a smile at you and for a few seconds you completely forget what breathing is. You’re used to playful smiles and teasing smiles, but the look that he’s giving you right now is different somehow. There’s something about the curve of his lips, about the borderline gentle glimmer of his crystalline eyes that sets your heartbeat into a frenzy.

Just as you remember how to breathe, he speaks, stealing your breath away all over again, “Who knows. Maybe I am.”

The bell finally rings, telling you that your two minutes with Satoru Gojo are now over, but you barely even register it— your eyes fixed on the man before you.

Just like Tomoda, before him, Gojo lingers, and he looks almost a little pleased with himself. The familiar expression snaps you out of your stupor and you glower at him, shooing him away like he’s unwanted.

Like you don’t want him to stay.

Like you don’t want to ask him what in the world was all that about.

Because you don’t, you really don’t. There’s no need to, you tell yourself. It’s just another one of the whacky mind games Gojo likes to play with you.

But even as the next person sits down across from you, you can’t get the look on Gojo’s face out of your mind. Even as they introduce themselves, the only thing you hear are Gojo’s last words.

“Who knows. Maybe I am.”

That’s crazy talk. He had to be fucking with you because there’s no way. No way that Satoru Gojo, of all people, would feel jealous.

Even though you know that, you can’t get what he said out of your mind and before you know it, the speed dating section of the match-making event is over and you don’t remember a damn thing about anyone who came after Gojo.

You’re annoyed. You’re so fucking annoyed that you wasted so much damn time thinking about that stupid blue eyed bastard, but it’s fine. It’s completely and totally fine, because you still have the free talk session. If you’re lucky, one of the people who came to you after Gojo will be interested enough to come chat you up and give you the chance to make up for the fact you had temporarily lost your mind thanks to one Satoru Gojo.

And if you’re unlucky… Well, you’re confident in the thought that it should be fine to seek out Tomoda. In fact, you decide to do that first. Better to just go for it than wait around. You survey the ballroom that you’re all in and you catch sight of the man off to the side, looking around somewhat shyly.

Is he looking for you?

You don’t want to get ahead of yourself, but it’s a nice thought. Nice, but… You shake your head; you don’t want to think about him right now. Before the traitorous thoughts can sneak back into your mind, you march over to where Tomoda is standing, tightly gripping the cards in your hand. At the beginning of the event, the staff had handed these cards out, instructing everyone to fill them out so that you could easily exchange contact information with anyone who caught your interest. And since Tomoda’s the only one who qualifies, it’s only natural that you give him one.

A relieved smile spreads across his features when he notices you and it makes you think that he really was looking for you after all.

You offer him a small smile of your own. “Hey.”

“Hi!” he squeaks and his expression turns a little sheepish.

You tilt your head in confusion. "What's up?"

"Just… a little surprised that you came to find me.”

"Huh? Why?"

Tomoda frowns, looking conflicted and, finally, he answers in a slow voice. "Well, that really handsome looking asshole seemed like he was really into you."

You blink.

Huh.

Huh?

Huh!?

You nearly double over in laughter. No offense to Tomoda but the thought is just flat out ridiculous. Satoru Gojo is into you? No way. Absolutely no way in hell. Not in a thousand, no, a million years would Gojo seriously—

"Who knows. Maybe I am."

Suddenly, your mouth is dry, your laughter dying in your throat as Gojo's words echo in your head yet again. There's no way he was serious then, right? He only said that to mess with you, to get the last word in, because there's no way, definitely no way…

You take a deep breath to compose yourself. Tomoda is still there and you're grateful that he hasn’t walked away thinking that you’re completely out of your mind. You take another breath, just in case, before you attempt to say anything. "What makes you think that?"

"Other than the obvious?" Tomoda asks, his tone a touch dry, and you frown, remembering how Gojo had made a scene earlier.

"...yes," you finally grumble when you realize that Tomoda is actually looking for an answer. "Other than that."

For some unknown reason, he seems hesitant to say anything further, but you gesture at him, urging him to speak. "Well, he… I noticed that he kept looking over at you after his turn.”

"That's because—" you start but then stop short when you realize that you actually have no answer. Your brain goes into overdrive trying to think of some kind of explanation, some kind of reason as to why Gojo would possibly…

"Who knows. Maybe I am."

The words are louder now. Almost deafening.

Still, you try to block them out.

"That's because he said something before we switched," you say desperately, like you’re grasping at straws. "I think he was just trying to fuck with me for the hell of it and, I don't know, maybe he kept looking to see how good of a job he did?"

Your lame explanation doesn’t seem to convince Tomoda. It doesn’t really convince you either. You rifle through your thoughts, trying to find some other possible reason, but everything you find seems to support Tomoda’s claim that, somehow, some way, Satoru Gojo is into you.

Tomoda looks like he’s trying to figure it out too, his expression contemplative. "...do you mind if I ask you a question?”

"...go ahead, shoot."

"You two knew each other before this, right?”

"Unfortunately," you admit begrudgingly. "But I didn't know he'd be here tonight."

Tomoda hums and nods his head slowly as he takes your words into consideration. He pauses, and then starts nodding again, quicker this time and you wonder if he’s figured something out. His expression shifts and you recognize this look; it’s the same as earlier when he was leaving your table. There’s something he wants to say, but he’s not sure if he should.

You have the distinct feeling that you're not going to like whatever it is, but still you push him to say it all the same. "What is it?"

Tomoda stares at you. Given the fact that this is a match-making event, you would expect some level of agitation or annoyance on his part, but the only thing you see in his bright, kind eyes is a curious glint. "Are you into that guy?”

No.

That's what you expect to say because that’s what you always say, but when your lips part to answer Tomoda's seemingly innocuous question nothing comes out. Yet the word remains there, stuck to the tip of your tongue and you don't understand why.

Maybe it’s the earnest look in Tomoda’s eyes or the strange and irritating feeling that’s been lurking in your chest ever since Gojo spoke to you earlier, but something, something is holding your denial at bay. More than that, it’s bidding you to actually be honest with yourself.

Because deep down you know the answer, and, worse than that, you know it isn’t no.

The truth fills your mouth, the shape of it uncomfortable and heavy in your jaw. It’s almost too much to handle, to keep in; one slip of the tongue and you’ll end up spilling it everywhere. If that happens— when that happens, you won’t be able to take it back.

When that happens, you won’t be able to deny Satoru Gojo any more.

And truthfully, the thought of it frightens you. That’s why you’ve kept your feelings buried deep inside you. That’s why you’re here at this match-making event, seeking a love that doesn’t scare you shitless. That’s why you keep denying Satoru Gojo’s presence in your heart.

Are you into him? Do you have feelings for him? Do you love him? You think the more important question here is are you truly prepared to answer these questions? Are you honestly ready to confront the feelings you’ve kept deep in your heart and the reality that comes with that?

When it comes down to it… you’re not.

Not here and not now.

You clamp your jaw down and forcefully swallow your feelings, condemning them back to the confines of your heart. They settle there, still uncomfortable, still heavy, but you’ll deal with them later, when they are not threatening to free themselves from the cage of your mouth.

Decision made, you look Tomoda in the eye and declare, “No, I’m not.”

He stares back at you and you can tell that he doesn’t believe you. Not one bit. But if anything, you are stubborn, persistent even. You swing one arm toward him, thrusting one of your contact cards in his direction as an offering, a prayer that, even for just a little bit, he’ll indulge your delusions.

Tomoda looks conflicted, like he’s biting his tongue and his gaze flickers between the card and your face. Finally, it stops on your face. His eyebrows furrow together in what is clearly concern, “Listen, you don’t—”

He stops short when you throw up your other arm, presenting the rest of your contact cards to him. You mean to send a message in the gesture, though honestly, at this point it’s probably futile. Still, you have to try.

Tomoda’s eyes ease down to the three cards fanned out before him, but he makes no move to take any of them. Instead, he sighs, clearly sympathetic when he looks at you directly. You see yourself reflected in his eyes and you look more desperate than determined.

Once again, he opens his mouth to speak, but this time you beat him to the punch, and you plead, “Please.”

Tomoda doesn’t move.

“Please,” you insist.

He continues to hold your gaze before, eventually, his shoulders slump, a clear sign that he’s given into you. You smile wryly; this man is truly too kind for his own good. Hopefully, he lives a long, happy life, free from the curses that plague your day-to-day life.

“...it’s not going to work out.”

Gojo’s voice echoes in your head once more, almost mocking you, and your hands waver just a tiny bit. You didn’t need him to tell you because deep down you already knew. It’s still annoying, but you manage to keep the disdain off your face for Tomoda’s sake.

Besides, it doesn’t mean that you can’t be friends. You think that, at least, that much should be fine.

Having finally given into your demands, Tomoda starts to reach for your cards. Just as he’s about to grasp them, another hand, pale with long, slender fingers shoots out and swipes all three cards from your grasp. Your head whips up to look at the interloper and, of course, who else do you find but Satoru Gojo, his trademark grin plastered to his face.

“I’ll be taking these,” he announces casually, slipping your cards into his shirt pocket.

You gape wordlessly at him and he continues to smile at you like some sort of angelic devil. Then, as swiftly as he appeared, he turns on his heel and walks off into the crowd.

Slowly, you turn to look back at Tomoda, who turns to look at you. He seems as stunned as you feel, but you think he recovers first. The man gives you a gentle smile and you think that he truly deserves the world— a world you can’t and could never give him.

“You want to go after him, don’t you?” he asks. You can’t even begin to comprehend why, but he sounds almost amused. Is whatever’s going on between you and Gojo entertaining or something?

Scowling, you answer, “If only to beat his stupid handsome face in.”

This time you’re the one who’s made Tomoda laugh and it alleviates your annoyance just a bit. “Go on, then, I’ll be cheering for you.”

“It’s not like that,” you say automatically.

“If you say so.”

You sigh, ready to follow after that damn idiot, but before you do, you bow in Tomoda’s direction and tell him, earnestly, “I’m really sorry.”

He chuckles again and gestures for you to go. “Get going then, you don’t want to lose him.”

You feel like there’s some kind of double meaning in his words, but he’s right; if you linger too long you might not be able to catch up to Gojo. For good measure, you bow once more before taking your leave.

It’s lucky that Gojo is so damn tall— you spot him almost immediately, at the entrance to the ballroom. You trail after him, expertly weaving through everyone else in the room, but by the time you reach the ballroom doors he’s already gone.

Damn that man and his long legs.

“Excuse me.”

You turn to face whoever is speaking to you, actually hoping that it’s not a potential suitor. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, it’s one of the event staff.

“Yes?” you answer carefully, praying that they’re not about to reprimand you for the outburst you had earlier.

“If you’re looking for that handsome gentleman, he headed that way,” the staff member informs you, pointing down the hallway. At the other end you see a large sign indicating the hotel’s garden is in that direction. It’s a weird place for Gojo to go, but then again he’s just like that sometimes. Grateful, you bow to thank the event staffer before heading in the direction they indicated.

When you walk out into the garden, it feels almost as if you’ve been transported to another world entirely. The night air is cool on your face, and the loud chatter of the ballroom is completely gone, replaced with the gentle sound of running water. Maybe there’s some sort of fountain nearby. Looking around, you step further into the garden. You’re surrounded by a canopy of trees, their branches adorn with fairy lights that illuminate the area in a soft, warm glow. You remember reading that this hotel is a popular wedding venue and you wonder if this garden is where they hold the ceremonies. It would make sense, but it appears that no one is getting married here tonight.

There’s no sign of Gojo though.

The garden is pretty big, so you keep searching. As you walk, the sound of water grows louder and soon enough you find yourself at what has to be the center of the garden. Your entire body stills, your jaw nearly dropping as you take in the sight before you. The fountain you had speculated about turns out to be much, much larger than you thought. It’s really more like a stone pool than a fountain. It’s surrounded by decorative stone structures, which seem to be fountains themselves, feeding water into the pool. Finally, you take a step closer, and you notice the fountain is illuminated, giving the water a soft, ethereal glow. Running through the center of the pool, bisecting it, is a disjointed stone pathway, the steps spaced enough to reveal the water beneath, but close enough to prevent a bridal train or anyone paying attention to where they’re stepping from taking an unwanted dip.

At the end of the pathway is a small landing, a small, square island in the middle of the pool. The edges are decorated in flowers and decorative stone lanterns. It’s picturesque and you think that this must be where people exchange their vows and promises of everlasting love.

It’s here where you find Satoru Gojo.

His back is to you, and you could, if you wanted, turn back around and leave him here.

But you don’t.

You make your way toward him, carefully stepping onto the stone pathway as if you might slip or sink into the water beneath. When you’re sure of your footing you take a step forward, then another, and another. Just as you’re about to make it to the landing, Gojo turns around to face you. He smiles, and your entire body goes still at the sight. The look on his face is far softer, far sweeter than you’re used to. If you were crazy, you’d go so far as to say that it looks almost loving.

He takes a step toward you, and then another and another. With each step he takes, your heartbeat grows louder and more erratic, the sound of it filling your ears. Your eyes are fixed on Gojo as he approaches and you wonder if his infinity is up because it almost feels like the closer he gets the slower he goes.

But eventually, he does reach you.

Gojo looks down at you and you can see that amused sparkle in his eyes as he says, “Look who decided to join me tonight.”

The sound of his voice frees you from your daze and you glare at him. “Cut the crap, Gojo.”

His lips curve, forming an expression you’re more familiar with, one you’re used to wrangling. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb; it’s not cute,” you hiss, earning you the smallest pout from him. You ignore it. “Why’d you take my cards earlier?”

“I—” he begins, enunciating dramatically, “was saving you from a world of heartbreak.”

“Were you?” you ask, your voice less of a challenge than it was before.You can tell Gojo notices from the shift in his expression.

He doesn’t say anything about it though, and he continues, his voice dropping to something more somber, more serious. “It wouldn’t work out.”

You look into his eyes, staring at the endless sparkling blue sky within them and consider arguing with him, disagreeing with him because it’s like second nature to you.

But you decide not to.

Instead, you look away as you admit, “I know.”

Gojo doesn’t laugh or gloat and it makes you wonder if your confession surprises him. You don’t check though, and continue speaking, your voice low, “Tomoda's a nice guy. He deserves a happy, normal love and that's… not something I can promise him."

For as long as you are a jujutsu sorcerer, your life will always be in danger. Every mission carries not only the risk of death, but the chance that you won't even make it home in a body bag. The stress of that, the fear of it, isn't something you can carelessly give to someone else, especially not someone you’d want to spend the rest of your life with. You’d like to think it’d be different with another jujutsu sorcerer, someone who knows the reality of the world you’re part of, but even then you have your doubts.

"So," Gojo's voice is strangely quiet and you notice there's something, some emotion you don't recognize saturating his tone, "you into that guy?"

You sigh as you answer, honestly this time, "No. I'm not."

Gojo doesn't say anything in response— no wiseass quip, no pompous remark, nothing. You don't mind, but it's very odd for him to be silent.

Naturally, it doesn't last for long.

"You know," he drawls, his tone suddenly playful. "Even though I was obviously the hottest person in the room, you looked pretty good yourself."

It feels like all the air has been knocked out of you. The compliment, on its own, is strange because you can't even remember the last time Gojo complimented you, if he ever has, but more than that, where in the world did that come from? You know Gojo has a penchant for unpredictable behavior, but this is something else.

In your shock, you turn to face him, and you realize that the compliment was just the tip of the iceberg. He's leaning down, his gaze fixed on you, the blue glow of his eyes wiping the knowledge of how to breathe from your mind. His palm ghosts over your cheek, and though he's not touching you, you can still feel the warmth emanating off it. You are hyper aware of him coming closer, his face, his lips approaching yours.

No, no, no.

It has to be some illusion, some trick of the mind, because there's no way that Satoru Gojo actually wants to—

Bewildered, you take a step back and your foot manages to wedge itself in one of the gaps of the stone pathway. You wobble, thrown entirely off balance. Seconds later, you're falling sideways straight into the water.

Gojo stares down at you, actually looking shocked for once and you wish you had your phone out to take a picture. It doesn't take long for him to get over it and he starts to laugh uncontrollably.

You glare at him like a drenched cat and raise your hand to splash at him. Weirdly enough, he lets the water hit him, his infinity remaining inactive.

"Don't laugh!" you snap at him.

Of course, he keeps laughing.

You try to lift yourself out of the water, but the river stones beneath you are too slippery for you to get a good grip. If you reposition yourself you think you could do it, but if you do your clothes will be completely drenched and that's the last thing you want right now.

With an exasperated sigh, you ask, "Gojo, will you please help me?"

He snickers, "Wow. Didn't think you'd actually ask."

You glare at him.

"Okay, okay," he steps toward you and outstretches one of his hands for you to take. For once, you don't hesitate to take it and Gojo pulls you from the water with ease, but you think that maybe he uses a little too much force as you collide with the expanse of his chest.

This is too close! You try to take another step back, but Gojo is faster, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from moving.

"Careful," he warns and you think he's teasing you. Is it just you, or is his voice just a touch deeper than normal? Regardless, the sound manages to scramble your thoughts a little. "Or you'll end up taking another dip."

"...right," you mumble, trying to straighten your thoughts. "Thanks."

You think Gojo will let you go.

But he doesn't, and the two of you remain there, pressed close. You're sure the wetness of your clothes is spreading to his, slowly messing up that expensive suit of his. Gojo doesn't seem to care though, but maybe that's because it's just water.

"...you could do it, if you wanted," Gojo's voice is barely audible.

"Huh?"

When he speaks again, it's louder this time, "Give someone a normal, happy love. It's not like you're completely broken or anything like that."

You blink, confused. What is he talking about? Then it clicks and you explain, "That's not it."

Now it seems like Gojo’s confused for once. "Huh?"

"I meant… he’s a non-sorcerer, so…" you trail off, not wanting to explain. Gojo should be able to catch your drift.

He does. “Right, right. It’d suck for your non-sorcerer boyfriend if you were to just suddenly die a terrible and horrific death, huh.”

A little too well. “I think it’d suck for my sorcerer boyfriend too, if I had one.”

“That’s probably true, but if your boyfriend was a sorcerer, then maybe you’d die cruel and unusual deaths together. That’s romantic, isn’t it?”

“Actually, I think it’s kind of morbid.”

You think you feel Gojo’s arms shift, as if his grip is tightening ever so slightly around you. But then he starts to laugh and you figure it must have just been your imagination. You don’t really get why he’s laughing, though.

"What's so funny?" You ask when his laughter finally dies down.

"Nothing!"

You sigh. Should have known better than to think he’d give you a straight answer.

Gojo finally steps away from you, taking the warmth of his body with him and you dismally realize that you rather enjoyed him being so close. Desperately, you try to tell yourself that it’s because with him gone you’re remembering how cold and wet your clothes are right now and not for any other reason.

It's going to suck going all the way home like this.

You hear the sound of rustling cloth and as you look up you catch Gojo draping his giant blazer over your shoulders. It's warm and before you realize what you're doing you're tugging it closer around you, the scent of Gojo's cologne filling your nostrils. It’s nice you think, definitely expensive, but nice.

He stares at you, the expression on his face the strangest one yet.

"What?" you ask.

Gojo merely shakes his head again and it's obvious he plans to keep this to himself too. "Come on, let's go. Can't have you catching a cold now, hm?"

He grabs you by the wrist and starts to pull you toward the garden exit. And, maybe you're imagining it, but you think you might see the palest shade pink dusting the tips of his ears.

extra scene can be found here. :3c

#satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #nikuniku fics #i have a lot to say about this fic but i will do so elsewhere #infinite loop!verse

628 notes · View notes

whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year

Text

Pairing : Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : fighting ; Minho being a jerk ; angst ; fluffy at the end ; established relationship Word Count : 3.8k Request : i would like to know if you could please write something super angsty but with a fluff ending with him, could be a fight or maybe some bad things said in the heat of the moment, idk you choose, whatever you feel comfortable with. A/N : This took so long to get around to and I'm so sorry, but I finally finished it and I hope that you love it! It was a nice little change from what I've been working on right now. Thank you for loving my writing and supporting me, and I don't know if you remember saying it when you requested but you said you love me forever and always and the feeling is 100% mutual anon!!! Thank you so much!!

Things with Minho weren’t always perfect, no relationship ever was, but you liked to think that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the usual hurdles that most couples went through. For the most part, speed bumps would be smoothed over in a matter of minutes and arguments were more like the flame of a birthday candle, blown out within seconds of lighting it. You both loved each other, and that feeling was strong enough to get the both of you through even the toughest of days. You weren’t sure what was different about this time around, maybe it was the timing, or maybe it was just the fact that you both had gone through this kind of thing so many times that there was no more going around it. You both had to face it head on, and that was something that you never expected to do.

“Where are you going?” You asked when you saw him heading to the door with a suitcase. Nothing had happened, not yet at least, and the sight in front of you had your stomach sinking. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?” He had never given you a reason to feel like you had to walk on eggshells, but seeing him this way, like he was about to walk out on you, had you beyond nervous, beyond terrified.

“I’m not going anywhere, kitten.” He cooed, placing the bag down next to the door before walking over to you, his hands moving to your hips to hold you steady as he looked you in the eye. “We’re gonna be filming a new music video further out in the country and it’s gonna take a couple days. I’ll be staying at a hotel so I don’t have to keep driving back and forth every day. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before backing up, but his words and the sentiment behind the action weren’t as reassuring as you wanted them to be.

“Well… Why didn’t you tell me about it? I never heard about a new music video…” You said, the words coming out rather sharply, although you didn’t intend them to. “I mean… What if I didn’t catch you leaving? I’d just wake up and you’d be gone. Do you not care about how that would have made me feel?!”

He rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair as he glared at you, his eyes ice cold and sending a shiver down your spine. “Sometimes I forget to tell you things, my life is kind of busy Y/N. Sue me for it. My life doesn’t exactly revolve around you.” He snapped back, and you knew that he could be kind of harsh with his words, but you didn’t know the extent of it until now, and those words had never been targeted towards you until this moment. “You’re so far up my ass anyway, I thought you would have known about the music video already considering you’re always right fucking there.”

You swallowed thickly, a nervous chill running through you from being yelled at by the one person in your life that had never raised their voice at you at all before. You weren’t used to it, and you already felt the tears pricking your eyes as you stared at him. “I’m sorry that my way of loving you isn’t good enough, or if it’s a little too much for you. You should have let me know so that I didn’t get so attached.” You retorted, albeit far more quietly, your held back tears causing the words to come out sounding more choked off than anything.

“Yeah, maybe I should have. And maybe I didn’t tell you about my little trip because I didn’t want you to tag along. I need my own space.” He said, and you felt your stomach tighten up, your throat closing in, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep yourself from crying. If you continued with the argument you’d only break down, so you stayed silent, waiting to see if he had any more left to say. You were like his verbal punching bag, and maybe he was just really stressed out right now, but he was taking it all out on you, and everything that he was saying sounded like his genuine feelings. “I’ve wasted enough time on you… I need to go.” Was the last thing he said before walking out, not a goodbye uttered by either of you, just the tension filled silence that grew and filled the space between the both of you until he walked out the front door.

It was strange, how your mind was filled with so much, yet you couldn’t think of anything at all. You just stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the door that he had walked out of you don’t know how long ago now. Time seemed to stand still, everything was frozen, not even the sound of birds tweeting outside could be heard. It was like your entire world had stopped, and that’s when you realized that maybe he was right, what he had said wasn’t just nonsense said in a moment of anger or annoyance. It was the truth, it was the wake up call that you needed.

You were attached to him, far too attached and it wasn’t healthy, not in the slightest. Your world shouldn’t feel like it was crumbling just because of one argument, but it did, and the walls were caving in and the floor was sinking beneath your feet and you felt like you were going to be swallowed into the nothingness that would be your life without him. You had to do the both of you a favor, you had to get out of there, you had to give him the space that he very clearly needed, a space that you didn’t know you needed as well.

With your number dialed on his phone, his thumb hovered over the call button. You’d pick up, he knew that you would, but he was scared of what you’d say to him. He knew what he’d say to himself if he had been on the receiving end of his own words this morning. You had simply asked where he was going, and there was nothing wrong with that, he knew that. He would have felt the same sense of fear that you clearly felt if the roles were reversed. He was stressed, but that was no excuse for treating you that way, for acting the way he did.

“Guys… can you… can you be quiet for a moment?” He called out to the rest of his members that were foolishly goofing off behind him, not a care in the world, and while their voices softened just a bit, their antics continued. He’d never be able to talk to you, not like this, at least he wouldn’t be able to be relaxed during the conversation. He needed to apologize to you, and while a face to face apology would be better, a phone call was all that he was able to give you right now, and for that, he felt even worse.

His thumb pressed against the green button and he quickly brought the phone up to his ear, awaiting and expecting to hear your voice after the first ring. But the first ring came and went, leading into the second, and then the third, and it was so rare for such a thing to happen that he assumed he had just dialed the wrong number.

Now, something like that wasn’t likely to happen, not with him. Your number had been etched into his mind since the day he had gotten it from you, the dialing of the digits a muscle memory now. He had to find a reason for the lack of an answer though, and the only reason he could come up with was that maybe his finger had slipped, it had slipped just enough to press a wrong number, and that’s why your voice hadn’t come through his speaker to reassure him and calm his nerves.

He pressed out the numbers once more, slowly this time, focusing on his screen and reading back the digits at the top once they were all there just to make sure he was right this time around. “Come on…” He mumbled to himself as he heard the first ring sound out, fading off into silence just to be followed by the second ring. This never happened, you never ignored him, you always had your phone close enough to you to hear the special ringtone that you had given to just him. This had to mean that something was wrong, something happened, and his own stomach sank at the possibility, all of the things that could have happened. “I have to go guys.” He said, his words short as he walked right past them, not even bothering to give them an explanation as they all tried to follow behind him. He didn’t have time for explanations right now, but once he was sure that you were okay he’d tell them what had happened. You were his top priority right now, you were top priority always, no matter where he was or what he was doing, you were always number 1 in his mind.

His phone sat in the center console of the car as he started the drive back home, his eyes glancing down at it every couple seconds just to check if you were calling him back or if you had texted him to let him know that you had just been busy in the shower or something. Anything, he would have taken anything over the silence that he was receiving right now, and the longer it lasted the more worried he got. The little argument that the two of you had earlier that morning seemed like nothing to him, it didn’t even cross his mind that you’d be upset about it because he just assumed that you would know that he meant none of the words that came out of his mouth. There was just so much going on, the words were meaningless, and at the end of the day, he absolutely adored you, he loves you, you knew that.

The set for the music video was 2 hours away, and that was if there was no traffic at all, but of course, he had the luck of running into rush hour, and he had been stopped at every single red light, turning what would have been a 2 hour car ride into almost 4 hours and in that duration of time he had heard nothing from you, he hadn’t heard from you at all and by the time he pulled up to the apartment he was on the verge of having a full fledged panic attack.

His keys were almost left in the ignition of the car in his rush to get inside, and the only reason he remembered to grab them was because he needed to unlock the front door to get to you. No matter how fast he tried to move, it felt like his feet wouldn’t carry him any faster than the speed of a snail, and maybe it was some kind of internal hesitation, a fear that what would be on the other side of the door once he opened it, or better you, what might not be there.

“Y/N!” He called out your name, practically screaming it as he pushed the door open, the sound of the doorknob slamming against the wall breaking the silence of the shared home. As he looked around, everything seemed far too still, as if nothing had been touched, no one had moved inside these four walls for hours, and his breaths became faster as he stepped further into the apartment. It was quiet, too quiet, and he could only describe what he felt right now as being at the top of a 20 story building and standing on the edge looking straight down.

It was like he was frozen in the center of the room now, trying to find any sign of life, any sign of you being there, and he thought, maybe if he looked around enough, maybe if he did a couple double takes something would come up, but all he was met with was nothing. There was no heat that clung to the LCD screen of the television after having been on for a little bit too long. There was no scent of laundry detergent in the air that would alert him that you had clothes going. The hum of the dishwasher wasn’t heard as it usually would be when he came home, and there was no sound of water running through pipes that would indicate you were in the shower. Everything about the house right now felt empty.

Why did an empty house feel so claustrophobic? The walls were closing in on him, he couldn’t breathe and all he wanted was to push them back, and the only thing that would allow him to take a deep breath was finally seeing you. Where were you? If you had only gone out for groceries, the house wouldn’t feel like this. There was some sort of resting stillness, a sense of finality in the emptiness, it felt like it would be like this forever, and he didn’t understand why.

He hadn’t stepped any further into the home, dread filling every bone and taking over every fiber of his being at the mere thought of taking another step. Was it a good thing that he hadn’t? The doorknob jiggled and the sound of keys rattling on the other side had his head whipping around to see you walking in. “Minho…” You whispered his name, freezing in the doorframe. Your arms and your hands were empty, you hadn’t gone grocery shopping… So where have you been? “I didn’t think you’d be here. I’m sorry…” Why were you apologizing? “I just forgot a few things… I’ll be out soon.” Your tone was hushed as you made a move to step past him, but his arm instinctively reached out to grab you, to feel your skin against the palm of his hands, to stop you from walking away from him.

“What do you mean you’ll be out soon? Where are you going?” His tone was hushed as he looked at you, but you didn’t even meet his eyes, staring down at the floor as if you didn’t want to see him. “You didn’t answer your phone, you didn’t text me… What’s going on? Is something wrong, did something happen?” There was a soft sound that came through your lips, and it sounded like a scoff, but he couldn’t be quite sure. You were acting so distant, it scared him, you had never been like this before.

“I was just trying to give you what you needed…” You mumbled, and he could hear it in your voice, in your tone, in every syllable of every word that he couldn’t seem to understand the meaning of. You had been crying, you were devastated, and the only thing that he could manage to get out of the vague sentence was that it had been his fault.

You tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t want to let you go, he couldn’t, not until he knew that things were okay. If he let go now, he was scared that you’d walk away from him, walk out on him, and he knew that his heart wouldn’t be able to handle that. “What do you mean…? I need you. I don’t know where this is coming from, love… I just… I know that we had that little spat this morning but… It was nothing.”

At his words, your eyes finally lifted from the floor, the whites of them reddened and the skin underneath puffy and raw. “It was… nothing?” You repeated his words questioningly, and although you weren’t looking directly at him, he could see your eyes waver as you looked around the room. “Was it nothing because… you didn’t get hurt? Because you got to walk out after completely breaking me down and making me feel like shit? You make me feel like my love isn’t good enough, or that it’s way too much… And then you get to just come back in here and say that it was nothing?”

Clearly what he had thought to be a little spat had been so much more to you, and while the both of you usually didn’t like to dwell on arguments, this one had stuck with you, it had bothered you enough to the point that you were seemingly on the verge of walking out, of leaving him. “I-...” Where was he going to go with that sentence? He didn’t even know, but he was so scared, so so scared that you’d try to pull away again, that it would be the last time you’d ever pull away from him. “I was stressed… I didn’t mean any of that, you know I didn’t… You don’t really think that I think of you like that, do you?”

But surely you did… Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be acting this way… You wouldn’t be so upset… “You’re the only one who gets stressed… Sure, we’ll go with that.” You mumbled, letting your arm drop limply, aware now that he wasn’t going to let go of you, not that easily at least. “You said you wanted space, and that’s what I’m giving you. If you’re so stressed… If that’s what made you say that, then I don’t want to be around you anyway.”

What was he supposed to even say now? You were using his words against him, words that he had tried all morning to forget that he had said, but you didn’t forget, you never did. His eyes squeezed shut as if the answers to his question would appear on the insides of his eyelids, but all he saw was darkness, which was exactly what his life would be without you in it if he didn’t fix things. “I’m not… I don’t want space. I want you here with me, I want you to cling to me, I need it.” He was breathless, his breaths coming heavily as if he had just ran a marathon, and he was surely sweating as though he had as well. There was nothing more stressful than what he was going through right now.

“Why? So you can go right back out the door again and leave me here feeling more confused than I was this morning?” You shook your head, but he mirrored the action only double the speed as his eyes went wide, pulling you closer to him until your chest was pressed against his, and his forehead resting against yours. “Minho…” You gasped out his name in one short breath, all others that were supposed to follow were held in your lungs.

“If I walk out that door again… I don’t want to do it alone. I want you right beside me, love.” He quickly spoke, feeling as though time were slipping from his hands the longer he made you wait, he needed to speak fast, he needed to get all of his feelings out so that you knew he was being serious. “I want you to come with me to the shoot, I want you to be there to watch us film, I want to feel your eyes on me the entire time.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, your eyes staring down at the faded pattern of his t-shirt that had been through the wash way too many times. “What if I don’t want to…? What if I need space?” You quizzed and his heart felt constricted, his breaths sharper now as he thought and assumed a deeper meaning to your words. Why would you say that? Did you just want space so that he could come back home and you not be there? What was the reason behind it?

“No.” He said flatly, causing your head to pull back so you could look up at him with narrowed eyes. He didn’t mean to sound so short with you, but it was the only word he could think to say when everything felt like it was being stacked against him. “Please… I’m sorry…” He wasn’t the type of person that wore his heart on his sleeve, not at all, and his emotions were usually bottled up quite well, but right now it felt like the bottle had been shaken and it was bubbling over, making a mess of the table and the floors. “If you… If you need space, fine… But come with me. You can have space… I just don’t want to leave you, I don��t want to be away from you. Please…”

Begging definitely wasn’t his thing, but he’d be damned if he lost you because his pride was too high. He was willing to do anything to make things right, especially since it had been his words that had messed things up in the first place. He had made the mess and it was his job to clean it up. “You’re so confusing, Minho…” You sighed, letting your head drop back down against his chest as his hand came up to pet through your hair.

“I know, I’m gonna work on that, I promise.” His chest vibrated, but what you assumed to be laughter that you weakly chuckled along with were the stuttered breaths that he had been holding for so long it felt like his lungs would burst. “I love you, and I need you, I’ll always feel that way. If I ever say anything stupid like that again just… call me an idiot and throw a pillow at me or something. I don’t ever want you to feel like your love is too much… I need it. I’ll die without it.”

You scoffed as you lightly pushed him back, crinkling your nose at him. “You’re so dramatic. You’ve been hanging with Hyunjin a little too much, haven’t you?” You teased, but he couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed with the comment, he was just happy to see you playing around, to see your smile again, to know that you weren’t going to leave him.

The two of you belonged together, he felt it in his bones, in his heart and in his soul. There was no one else in this world that he’d rather be with, and if it wasn’t you, he wouldn’t settle for anyone else. He needed you, that much was the honest truth, and while he wouldn’t actually die without you, he’d be much better off that way if he didn’t have you. You were his, and sure, you were attached to him, but he was attached to you, and that’s simply because he wouldn’t be himself without you, and you wouldn’t be you without him. You were each others better halves, and that’s how it always was, how it always will be.

1K notes · View notes

dream-a-little-bigger-x · 2 months

Text

Floored Decisions | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Author's note: Yeah, I'm back, bitch! Just for one short little fic, though. So, I hope this scratches your Spencer itch.

Words: 1,293

It had been a long and exhausting day. My boss was being the worst, my mailbox had absolutely exploded and customers were just being bitter. I was glad to walk through the doors of my apartment that I shared with my boyfriend, Spencer.

The apartment was dark and cold. It saddened me to see that I had come home to an empty place, having hoped that Spencer had come back from his job before I had. I craved his embrace, his honey eyes shimmering with excitement when he told me about his day. He had been gone for five days straight, and I had missed him for every second that had passed without him.

I kicked off my shoes, turned on the cozy lights and turned on the heat before heading into the bedroom where I changed into sweatpants and a sweater that still smelled like him. Then, I turned on the music and made a beeline towards the kitchen where I poured myself a generous glass of rosé and started on tonight’s dinner.

“There’s a fire starting in my heartReaching a fever pitch and it’s bringing me out the dark,” I sang along to the song playing from my iPod in the stereo’s dock.

It took a few moments before I could put the dish in the oven, but then I had a good twenty minutes time for the cheese to melt. I cleaned up the mess I had made and then laid down on the cool tile in the kitchen. It was something Spencer and I often did. After tough cases or whenever we needed a moment to reconnect, we laid down on our backs and chatted until we felt okay.

Our best decisions were made on this very floor.

He had asked me to move in on this very floor.

“You tired?” I asked him, lying on my side to face him.

My index finger stroked from his forehead to the bridge of his nose as he hummed, keeping his eyes closed. “It was a pretty harrowing case,” he said before opening one eye to look at me. The teeniest, sweetest smile curled his lips upwards.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer grabbed my wrist and kissed the palm of my hand. “The victims all kind of looked like you,” he whispered and placed my hand on his own cheek, needing to feel my skin on his, needing to feel close. “It kinda scared me to think of losing you.”

Rubbing his cheek with my thumb, I leaned down to kiss his lips briefly. “You could never lose me,” I whispered. “Because you always protect me.”

Spencer smiled before kissing me again. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do,” I replied, then kissed him again. “But I love hearing you say it.” Another kiss. “I love you, too.” I then retracted from him and started to get up. “I better get going, let you get to sleep.”

Spencer followed my example as I put my used wine glass in the sink. When I turned back around, he was behind me and locked me against the sink. His hands were on either side of me, leaning against the kitchen unit.

“Please, stay,” he whispered and kissed my lips, then kissed my neck.

I let out a giggle, tangling my fingers in his hair before grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bedroom, but he stopped me near where we had been lying before. Without saying a word, he laid down again, pulling me with him.

As he laid on his back, I placed my head on his chest. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close to his body and kissing my head repeatedly. “Can we stay like this forever?” I asked, snuggling further into his chest.

Spencer was silent for a moment before saying, “We can – and we should.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Move in with me.”

As Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” blasted through the speakers and I sang along quietly, Spencer’s tall frame suddenly came into vision. I probably hadn’t heard the key in the door over the music, yet I didn’t jump when he was suddenly in front of me.

“You doing okay there, Angel?” he asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

I hummed and watched as he kicked off his shoes, put his satchel on the dining room table and loosened his tie before he joined me on the floor. With a grin, I turned my head towards him and pecked his lips.

“I’ve missed you,” I told him.

Spencer smiled back and placed his hand on my cheek, rubbing his thumb across the apple. “I’ve missed you, too.”

From the way he turned to face the ceiling again and the deep sigh that followed, I knew he’d had a terrible five days. Being in his line of work, I supposed he never really had a ‘good day’ at work.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I questioned without turning my head.

“No,” he answered, his voice just above a whisper.

I reached for his hand and laced my fingers through his. “Do you want to talk about something else?” He simply hummed his response. “Okay, how about you told your coworkers you wanted to get married without consulting me about it?”

It was true. Penelope had sent me a few wedding dress stores in the neighborhood without any context. When I asked what she was doing, she had told me how Spencer had been talking about marriage to his coworkers, something we had only talked about once, ages ago.

Spencer chuckled. “I’m sorry, Angel –” he whispered, though from the way his eyes sparkled, I could tell he wasn’t really sorry. “We had been talking about marriages and divorce rates and when Morgan asked me if I wanted to get married, I told him that I did. I-I didn’t mean I wanted to get married, like soon, I-I meant I–”

Kissing him on the lips, I shut him up swiftly. “Maybe we should,” I told him.

“What?”

“I wanna marry you, too, Spence,” I stated and stroked back the dark blonde curl out of his face. “When Penny sent me those wedding dress stores, I-I started browsing and I just…” I sighed before continuing, just above a whisper as though I was sharing a secret. “I saw it, Spence. I saw me in one of those dresses, and I saw you, handsome as always, in a tux, at the altar. I saw it… I saw the rest of our lives together.”

A single tear rolled off Spencer’s cheek as he smiled. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Angel?”

A nervous buzz rushed through my body. For a split second, I was scared of answering his question, but then I saw the look in his honey eyes and I knew. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this man, loving him and being loved by him.

“Yes,” I replied. “Yes, it is. Will you marry me, Dr. Spencer Reid?”

He smiled before rolling onto his side and locking his lips with mine, kissing me deeply. “Yes… A thousand times yes!” He pecked my lips again and again, his stubble tickling my skin, causing a fit of giggles to erupt out of me.

Many decisions had been made on the floor of our apartment. It was my favorite place to be, grounded and close to my favorite person in the entire world. Moving in together, deciding to get married, and even a few months later, I was elated to tell him he was going to be a dad.

There was no better place for important decisions than the hardwood floor.

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist:

@kenseverything @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess @sylvcaplath @tillypettitt @mordechaisworld @ssameadows @spikedhe4rt @spencers-bookworm @littlemissaddict @kirbybean

#Spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader

272 notes · View notes

honkytonk-hangman · 8 months

Text

Big Girl

Jake Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin doesn't believe you should hide your light under a bushel, no.

Notes: Just a lil drabble i've been working on. I just think Jake would be the kinda guy who loves his girl to be big and loud and successful!!!!!!! ty to @roleycoleyland for being my rock the past few months holy gosh this one's for you bbyyy!!!! <3

Masterlist

“It’s a deployment, Samuel! It’s not like I have a choice!” you hiss, before closing your eyes and trying to get a hold of yourself. Afterall, it's not as though you and your boyfriend were in the comfort of your apartment. No, he’d decided to start this argument in the parking lot of the damn Hard Deck.

“Having a choice has nothing to do with it. You want to go, that's the real issue here!” Sam all but spits at you. You reel back, and throw your hands up in exasperation.

“So what if I do?! This is a big deal for me! This is a big deal for my career! I should be allowed to be excited about that!” you insist. Sam rolls his eyes at you and scoffs.

“Oh, there you go again! It’s always got to be about you and your big career, right?! Can’t let anything come before that!”

“That isn’t fair,” you lower your voice, and try to keep it from wobbling. “I have tried so hard to make sure you know you’re equally as important to me, but that was never going to work, was it?” Your voice does break a little this time, and you suck in air as you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back from him.

“You have decided from day one that you feel inferior, and you are never going to let me forget it! I have done everything to show you otherwise but you won’t let it be enough! You don’t want to change, you want me to change.” you probably shouldn’t let all of this air out in the parking lot of your favourite local bar, but you can’t stop yourself now, and the words tumble from your mouth faster than you can think things through. “I have tried to put myself in the box that makes you comfortable, but the truth is that I’m too big for it, I'm never going to stop being too big, so I’m never going to fit your stupid box!”

The two of your stare at one another for a few moments, you huffing tearily, and Sam staring at you in what looks like disgust. At last he scoffs again, and looks away from you, off toward the beach before he pulls out his car keys.

“Good luck with your big career.” he says mirthlessly, and you shut your mouth, swallowing hard as he climbs back in his car, giving you only seconds to step out of the way before he’s throwing it in reverse.

Suddenly you’re standing alone in the parking lot, blinking at the space where your probably-now-ex boyfriend just was. You don’t feel regret, exactly, but you do feel a deep sense of disappointment pulse through you. It’s not like you didn't mean everything you said, but you wonder if perhaps you might’ve said it differently.

Before you can get too far feeling sad though, a righteous kind of anger takes you over and you kick into action, stomping inside the bar and pushing through the busy crowd. When you order a straight bourbon, Penny frowns at you, and you know your eyes must be all red and glassy, but she doesn’t ask you, simply gives you her kindest smile and slides your glass towards you.

You down it quickly, and take a few deep breaths, hoping the alcohol might steel you some more, but it frustrates you to find your tears have started leaking, and you angrily wipe at them with the back of your hand.

“I don’t mean to pry…” a voice, somewhat familiar, sounds from next to you, making you turn. You’re slightly startled to find one of the pilots you’ve seen around base leaning casually against the bar. You know him to be a TOPGUN graduate, like yourself, but you’d never spoken before, let alone shared the sky. Hangman, you remember suddenly, and square your shoulders somewhat. It was coming back to you now. He had a bit of a reputation.

“I happened to arrive at the same time as you… couldn’t help but overhear all the commotion,” he speaks like he finds it all rather funny, but straightens up and clears his throat when you can’t help but look away from him, struggling to blink back tears. Dropping all pretence, he stops leaning and steps in a little closer with a frown on his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryna’...” he trails off once more and you suck in a deep breath as you try to calm down.

Embarrassment lances through you, and you mostly just wish Hangman will leave you alone completely, but he doesn’t. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shuffle on his feet in a manner you hadn’t been able to imagine him doing before now, and you try to get ahold of yourself.

Hangman seems to watch you for a beat before his demeanour changes up and he ducks his head down to catch your attention.

“For the record, if you hadn’t of said any of that, I might’ve,” His voice is somewhat humorous again, but this time it’s like he’s trying to make you laugh, which, caught off guard by his words, you do. You sneak a glance over at him, not feeling so intimidated anymore, and you almost laugh again to see him look so proud.

You watch as Hangman flags down Penny once more, ordering you another round and a beer as you use a napkin to blot at your face discreetly. When he looks back at you, his expression is much more intent than you’re fully comfortable with.

“Don’t you ever let some guy put you in a box, alright?” he tells you like it’s an order. It takes you a moment, but eventually you find yourself nodding at his words, not bothering to hide your surprise. The little you knew of this man was that he was prickly at most, and a complete asshole at worst, so his almost angry words in your defence take you off guard.

He stares at you until he seems satisfied you’ve heard him, and then his shoulders sag just a little and his expression softens.

“Find someone who’ll love that bigness, alright?” he says after a moment, before clearing his voice and straightening up once again as your drinks are delivered. Your cheeks want to warm in embarrassment at his referencing your little speech outside, but then he’s taking his beer with a thanks to Penny, and gesturing blindly toward you.

“Put her drinks on my tab tonight, alright?”

He doesn’t give you time to protest before he’s pushed away from the bar and disappeared into the bustling crowd of patrons.

The next time you see Hangman, his sudden appearance is just as unexpected as the first time, and just as welcome. You’re in a bar again, of course, only this time halfway around the world and thankfully, not crying. Your squad had a limited amount of shoreleave, so you were making the most of it while you could, before you needed to be back on base in the morning.

You hear a loud cheer from somewhere by the pool tables and glance over your shoulder toward where most of the Navy personnel had gathered, but you can’t see much aside from a few new faces. You assume they must be the other squad that Roukie had mentioned were passing through, but you’re quickly distracted again by the bartender coming your way.

Just as your server begins moving away to sort out your rather large order, you feel a hand at your back, quickly followed by the materialisation of a uniformed man beside you, his massive grin and sparkling green eyes flashing as a welcomed sight to your slightly hazy mind, and you let out a gentle sound of excitement as you turn to greet him properly.

“Hangman!” you exclaim, feeling only a little funny about being so happy to see him when you don’t even know him that well. Hangman thinks little of it, his smile turning brighter, more genuine as he eases into a lean against the bar, mirroring the last time you saw him, all cool and casual confidence as he nods towards you.

“How’s my Big Girl?” he asks, eyes crinkling in the corners. You can’t help but let out a laugh, but force yourself to look away from him for a second and pray to any god listening that he can’t tell how flustered you are.

“I think this is the first time in history a man has said that to a grown woman and isn’t going to get gut punched for it.” you deflect from the barrel rolls your stomach is doing. He chortles, and settles in even closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Well?” he prods, still staring at you even as the bartender returns, and you go to pay for your round, only to have Hangman push your outstretched hand away and hand over his own card instead. “Come on now, don’t keep me waitin’,” he says with playful sternness, and your already two-drinks deep mind can’t help but give in, and you begin gushing about your deployment so far, a few of the assignments you’d gotten to do, and some of the achievements you’d earned. Hangman stays staring at you through it all even as you gesticulate wildly as you speak or describe manoeuvres, and you’re so invested in your story telling that you barely register how or when you’d both moved back over to the surrounds of the pool table, where you assume Hangman had circulated the round you’d (he’d) bought all the while still listening to you talk.

You must be four or five drinks down when you at last come to a stop, giggling a small amount at the tail end of your last story. The sun has well and truly set now and you’re crammed in one side of a sticky pleather booth, Hangman on the other. You realise then, that you must have been talking for over an hour, probably much more.

“I’m sorry, that was so much!” you say, bashfully ducking your head a little. Hangman cocks his head at you, a wry smile pulling at his lips as he watches you fiddle with your drinks coaster.

“I know what I asked for.” he tells you with an assuredness you can’t question, and even as you glance away from him to catch yourself, his attention remains on you. You have to blame your four or five, maybe six drinks for the next words out of your mouth.

“You know, I don’t think you’re an asshole at all,” you declare, face growing hot when Hangman lets out a surprised, but amused bark of laughter, but doesn’t question your statement.

“Oh, is that right?” he asks instead, leaning forward like he’s very much intrigued by this assertion. “What am I then?”

You think he’s teasing you, but again, you can’t really help what comes out of you, and you draw your arm up onto the table to rest your head in your palm, and blink back at him slowly.

“Pretty, for the most part.” you tell him, trying to suppress a sudden yawn. Hangman's laugh is less boisterous this time, more of a chuckle really, and you find that your blinking has slowed even more, longer pauses between closing your eyes and opening them.

When you startle back awake some seconds later, you think you might’ve just fallen asleep, but you see that Hangman is watching you softly again, and you can’t help but smile as your eyes flitter shut once again. Warm hands guide you to your feet moments, maybe hours later, but when you pull back at the grasping, a soft shushing joined by a gentle voice lulls you back into sleep.

“Alright, Big Girl lets get you home.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction

768 notes · View notes

hexgaywire · 9 months

Text

Request fill for this ask

I simply couldn't just ignore this I eat this stuff up man

Shout out to @mystaposts for Ike's setting idea bc I genuinely got stuck, they are the best!

»»————-　☾　————-««

Luxiem Boys "S/o getting hit on while being clearly taken"

Ft. Vox, Luca, Shu, Ike, and Mysta

Rating: SFWish, Suggestive

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of pda, mentions of marking, violence (with a happy ending), mentions of weapons, being in uncomfortable situations, general possessiveness

»»————-　☾　————-««

Your out at a fairly nice club with Vox for date night. Normally he'd splurge for a vip booth for the two of you but tonight you really just wanted to dance your heart out. Leaving vox at the bar, a few fruity cocktails in you head to your target. The dj was playing all the right stuff and you sway your body to the music. You turn to vox flashing him the biggest smile from across the dancefloor and you can tell he's enjoying himself as well.

You dance by yourself for a bit eventually doing what drunk people do best making friends with the drunk girl group dancing next to you and you all dance together. Then the next trun of events happen that typically happen whena lone group is minding there own business. A group of guy's approach trying to dance up on y'all. You visible tense for a moment. Scooting away from the taller figure, who wasn't your partner, trying to grab your waist.

You flash another look, this time a more desperate one, to Vox at the bar who is seething. You can tell by his posture and the way his eyes darken, locked in on the stranger dancing on you. You lean in as a courtesy to warn the stranger for what's about to come. You shout over the loud music. "Hey man, my boyfriend is over the bar glaring at you right now. I'm gunna be honest I'm just here to dance so if you'd kindl-" the asshole cuts you off. "Honestly a pretty thing like you should be alone on the dance floor. He whisper shouts in your ear in the least sexy way possible.

You sigh and look over your shoulder to Vox again who is already making his way toward you. You can feel the anger radiating off him and into the crowd. He reaches you and possessively wraps his arms around you. "Hey babe." He smiles and looks up at the jerk with a shit eating grin on his face. "I was just talking about you." You smile as he places kisses all over the top of your head, while you back is pressed against his front swaying with you to the music.

The guy from earlier audible scoffs and walks away at the pda happening in front of him. "Easy enough, I was 2 seconds away from punching him square in the jaw I swear." Vox mumbles in your ear, sending shivers down your spin. "I've seen you possessive before, but this is a whole new level Vox." You smile. "I'm sorry... I just couldn't watch some guy grind up on you while I just fucking sat there." He mumbles pulling you to face him.

He places a possessive kiss on your lips trailing down to your neck. You bit back a moan as he sinks his teeth into your neck leaving a nice bruise for you to admire later. He pulls away to inspect his handy work. "There now you're marked as mine." He smiles triumphantly. " Always have been always will be." You smile back.

»»————-　☾　————-««

You were getting some shopping done downtown. Luca was working but texted you letting you know he'd pick you up. I was getting later and the street lights had just turned on. It was the weekend so the sidewalk was decently filled with people either meeting up with friends, doing some shopping, coming home from work. You name it, it was probably happening. You didn't mind the crowd though, it was kind of fun to people watch.

You get a text from Luca saying he was about 5 minutes out, just trying desperately to find some parking. You make a mental note to thank him later generously for picking you up at such a busy time. "Hey." You head whips up from your phone to be met with a group of well... thuggish looking men. "H.. hello?" You say back confused. "What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" "I-" "You should come drink with us!" The men surround you. You panic slightly glancing at the brutish looking men all around you." I'm actually waiting for someone! " You yelp." Great, your friends are our friends now. " One of them smirks.

"I'm actually not so friendly." A familiar voice rings out pushing past the ring of men. "Nor ' just a friend', thank you." Luca, your savior, plants a kiss on your forehead. This throws the group of men into a frenzy. One of them gets upset by this and throws a haphazard punch at your mafia boss boyfriend who easily doges it and plants one on just as rough right in the man's face. "I suggest you scram, fucking with me or them isn't a smart idea." Luca spits out.

The men scatter and you're left with Luca who is now dottingly inspecting you to make sure you're unharmed. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner. Are you okay? They didn't touch you did they? If they did so help me god I will-" "Luca! I'm fine you got here just in time." You smile at him and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I have to give you a handgun to carry in your bag." He muses. "LUCA! You're too overprotective, you taught me how to throw a punch or two if needed." You place a kiss on his check. "I'm okay, I promise." He smiles down at you. "Well, when we get home I promise I'll make it to you."

»»————-　☾　————-««

Shu left to go buy movie tickets. You've been wanting to see this movie for a while and you finally convinced Shu to come with you. You went to go buy snacks but finished before he was done. So you waited. A group of boys, probably no older than high school age exit a theater. They stand around talking about what they just watched and you laugh lightly recalling the days you went to the theater with a group of your friends.

One of the boys takes notice of you and suddenly you have a bunch of eyes on you. You pull out your phone to try to blend back into the background but you can tell they're still staring. Husher whispers and murmurs come from the gaggle of boys one of them is pushed forward and begins approaching you.

"hello, sorry if this is... Awkward? I noticed your really pretty and." He pulls out a slip of paper he was hiding behind his back. "I wanted to give you my number... Maybe we can see a movie sometime?" He smiles. You feel bad for the next words that are about to come out of your mouth. "I'm so so-"

"Got the ticket!" Shu sprints over to you. "Sorry it took me so long" he stops in his tracks. "A friend of yours? " He asks. you to shake your head. Shus eyes fall on the slip of paper "Ah... I see..." Shu takes your hand and walks away. " Shu!" You protest! "Listen I'm saving you the trouble of having to reject the poor guy, he'll live." Shu chuckles. "you huff but are definitely relieved you don't have to reject him yourself. Leave it to your partner to read to you better than you can.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Ike really wanted to go to a new book cafe that opened up in town. He was excited and frankly you were excited for the cafe part. You walk hand in hand down the street as Ike excitedly rambles on about all the details

. "... And there's reading books you can rent out, which is super exciting because, come on it's a reading nook. " He giggles giddily. " I wonder if the lattes are any good." You ponder." I heard the food and the drinks are amazing too! A famous barista personally trained the entire staff! " He explains. This perks you up immediately.

You listen to Ike a bit more before finally reaching your distanation. "I'm gunna check out reserved area and get settled. Order me a something sweet?" He asks. "You bet!" You smile lovingly at your very excited boyfriend who dashes off to down the very quiet hall. You wonder over to the pastries cases where a young barista is working hard crafting the most delicious looking latte. Your mouth waters.

The barista notices you. "Hello! Is there anything I can get you?" You point at a few pastries Ike will definitely enjoy with you and then you order yourself you favorite flavor of latte. "Coming right up." He says with a wink. You find this odd but nevertheless wait patiently for your items.

Once your items are ready the barista calls out your name and you go to pay but they stop you. "It's on the house." You stare dumbfounded."I can't do that" "please I'm just pleased that someone as pretty as you can enjoy my work." They flash a smile at you and you feel uncomfortable. Ike shows up just in time. "Here's the pay for the items. I appreciate the sentiment but they're taken." He smiles sickly sweet taking your latte from you as well as the pastries. Ike leans on for a kiss. "Exactly what I wanted something sweet. " He smiles at the barista before whisking you off to your private room leaving the barista dumbfounded.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Grocery shopping with Mysta is fun. He's easily distractible though, constantly putting items into the cart that don't necessarily need to be there. It's like grocery shopping with a small child minus all the screaming... Sometimes...

On this particular day you sent Mysta to the produce section in hopes he could help cut down on shopping time. You gave him the list of produce you needed and sent him on his way. Unsurprisingly you finished your half of the grocery shopping before he did. So you shot him a text letting him know you'd be getting in line.

You settle into a short line and wait for your turn. A young man a little younger than you was handling the register. He greeted you warmly as your turn approached. "Having a good day so far?" He asked with the beeps of your purchases in the background. "Pretty good." You respond politely. "A lot of groceries for a person all alone." He smiles at you. You cringe. Was that supposed to be a line or an insult. Regardless, you laugh politely and slightly awkwardly.

As if he could sense your awkwardness, Mysta comes to the rescue, hand full of produce and planting a kiss on the top of your hand. "Sorry for the wait! I keep going to the organic section and forgetting that all produce is organic." You sigh, you'll definitely talk about this later... The clerk looks taken a back by your boyfriend and backs off a little.

The two of you pay and walk out to get your groceries home. "Hun you know not all produce is organic right?" You question softy. "I know that." He sneers. "I just had to come up with a good excuse to get that guy to stop hitting on you!" He wails. " He was just being friendly. " Mysta shakes his head in defiance. " Nah men are just like that. You have to be careful otherwise I'll get jealous. " He pouts. You laugh, knowing full well he was jealous that whole time.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Shout out Tumblr for not saving this as a draft this has been a post for over a day bc I didn't wanna lose all my work 🧍🏻‍♂️

Btw my requests are open so if you have one send it my way!

969 notes · View notes

oncloudten · 1 year

Text

you inhale deeply, lightly patting your wound with a washcloth. there really shouldn't be any reason for mindy's voice to be ringing over in your head "be careful with him." she'd told you before you left to go back to your boyfriend's dorm, seeing as your apartment had turned into a crime scene. the drive there had been in complete silence, save for ethan occasionally checking in on you. it's been silent between the two of you since you'd seen him, truthfully.

it's silly, really. to even think about it. especially considering the implications of what it would mean to you. to your relationship. shrugging off whatever ill-intended thoughts that swarm your mind, you glance towards your boyfriend. and yet you can't help the worry and suspicion that settles like a weight in your chest.

ethan must have noticed the way you're staring at him, because the next thing he says takes you by surprise. "why are you looking at me like that?" he asks quietly. "do you think i'm the killer, too?"

you can't prevent the underlying tone of worry in your voice when you finally muster up the courage to reply, you don't even know what you've said until you hear the sound of your own voice ringing back in your ears. "i don't know what to think," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "it's just- it's... you keep disappearing every time something happens. where were you, e? i needed you with me. and you weren't there. i was stabbed- i lost anika. my best friend died infront of me and you weren't there."

ethan's face is a mask of cold anger, though the softness you've been familiar to for the past year still glimmering in his eyes. "i told you angel, i was at econ. and i'm telling you again, i didn't do it. you have to believe me."

"after everything that's happened... after last year with sam- i'm just not sure what to think anymore. with everything that they're saying... i just-" you pause, cutting yourself off. this isn't even a conversation you want to be having right now.

a long beat passes before ethan speaks up. "they? who is they? mindy? anika? tara? i'm so tired of being accused of being the killer. what's to say those bitches aren't the killers themselves? huh?" although he keeps his composure, his tone is laced with venom. you've never heard him talk like this before.

"i just feel like i don't even know who you are anymore." you whisper, letting go of what you had held back from saying a moment before.

"that's a shame," he says, leaning in closer to you. his tone completely different, it's as if something had shifted in him within a few seconds. "because i feel like i know you better than anyone. in fact, i know everything about you. your fears, your desires, your weaknesses...all of it."

"that's...unsettling," you say, pulling away from him.

"oh, come on," a grin spreads over his face, his tone dripping with implication. "don't tell me you don't find it a little bit exciting. the idea that someone knows you so intimately, someone who's willing to do anything to be with you..." he trails off, his eyes darkening. "it's kind of romantic, don't you think?"

"no, it's not," you say, voice shaking. "it's sick. i don't like the way you're talking to me, ethan. you're scaring me."

"am i?" ethan says in a low scoff, barely audible. "you should be scared, sweetheart. you have no idea what i'm capable of."

you can barely register what he's saying. is this some sick twisted game to him? is he being his usual sarcastic self? surely not- not after what you just went through. your mind is drowning in endless vivid images of your boyfriend brutally murdering innocent people, your friends, your loved ones. this is the man who you've spent every sleepless night with for a year now, the man who you've devoted yourself to in every way possible, and in his own words, a man who knows you so intimately- in ways which you don't even know yourself. "what are you going to do?"

"nothing, as long as you behave." a twisted smile spreads across his face as he eyes your wound, his voice so low. "though that says otherwise, hmm?" he laughs. he actually laughs. "believe me, i never meant for it to happen, princess. but you just had to try and protect anika, and i thought you were mindy- god how i wish it had been that bitch. though i figure she got her warning."

you can't speak. it's as if every fiber of your being has shut down. ethan reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and you let him. you know you should be screaming, shoving him away, running even. but you don't do any of those things. instead, you stare at your boyfriend as he towers over you, accepting the fact that any second now he'd make a move to hurt you. but ethan let's out a soft chuckle when he takes in the expression plastered over your face. "oh my sweet dumb thing. i love you, remember? i'd never hurt you. don't worry, baby. i'd sooner die before i let anything happen to you ever again."

#i have severe ethan brainrot #ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry smut #smut #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream 6 spoilers #scream 6 #ethan landry fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

space-mango-company · 1 month

Text

Stranger | Chapter 3

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: none for this one, I think

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Unedited for now! Holy moly, sorry for taking so long on this one. I was kinda drowning in uni work the past week. The next chapter should come sooner, I hope. Also just wanted to say thank you so much to those who take the time to comment!! I really really appreciate the kind words. You guys are super sweet. Mwa mwa.

The inky black fireworks exploded in the distance as you were led back into the underground chambers of the arena. Your eyes are relieved to escape the infrared sun. Heavy doors open for you once more. The na-Baron stands, chest exposed, skin slick with sweat under the artificial light. His blown-out eyes hone in on you as you enter. He makes his way to you holding the blood-stained handkerchief.

"Did you enjoy the show, my lady?" His chest heaves and you feel his heavy breaths as he leans into your ear, voice even more raspy, "Aren't you something, little hawk."

He holds the cloth up as if giving it to you but when you reach for the handkerchief he snatches it away.

You sigh and lift your veil, a sweet smile plastered on your face, "A most impressive demonstration, na-Baron. You are as formidable as they say."

Feyd-Rautha takes a moment to scan your face. He doesn't know what your game is but he wants to play.

His breathing has settled. He raises a hand to reach for your cheek but you move past him. You walk towards a table displaying knives laid over a cloth. You pick one up to examine. The blades remain uncleaned, the blood from earlier in the day already beginning to dry. You sense they will be kept that way.

"You have good form. Clean, precise," you say, holding the dagger in a reverse grip, edge out. "You enjoy it, don't you?"

From behind, you feel Feyd-Rautha close the distance between you once again.

"Perhaps you enjoy it a little too much," you turn to him, "I'm sure you let him disarm you on purpose. For the show."

Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and allows himself a small smile. "You should return to the fortress, my lady. I have duties to attend to," he touches your armed hand and gently takes the knife from you, "and my uncle would like to see you."

Despite being shielded from the black sun, you elect to keep your veil for your lunch with the Baron. You excuse the chill running down your spine as the coldness of the high, stony walls of Fortress Harko as Iassa escorts you to the dining hall. Iassa kept her head bowed, you noticed, hands folded in front of her. She didn't need to look ahead to know the way.

When you arrive, large doors open to the sight of the Baron floating at the head of the table. There was only one other seat at the side of the table a few feet from him. Despite that, there was a full spread of food which his servants were already feeding him.

You had done your best to avoid the Baron in your short time here, but it seems this meeting was inevitable.

"Lady Atreides," his eyes turn toward you lazily. "Come. Eat."

"Good afternoon, Baron," you curtsy as you enter. Iassa bows to you and waits outside. You take your seat, "will it only be us, my lord? This seems a lavish spread for only two people."

"Are you calling me a glutton, girl?" he spats.

Your heart takes a beat as you try not to stare at his grotesquely large body.

"We are Harkonnen," his husky laugh rings through the room. "We may lavish as much as we please."

You exhale the breath you were holding and let out a small laugh. Of course. They were the richest house in the Landsraad. The Harkonnens must be accustomed to excess.

"Soon, child, you will be Harkonnen as well," he says in that gravelly voice that is so uncomfortably similar to Feyd-Rautha's. "Is that what you want?"

The question takes you aback. No one has ever asked you this question before. This betrothal has been decided for so long, you've never even thought to ask the question yourself. It was all you'd known. Your duty. You had never bothered to imagine what your life would have been if you weren't destined to marry the Harkonnen heir.

You regain your composure, "Baron, it is my honor to unite our Great-"

"Drop the act, child!" he barks. "Perhaps you fear me, but if you are to become 'family', I will not have the patience for charades. Speak plainly. Do you want to marry my nephew?"

This has been a most unusual exchange. At least compared to what you're used to. Always taught to be sweet and pleasant. You suppose you had nothing to lose, considering the Baron killing you would start an all-out war. You take a moment to think, and then a deep breath.

"I am a woman, dear Baron. There is not much for me in this life. Indeed, tales of your house's savagery are well-known throughout the systems, and in Caladan more than most. But had I not been betrothed to your nephew, I would only be married off to some other lord or count or whatever, gentler than Feyd-Rautha they may be," you swallow. "Perhaps, I could have been trained a Bene Gesserit sister. However, to become the wife of the heir to one of the most powerful houses in the known universe—there are worse fates."

The Baron stares, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He waves his servants away. "Eat, child. Waste not the food of one of the most powerful houses in the known universe."

He begins to glide towards the doors on his side of the hall and his servants scurry to lay down their forks and follow after him.

You look to the remaining servants in the dining hall, then to the mounds of food on the table. Your first dinner on Giedi Prime had felt suffocating with all the nobles around and Feyd-Rautha smugly breathing down your neck. You pile your plate high.

In your quarters, Iassa helps you out of your clothes and into a warm bath. You don't wait for her and begin scrubbing your skin with a rag yourself. Between the heat from the morning gladiator fights and your tense conversation with the Baron, you were happy to wash the sweat off your body.

"Is this alright, my lady?" Iassa is trying to wash your hair with the lightest touch, "Does it hurt you?"

"No, no. It's quite alright." You take over and she moves to begin scrubbing your legs.

You're grateful you brought bottles of your own hair soaps. You notice Iassa is intently observing how you washed your hair and you appreciate her wanting to learn. Although, you surmise she might not have a choice. Her black choker seems to stand out even more against her pale skin.

"How was your day, Iassa?" you say as you lather your hair.

She pauses in confusion. "It was quite alright, my lady," her voice is soft and polite.

"Do they treat you well?" you knew it was a futile question.

"I am property of House Harkonnen, my lady," she says as she pours more water into the grey stone bath, "I am treated appropriately."

"Yes, but do you mean appropriately as in well or appropriately as in—" your desperate attempt to make a friend seems to be slipping through your fingers. You let out an exasperated sigh, "I know it's only been a few days but, do I treat you well, Iassa?"

She takes a moment and smiles up at you, "My lady has been most gracious." You see in her eyes she means it.

"You were right about the na-Baron," you say, "he is formidable indeed."

"I'm pleased my lady was impressed," she wraps a robe around you as you rise from the bath.

"Well, I don't know about impressed," you say as you step out, "he is a decent fighter, certainly. Perhaps it is a difference in the fighting styles of our worlds."

After helping you dress, Iassa bows and leaves you to retire. Her grey robes flowing behind her.

Once alone, you find your father's dagger in your belongings. The Baron's earlier question comes back to you. Is that what you want? To marry Fayd-Rautha? That night, you sleep clutching the knife close to your heart.

When you awake the following morning, you are greeted by a servant girl bringing you breakfast.

"Where is Iassa?" you ask.

"She has been relieved, my lady," the girl looks even younger than Iassa, "I am Zora."

Your brow furrows, "What does that mean, 'relieved'?"

When Zora remains silent, you get up from the bed.

On the dark grey of your vanity, you notice a black strip of leather. A choker identical to your new servant's but it was unmistakable who it belonged to. Your mind ran through the whys and your blood began to boil.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #atreides reader #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

180 notes · View notes

dandelionfairyyy · 8 months

Text

30 hours J. H.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x female!reader

Warnings: mention of injuries and violence, swearing, slight mention of blood, kidnapping, possible bad writing and mistakes

Wordcount: 4,076

A/N: please be kind, this is the first oneshot I wrote in a year or two and I am still super unhappy with this, but keep working on it would just make it worse I think. And my friends said I should just post it, so … Also, English is not my first language, please keep that in mind while reading. I hope you’ll like it anyway

Now without further ado… I present to you:

30 hours

You rub your face sleepily as you slowly wake up.

As you feel the weight of an arm around your waist, you can't help but smile.

You turn to Jay, whose arm is pressing you against him.

What started as a friendship has become so much more. And yesterday he finally asked you to marry him.

Gently you trace the contours of his face with your finger. Memories of last night come flooding back and you bite your lower lip as you think of Jay treating you to a little corner cafe before you took a walk along the Chicago River and him finally getting down on one knee in front of you.

Your eyes fall on the beautiful silver ring with the little stone set in it, on your finger.

"Morning," you say as you see Jay waking up.

"Morning," he replies in a raspy voice, giving you a smile that takes your breath away. "Sleep well?"

You nod before reaching a little further towards him and placing your lips on his.

God, you still can't believe that this wonderful man is now your fiancé.

Happily, you smile into the kiss and slightly part your lips for him. You feel his tongue gently nudging against yours and you feel yourself catapulted right back to last night. What his tongue had done to you...

You can't hold back a soft moan at the memory and you feel his knowing smile in your kiss.

As it becomes more intimate, Jay rolls over you and....

Your kiss is abruptly interrupted when a cell phone rings somewhere in the room.

Last night, on the way from the door to the bedroom, you had spread your clothes anywhere in the flat. His trousers had apparently made it into the bedroom.

"Don't answer it," you plead, wrapping your arms around his neck, knowing it's Jay's phone because Intelligence most likely has a new lead in the current case and he needs to get to the precinct. "Let's just stay in bed for a week," you suggest, with little hope of agreement, though.

Jay leans down a little towards you and kisses you intimately again for a few seconds before pulling away and going in search of his jeans. "As tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid I can't do that."

You sit up with a sigh as he gets out of bed and fishes the phone out of his pocket.

As expected, there's a new lead that needs to be followed up.

So you get up to make breakfast to go for him as he heads into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Wearing only one of Jay's t-shirts, you are standing at the kitchen counter pouring coffee into a to-go mug when you feel your fiancé standing behind you.

His hands are on your hips as he plants a kiss on your cheek.

"My angel," he murmurs and you turn your head so that your lips meet. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice..." you reply with a smirk.

"So not often enough."

You press the sandwich and the to-go mug of coffee into his hand and push him towards the door.

"I love you, too. And now you have to go. Work needs to be done."

It's Saturday, so you don't have to work and can devote yourself to other things, like grocery shopping or housekeeping.

Jay steals one last kiss before disappearing out the door with a "love you".

Heavens, even though you've known each other for five years and been a couple for three, you're still as much in love with this man as you were at the beginning of your relationship.

At first it was hard for you to come to terms with the fact that Jay often has to work late and sometimes he has to leave just because of work. But by now you've come to terms with it and Jay always makes it up to you in one way or another. Either with a romantic date, or little presents he gives you, and of course with the love he gives you every single day.

Lost in thought, you finally make your way to the supermarket. But soon you wish you had just stayed in bed with Jay.

"Y/N?", you hear an unknown voice behind you and turn around in confusion.

You don't know the man standing in front of you. But he seemed to know your name. He held out a wallet to you. "You just lost this," he says.

Unsure, you take it from him and look inside. Indeed, it contains your driver's license, your bank card, cash... and yet it is not your wallet. You've never seen this thing before in your life.

What the fuck?

You are about to reply that it is not your wallet when everything happens really fast. A black van pulls up next to you and the man who handed you the wallet before now pushes you backwards so that you lose your balance. Someone behind you catches you and you are finally thrown into the van. Your head hits the wall and an unpleasant hammering makes its way to the back of your head.

Doors slam and two seconds later the van speeds on.

It takes you a few seconds to realize what has just happened.

You have just been kidnapped.

That afternoon, Jay comes home in excitement at the sight of his fiancée in his arms again.

The current case, which has kept them on the go for a fortnight and got Jay out of bed this morning, has now been solved and he just wants to be with you, eat something and sleep.

But when he enters the flat, you are not there.

He checks all the rooms in the flat, but you are not to be found.

Are you with friends and forgot to tell him? Normally you always let him know if you're meeting someone, because you know that otherwise his detective brain will spin banal theories about what might have happened to you.

With a frown, he pulls out his mobile phone and tries to call you. But he is sent straight to voicemail. After the third attempt, he gives up and calls your best friend instead, deeply hoping that you are with her, or at least that she knows where you are.

But with her, too, nothing.

Now Jay is really worried.

Worried, he calls Ruzek, who is a good friend of yours and through whom you and Jay met in the first place, hoping that he is still in the bullpen for paperwork.

Jay was lucky.

"Hey man, what is it?" asked Adam exuberantly.

"Can you ping Y/N's phone? She's not there, I can't reach her, and I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Just a minute," Adam replies, recognising the concern and urgency in Jay's voice.

Shortly afterwards, Adam gives an address of where your cell phone was the last time before it was turned off.

With a quick thank you and a promise to let him know when he has found you, the two colleagues and friends on the phone say goodbye and Jay gets back into his truck to drive to the address.

It wasn't far and as he got out his heart stopped for a moment.

A wallet with your drivers licence is lying on the small footpath of the side street and a few metres away is your phone, the screen shattered. There are black tyre marks on the road from a sharp braking.

Jay pulls out his phone again and calls Adam for a second time.

"Found her?" he asks hopefully, but Jay doesn't even let him speak. "Y/N's been kidnapped."

Jay knows his colleague has just sat up straighter.

"Jay, are you sure?"

"Yes." Jay describes what he sees in front of him and then asks Adam to call the team together.

Less than fifteen minutes later they were all standing on the scene.

"Okay, you know what to do, check PODs, residents' CCTV and ask residents if they saw anything. Jay's girlfriend, one of ours, has been kidnapped. And we're going to get that asshole!" the sergeant ordered his team before putting a comforting hand on Jay's shoulder and saying, "We're going to find Y/N and she's going to get through this. She's tough. You'll see your girlfriend again."

"Fiancée, to be exact," Jay replies, but Voight hadn't heard him anymore.

Back in the bullpen, with all the evidence and statements from the residents, they create a board with all the facts so far. Photos of the skid marks, the wallet and the mobile phone. In the middle hangs a photo of the victim. He has seen this board so many times before, with disturbing and nightmare-inducing images. But now it is different.

Worse. Creepier. Because this time there's a photo of you hanging there.

Jay is standing in front of it, looking at it.

The photo doesn't do you justice, he thinks. The sparkle in your eyes is not there and the smile on your lips is nowhere near as beautiful as he knows it. Everything seems so dull and lifeless ...

An elderly lady watched the abduction from her kitchen window, but thought nothing more of it. However, she was already somewhat demented. Therefore, her statement is less reliable, but her description, apart from a few exceptions, matches those of the other residents of the street.

According to her, a man spoke to you, then a black van appeared, then flew away and you were gone.

Jay ran an agitated hand through his hair. He had to concentrate now. Intelligence had already solved a case with less clues, so they could solve this one too.

At the stroke of midnight, his phone buzzes, showing that he has received a video message.

He plays it while the others look over his shoulder.

There you sit tied to a chair with your cheek visibly reddened and a small gash on your cheekbone.

"Jay. The three wankers in front of me ..." you get kicked in the shin as you insult your captors as wankers and you curse a soft "ouch" before continuing. "Anyway, they want you to turn yourself in, Jay. A trade. I get released and they take you in exchange. In 30 hours, you'll ... what? I can't read the scribbling ...” your look shifts to one of your captors. “If you're going to make me read rubbish like that, at least write it neatly enough so I can read it dramatically ..." you grumble, and Adam has to suppress a snort. It would be funny if it wasn't so serious.

One of the kidnappers gave the address you couldn't read before. "Right there... That's where you'll be standing in thirty hours, unarmed. They will release me and take you with them. Should you not do it, they will kill me."

Your eyes shift from what you are supposed to be reading out and you look at one of your captors. "Oh, go bury yourselves, or throw yourselves in front of a train, I don't mind ..." You wrinkle your nose slightly at the last sentence.

Then one of the kidnappers speaks again, "Detective, follow our instructions or your little friend will die. Know that this is revenge for the death of my brother."

While the kidnapper is still speaking, you shout, "Jay, don't do it! Don't make the trade!"

You catch a slap, your head flies from the punch to the side, and then the video ends.

It's only when he exhales now that Jay realises he's been holding his breath. As did the rest of the team.

Adam made the comment that you're pretty brave to be so defiant to the kidnappers. Or you're tired of living. It's going to be one of those two.

Over the next few hours, Intelligence investigates whose brother it might be, who was capable of such a thing, and where those, as you called them, wankers, might be holding you.

But when nothing new comes of it, Voight sends everyone home for the time being to get some sleep and to be able to continue working in new freshness. After all, they still have 27 hours.

But Jay doesn't want to go home. He could never sleep there now.

In your bed, knowing that you're sitting somewhere kidnapped, tied to a chair....

Which is why Adam finally offers to take him with him, so that he can at least get a little sleep on the couch there.

20 hours until the exchange:

By now they've figured out who wants to see your fiancé suffer.

A few weeks ago Jay had shot someone, Paul Lancaster to be precise, on a case after he in turn had opened fire on him.

Jay had escaped with a bruise at the time due to the vest, but Paul had died on the way to hospital. He had hit well.

Now Paul's brother, Jeremy Lancaster, seemed to want revenge on him and this man had quite an interesting sheet. Jeremy had been charged several times for smaller felonies and had served two years in Stateville for aggravated assault. But even though Intelligence now knows who's holding you, they still have no clue where Jeremy and his two accomplices might be holding you.

Frustrated, Jay now throws a stack of papers against the wall and rubs his face in dissolution.

He's on the verge of giving up, of just turning himself in. He'd rather die than let them hurt you more than they already do.

They went through everything again, repeated all the residents' statements, looked at all the traffic camera recordings, but they got nowhere. The van had disappeared at some point at a corner without video surveillance.

"Play the video again," Jay finally asks Kim, who is currently at her computer trying to draw any clues from it as to where you might be.

"Jay ..." she started, but he interrupted her and took it upon himself to play the video from the beginning.

At the end, when you wrinkle your nose, he pauses the video.

"There! Y/N always wrinkles her nose when she bluffs while playing. I always tease her about it ... because she looks so cute at that moment and it annoys her when I say that, ... that was a hint ... She was giving us a hint."

Kim rewinds a few seconds and plays it again.

Burying themselves ... jumping in front of a train ...

They play the video again and again.

"Train ... bury ... buried train ... underground!", Jay finally combines and writes it immediately on the case board.

Seventeen hours until the exchange:

If they didn't find you soon, Jay knew, he'd turn himself in. No matter what you had said, no matter what Voight will say. He can't let you get hurt.

There are seventeen hours left to find you, and Jay can barely think straight when they find out Jeremy is in an on-off relationship with an Angelina Perry. Maybe she can help.

God, Jay hoped so much.

Adam and Kim bring the girlfriend to the station and Jay watches the questioning through the mirror, his partner, Hailey standing beside him, watching him with concern. She knows how much Jay loves you. Every time Ruzek brings up one of the stories from your childhood and your name comes up, his eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. But now there was nothing but worry and fear.

"What am I doing here? I don't know any Y/N," Angelina clarifies.

"But you know Jeremy Lancaster. Don't you?" asks Kim, unimpressed.

"Y-yes? Why? Did something happen to him?"

"No ...", Adam picks up, but Jay is no longer listening, because he has just received another video message.

Alarmed, he looks at Hailey, who nods once and finally gets Adam and Kim out of the interrogation room. Meanwhile, Jay gets Voight out of his office and has Kevin run the video from his phone onto the computer.

With held breath, the team watches the video.

You are still sitting in the chair with your head hanging, probably unconscious. Your hair hides the view at your face, but kindly Jeremy grabs your hair ungently and pulls it back so that he lifts your head and the team can see you properly. Your face is swollen and you have a laceration on your forehead, a bruise is starting to form on your left eye.

"Fuck!" curses Jay, even before Jeremy has begun to speak.

"Hello Detective. A real fighter you got yourself into, I'm looking forward to making you feel what I did to her before I shoot you in front of her like you shot my brother. Or would you prefer I shoot her in front of you?"

Jay's blood boils in his veins. He is so angry at this monster of a man called Jeremy Lancaster for laying a hand on you, an absolute innocent.

With his phone in hand, he storms into the interrogation room where Jeremy's girlfriend or ex-girlfriend or whatever is sitting.

With a slam, the door shuts behind Jay. Angelina flinches in fright and looks at the frustrated and distraught detective in front of her.

The rest of the team have followed him and are now watching through the one-sided mirror.

"You better tell me now where your boyfriend likes to hide. Because if he kills her, I'll hold you responsible too!" he threatens, knowing very well that he couldn't do that. But he just wants to have you back, to hold you in his arms again and hear from you that everything will be all right again.

With these words, he slams the mobile phone down on the table and lets the video play.

Angelina looks shocked and tears glisten in her eyes as she watches the video.

"That ... that's Jeremy? Wh-why?"

"His brother Paul messed up and got himself killed. Jeremy blames me and has been holding my fiancée for over 13 hours now. God knows what he's doing to her. And every minute that goes by, he could hurt her. So if you don't want to be responsible for murder, you'd better think really hard about where your boyfriend could be hiding with her!" he rages and Angelina flinches again, however Jay can see that she is starting to think.

The team, watching the whole thing through the mirrored glass, are quite flummoxed. Did Jay just say you were his fiancée?

They all caught your complicated love story, how Jay initially thought you and Adam were a couple and ended up with Erin. How you buried your crush on Jay deep inside when you found out. How you then held him when Erin left, dumped him, and how you both had to get your asses kicked by Kevin and Kim first before you confessed your love to each other.

They know how much Jay loves you and how much you love him. And they have taken you to their hearts as well. As Voight had said, you are one of them, even if you don't work for them. You are their friend. It takes all the more out of them now to know that Jay is not only about to lose his fiancée, but that they could lose their friend.

"Did he ever say anything about an underground or anything?" His voice was no longer loud and threatening now, but quiet and desperate.

One could see it in Angelina's face as she thought of something before she said, "The old underground warehouse...he...he told me once that when he was a kid he used to play in the factory hall with his brother. Maybe that's where they are ... he is ... was ... really close with his brother." With that said, she looks hopefully at the detective in front of her. He nods and finally leaves the interrogation room.

The team leaves the room at the same time as Jay, from where they have been watching everything.

They would all like to say something to him, but they all know that nothing they could say would make anything better.

Sixteen hours until the exchange:

The team storms the building from all three entrances.

Jay and Hailey, Kevin and Kim, and Adam and Voight.

Flash grenades are thrown, "Chicago PD! Drop your weapon! ... Hands in the air! ... on your knees!" are shouted from all sides and Jeremy and his two accomplices had to admit defeat.

Jay's gaze wanders searchingly down the hall and ....

There you lie. On the floor, hands and feet still tied to the fucking chair, not moving. From his position he cannot see if you are still breathing. Your hair covers your face, but you seem unconscious. At least Jay hopes you are only unconscious and nothing more.

God, he hopes so badly that you're still alive.

While the rest of the team arrest Jeremy and his accomplices, Jay gets down on his knees next to you, unties you and frees you from the goddamn chair. You don't move and anxiously he feels your pulse.

It is there, but very weak. But he can't feel relief yet, because as he brushes your hair out of your face, his examining gaze sees not only your wrists, chafed and blue from the ropes, but also your face. A nasty wound is emblazoned on your forehead. One half of your face is covered in blood, the other is red, swollen and a black eye is already forming. What had they done to you?

"Fuck ...", he curses softly and searches frantically for something to press carefully onto the wound.

By now Adam is standing next to him. In his face the same concern as in Jay's when he sees your bruised body and your hair, which is sticky with your blood but still shines moistly. "5021-Ida, shots fired by the offender and the police, offender in custody, one female victim down, multiple trauma to the head and body, roll an ambo to my current location asap," he quickly relays through his radio to the dispatcher.

You hadn't lost much blood yet, but head injuries were always treacherous.

Jay keeps mumbling that you should hang on. That an ambulance is on its way and that you should just hold on a little longer.

Seconds that feel like hours pass.

You hear Jay's voice as if from far away, begging you not to leave him, to open your eyes, to stay with him. You want to follow his plea so much that it seems to tear you apart, but your body no longer obeys you. Several times you try to speak, to say that you hear him, that you are there after all and that you are not planning to go anywhere else. But nothing. Not a single sound comes from your lips. You can't even move your fingers to show that you are still alive, that you can hear him....

Instead, you fight the complete blackness that threatens to overwhelm you. You cling to the love you feel for Jay where you know he returns it. You cling to his voice that seems to fade.

They always say that when you die, a warm white light appears to you, awaiting and welcoming you.

But it is the other way around. The light that holds you begins to shrink and is taken over further and further by the darkness, the blackness, the nothingness. Jay's voice is further and further away. You can barely hear him, barely understand what he is saying. And yet you know that he still commands you to hang on and tells you how much he loves you and can't lose you, that he needs you.

Then suddenly you hear female voices reciting foreign words. "V-fib" is the last thing you hear before there's nothing left. Just the empty, lonely, cold, blackness and you. You wonder if this is what death feels like.

At least you could die knowing what true love feels like. What it feels like to love someone more than yourself and to be loved just as much.

You had the chance to meet Jay and those few years with him were the best of your life.

Jay ...

Your last thought belongs to him, to him alone, and that yesterday morning you didn't say the last "I love you" back.

And then there was nothing. No light, no thought, no blackness. Just nothing.

back to masterlist

#jay halstead #chicago pd #jay halstead x reader #x reader #love #30 hours #short story #writing #fiction #imagine #writers on tumblr

550 notes · View notes