#me playing ''why you gotta be so rude'' every time i see him on screen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shorkbrian · 3 years

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Creep

Prelude - bitch hold on what about mean brother Shigs being an absolute creep? Inspired by me playing a boss in AC Odyssey and my controller vibrated so hard I almost dropped it, and I couldn’t beat this dude and it was so freaking frustrating!!!!!!

Pairing - Shigaraki X Reader

Warnings - - INCEST, NSFW, innocence kink, do not read if those squick you out bro!!! Seriously! abuse of trust, dubcon, noncon, literally nothing about this situation is good, or healthy, or nice. Disgusting behavior is exhibited by Shigs.

Music - (does anyone actually like when I provide music? I like getting music vibes while I read through fics but ik that my music taste is a bit wacky lol anyways). https://open.spotify.com/track/0ODyahnUlK9G5bT4dA5NCI?si=10R9ggoJS1inYidrMeWrHA

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He offers to let you play his Xbox game, you keep annoying him by pouting for his attention and he gives up with trying to ignore you.

Stipulation - you gotta sit on his lap while you play, you’re such a stupid little girl that he forces his hands over yours, showing you how to use the Xbox controller while sneering at how dumb you are.

You’re too focused on the game to pay attention to how one of his hands has dropped from the controller, is creeping up your thigh, thumbing at the hem of your shorts. You don't realize that he’s plastered against your back, breath picking up in your ear as he hunches over your shoulder, thinking of all the dirty things he wants to do to you, how you’re too absent-minded to realize how much of a perverted creep he is.

“Shit!” You curse, breaking Shigaraki out of his thoughts as you bounce your leg in frustration. He feels the slight vibration of the controller - you’re getting attacked in the game, enemies surrounding you and hacking at your player. Shigaraki is too entranced by how he can watch your jiggling breasts over your shoulder, jostling around as you jerk your arms, trying to not die in the game.

“Nii-san help me, ‘m gonna die!” You shriek, whole body getting into the gaming experience, jerking around in his lap as you struggle to press the right buttons. Shigaraki tries not to groan - he can feel the space between your thighs as you move around, hot and doughy and he wants to touch so bad.

Yeah, he’s always been a bit of a creep, but he’s never actually done anything to you.

The most he does is fantasize, thinking about how you’d feel clamping down on him, how’d you’d taste if he made you ride his face. What you’d look like if he forced his cock into you with barely any prep - you’d squeeze your eyes shut so tight, let out little whimpers and clench your fists because “Hurts, hurts! Go slow Nii-san, don’t want this!”

But he wouldn’t have to listen, you’re just a naive little girl who doesn’t know that Shigaraki would be trying to make you feel good too, that it would feel good soon.

“Stop wiggling, you’re gonna fall off.” He rasps back at you, taking his other hand off the controller to grab your waist, barely saving you from keeling over and onto the floor. You’re left to fend for yourself now, button-mashing, groaning when you finally succumb to your enemies and die a violent, gory death.

“I died! Why didn’t you help, you’re right here?!” the accusatory tone of your voice is ignored as you revert to the last save, huffing in frustration as you’re forced to start over.

“You’re never gonna learn if I’m holding your hands like that.”

Shigaraki’s glad you’ve stilled again - if you’d kept up your wiggling, he’d have to figure out a way to explain what the hard thing poking into the side of your plush little rear.

God, you had the most perfect ass.

Maybe he’s a freak, a disgusting man with fucked up morals, but Shigaraki’s always been a social outcast, seen as weird and wrong and criticized for every little thing he did.

What’s wrong with settling into the role other people were so quick to offer him?

Surely you’ve noticed his odd behavior by now, the behavior that’s picked up in the last few years. How he stares at you a little more than he should, how sometimes he slips into bed with you, murmuring some lame excuse about not being able to sleep.

The way he freezes when you give him an affectionate hug, clenching his fists by his side as your breasts are squished up against his body.

You had to have caught on to his uncharacteristic softness with you. He’s still mean and coarse and rude, but there's an underlying affection underneath the way he mocks your outfits, when he says you look like the gross character out of a manga he’s reading, how he tugs on your hair sometimes when he passes by you, wheezing out a laugh if you turn around and try to slap at him in irritation.

If you didn’t want him to be weird, you could’ve said something by now. You should’ve said something by now.

So really, it’s your own fault that he feels so comfortable being a sicko.

“Don’t tickle, I gotta focus.” You tell him, squirming away when he runs a hand experimentally over your stomach. You’re so cute, and dumb, he wants to bully you until you’re crying, say mean things and hurt your feelings only so he can kiss it better.

But he doesn’t, because he’s a good brother.

His hand travels further up, rests right underneath your breast, almost cupping it. Still, you don’t say anything, attention on the game.

Do you want this? Are you just stupid? His affection is so obviously not normal for siblings, and yet you act like it’s fine. Maybe you’re a virgin, untainted with the knowledge of how sexual touches feel like.

The hand on your waist begins to slip under your shorts, his cold fingers quickly warmed by your skin. “Nii-san, stop that, it’s weird.”

Ah, there’s the common sense.

“I though you wanted to play the game? Don’t be a bitch.” He doesn’t really care whether you want him willingly now or not, he’s getting excited by the heat of your body, your weight on his lap.

You pause the game when his hand creeps lower into your shorts, when his fingers skim low over your tummy, too close to a private place that brothers shouldn't touch.

“Stop touching me, I don’t like that.”

“It’s not like you wouldn’t enjoy it.” He mumbles, and you stiffen in his lap, but he quickly takes his hand out of your shorts, stops cupping your soft breast.

The game gets unpaused, and you resume playing, although your attention is divided now, nervous about sitting in your brother’s lap.

Has it finally clicked? Are you thinking about what he could do to you, how he could make you feel?

“You suck at this.” Shigaraki observes, the controller shaking almost violently as you’re attacked again, overwhelmed by enemies.

“Well, maybe if you taught me how to play instead of being weird, I wouldn’t be.” You snarked, frustrated with the game, uneasy with your brother holding your hips like that.

Shigaraki rolls his eyes. You’re so dramatic, and although you have a valid point, he’s always been weird. This is nothing new, you’ve just been too thick-skulled to realize it before, which isn’t his fault.

A few more tries, and you still can’t get past the one group of enemies, dying after a few minutes every single time. You’re going to waste the batteries like that, controller jumping in your hands.

“I can’t-” You whine, coming across the enemies after your latest death, already knowing what’s going to happen.

Shigaraki stays silent, red eyes finally flickering away from your body and up to the screen of the TV.

You’re at one of the hardest parts of the game, facing a section that took Shigaraki two days to beat (not that he’ll tell you that). He grins as you throw yourself into the fight, immediately getting decked.

The noises you’re letting out are cute, frustrated groans on each hit landed on your player, muttered curses and triumphant scoffs whenever you manage to strike an enemy, which isn’t often.

The controller’s still shaking like crazy, and you’re moving around in his lap again, and Shigaraki is done. He can’t take this anymore, you’re being a tease.

He snatches the Xbox controller out of your hands, ignoring your little “Hey! What’re you doing, I was playing!”

“You call this playing?” The shuddering of the controller surprises him, gives him an idea.

There hadn’t been a plan, he had just been acting on instinct, hands itching to push you off his lap and to the floor, just to see the way you’d look up at him after.

Like that, you’d be in the perfect position to suck his cock.

But he wants to go in a different direction now.

“Stay still, you’re so annoying.” He’s spreading his legs out, sinking back further in his chair to get a better angle, your legs hooked over his.

There’s no time for you to protest. Like this, you’re spread out nicely, exposed, even though your shorts cover your intimate place.

Without any further preamble, Shigaraki shoves the vibrating controller up against your clothed cunt.

“NIi-san!” You shriek, immediately writhing in his hold. But Shigaraki has an arm locked around your chest, keeping you pinned to his chest. “Don’t, think sins’t-this isn't-! Stop this, stop! Don’t touch me!”

He can bet it feels good, that you’re struggling to tell him to stop. He begins rubbing the controller against you, snickering at the way you jolt and writher on each pass of the hard, curved plastic against your protected clit. He can’t even imagine how good it would feel if your stupid shorts weren’t in the way.

“Stop, stop! Stop it! Stop!” You sound like a broken record.

“Shut up, you can’t even play the game right. Feel that?” the controller gets rubbed harder against you, and you writhe. “That’s how bad you are. So pathetic, can’t even fend off a couple of bad guys.”

Can’t even fend off one, Shigaraki thinks to himself. You could be trying harder to get out of his hold, could be screaming and yelling and scratching and kicking.

Well, you are scratching and kicking, moving around so much that he’s having a hard time keeping you still. And you making a lot of noise, but there’s no one else home.

He’s fully hard, and every movement you make struggling rubs him right up against the meat of your ass, and he sucks in a stuttered breath, biting his lip.

“No, no, no, no, don’t want this Nii-san, stop it-” Your panicked pleas are ignored, Shigaraki shoving your hands away as you try to pull the controller off of your cunt, get the vibrations to stop.

On screen, the player is still getting attacked, each new hit making the controller vibrate even harder.

“Ow, ow! It hurts, make it stop! Nii-san-”

“I’ll gag you if you don’t stop complaining.” Shigaraki seethes, feeling irritation creep up. “It hurts because you’ve never felt this good before, idiot.”

He remembers the first time he’d used something on his dick. It was your toothbrush, unsurprisingly, the one that vibrated with three different speeds and made you so proud of your pearly whites.

It had been so overwhelming, he couldn’t even touch the back of the head to his cock. At times, it felt so good it had hurt, had completely blinded his senses and leave him in a puddle of his own cum and sweat, panting.

So Shigaraki understood what you were trying to say - your inexperienced body needed him to slow down, ease up a little. But your gross, nasty brother wanted to ruin you.

Your character on screen died, resulting in one last heavy vibration that made you sob, thighs struggling to snap shut, hands desperately pushing at Shigaraki.

He felt you convulse in his grip, could practically feel the way your little hole was clenching as you gushed all over yourself, whining and moaning at the pleasure.

Your character was sent back to the last save, the game on a loading screen.

But Shigaraki wasn’t done.

He was still hard against your back, rubbing himself off as best he could, but he was finding his own pleasure in watching you writhe on his lap.

The controller was tossed to the side, nimble fingers sliding over your shorts, Shigaraki laughing at what he found.

“You’re so wet, holy fuck. That’s disgusting, wow.” You were drenched, the fabric of your shorts completely soaked with your juices. You only sobbed out a pitiful noise, maybe trying to deny it, but Shigaraki wasn’t listening. He was too busy rubbing over the wet spot, gleefully feeling you up. It was easy for his fingers to find a comfortable, mind-numbing rhythm, so used to playing games and deftly pushing buttons, using sticks and joysticks, directional pads and the like.

You were rocking against his hand unconcsiously, body unable and unwilling to decided whether to pull away or push closer - you had just cum, but that didn’t negate the vicious, heady sensation that his fingers brought.

Shigaraki quickly grew bored of this though, unable to ignore his dripping erection. He had never been a patient man, quickly removing the hand stimulating your swollen pussy so he could pull his cock out of his sweatpants.

With a quick movement, your shorts were tugged down, your brother completely pushing past your refusal to lift your hips, burning your skin with how forcefully the fabric was ripped down.

“Nii-san, what are you doing-you can’t, you can’t!” You cried, renewing your struggle when you felt skin against skin, his cock hot and velvety as it rested against your cheeks. “I don’t wanna do this, don’t make me do this-”

“I don’t care. I’ve tried to be good, and it’s like you don’t even care.” The man ground out, beginning to rut his hips against your ass. It was dry, and it didn’t feel great, but it was more than enough to satisfy Shigaraki. “I barely touch you, I keep my hands to myself-”

Which was a lie. Late at night, when he was sure you were fast asleep, he’d touch, just a little. Rubbing your nipples, feeling them peak under his touch. Feeling the curve of your waist, skin soft against his dry palms.

“-I wouldn’t stare either, but you wear those stupid shirts-” The deep cut ones, the ones that showed off your cleavage and allowed him weeks of jerk-off material.

“So annoying, just a stupid little imoto that follows me around, you just want attention.”

He knows you don’t do it on purpose. You aren’t trying to make him see you in a sexual light. But maybe that’s what makes it all the more appealing, how naive and innocent you are.

Fuck, he’s getting close just thinking about your purity, how much you don’t know, how much he could teach you.

He doesn’t know a ton, but Shigaraki knows enough about what feels good for him, and you probably wouldn’t want to learn, but he deserved something nice every once in a while, didn’t he?

The drag of his cock between your ass cheeks was making him loose his mind, the slide too rough, but it felt delicious and stimulated him just right, pulling at his foreskin and spreading his precum into a sticky mess on your skin.

“Fuck, stay still, lemme feel good-” His voice was choked up, still holding it’s usual nasal resonance.

You sobbed in his hold, his fingers still playing over your shorts, exploring, keeping you occupied and frozen with sensation while he got himself off with your body.

And then he was breaking, splurting his seed all over your lower back, watching it come out of his cock in shaky squirts, painting your skin a cloudy white.

Shigaraki groaned, eyes transfixed to the sight before him. It was hard to keep them open, body shaking with little snaps of pleasure in his veins, in his stomach.

On the bed next to his thigh, the controller started shaking again. Panting, Shigaraki raised his eyes to the TV screen as you slumped against him, softly crying.

Your character was getting attacked again.

“Let’s keep playing.”

And the vibrating controller was pressed to your bare cunt, making you scream.

He’d have to wash it after this, but he figured it was worth it in the grand scheme of things

#gross misuse of Xbox controller #and I mean GROSS #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tenko #one sided relationships #yandere shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #tw.incest #tw noncon #tw dubcon #dead dove do not eat #creepy shigaraki

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anonquack · 3 years

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| And Me? |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 2262

Warnings: None! Just some curse words.

Summary: Seeing how much time you've been spending with Bad recently just doesn't sit well with Quackity, and he's going to make sure your attention is returned back to where it belongs. With him.

You had been messing around with what was coined the "Feral Boys" on a Saturday afternoon. Your takeout order was placed on your desk, neglected by the loud clicking and tapping of your keyboard. You all had been throwing around random stream ideas, which proceeded to be bashed by everyone.

"Guys," Dream groaned, frustration clear in his tone yet there was still that softness that let everyone know he wasn't actually mad, "we've been on call for 2 hours and still have no stream ideas we like."

"Maybe if Sapnap didn't complain about everything." Karl quickly quipped in, the grin that was probably plastered onto his face was visible to you even with it just being voice chat.

Sapnap clapped back just as quickly, a little more edge to his words but just the right amount of teasing too.

"Yeah? Nothing works with your schedule. We gotta fit these ideas in with your Mr. Beast-filled schedule."

Quackity let out a laugh that made you roll your eyes yet smile fondly as you finally turned to look at your food, taking a bite as the call jumped right back into their previous banter, a helpless Dream trying to regain control and get everyone to work together.

It served as background noise as you quietly ate your food, inputting or agreeing with someone here and there, your stomach grateful to finally be getting some food. You'd been too busy earlier, and now you had the chance to eat and relax on call with friends. No actual streaming or anything, but still with the burden of coming up with new and fun stream ideas.

As you took yet another bite, your gaze fell onto your phone as the screen lit up, a notification coming through. You set your food down and grabbed the device, clicking on it and smiling once you saw it was a message from Bad.

Unlike whatever mess this call was, you had scheduled to record a video with Bad, and you assumed this message was to confirm that he was now available to film. After quickly reading it, your assumptions were proven right.

"Hey, Bad just texted. I'm gonna head out. Try not to think too hard while I'm gone, okay?" You said as you grabbed ahold of your mouse again, cursor going towards the disconnect button.

There was a mix of 'Bye!' and 'You think of some too, then!' and Sapnap's backhanded remarks that told you he would indeed miss you. You smiled, about to click disconnect before he spoke up.

"Bad? What are you recording with Bad?" The question caught you off guard, not because it came from Quackity but because no one had asked.

"Oh, well, just for a youtube video.. and I promised him we'd chat since I miss him." You admitted, cursor dancing across the screen as you waited for a response, if there was to be any.

"How come we didn't get invited?" Quackity asked, voice a mix of feigned hurt and disbelief of being 'left out'.

You playfully rolled your eyes, noticing a message come in from Bad yet again asking if he could call now. "You spend enough time with Bad as it is. Get in line, right now its MY turn. Now bye!! Seriously." You chuckled, hearing the start of a protest before disconnecting from the call and moving your cursor onto Bad's chat, quickly pressing the call button and waiting to hear his sweet voice ringing through your headphones.

—

As the small ping notified everyone else in the call that you had disconnected, Quackity let out a small huff, followed by George's small laugh.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Quackity replied with a tired tone, fingers lazily typing up some email he had been procrastinating on.

"Was that jealously I smelled, Big Q?" Karl teased, letting out a laugh that was so contagious, eliciting laughs from the whole call, even Quackity couldn't help but laugh before letting out another noise of disapproval.

"No, what the fuck? It's just they didn't even contribute any ideas. Just sat and argued with us, and then left to go hang out with Bad." He reasoned, it was a half truth. It didn't bother Quackity at all that you'd been 'unproductive', he enjoyed your company so much and these past two hours had left him with a tummy ache from laughing too hard.

What he hadn't enjoyed was you dropping everything to go on a call with Bad.

It didn't actually bother him, it was part of the bit they had going on, where he was a Skeppy 2.0 and had to fight the other Skeppy copies, in this case YOU, for Bad's attention.

Right?

He could feel a migraine coming through trying to understand this new emotion settling in his chest.

Sapnap let out an amused laugh, mumbling a 'sure' but swiftly changing topics in order to not start yet another argument.

—

It had been about 4 days since the call with the 'Feral Boys' and the recording with Bad. Since then, everything had ran smoothly and you'd been extra productive, focused on getting the video edited and posted as soon as possible.

Currently, you were ringing Bad as he streamed on the server, wanting to make a quick appearance and also just bug him for a bit since you missed him.

Since it was a rather chill stream, Bad didn't fight away your affection, instead encouraging that you hop on the server and play with him for a bit. You couldn't say no to that, how could you?

Before you knew it, you were off your bed and on your chair, in front of your computer as the Minecraft loading screen lit up your facial features and Bad told chat and you about an event that took place this weekend while he was out shopping.

The hushed laughs and sweet stories being shared were soon interrupted by Bad letting out an annoyed huff. "Quackity is spamming me to let him join the call. Is that okay, Y/N?"

You nodded, letting out a hum of approval as you walked towards Bad's avatar that was currently standing still since Bad tabbed out. "Of course."

"Okay, Quackity I'm live, what do you want?" Bad warned before tabbing back onto minecraft.

"Why are you guys calling without me?" There it was, the same tone he had 4 days ago when he was 'upset' he got left out. Your eyes looked at the small message on the bottom left of the screen that let everyone know Quackity had joined the server.

"Because.. whats wrong with it?" Bad asked, confused, before happily following that up, "I was actually telling them about my trip to the store over the weekend."

"Yeah, he was," you mused, "before you rudely interrupted." You assumed he was here for a bit, the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love and affection, bothering Bad for a bit before letting the stream go back to being a relaxing, chill stream.

"Yeah? Well I want to hear the story too. You'll tell me too, right Bad?" He returned, the joking tone in his voice confirmed your assumptions. This was a bit.

Bad let out an exasperated sigh. These bits were never planned beforehand, they just happened and unfortunately for Bad it was happening during his chill stream. "What are you two going to fight about now?"

"I have one. Why were you guys recording without me? Hm?" The chat exploded with confusion and excitement for a new video from either Bad or you, possible video ideas being thrown around in chat.

"Because." You deadpan, "If you can do it, so can I."

"That's different." He says every single syllable with precision, as if he is preaching something of upmost importance. "You two spend way too much time together now."

Bad says something to try and interfere the banter he knows is about to take place, chat is going crazy about the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love. "So much for a chill stream." He mumbles to chat as his character watches you and Quackity hitting each other. With your fists, since it was deemed a 'fair fight' by both.

After about 3 hours, Bad decided he'd had enough and began saying goodbye to chat. There was a content smile on your lips as you made your character crouch beside Bad's, letting out a small and content "Bye chat!". Quackity had stayed the 3 hours as well, and was yelling his own goodbyes. As soon as the stream ended, Bad let out a small laugh.

"Sometimes you two are just too much." He said, the smile evident in his voice. "Do you guys enjoy bothering me that much?"

"Aw c'mon, Bad. You know we love you tons. And you know damn well you enjoy it too." Quackity teased, which earned yet another exasperated sigh from Bad.

"Okay, well I'm heading to bed.. I'm exhausted. Thank you two, for joining me tonight.. I had fun." He said softly, which automatically made a frown appear on your lips.

"Of course, Bad! I had fun too. Thanks for letting us join. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?" You offered, to which he hummed. There was a few more goodbyes exchanged before the ping notified you both Bad was gone.

There was silence for a bit as you finally got out of the server and shut minecraft off, wanting to rest your eyes for a bit. Maybe even head to bed yourself.

"You'll call him tomorrow, huh?"

Your eyes closed and you leaned your head back against your chair.

"Bit's over, Quackity." You chuckled, not up for yet another banter about who deserved Bad's love more.

"When's the last time we called? Now it's just Bad this, Bad that."

Your eyes opened, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his little profile picture that had its green ring fading around it.

"What?" You said in pure disbelief.

"You heard me." He mumbled. "Video recordings, streams, calls. And me? Nothing. Not one crumb."

"What about you?" You teased, amusement growing as you realized the past 3 hours had not been about Bad, at least not entirely.

"Don't make me actually say it." He complained, which only helped make the smile on your face grow.

"Use your words, Alex. I can't read minds." You gently bit at your bottom lip in anticipation, and in poor attempt to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape.

"Where's my calls? My recordings. You can't just randomly strip away all your attention from me and dump it on Bad."

"I didn't even do that." You protested, before letting the laugh escape your lips. "Plus, you should be greedy over Bad's attention, not mine."

"Maybe it's not for a bit, asshole? Did you think of that?" He asked sarcastically, earning a scoff from you.

"So you want my attention yet you're going to proceed to call me an asshole?"

"Yes." He breathed out.

"You didn't deny it." You hummed in slight approval. Usually he'd shy away from showing any actual clinginess or affection, and yet here he was, declaring with his whole chest that he wanted attention.

"Because I'm serious. Do you think this is a joke? Is that what I am to you?" He said dramatically, to which you shook your head.

"Of course not." You hummed before smiling at the absurdity of this conversation.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you and now you were imagining things.

"So? Does this mean I'm getting daily calls, recording videos with you, and streaming together whenever? Even on the alt?"

"Now you're just asking for too much."

"It's the bare minimum you can do for treating me so poorly and neglecting your responsibilities."

"Neglecting my responsibilities?" You repeated in disbelief.

"Yes." He declared. "Ignoring me for Bad is neglecting your responsibilities. A.K.A. me."

"I wasn't ignoring you, Alex." You tried to reason, though he would not listen to any reasoning.

"Yeah, yeah. So what? Do we have a deal?"

You paused and thought about what he was asking for. It really wasn't much, and he was most likely joking, but it was very endearing to see him ask for attention so openly. Especially from you.

"Did you miss me, Alex? While I was off on calls with Bad, talking about who knows what until who knows what time.. were you missing me? Thinking about me?" There was a teasing tone to your voice, but you also genuinely wanted to know.

It was clear that it caught him offguard.

"I mean.. yeah– what do you want me to say? No, fuck you. I didn't miss you at all. That's why I'm on call with you whining and bitching about how you don't give me enough attention and I want more. Specifically from you, please."

His last few words came out more hushed than the rest, and it brought a smile onto your face.

"Okay."

"Okay-?"

"You don't have to go on.. I'll give you the attention you want so badly from me." You said, the grin on your face growing more at the sound of happiness he let out.

"I guess directly asking for stuff isn't too bad, hm? I'll have to give props to Karl later for the advice."

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. "You asked Karl for advice on how to get my attention-?"

He let out a small groan, "Let's not talk about this with anyone, yeah? Just give me my attention and shh."

You hummed, "Whatever you say, Alex."

#alex quackity #quackity #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity brainrot #quackity scenario #help pls #streamer #quackity headcannons #quackity imagines #jealous quackity #bad is very tired

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sleepysnk · 3 years

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this was a little something i came up with last night, i love fluffy Eren <3, i hope you all enjoy this little piece.

Moonlit Nights

Pairings: Streamer!Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol usage

The faint smell of alcohol was lingering throughout Eren's room. The clock on his desk read 2:07 a.m. he was doing his usual stream for the night, but his girlfriend decided to join him that night.

Eren had reached yet another milestone, he reached 600k followers on Twitch. It was something that was very unexpected, he had only been streaming on the platform for about a year and a half; he never expected to get that big or maintain a large following. But, he did.

(Y/N) was proud of Eren, she had been there since the beginning; not many girls would stick around when it came to gamer guys. But (Y/N) did, despite any hate from her friends or other people, she stuck by Eren's side through everything. Whether he had one viewer or even ten, she believed he'd do amazing some day.

Eren couldn't ask for a better girlfriend, (Y/N) was sweet, kind, caring, beautiful, everything he could ever want in a girl. He felt so lucky being hers, he never once worried about her leaving him; something Eren never had before.

Tonight, the two decided to celebrate the milestone. They both decided to play a drinking game with Eren's fans, and of course, they were excited to see (Y/N). His fans absolutely adored her presence.

The two had been streaming since midnight, at first, Eren talked with his fans about the milestone and thanked them for everything they have done for him. He played a few games while he was at it, then once 1 a.m. hit, the drinking game had started.

It was simply just shots, nothing too crazy.

Eren wasn't exactly very drunk, (Y/N) on the other hand, was fully wasted. She was giggling at every comment or making fun of Eren, it amused his fans; Eren thought it was super adorable seeing her like that.

"A-And then.. Eren's ass was like – haha – he goes.. '(Y/N) why are you standing like that?' and I completely lose it," she said, giggling a bit.

Eren smiled as she told the story, he had seen her drunk before so it wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

"Yeah, she definitely lost it that day. She's a weirdo in public.." he whispered playfully into the mic.

She slapped his arm, "You asshole! I am not weird! You're just.. annoying!" she replied.

Eren rolled his eyes, "Uh huh.. okay princess.." he leaned over to press a kiss onto her lips. The lingering taste of the alcohol burned his taste buds a bit.

She leaned her head onto his shoulder. "Baby.. you should let me – um uh – play a game sometime! Please?" she asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He looked at her, a smile forming onto his features. "I'd love to baby.. but last time I let you do that you almost died and I had to come save you, remember?" his fingers ran along her cheek.

She pouted, "You're so unfair!"

He chuckled at her cuteness. "You're cute when you're pouty beautiful.." he said, kissing her head.

Eren looked over at the clock, he didn't even realize how much time had gone by; he needed to get (Y/N) to bed. She was drunk and he didn't want her staying up any later than she needed to be, it'd be rude of him.

Eren leaned back, letting out a sigh while he stretched his joints; a few cracks and pops came from them. "Alright guys.. I think I'm going to head out, I gotta get this little lady off to bed," he said, patting (Y/N)'s head.

"What? Nooo! I don't wanna get off babe," she whined.

Eren looked over at her. "Babe you're gonna wake up feeling like shit.. plus it's really late," he crossed his arms over his chest.

She sighed, "Okay fine! Goodnight guys.. you're all sexy! And.. – wait uh um – hot! I meant to say hot!" she smiled at the screen.

Eren waved, "Goodnight everyone! Thank you all for tuning in!"

The chat spammed Eren and (Y/N) with goodnight and goodbye messages. Eren ended the stream and rubbed his tired eyes, he could feel the tiredness in them; the alcohol wasn't helping either.

"Babe do we have to go to bed?" (Y/N) asked, rocking her body along the seat.

He rubbed his temples, "Yes babe, it's late and I don't want you staying up. C'mon, let's lay down," he replied.

(Y/N) tried standing up, but she stumbled a bit; luckily Eren was there to make sure she didn't fall. He lifted her up bridal-style and carried her over to the bed they both shared, he could smell her perfume and a mix of alcohol coming off of her skin. As much as he wanted to shower her, he knew she wouldn't want to. It was also 2 a.m.

"Eren! Where are you going?" she asked, tugging at his hand.

He looked back, "Princess I'm just going to turn off the light.. don't worry," he chuckled.

She watched Eren make his way to the light switch near the door, he flipped the switch, darkness invading into the room. The only light coming from the moonlight that shone into the window, it made her skin look pretty.

Eren climbed into bed beside her, she shifted around, trying to find her boyfriend. "Baby?" she said, tapping his face a few times.

Eren chuckled, "Yes baby?"

She leaned into his embrace. "I'm so happy you're my boyfriend.. I dunno how you don't get tired of me," she replied.

Eren pressed a kiss onto her head. "I'm so happy you're my girlfriend, I could never get tired of you princess," he said, smiling a bit.

His hand found its way to her hair, he began to rub her head; the pad of his thumb caressing her cheek. He could feel her smile against him.

"That feels.. nice.." she said, trailing off a little.

He could faintly see her face in the moonlight, she looked beautiful. Eren always thought her beauty was a plus, she always blew the air out of his lungs whenever she came over dressed up or even in casual clothes.

"I love you princess.. I hope you know that," he whispered.

(Y/N) quietly giggled, "Mmm, I love you more," she replied.

Eren snaked one of his arms around her waist, bringing her body towards his. "Thank you for everything you've done for me.. I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else," he said, caressing her hair.

"Uh huh.." her reply came back tired.

He laughed, "You're tired huh? Well, goodnight beautiful.."

She only hummed, her head burying into his chest. Eren smiled to himself hearing her small snores, it made his heart swell; he truly loved this girl. He didn't want to lose her, ever.

He put his chin onto her head before closing his eyes and falling asleep with (Y/N) in his arms.

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Seasons of Med: Season 4 and Seasons of PD: Season 6: Of Loss and Letters (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

As always, I do not own any quotes from Chicago Med 4x02.

Y/N's age: 17

Jay's age: 31

Will's age: 33

You sat in your English 11 class and wrote and wrote an essay for your test. Your hand was starting to cramp. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone's phone light up from the phone caddy.

Yes, that's right. Your high school now had a phone caddy where students had to put their phones every class. Each student was assigned a number and then that's where they put their phone during that hour. Some teachers didn't care and let you keep it on you, but some did.

Your phone lit up again. You so desperately wanted to look at your watch that was connected to your phone, but you knew that doing so would look like you were cheating, so you decided against it. And, you turned your attention back to your test.

It lit up again and this time your teacher had had enough and stood up to grab your phone.

"Sorry to interrupt your tests," she started, "but how many times do I have to tell you guys to put your phones away with the screen facing the whiteboard. That way it's not dis--" She sucked in a breath as a text came across your screen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one word: hospital. And, this caused her to read the text. "Y/N, please come with me."

You stood up, utterly confused, and then left the room.

"Firstly, let me say I didn't try to read your texts. I just saw it out of the corner of my eye and...it's important."

You believed this teacher. She was young, pretty fresh out of college, and one time when you came in for a review session, she made all of you guys brownies to snack on while you worked.

She handed you your phone. It was a text from Jay.

Dad's in the hospital.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was it something with his heart? Had he started drinking again?

"Can I--"

"You can go, Y/N. I'll call the office and have someone bring your books down there after class so you can pick them up there when you come to school later. Drive safe."

"Thank you."

You practically sprinted down the hallway and to your locker as another text came in from Jay.

If you don't answer in the next ten minutes, I'm calling school to get you out.

You finished shoving stuff into your backpack and then started on your way to the office. You went to sign out when one of the secretaries stopped you.

"I've got it, hun. You just take care of yourself." Your teacher must've called down.

"Thank you," you choked out and then left the building, dialing Jay's number as you walked.

"Jay!" you exclaimed when he picked up on the first ring. "What happened to Dad? I was taking a test and then my phone started blowing up. Is he okay?"

"Y/N, there was a fire at his apartment. He's in the ED at Med. Will will fill you in more when you get here." You could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn't good.

"Jay, you can't just tell me that! There's gotta be more!"

"Y/N, you're about to drive. You'll be at Med in twenty minutes. I don't need you to get in a car accident. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"Please." You got in your car and then turned your phone on speaker and started your car. "Can you tell me stories on my way there?" you asked Jay. "I need something else to focus on."

"Focus on the road."

"I mean listen to. I need something else to listen to."

"What kind of stories?" he asked.

"Can you tell me how Mom and Dad met?"

"You know how they met: it was at a White Sox game. Dad saw Mom stand up to buy some popcorn and said he fell in love with her at first sight. He must not have been a pain in the ass then. And, his favorite pastime probably wasn't yelling at people like it is now. Probably smiled more, too."

"Technically, he doesn't yell at me," you said. "Except when he was drunk before you started taking care of me and he finished the twelve steps."

"Oh, right. I forgot. I'm his favorite person to yell at," Jay said sarcastically. "He wasn't always an ass, though. He was actually excited to have a daughter at first. And then, his asshole buddies in construction changed his mind and made him think that women weren't his equals."

"Dicks," you muttered. "What did you and Will do when you found out that Mom was going to have me? Were you mad you weren't going to be the youngest anymore?"

"Nah, I was happy I'd have someone to pick on like Will picked on me."

"Hey!"

"Obviously I didn't follow through with that line of reasoning," he laughed. "Mom was telling us how we'd have to play tea parties with you and all that girly stuff. Me and Will obviously weren't too thrilled about that."

"Well, you're lucky I'm not a girly-girl then and didn't really play tea parties."

"That's because I taught you how to kick a soccer ball the minute you could walk. Shocked you didn't play that in middle school and now in high school," he added.

"I'm not competitive enough for that."

"Oh, believe me, we know. That's why you didn't play goalie: because one game you were goalie, you just sat down in the goal and started playing with the grass."

"Goalie was boring. And, you don't get a break; you don't get to sub-in. My favorite part of kiddie soccer was the snacks and juice boxes at the end."

"Don't forget those few times you scored goals during the games," Jay pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess that part was kinda fun."

"See? You had fun."

"Not really. But, I'm pulling into Med now. I'll gonna park and then I'll be in the ED."

"Okay, make sure you remember where you parked."

"Don't worry, I will."

You parked and then made your way into the ED waiting room.

"Miss, I'm going to need you to take a seat and wait to be seen," a nurse you didn't recognize said.

"Oh, no," you started. "I'm not hurt. It's my dad. He was in the fire and my brother called." You looked down at your feet, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. "My brother called and said he's in the ED. Um, one of my brothers is Dr. Will Halstead."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. Go right on in." She gave you a sympathetic look.

"Thank you."

You hustled into the ED and looked for Maggie or one of your brothers. You spotted Maggie first.

"Maggie where's--"

"Your dad's in Treatment One." She pointed you in the direction of the room and you made your way over there.

You entered the room at the same time as Dr. Rhodes. "You guys wanna fill her in?"

"What's going on?" you asked, worry evident in your voice.

Your dad started coughing and spit some bile into a bin, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

"Dad tried to play hero," Jay started to explain, "He forgot he was in his 60s with a bum ticker."

"Yeah, well, this is your fault to begin with," Pat Halstead said.

"Me?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, you stuck me in that fire trap."

"Please, can you two just not fight for once?" you complained.

"Pop, stop talking," Will urged.

Dr. Rhodes started doing an EKG and then ordered some tests, finally shutting your dad up...and saving you from another argument between Jay and your dad. Then, after he was done, he got called out to consult for Dr. Choi.

"I don't need all this," your dad complained once Dr. Rhodes had left the room.

"Calm down," Jay told him rudely. "You're getting yourself all worked up."

"What do you know? You're no doctor."

"Dad," you said.

"You had no right to sell my house!"

"You wanna talk about this again?" Jay practically yelled. "It was a wreck. You couldn't take care of the place."

"You just wanted my money!"

"Hey!" Will yelled, but it didn't stop the two...nothing ever did.

"You don't have any money you thankless old prick!" Jay yelled and then started to walk out.

"Jay!" Will yelled as you started to follow him out, hoping to calm him down. "Y/N, stay here," Will told you.

"Why?"

"I know you're gonna try to calm him down, but he needs to cool off by himself right now."

You huffed. "Fine." You turned back to your dad. "I don't think he really meant it. He was mad. Both of you say things you don't mean when you're angry. You two are a lot alike that way. Like when you said he wasn't a son of yours."

"Yeah, you should apologize for that one," Will agreed.

"Not until he apologizes for what he just said to me. Only then will I--"

Alarms started sounding and lights starting flashing. Will hit a button on the wall and two nurses rushed in.

"Will, what's happening?" you screamed. "What's happening to Dad?"

Will lowered the bed and then put his fingers to your dad's neck. "No pulse. Bag him."

"Wait, he's your dad," a nurse, who you recognized as Monique, said. "Shouldn't another doctor run the code?"

"You got one handy?" Will asked as he started chest compressions.

"Will, what's happening?" Jay asked as he re-entered the room.

"Jay, I need you to take Y/N out of here. Now."

"No, I wanna stay. What's going on?"

"Jay, now," Will stated again.

Jay placed on hand on your back. "Y/N, c'mon."

The alarms were still sounding, the lights still flashing.

"No!" you yelled.

"Y/N, I need room in here," Will told you. "The best thing you can do for Dad is to leave this room."

"No! I wanna stay!" you yelled again.

Jay looked at Will and he nodded. Then, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground by Jay.

"Put me down! Put me down!" You started kicking and swinging your arms, but he didn't budge. "Let me go back in there!"

Once safely out of the room--and having drawn the attention of most people in the ED--did Jay finally put you down. You tried to run back towards the treatment room, but Jay scooped you back up.

"Nope. We're going outside," Jay told you.

"Fine. But, once we're out there, I'm not walking with you."

You crossed your arms in frustration. After that little stunt he pulled back there, there was nothing he could say that made you want to be around him.

"That's fine. Just keep your phone on you."

***

As you kept walking down the sidewalk to the right--Jay had went left as soon as you walked outside because you didn't want to be around him--you spotted none other than Kelly Severide sitting on a bench, looking like he was currently throwing himself a pity party.

"Hey," you said as you walked up to him.

"Y/N? what are you doing out here?" he asked as he looked up.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, have a seat. You look like you've been crying."

"So do you," you pointed out.

"Stella's in the ED," he admitted. "She had a nasty inhalation injury. They uh, they might not be able to save her lung...which means she wouldn't be able to be a firefighter anymore." He looked back down.

"I'm sorry, Kelly. But, Stella's a fighter."

"Yeah, I know. She left home when she was eighteen and she didn't have the best home life before that either."

"She told me."

"She told you?" he asked, looking back up at you.

"Yeah, when she helped me get ready for homecoming, she told me that she gets it. She gets what it's like not having a mom to help you get ready for dances."

"Dude, we have a problem," Will said through the phone to Jay.

"Which is...?" Jay asked.

"Nat got called in. We don't have anyone to help Y/N get ready for the dance."

"Shit," Jay cursed. "Yeah, that really is a problem. Let me make some calls."

Jay hung up the phone with Will and then scrolled through his contacts. He thought about asking Hailey, but he wasn't super close with her yet, so she was off the table.

Then it hit him: Stella.

But he didn't have her number.

But he had Kelly's.

"Please don't be on shift, please don't be on shift," he muttered as the line started ringing.

"Hey, Halstead," Kelly answered.

"Hey, man. Listen, I've got a huge favor to ask you. Well, actually, it's more you asking Stella for the favor."

"What do you want me to ask her? She's right here."

"Well, it's Y/N's homecoming dance tonight and Nat was gonna come over and help her get ready and she got called into work. I was wondering if maybe Stella could come over and help Y/N out."

"Okay, I'll ask her."

He heard mumbling which he guessed was Kelly talking to Stella. "I'm gonna put her on," Kelly said after a minute.

"Okay."

"Hey, Jay," Stella said into Kelly's phone.

"Hey, Stella. Kelly explain everything to you?" Jay asked.

"He did. I'll be over there in an hour. Unless you need me sooner, then I can make it half an hour."

"An hour works great. Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver, really."

***

Jay had left to run to the store and had told you that Stella would be there in an hour. So, when someone knocked on your apartment door twenty minutes later, you were utterly confused.

You got up from the couch and looked through the peephole in your apartment door, seeing none other than frick and frack...otherwise known as Adam and Kevin.

"What are you two doing here?" you asked as you opened the door. "If you're looking for Jay, he went out to run some errands."

"No, we're actually here to see you," Kevin said.

"Me?"

"Yeah," Adam confirmed. "Aren't you supposed to be in a dress or something?"

"I'll put it on after Stella dose my hair," you told them. "Sorry, c'mon in."

The two entered the apartment, but you were still confused as to why they were here, and why they were here for you and not your brother.

"I guess we can teach her like this," Adam said.

"Might be better, too," Kevin started. "That way she won't rip her dress when we're first teaching her."

"Uh, excuse me. Right here, guys. What are you planning on teaching me?" you asked, annoyed that they were talking about you like you weren't even there.

"We are here, little Y/N, to teach you how to fight," Adam answered.

"First of all, don't ever call me little Y/N again. Second of all, no you're not. What's the real reason you're here?"

"That's it," Adam laughed.

You raised an eyebrow, so Kevin decided that he needed to clarify. "It's just for self-defense. Just in case a horny teenage boy comes up to you and starts grinding on you at the dance, so you'll know what to do."

You were still skeptical about this, but they did have a good point. You had to give them that.

"Okay, so what do I do? And, did Jay put you two up to this?" you asked.

"He didn't," Adam answered. "We came of our own free will. First thing you need to know about throwing a punch is doing it with a closed fist." You closed your fist. "Perfect. Now, when you throw the punch, make sure your arm is locked out."

You did as he said and your punch was a little flimsy, but you worked on it.

***

"Is this the right color you think? I tried my best," Jay said as he met Stella in the elevator on their way up to his apartment. He pulled out a sparkly black bottle of nail polish. Stella had asked if your nails were done, and when he said no, she asked if he could pick up some nail polish while she packed up all her hair stuff and makeup to help you get ready. He had reluctantly agreed. By looking at the picture of your dress he had on his phone--it was a two-piece dress where the skirt portion was long enough that it covered your belly. The skirt was white with a floral design and the top was black with sequins--and used that to figure out what color nail polish to pick. Stella told him to keep it simple, so he just picked up a black bottle with some sparkles.

"Perfect!" Stella exclaimed as she looked at the color.

They got off the elevator and then walked to your and Jay's apartment. When Jay opened the door, he was met with one of the weirdest sights he had seen in his life: Adam was rolling around on the floor in what looked to be pain and you were jumping up and down and celebrating and then giving Kevin a high five.

"What happened here?" Jay asked.

"Oh, hey bro," Kevin said.

"Hey, Jay," Adam gritted out from his spot on the floor.

"We were teaching Y/N self-defense in case someone grinds on her at the dance," Kevin supplied. "And, we got to the kneeing part."

"So, she kneed him where the sun don't shine?" Jay laughed.

"Yeah," Kevin confirmed.

"Good job, Y/N. Adam, I'll get you ice and a beer. Kev, you want one?" Kevin nodded and Jay handed the small bag containing the nail polish to Stella.

"So, here's the deal," Stella started. "Natalie got called into work, so you're stuck with me helping you get ready. I've got some nail polish that your brother so generously went out and picked up for you, a straightener, a curling iron, tons of bobby pins and little hair ties, and tons of makeup. Just tell me what you want and we'll get the ball rolling."

You helped Adam up off the ground and then started towards your room, Stella following close behind.

***

"You know, I never had a mom to help me with this kind of stuff either," Stella confessed as she was twisting your hair.

"You didn't?" you asked. "Who helped you?"

"My mom was in and out of my life in high school, so usually one of the nice neighbor ladies helped me with my hair. The makeup was all me."

"So, you know how it is. I feel like it's harder for me than for Will and Jay because they both had Mom for over twenty years. I only had her for nine."

"Well, if you ever wanna talk about girl stuff, I'm your girl. Now, anyone special you wanna dance with? Or are meeting him at the dance?" Stella asked.

"Well, there is someone." You blushed.

"Girl," she dropped your hair. "You can't just leave me hanging like that. Who is it?"

"His name's Caleb. He's really good friends with my friend, Andrea." Stella knew who this was. She knew that you had saved her life during the shooting half a year ago. "He's really cute. Tall, Brown hair. Blue eyes. One of the star players on the football team," you told her wistfully.

"Ooh, you got it bad," Stella laughed.

"I got what bad?"

"Your crush on this Caleb kid. You are crushing on him so hard, Y/N. Can't say I blame you. The popular kid is always the way to go...as long as he's not a douche."

"He's actually not. He's actually really nice."

"Well, does Caleb have a date to the dance?" Stella asked.

You sighed. "He does. Her name's Sasha and she's a total bitch. Excuse my French."

"Well, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: sooner or later, the dude sees his girl's true colors."

"I, uh, I thought about asking him to dance. I remember Jay saying when I was like four and he was going to his senior prom, that if he wasn't dating Allie and a girl asked him to dance, that he'd dance with her because it takes guts to ask someone to dance. But, since Caleb's got a date, that probably won't happen."

"Hey, if he's dancing solo and a slow song comes on, you gotta ask him to dance. Shoot your shot, girl."

"You're right. I'm gonna ask him to dance. I will ask Caleb to dance."

"That's the spirit! Now, we gotta get you looking extra hot so he falls in love with you when he's staring into your eyes while you two are slow dancing the night away."

You laughed and Stella returned to your hair.

***

Later that night, a slow song came on and Sasha was nowhere to be seen with Caleb. But, he was on the dance floor, near the back wall, all by himself. So, you asked him to dance. He said yes, and after, he even gave you a hug. Best dance of your high school career so far.

After you texted Andrea to tell her that you danced with Caleb because you had no idea where she was, the next person you texted was Stella. You knew she'd be hella excited for you.

You crushed on Caleb for a few months after that. But, then he got a new girlfriend and ended up cheating on her with not one, but two different girls. Needless to say, your crush on him died the second you found out this information.

"She loves you, you know," you said to Kelly.

"She told you this?" he asked.

"She didn't have to. Every time Stella sees you, or even when she talks to you, her face lights up."

"She's good for me. That's for sure."

You paused. You knew Kelly didn't have the best relationship with his dad and neither did Jay, Will, or even you. You also knew his dad had died a few months ago, around October and it was currently February. "Did you ever get mad at yourself?" you asked.

"About what?"

"When your dad died. You knew he wasn't the best person, but you were still sad."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I don't understand where you're going with this," Kelly apologized.

"I know my dad wasn't the best person, hell he was neglectful and unfit to be a parent, still is. So, why do me and my brothers still see him? Why do I still feel sad and scared that he might die?" you asked. You knew this was something you should be asking your school counselor--you had started seeing her a lot this past year because of the shooting--but Kelly was here now. And, maybe he'd understand because he didn't have a very good dad either.

"It's because you remember how he used to be," Kelly said. "You, Jay, and Will all remember when he was a better person. When Benny died, I didn't feel like I was grieving current Benny. I was more grieving for the Benny I knew when I was five years old when he was a good dad. And, I never gave up hope that he'd become a better father as I grew up. When he died, I knew it would never happen. You're grieving the dad you used to know and the hope you might lose of him becoming a better man."

You nodded because you really had no idea what to say. You thought Kelly was right; maybe that was the reason why you were sad and fearful about the possibility of your dad dying. You two sat in silence after that, finding comfort in each other's presence, each hoping for the best, but trying to prepare yourself for the worst.

***

You walked into the ED, to be met with Jay storming out and Will quickly following after him. You ran after them.

When they finally stopped, you made your presence known. "Okay, someone wanna tell me what the hell's going on?"

"Dad's brain dead and Will, Will doesn't want a second opinion and just wants to let Dad die," Jay spat.

"A- Are you sure he's brain dead? Maybe you read it wrong?" you asked. There had to have been some kind of mistake. Your dad couldn't be brain dead; he couldn't be a vegetable.

"Y/N, I know this is a lot of information to take in, but the EEG, the thing that reads brain waves, showed that Dad's brain dead. Dr. Abrams read it and he's our top neurosurgeon."

"I still want a second opinion," Jay restated.

"Abrams is our top neurosurgeon, Jay. The opinion doesn't get any better than that," Will told him.

Jay scoffed. "So all your degrees, all that money, all those years in school, this is the best you can do?"

"Jay, Dad almost died two years ago. He's been living on borrowed time."

"Abrams didn't say Dad had no chance!" Jay protested.

"One thousand to one is no chance."

"So you just want to give up?" Jay clenched his fists at his side.

"I've seen a lot of patients in his condition--"

"There goes that doctor voice."

"I'm sorry, but I am a doctor," Will retorted.

Jay scoffed. "Yeah, we got that message. And Dad knew you thought you were better than us. We always came in second. Hell, Y/N came in second because you were away at med school! Who was looking after her when Mom was dying? Me and Dad. Who took her in because Dad's a shitty parent? Me. You weren't there, and now you wanna decide what happens to Dad?" He stepped closer to Will.

Will took a step closer to Jay as well. "You know that's not true, Jay."

"Yes, it is!"

Will opened his mouth and started to say something, but you weren't listening, you were too busy stepping between your brothers because you sensed a fight about to break out.

"Enough!" you yelled. Both Will and Jay looked down at you, shocked at your outburst. "Dad's fucking dying in there and you're fighting about old shit! Don't you see that it doesn't matter? Do you really want to spend your last moments with Dad fighting? Because I sure as hell don't."

Then, you moved away from them and made your way to the bathroom before you started bawling. You really didn't want to do that in front of the other people milling around the hospital.

Jay sighed and put his hands behind his head as he watched you walk off towards the bathroom.

"I never thought I'd say this," Will started, "but she's right. We can't be fighting right now."

"Yeah, I guess we shouldn't be doing that," Jay said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

"Guess me and Dad really are alike. Stubborn and quick to yell things we don't mean."

"I'm pretty sure all of us got the stubborn gene, even Y/N."

Then, The COO of the hospital, who Will introduced as Ms. Garrett walked up to them and told them that they had the full support and all the resources that the hospital had available to help their dad. This didn't seem like her at all, so Will excused himself to go talk to Ms. Goodwin. And, Jay figured this was as good a time as any to see how you were doing, as he hadn't seen you leave the bathroom yet.

***

Jay popped his head into the bathroom and since he only saw one stall in use and saw your shoes in that one, he entered the bathroom and locked the door.

He heard a sniffle. "Short Stack? You okay?" He paused, mentally kicking himself. "Stupid question, of course, you're not okay. I know you're in here," Jay said gently.

"Go away," you said through your tears.

"Y/N, you know I can't do that."

"I just wanna be alone...and for you and Will to stop fighting."

"We made up. Me and Will are fine. Can you please come out?"

You swallowed and frantically wiped your tears away and the snot that ran from your nose. Then, you walked out of the stall and immediately over to Jay and hugged him. "I'm sorry," you mumbled into his brown jacket. "I'm sorry for yelling and swearing. I just wanted you guys- I just wanted you guys to stop."

"I know, I know. Neither of us is mad at you. You had every right to be pissed at us."

"It's just- It's just... nevermind. It's stupid."

"Y/N, it's not stupid. Just tell me. I promise I won't laugh."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he confirmed.

You sighed. "I didn't get as much time with Mom as you two did and now I'm not getting as much time with Dad. You guys had both of them--" You drew in a shaky breath. "You guys had both of them at your high school graduations. I won't have that. I won't have that, Jay."

And that's when you crumbled and you just sobbed into Jay's jacket. When you were nine, you never really comprehended the number of things your mom wouldn't be there for, like your first high school dance, your first date, your first kiss, your high school graduation, your college graduation(s), your wedding, your possibly having a kid and her possibly having grandkids. Granted, your dad wasn't the best dad or even the best man in general, but now you'd have neither parent at any of those things, at any of those milestones.

Jay just held you as you continued to sob about all the things your parents wouldn't be there for, holding you just as your mom would hold him whenever he cried when he was younger.

***

You and Jay sat next to each other by your dad's bedside, the sounds of the vent that was currently keeping him alive were the only sounds that could be heard. Will came in and motioned for Jay to meet him outside the room.

"Be right back." He placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Be right outside," Will promised.

Outside of the room, Will explained that the reason Gwen Garrett wanted to keep your dad alive was that his bypass was 29 days ago. And that she just wants to keep your dad alive for one more day just so the hospital didn't take a hit.

"You think Dad would want this?" Will asked. "To stay alive just to buff some numbers?"

"No, no he wouldn't. But, me and Y/N talked while you tried to figure out what that Garrett lady wanted. Uh, Y/N didn't get as much time as we did with Mom and now she's getting less time than we are with Dad."

"Because she's a lot younger than us. What are you trying to say, Jay?" Will asked.

"I think Y/N should decide. She should decide whether or not we keep Dad on the vent because she had the least amount of time with him. She should get to decide whether or not she gets more time with him."

"Jay, I'm not trying to argue with you, but do you really think that's a good idea? Her decision could cause her a lot of trauma down the road if she ends up thinking she made the wrong choice in the future," Will pointed out.

"We could tell her our opinions and what we want, but tell her that ultimately, she gets to make the final decision. That way, she doesn't feel like it's totally on her," Jay suggested.

"And if she doesn't want to make that big of a decision?"

"We decide between ourselves."

Will sighed. Jay did make a good point. "Fine. But if she feels like shit for months, I'm blaming you."

"Add you to the list of people blaming me for bad shit in their lives."

"Are you lumping me together with criminals you put away?"

"Basically."

Will and Jay re-entered the room. "Why does it feel like he's squeezing my hand?" you asked.

Will sighed. He didn't want to crush your hope of your dad coming back, even though he knew it wouldn't happen, but he also knew that he couldn't give you false hope; he knew he needed to explain this to you.

"Those are just reflexes," Will answered. "I'm sorry, Short Stack, but they don't mean anything."

"They don't? He doesn't know I'm here?" You sniffled.

"He doesn't know," Will confirmed.

You nodded and continued to hold your dad's hand.

"Y/N, we have something to tell you," Jay started. You tore your eyes away from your dad and up to your brothers. "Me and Will decided that you should decide whether we keep Dad on the vent because you got the least amount of time with him."

"You- you guys want me to decide whether Dad lives or dies?" you asked.

Will nodded. "If you don't want to, me and Jay can decide between ourselves, but you can still tell us what you'd prefer. If you want to decide, we can let you do that. Or, if you want our opinions before you decide, that's fine, too."

"What do you guys think? I don't want to decide all by myself," you practically whispered.

And so, they explained to you how Garrett just wanted to keep your dad alive for one more day just to buff some numbers and how they didn't think he'd want to be alive just to do that, just to save the hospital from liability.

You also knew that there were one thousand to one odds against your dad coming back and that those weren't odds at all. He'd need a miracle. And, if there was one thing you knew about your dad, it was that he didn't believe in miracles. He believed in hard work, not miracles.

It was for these reasons that you said what you said next: "Let him go."

***

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber," Will started when you and Jay arrived at your dad's apartment a few days later to go through his stuff. Surprisingly, most of it had been spared during the fire. "You went after the person responsible for the fire, didn't tell anyone, and ended up getting shot."

"You got shot?" you yelled as you walked in.

"Nice going, man. She didn't know," Jay said, annoyed. He turned to you. "It hit the vest. I'm totally fine. I just have some bruising on my chest. Nothing to worry about."

"And you two tell me to be careful," you mumbled. "I should be telling you that."

"It's no use, Y/N," Will said. "I tell him all the time. He just never listens."

"You know you're not a cat, right Jay? You don't have nine lives."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Where are we starting?"

***

Jay looked down at the pictures he was going through. He always thought that his dad didn't make it to his police academy graduation. But, the photo in front of him proved him wrong: there, in his hand, was a picture that his dad took of him on stage, getting his badge pinned to his chest when he had graduated from the police academy with the date written on the back.

He put a hand over his mouth to stifle his sobs and keep you and Will from hearing them. But, he didn't know you were on your way to find him.

"Jay, Will's wondering if you want us to order pizza? You good with--" You stopped talking when you saw Jay sitting on the floor, staring at a photo with silent tears streaming down his face. "What's wrong?" You knelt down next to him.

Jay frantically wiped his tears away using the hand that wasn't holding the photo. "Sorry, yeah, tell Will he can order pizza."

"Jay," you said sternly. "What's wrong? And, don't you dare say nothing. Because you wouldn't let me say nothing, you'd bug me until I told you. So, if you don't tell me, I'm going to keep bugging you about it, just like you'd do to me."

Jay chuckled. "I really screwed myself over by using that parenting tactic, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. Now, what's wrong?"

Jay sighed. The Halstead stubbornness was starting to show more and more now that you had been living with him. And, because of this, Jay knew that you wouldn't let up.

"I always thought Dad never went to my graduation from the academy." He set the picture on the floor between you guys. "But he did."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "You didn't know that?"

"Why would I? Did you know?" he asked, turning to look at you.

"Yeah. He had to leave early because he had to make sure he was home when I got home from school. That's why he couldn't congratulate you after. He never told you?"

"No, he didn't."

"You know the first thing he said to me when I walked inside?" Jay shook his head. "He said: your brother's a Chicago police officer. I'm proud of him. And your mother would be, too."

"He- he said that?" Jay asked, getting choked up once more.

"He did. He might not have said it, but he was so proud of you, Jay. So proud."

***

Will opened a cabinet to grab some paper plates for you three to eat your pizza off of. As he was grabbing them, his hand brushed up against something leaning up against the back wall of the inside of the cabinet. It wasn't one something, but multiple somethings. He furrowed his eyebrows and took out the entire stack of paper plates, causing the multiple somethings to fall to where the paper plates had previously been. Then, he took the mystery things out of the cabinet.

He gasped when he read the first one.

In his hand, he held six letters, two addressed to each of you, one from your mom and one from your dad.

"Will, what's taking so long?" Jay asked as he flipped open the pizza box. "Food's getting cold."

"I think the pizza's gonna have to wait, guys." Instead of grabbing the plates and bringing them to the table, he brought the letters instead.

"Those don't look like plates to me," Jay pointed out.

"Because they're not." He set the pile of letters on the table. "They're letters. Addressed to each of us."

"But, that's Mom's handwriting," Jay said, flabbergasted.

"What do they say?" you asked.

"Only one way to find out," Will said and reached for the two addressed to him.

You and Jay did the same.

You swore you could hear a pin drop as each of you slowly ripped opened the yellowing envelopes. The seals were easy to open because, since they had been sealed for so long, some of the stickiness was gone.

Will first started with the one from his dad.

Dear William,

I know I said a real man goes right to work. And, I know I was mad at you for doing what you wanted to do and becoming a doctor. But, I guess I just have to think of med school as on the job training...that you pay a ton of money for. You will never hear me say this out loud to you because you know as well as I do that I am as stubborn as they come and I hate admitting I was wrong. But, you did good, kid. Both you and Jay did.

I'll keep this short because, if you're reading this, that means I'm gone and I'm assuming you, Jay, and Y/N are busy with the arrangements. But, just know that even though I don't say it a lot, I love you and I'm proud of you, son.

Love, your father,

Pat Halstead.

Will wiped below his eyes. His dad did say he was proud of him when he was out of surgery two years ago. And, Connor had told him everything his dad had said about him before he went under the anesthesia. But, it was nice to have that in writing because it would be there forever.

It was like all three of you had the same idea to open the letter from your dad first. Your logic was that you figured your mom's would make you cry more, so you figured you'd open that last.

Jay fought to keep his eyes dry as he read the letter from his dad. He regretted the last words he had said to him, now more than ever.

Dear Jayson,

I know you think I hated you for going into the military straight out of high school. But, I didn't. I was just scared, scared I was going to lose you. One thing you don't know is that I tell everyone I work with that you're a war veteran. I love bragging about you and telling people about your accomplishments. They always say I should be so proud of you. And, I'm sorry I never tell you that, but I am proud of you, really proud of you. You fought for our country and saved countless lives over there. Just keep saving the innocent, Jay. That's what you seem to do best...and fight against the people who tell you that you can't do it, just like how you fought against me when I told you not to join the military.

I'll keep this short because if you're reading this, that means I'm gone. But, always remember that I am so proud of you and that I love you so much.

Love, your father,

Pat Halstead.

His dad was proud of him. And now he had a reason as to why his dad didn't want him to join the military: he was scared. And, Jay told himself that if he had his own kids, he'd probably do the same thing because he had seen the horrors of battle and he wouldn't want any of his kids to go through that.

Finally, you read yours. And, as you read it, you were crying more than your brothers. You really didn't care, though.

To my daughter,

As I am writing this, you are nine years old and want to be a doctor. I don't know how that will pan out or if you'll change your mind on what you want to do. But, I am here to tell you, don't let anyone or anything stand in your way of what you want to be. Don't let Will stand in your way and don't stand in his shadow if you become a doctor. Strive to be better than him. Compete with each other if you end up going into the medical field; a little friendly competition never hurt anyone. Be smart and keep your brothers in line because Lord knows they're both as stubborn and as reckless as they come.

Love, your father,

Pat Halstead.

So, Jay was right: Dad wasn't always a sexist pig. And, Kelly was right as well: you missed your old Dad, the one who believed you could do anything, not the one who you knew when you were 13 to now, who was drunk, unfit to parent, and sexist as hell.

Then, Will opened the letter from his Mom.

To my first baby, Will,

First of all, let me say that I love you so much, more than you can ever imagine. I know you'll be a great doctor. Just, be smart, and try to be a little less stubborn because I'm assuming you're going to have to work with other doctors. Find it in you to compromise. I don't know what to say in this because me and your dad agreed that you and Jay and Y/N will get these letters when he's passed as well, so I don't know how far into the future you'll be seeing this. So, I figured I'd leave you with some life tips.

Mom's life tips to Will:

1. Never, ever lay your hands on or disrespect a woman. If you do, I will come down from heaven and smite you myself. This goes for Jay, too.

2. Make sure you help your girlfriend or wife with the household chores, like cleaning and cooking. You never leave all it to her. Again, same goes for Jay.

3. I'm sorry to say this, but never grow out a long beard. You have red hair and if you grow out a beard, you'll look like an overgrown leprechaun. Sorry, sweetheart.

Love,

Mom (Amelia Halstead).

PS. In this envelope you will find $500. This is to help you with med school loans, malpractice insurance, or if you're reading this way into the future, to help you with bills, and your own little family.

Will let out a small chuckle as he read the last life tip. And, thankfully, he had never decided to grow out his beard. And now he never would.

Jay looked down at his mom's loopy cursive handwriting and began to read.

To Jay, my second baby,

First of all, I love you more than you can ever imagine. And I am so, so proud of you for choosing to serve your country. I don't know whether you'll decide to stay in or leave the rangers, but I'm sure you'll be amazing at whatever it is you choose to pursue. And Jay, please keep in mind that you only have one life. Don't be crazy and reckless out there. I don't think you will be, but I'm just reminding you because I'm your mom and that's what moms do, they nag you and they worry about you no matter what. And, if you're reading this, that means your dad has passed away as well. Don't take this the wrong way, but please go see a therapist. You've fought in a war and seen terrible things overseas (I know because you once had a nightmare at home. I just didn't tell you that I knew this) and you've lost both of your parents. You should talk to a professional, sweetheart. But, always remember that I will be with you when your nightmares get rough. And, if Y/N wants to follow in your footsteps and go into the military, talk to her about it, but don't fight her on it like Dad did to you. Finally, I will leave you with some life tips.

Mom's life tips for Jay:

1. Never, ever lay your hands on or disrespect a woman. If you do, I will come down from heaven and smite you myself. I already wrote this in Will's letter as well.

2. Make sure you help your girlfriend or wife with the household chores, like cleaning and cooking. You never leave all it to her. Again, this is in Will's letter, too.

3. I know you want to save everyone, Jay. And, you have a big heart, but you also take things personally. Just know that you can't save everyone and that is okay. Be kind to yourself and think of all the people you did save as opposed to those who you couldn't. It's okay to grieve for them, but don't let your grief last forever.

Love,

Mom (Amelia Halstead).

PS. Also in this envelope is $500. Use it towards therapy. But, if you already made the leap to go to therapy, one I am proud of you, and two, use it for something else. Donate it to veterans in need maybe. Or, use it to help pay off loans if you decided to go to college if you ended up leaving the military. Or, if you're reading this way in the future, use this money to help with bills and your own little family.

Maybe Jay would start therapy again now. He had gone a while ago, but after his meds stabilized his nightmares again, he stopped going. Maybe he'll go again because as he always said, his mom was a smart lady.

You were ugly crying as you opened the envelope and read the first few words that your mom had written.

To my baby girl,

Y/N, I love you so much and you will always be my baby girl no matter how old you get. I know I only got nine years with you, but know that I will always be with you in your heart no matter where you are. I was so excited when I found out I was having a girl and I'm so sorry we didn't get as much time on earth together as we should have. Continue doing what you love. Don't let your brothers take Beary from you. And, don't take no for answer when someone tells you that you can't do something just because you're a girl. Us girls are strong. As for the future, sweetheart, you have the kindest little personality right now. Never lose that. But, at the same time, don't let anyone take advantage of that. Stand up for yourself and stand up for others in need. I am going to leave you with more life tips than I left your brothers because they're older and should know a few more things than you at the moment...and they aren't girls.

Mom's life tips for Y/N:

1. And, don't laugh at this, but it works. When shaving down there, apply deodorant down there after. It helps to keep razor bumps and itchiness at a minimum.

2. Don't go for the first man that says I love you. You need to make mistakes before you fall truly and madly in love.

3. Girls can be cruel in middle school and high school. It's okay if you only have one or two true friends because having a few super close friends is better than having lots of distant ones.

4. Don't depend on any man for anything. Before moving in with your boyfriend and/or getting married, make sure you are financially stable all by yourself. That way, you will be able to leave him if things go south.

5. When you do get married, always keep money hidden away or have a secret bank account that your husband doesn't know about. That way, if things get really bad really fast, you can get out of there as fast as possible.

6. Finally, and I'm assuming Dad, Will, or Jay has already told you these things, but if they haven't, here they are. When drinking, watch the bartender make your drink. Don't take drinks from anyone. And don't leave your drink unattended.

I love you, sweetheart.

Love,

Mom (Amelia Halstead).

PS. Also in this envelope is a $20 gift card to Build-A-Bear. If you are too old to use it, save it for your kids. Or, if you have kids, give it to your kids. There is also $480. This can be used to pay for dresses for school dances, for college, and if you're reading this way in the future, to start a stash of money that your husband doesn't know about, or to help with bills and your own little family.

All three of you were in tears. But, you always knew that both of your parents would be with you and that they were so, so proud of each of you and that they loved each of you more than the world itself.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Leave a comment if I made you cry! I got a request of Kevin and Adam teaching Y/N how to punch, so I incorporated it into this imagine. To the anon who requested that, I hope you liked it! Anyway, please reblog/like and comment to tell me what you think! As always if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you! Finally, liked the imagine? Buy me a coffee here.

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Think of Me

Summary: You hope the war doesn’t make Bucky forget about you.

A/N: I’m deep in my T-Swift phase again. Deal with it 😎

Word count: 3k

And away, and away we go!

You made pleasant conversation with the bartender as you sat on your stool. “You think this is the night a handsome man finally asks me to dance?” you pondered aloud.

“If they do, will you stop bothering me?” Charlie asked in a playful tone.

“What would you do if I wasn’t here bothering you?”

“Probably my actual job before the boss fires me.”

You laughed, then sighed, drumming your fingers on the bartop. “Seriously though, Charlie. Is it me? You would tell me if it was me, right?”

The bartender shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that.”

“Well, why are you friends with me?”

“You tip well.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned, throwing your straw wrapper at him.

“Look, it could very well be that you’re the only dame in this place talking with the bartender. That doesn’t exactly make a fella feel confident in approaching you.”

“Oh, so it’s you? Good to know,” you laughed again.

“I am very intimidating,” he winked, puffing out his chest as his eyes spotted a man walking your way. “But apparently not intimidating enough,” he whispered, nodding his head behind you before going down the bar to help another customer.

“Charlie!” you hissed as someone behind you cleared their throat. “Excuse me, miss?”

You turned on your stool to look at the stranger. He was dressed simply in a crisp button down shirt tucked into dark dress pants, a suit jacket draped over his arm. His brown hair was cut neatly atop his head, and his face was clean-shaven, giving you an unfiltered view of his strong jawline. Soft blue eyes searched your face as they waited for an answer, equally soft pink lips parted slightly on a perfect mouth. “Yes?” you asked, smiling at the man.

“I was wondering if you’d care for a dance.”

“With whom?”

“Me?” he asked, pink dusting his cheeks.

“And who’s me?”

“James,” he introduced, offering you his hand.

Instead of shaking it, you used it to rise to your feet, pulling him towards the dance floor.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he laughed, happily trailing after you. “Do I get to know your name, pretty girl?”

“Let’s see how well you dance first, James,” you winked, spinning slightly to face him, looping your hands behind his neck.

James rested his hands lightly on your hips, guiding the both of you to the beat of the music the band was playing.

“So, James,” you said, tilting your head upwards to look at him. “This isn’t a pity dance is it?”

“A pity dance?” he questioned in confusion.

“Well yes. It’s quite strange, after all. I complain to Charlie about how much I’d like for someone to ask me to dance, and suddenly you appear? Tad coincidental, isn’t it?”

“It is because I can assure you of two things. 1.) I don’t ask girls to dance out of pity. 2.) I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage for the better part of an hour, from where I was sitting over there,” he nodded his head towards a booth near the back of the bar, “so there’s no way I could’ve heard whatever you were talking to Charlie about.”

“Good,” you decided, liking his answer. “You should ask me to dance more often,” you added as the song ended and you unlooped your hands from his neck, his own hands staying on your waist.

“Will you tell me your name if I do?”

“Y/N.”

“Keep dancing with me, Y/N.”

~~~

You kept dancing with James right up until the night before he left for basic training. “I’m gonna miss you, James,” you told him, as you leaned your head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat mark time.

“3 months will go faster than you think, and we can write all the time.”

“3 months, and then you go off to war for God knows how long.”

“But I’ll get furloughed for a bit before I leave. And then we can keep writing to each other.”

“You won’t forget about me will you?”

“How could I forget you when you’re all I ever think about?”

Heat flooded your cheeks as you looked up at him, “You really think of me?”

“All the time,” he nodded.

“Thinks about you, talks about you. It’s all Buck does,” Steve teased from his seat nearby, causing the three of you to laugh.

“Buck,” you repeated, the nickname foreign on your tongue no matter how often you had heard Steve call James “Buck” since you met the smaller man. “I don’t think I could ever call you anything other than ‘James’.”

“That’s fine. I like it when you call me ‘James’.”

“That’s a high compliment considering he usually hates being called ‘James.’ Makes him feel like he’s about to get into trouble.”

“Cuz usually when someone’s calling me ‘James,’ I am in trouble.”

“That’s because you are trouble,” both you and Steve told him.

“Mmm, but you love me that way,” James told you specifically.

“That I do,” you agreed wholeheartedly.

“3 months,” he promised. “3 months and we’ll be right back here. And until then I’ll be missing you like crazy, and thinking about you every day.”

“You better, James Barnes.”

“How could I do anything else? But you two gotta promise me something.”

“Anything,” you nodded while Steve answered with “Promise what, Buck?”

“That you’ll look after each other for me. And that you won’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“That’s two promises,” you pointed out while Steve asked, “How can we when you’re taking all the stupid with you?”

James laughed. “I’m serious. Look after each other and nothing stupid. Promise me.”

“We promise.”

~~~

Dearest James,

Hope basic training is treating you well. Things are going okay here. Steve won’t admit it, but he misses you a lot. We still go to Charlie’s Bar, but without you it doesn’t feel the same. Even when Steve tries to be nice and asks me to dance. But dancing’s not the same if it’s not with you. Hope you’re thinking of us.

All my love,

Y/N

You pressed your lips to the paper, staining it with a lipstick mark, before sealing the letter.

Dearest Y/N,

It’s hot and miserable here. And there’s no pretty girls to dance with. At least you have a dancing partner. Although, I wouldn’t recommend dancing with Steve. Don’t tell him, but he’s lousy at it. But lousy dancing is still better than no dancing, and even if it’s not the same, you should try because I know how happy dancing makes you. Just be sure to save me a dance for when I get home.

Thinking of you always,

James

You inhaled the spritz of his cologne that clung to the letter, clutching the paper tightly in your hands.

~~~

You sat quietly next to Steve in the dark movie theater, watching the advertisement for the war on the screen. “Who cares?” a voice a few rows up scoffed at the screen. “Play the movie already.”

You and Steve shared a look, and you shook your head as Steve leaned forward slightly. “Hey, you wanna show some respect?” he asked in a whisper.

“Let’s go! Get on with it! Hey, just start the cartoon!” the man continued to yell, causing more people to look his way.

“Hey, you wanna shut up?” Steve tried again, making his voice louder.

The man rose from his seat, turning to look at you and Steve. “Steve, don’t,” you pleaded.

“You wanna take this outside, pal?” the man asked.

“I’d like for you to go outside, so I can watch my movie in peace, yes,” Steve answered.

“C’mon, tough guy, let’s go then.”

“Steve!” you hissed as both men headed for the exit. Reluctantly, you got up to follow. “This has just been a misunderstanding,” you tried to defuse, shielding your eyes from the sunshine outside the theater. “Let’s just all go back inside a- Oh!” Your sentence ended abruptly in a gasp as the man punched Steve square in the face, sending him clattering into some trash cans cluttering the alley. “Okay, that was unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, Y/N,” Steve told you as he staggered to his feet, raising his fists defensively. “Go back inside.”

“You should listen to your boyfriend, sweetheart,” the man sneered, hitting Steve again.

“We’re friends,” both you and Steve said, as Steve grabbed a trash can lid to use as a shield. “And you’re both being ridiculous. You were being very rude inside, and all my friend did was ask you to stop. There’s no reason for you to h- Oh, my God!” you shrieked in outrage and shock as the man ripped away the trash can lid and hit Steve for a third time.

“Your friend just doesn’t know when to give up, does he, sweetheart?”

“Says the man who just hit him three times for no good reason!”

“I can do this all day,” Steve panted, blood smeared in the corner of his mouth from a busted lip. He raised his fists, taking his own swing at the man who easily blocked it and hit Steve for the fourth time.

As Steve fell face first into the trash cans, you shrieked again, hoping someone could hear the disagreement and could offer some help.

“Hey!” A man in a soldier’s uniform came jogging down the alleyway, grabbing the man by his bicep and pulling him backwards, away from Steve. “Pick on someone your own size.”

“James!” you cried out happily.

“One second, doll,” he told you as the man took a swing at him and missed. James wasted no time in hitting the man back, then kicking him as he hobbled away. “You know, sometimes I think you like getting punched,” James told Steve, helping the smaller man back onto his feet.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve said.

“No, you didn’t,” both you and James chuckled.

“When did you get back?” Steve asked.

“This morning. Was on my way to Charlie’s Bar when I saw neither of you were home.”

“When do you go back?” you asked.

“Can I get a proper hello first?” he asked, flashing you a smile.

“I’ve missed you,” you confessed, crashing into him, and feeling his arms wrap around you tightly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“How long do we have together?”

“I ship off to London next week.”

You sighed, your body slumping against his.

“Hey,” he soothed. “C’mon, don’t do that yet. We have a whole week first. Let’s make the best of it, hmm?”

“Okay,” you sniffed, giving him a nod. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl,” he beamed proudly. “Now c’mon. You owe me a dance. And an explanation for why you let Steve try to fight a man twice his size.”

“I tried to stop him,” you giggled, as you and James broke the hug, but he kept one of his arms still wrapped around.

“She did,” Steve agreed, coming to your defense. “But, that guy was out of line.”

“He was,” you confirmed. “Very rude.”

James chuckled. “What am I ever gonna do with the two of you, huh?”

~~~

While you and James spent every spare second of the week together, you found yourself wishing for more as you stood on the pier with him, the ship waiting to take him away. “Promise you’ll write when you can,” you said sternly as your bottom lip quivered.

“Of course,” he promised, his hands cradling your face, thumbs catching the stray tears as they fell.

“And that you’ll think of me all the time, and you’ll-” the words spilled from your mouth, before a sob broke free.

“I’ll come home,” he whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead. “And I’m gonna want to dance with my favorite girl when I come back. So you save me a dance, okay?”

The foghorn from the ship went off, signalling it was time to go. “Come home to me, or so help me, James, I swear-”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead, before looking over your shoulder at Steve. “Look after each other for me.”

Steve nodded, as you pressed your lips into James’ “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I love you too, my favorite girl,” he said, giving you a searing kiss.

~~~

The letters were further and farther in between as James traveled with his regiment across Europe, which you supposed was the for the best as it meant he couldn’t tell how much you actually cried over him.

It got worse when Steve left in James’ footsteps, finding his own way to join the war effort despite all his rejections.

Brooklyn never felt so lonely, and passing Charlie’s Bar was a painful stab in your side. So you packed what few belongings you had and moved out of state, and away from the familiar streets that reminded you of him. You had the thought of writing a new letter, to send it that last address you had for James, so he would have your new one as well. But remembering how your last letter had gone unanswered, you didn’t wait to feel the hope and disappointment of waiting for the mail.

You settled into your new James-less life, the memories of the single summer you had shared living both in your head and in the shoebox of letters under your bed.

It was hard not to find it all bittersweet. A 4 month long affair spent mostly apart, but the nights spent dancing, or laying against his chest were still the best moments of your life. The greatest love story of your life with no clear ending. And as much as you moved on, you didn’t, still clinging on to the hope that’d he keep his word of coming back to you. After all, he’d always kept his word before.

When the war drew to a close, and stories of soldiers coming home started covering the front pages, you packed your things again, and moved back to Brooklyn. As you settled into your old apartment, you made yourself a promise that you’d give it a year. If you and James didn’t find each other after that, then you’d leave Brooklyn and never look back.

Part of you felt foolish as you walked the old familiar streets to James’ old apartment, a final letter clutched in your hand. There was no guarantee he was home, or even if this was his home anymore. Still, it was one of three places you trusted that he would go to if he had returned home.

You walked up to the familiar door, rapping lightly against it as you pushed the letter through the mail slot. You waited for a beat, listening for footsteps. Hearing nothing, you turned around, almost knocking into a man carrying a bag of groceries as you left the building, and headed for Charlie’s Bar.

“Y/N?!” Charlie called out in disbelief. “Is that really you?”

“Hi, Charlie,” you said, taking up your old seat on the stool at the bar. “How have things been?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Pouring drinks, and watching folks fall in love. I heard you moved out of Brooklyn after Buck and Steve headed to Europe.”

“I did. Just moved back the other day.”

“Forever hopeful, huh?”

“He found me here once. Think he can do it again?”

“Worth a shot.”

Meanwhile, after sidestepping a woman who almost knocked into him, James set a bag of groceries on his counter. Not remembering hearing his door click shut properly, he went back, noticing the white envelope on his floor. Frowning, he picked it up. Then, he stopped breathing as he recognized the looped scrawl of “James” decorating the back of the envelope. With shaking fingers, he tore it open.

Dearest James,

When you think of dancing, I hope you think of my favorite song. Maybe you’ll turn your radio on, and it’ll take you back to that place. I hope it does.

When you think of happiness, I hope you think of that little black dress, and my head on your chest.

Mostly, I hope you still think of me the same way I still think of you.

Am I still your favorite girl?

Y/N

The stamp of your lipstick was placed next to your name. James blinked, having to read it a second time, not believing it the first time. Then, he was cramming the letter in his pocket and running out of the apartment, and across Brooklyn.

First he went to your apartment, knuckles rapping wildly against your door. “Y/N! It’s me! It’s James! C’mon, answer the door!” he called out, chest heaving as he continued to pound on the door.

The door next to yours opened instead, and a woman that wasn’t you looking at him curiously. “Everything alright, sir?”

“The girl who lives here. Have you seen her?”

“She left about forty minutes ago.”

James slammed his fist into your door, swearing under his breath. “C’mon, Y/N, where are you?” he asked himself, begging his mind to give him the answer. The letter! The place! What was the place? Think, think! “Oh, please still be there,” he prayed, before he took off running again.

James was sure his heart was going to jump from his chest as he pushed open the door to Charlie’s Bar, palms resting against his thighs as he doubled over to catch his breath. When he straightened, he was hit with a wave of deja vu, spotting you sitting on your barstool talking with Charlie, your laugh ringing out. With a breathless grin, he walked over. “Excuse me, miss? I was wondering if you’d care for a dance.”

“With whom?” you asked, turning to take James in, a playful smile on your face as tears glistened in your eyes.

“Me?”

“And who’s me?”

“The man who’s always thinking about you because you’re his favorite girl.”

“I’ve missed you, James.”

“I’ve missed you too, doll,” he said, grabbing your hand in his. “Now come dance with me.”

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @frontmanash @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea

#think of me #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #1940s!bucky #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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cdarkheartzero · 3 years

Text

Diary of a Security Guard

For the always wonderful Rissy @rissynicole who I promised this to for being just...amazing.

Prequel found here-

https://cdarkheartzara.tumblr.com/post/622506786343288833

Data log entry 6555

Been watching Zim battle his PAK for a few (days) now. It has been SO mentally exhausting just to see, let alone experience. But that determination to get his PAK legs working. Imma be honest, it’s downright inspiring seeing him spaz, spark and struggle just to get back up n’ try it again once he catches his breath.

He even got Skoodge trying to activate his- few of the other smeets too, actually. I can’t tell whether he knows it or not (he’s pretty oblivious to the world around him so I doubt it), but he has a lot of fans among the youngins. They might find him annoying (cuz let’s be honest here, he is) but he has this unique…. charm(?) to him. Little bastard just doesn’t know when ta quit.

I can see the stress and strain of his struggles are starting to get to him though. He just hasn’t been himself lately. Physically Exhausted. Less destructive (again- lemme be honest- I AM ALL FOR but under normal circumstances). Hasn’t been doing much eating or sleeping. He’s just so fixated on this that it’s basically taken over his entire life. Can’t tell you how many times I have found him in the incubation room the past few shifts, tryin’ so damn hard to stand on his legs he basically passes out.

The smeets should be sleeping now. It’s pretty late and I see all the other guards settling into their seats relaxin’. Now’s the time to piss around, the break we all deserve. Alas, I can’t get that little shit outta my head. The pain on his face. The dedication and exhaustion in his eyes. It’s been burned into my organic brain ever since I had to stun him the first time. I don’t think I have ever been that scared before. I thought… I thought I could have killed him. That he wouldn’t be there the next morning. That this little ball of chaos would be erased from my life. And it was worse than anything I coulda imagined.

I wanna do something for him. I know I shouldn’t. ‘Specially after all the shit he puts me through. And I really shouldn’t play favoritisms but I dunno. There is just something about Zim.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He drives me crazy. He’s a little demon spawn. A selfish little piece of shit. More than once have I seen him sacrifice a playmate to make a quick escape or use poor Skoodge as a flesh shield. His bomb gifts haunt me very soul- I swear I hear them ticking in the walls relentlessly, taunting me. But he brings me such a calming ease. It’s so weird. Like… I wanna ring his neck sometimes but just having his little body in my arms brings me such warmth. His voice makes me want to slam my face against a wall but I honestly can’t fathom it not being there. I just want to be there for him. And do everything in my power to make him as happy as I can.

What did he do to me?

Ugh. I’m pulling my lekku out at my desk. Think, Zara. Think. There’s gotta be something I can do. I’m mindlessly fumbling through my clutter, still rackin’ my brain around what to do next. Suddenly, a sweet scent fills the air and I realize I opened my candy drawer.

Hmmmm…. it’s not much but it’s the thought that counts.

I look over to Kira and tell her imma need to take 5. “Candy break?” She asks, watching me sneak a few pieces away. “Something like that” I reply.

Walking down the hallway to the smeetery felt like an eternity. What do I say? How will he respond? Lord, what if he wakes the other smeets and I gotta clear out my whole snack stash to not upset the others? What if he cries? If his PAK spazes out again, what if I have to shock him again? What if I fail my mission? What will the control brains do to me? what if… what if I have to kill him? How would I live with myself if I...hurt my smeet? Shit. I gotta stop doing that. He’s not MY smeet. He belongs to Irk. I’m just a guardian, nothing more. But… I never want him to leave my side. But he also has a job to do! For Irk! I hope he never becomes an invader. Keep him here, where it’s safe. Maybe the science division or something… hmmmmm.”

“Uhhh…” I hear next to me, a random voice sounding concerned. It breaks my concentration and I see another guard, head slightly tilted, staring at me. “You good, man?”

Oh! Seems I have been standing at the door for some time. I laughed. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.”

“It’s cool” she smiled “just don’t let the higher ups catch you wandering around aimlessly.”

“I appreciate it. Thanks!” I said waving as she went about her way. “Higher ups?” Yeah. Not a whole lot of fear there. Nothing can be worse than what we’ve already experienced.

The door opened, inviting me to the darkness of the smeetery. Was it always so cold in here? The only light shines from a few wires and screens on the walls but other than that, it’s pretty pitch black. A totally different feel to the liveliness of the early shift when spirits are high and bodies are active. Luckily, our vision is enhanced in our tubes, far before we go online so nighttime is never an issue for us.

I creep over to the nesting area, where all the little bodies are snoozing (or snoring in Skoodge’s case) and see those ruby eyes staring at the ceiling. I notice his antenna perk and he looks my direction, instantly making a face of aggression.

“What?”

That the hell kinda greeting is that? Little rude shit. I wanna smack him outside his little skull but I take a deep breath and calmly whisper. “Ain’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m your guard. It IS my business. Why ain’t you asleep?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Something bothering you?”

“No.”

I can see it written all over his face in glow in the dark paint. “Ah-ha. You really are a bad liar. Is it cuz your legs?”

“NO.” He turned to face away from me.

“Hey. Listen: you’re going to get it. I know you will.”

“But how come Tak could so easily? All mine do is attack me.”

“Just because she got it faster than you, that doesn’t make her better than you.”

“Zim never claimed it did.”

He’s hurt. His words and his feelings are battling against each other. Tak being able to activate her PAK legs without any difficulties was eating him alive but he would never admit it.

“Listen… Zim. It’s going to get easier. You just gotta keep at it. Small steps get you far in life.”

He shrugged, sitting up, curling into himself. “Zim wonders about that sometimes. Maybe… he isn’t meant to get it.”

There it is. “Of course you are.” I said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you. You are going to find a way. You never give up. I don’t think you know how.”

He looked my way, eyes wide and glassy. SHIT. Imma make him cry!? I didn’t mean to!

“You… you do?”

Huh?

“Of course I believe in you, dummy. And I will be here every step of the way. I got you.” I said, grazing my thumb across his cheek. A smile took the place of that awful frown and his eyes lit. “Here. I got you a little something, but only if you try to get some sleep. You got a long day of training with your PAK and you need all the rest you can get. Oh, and don’t let anyone know I did this.” I said putting my finger to my lips.

I reached into a belt pocket and grabbed a wrapped hard candy. With two fingers I held it in front of him, he looked at it inquisitively. His grubby little hands reached for it and I let him grab it. He stared at it, slowly unwrapping it and Then glanced back at me. I guess he didn’t trust it.

“It’s not drugged or nuthin’. Just some sweets.”

Again, he stared at me.

“What?”

“Your accent is really weird.”

“Just eat the damn candy and shut up” I said, pushing the sweet into his mouth. He just huffed but suckled on.

“Now DON'T cause anymore problems and get some shut eye. I will see you bright n’ early.”

He just puffed his cheeks and rolled over. Think I handled that well. And maybe, hopefully tomorrow will be a better day for him.

Smiled and waved on my way out. Dunno if he saw me but it doesn’t hurt. Walked into the hallway, into dread. Leaned against the wall and slid down.

Us E.L.I.T.E.S can’t disobey orders from the Control brains but… I pray with everything I have in me that things stay like this forever. Cuz’ if i ever had my mission changed or if I had to hurt him… idunno what I would do.

Zara out

#invader zim #iz #zim #zero’s art #sketch #invader zim fanart #iz fanart #zero’s oc zara #diary of a security guard #smeet zim #long post

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

Sixth Time’s the Charm [3]

(not my gif)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 3,695

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: Dean suggests the two of you pose as a couple for a case. Sam objects wholeheartedly. (aka Sam and Y/N go to therapy.)

Warnings: jealous!sam, jealous!reader, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, fake marriage, kind of a case!fic, slow burn, fluff, basically all the tropes

A/N: hi loves, sorry this took so long! had some trouble with this one and i’m still not completely happy with it but hopefully you guys enjoy anyway. and i’m sorry the chapters keep getting longer, haha this whole series was only supposed to be a one-shot. oops.

written for @spnfluffbingo and @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo!

Square Filled: Fake Marriage for @spnfluffbingo and Mutual Pining for @girl-next-door-writes

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The third time was honestly quite fun for Dean. It started with a rare night of relaxation. The three of you were hanging out around a table in the bunker library, steadily working your way through a six-pack Sam had brought back from a supply run earlier. Dean had his legs crossed and feet propped up casually before him, while you and Sam were scrolling leisurely through the internet on your respective laptops.

“I think I just found us a case,” Sam had started with furrowed brows, as he sat up to get a closer look at his screen. “So get this, two married couples in Wisconsin were found dead after visiting the same couples therapist.”

“Does it say how?” you asked, fidgeting with the label on your beer bottle.

“Yeah, they all fell from windows in upper stories.”

Your brows flew up and you huffed in disbelief, “You’re right, seems like a rather unlikely coincidence, probably something up our alley.”

At this point, Dean was ready to burst with glee. God himself could not have presented a better opportunity. If things worked out, he could finally put an end to Sam’s petulant spasms and eradicate the sexual tension that hung so potently (and disturbingly) throughout the air whenever you and Sam were in the same room.

“Well, I guess we know what we gotta do…” Dean tried to fight the grin on his lips as he turned to you, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

With a perfectly straight face, he managed to ask, “Will you marry me?”

The mouthful of beer that Sam was about to swallow erupted forth in a cascade of tiny droplets, spritzing through the air as he began to cough and choke on what little alcohol had somehow made it down the wrong pipe.

You immediately looked over to see if he was alright, not expecting to find the usually adroit and graceful man a sputtering, red-faced mess, “Geez, Sam. Are you okay?” Rising from your seat to move towards him, you stopped when he held out a large palm and waved it at you as a form of both reassurance and interception.

“Yea- yeah, I’m fine,” Sam wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a moment to recompose himself before sending you an awkward little smile of gratitude.

Dean cleared his throat, “So whaddya say, Y/N/N?”

“Huh?”

“About my proposal, before Sammy so rudely interrupted.” Sam was glaring holes through his brother now, but Dean paid him no attention.

“Oh, right,” you chose your next words carefully, “Umm, you mean you wanna go undercover?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side as he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive smirk, “If the shoe fits…”

“Well aren’t you romantic?” you quipped sarcastically.

“Oh sweetheart, just you wait and see,” Dean sent you a wink that you were sure had dropped many a panty in his time yet held little to no effect over you because… well because you were busy being a little too enraptured by his baby brother. That didn’t seem to stop Dean though, “Trust me, as your loving husband-” It was Sam’s turn to clear his throat, but again Dean ignored him, “I'm gonna romance the shit outta you.”

You scoffed at him in amusement, “Right, you mean when we go to couples therapy?”

“Baby girl, you’d be surprised-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing both hands up in objection, “Can we just back up for a minute? Why does anyone have to get married?”

Dean shot him an incredulous look, “Come on, Sam, we've worked enough of these cases to know this is always the easiest and fastest way.”

Through stiff jaws Sam released a harsh, conceding sigh, “OK... then... why does it have to be you and Y/N?”

“Cause we’re best friends; it'll be more believable,” Dean answered easily with a grin.

A disbelieving stare crossed Sam’s indignant features before he looked down to suppress his emotions with a sardonic nod and pursed lips. It was one thing for Dean to suggest playing your husband but to claim that you're his best friend instead of Sam's... That was too far.

“Plus, you've always been better at playing FBI,” his brother continued with that irritating smile.

Sam gave himself a moment before stating adamantly, “I don't think it should be you.”

“What, why? You don't think we can get the job done?” Dean’s tone was accusing, and you knew he was trying to provoke Sam, but ever since the notion that two out of the three of you needed to play a married couple had been introduced, you found yourself at an inevitable impasse.

“No, I-“ Sam could barely get any words out before Dean circled back to you instead.

“Y/N?” The look Dean sent you forced you to face your inner dilemma head on. On the one hand, you wanted nothing more than an excuse to get close to Sam, to hold his hand and gaze at him adoringly without worrying about anyone seeing, and so much more… but on the other hand, you feared that a glimpse of the ‘real deal’, however contrived, might just push you over the decisive edge. What if you couldn’t go back to your platonic guise after? What if you broke your own heart?

“What? Um, yeah, I think it could work,” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously, keeping your eyes on Dean’s to avoid meeting Sam’s.

Your response elicited a smug expression on the older Winchester’s face however, as he returned to questioning his brother, “So what is it, Sam? You don't think I can pretend to be in love with Y/N? Cause trust me, that'll be easy.” There was that wink again, prompting a roll of your eyes.

“No, I just-“ You were worried Sam’s jaw might fall off if he clenched it any tighter. Why did he seem to care so much anyway? Was he jealous? The thought popped into your head almost as quickly as you dismissed it.

“Then what, Sam?” Dean plucked at that final straw and an explosion of the type that had seemed to become increasingly common from the ordinarily calm and gentle giant followed.

“IT SHOULD BE ME, OK?” Sam roared in frustration, his expansive chest was heaving and his hazel irises had darkened immeasurably. “It should be me,” he repeated more quietly.

Dean smirked; this was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he expected. “Well geez, Sammy. If you wanted to get with Y/N so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

“Wha- that’s not- I don't,” Sam looked extremely distressed and you couldn’t blame him. Whatever Dean was playing at had led him to essentially force Sam to reject you out right, and being the compassionate soul that he was, you knew Sam never wanted to hurt you that way, even if it was indirectly. “I just- I think it would work better this way. You're not exactly the marriage or therapy type and you're just not-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna shack up with Y/N and who could blame you? There’s no need to throw a hissy fit, baby brother. She’s all yours.” Dean chuckled at the sight of your averted eyes and Sam’s burning cheeks, thinking his work was just about done, “Alright, I’m gonna go get Baby ready. You kids have fun.”

When the echo of a closing door filled the room, Sam turned back to you, “Y/N, look I-“

“Don’t worry about it, Sam, I know what you meant,” you brushed him off hastily, “And you’re right, Dean would probably have a hard time keeping up the act. He’d end up flirting with the therapist or something.” Laughing always did help you conceal the pain in your chest.

As it turned out, it was a flirtatious therapist you should have been more concerned about. The woman had eyes for Sam only as soon as the two of you walked into her office and sat down on the tiny loveseat before her.

“Welcome, I’m Dr. Ryan, but you can call me Marlena,” she paused to perform a not-so-subtle scan along the length of Sam’s body before smiling at him seductively, “Why don’t we start by introducing yourselves?”

You kept your expression neutral though there was an urge to glare at her. After all, didn’t she think Sam was a married man? Perhaps this was part of the scam that got the couples before you killed, your rational side countered.

“Uh, OK…” Sam appeared rather uncomfortable beside you, pressing his lips into a tight semblance of a smile, “Umm, I'm Sam and this is my wife Y-Y/N.”

The damn Winchester was always so adorably flustered every time someone hit on him, something you never failed to find incredibly endearing, especially considering he was a 6'4” hunk of a man who could surely get inside the pants of any woman he wanted. You assumed, being that good looking, he’d be used to the attention by now, but the fact that he still reacted this way was a true testament to his humility.

“And how did you two meet?”

“Through work,” Sam answered shortly. A resounding pang had shot through his chest when he introduced you as his wife and he was still trying to recoup. If only this wasn't all make-believe, if only he could sit close to you and hold your hand in his whenever he wanted and not just for the sake of a ridiculous pretence. The Mr. and Mrs. titles and matching rings weren't even necessary. He just wanted to make you his as much as he was already yours.

Fuck, Dean was right; Sam was in deep. Just the thought of Dean acting as your husband had his heart racing and every muscle in his body tense with envy. There was no way he could have handled seeing his brother all over you, even if it was pretend. And if the fact that he had to make Dean go get the rings for your current ruse, because he had a strong suspicion the act of buying you a ring yet knowing it wasn’t real might just annihilate the final pieces of his fragile heart, wasn’t telling enough... Sam was finally beginning to realize that he could no longer deny his feelings for you.

“Tell me about that. What is it you two do?”

Although the questions were directed at both of you, Marlena’s gaze remained resolutely transfixed upon Sam, but the man was much too busy thinking about you to notice.

“Uh, well it was about 3 years ago. We’re firefighters and Y/N had been sent from another division to help out with a particularly bad… fire. But she somehow got there before we did, and when I arrived on the scene, I saw her walk out of the burning building in a blaze of smoke and dust. She was carrying a little boy, who she had just saved, covered in ash and soot, a-and there was scrape above her left brow that had left a trail of darkened blood down the side of her face,” Sam smiled to himself at the memory, “But I couldn’t move. It was just all so surreal because it was the last thing I expected to find, and I thought she was the most beautiful soul I had ever set my eyes on. I knew right then that I would gladly devote the rest of my life to getting to know her better, to becoming worthy of her, but when she came up to us, I could barely speak in full sentences and I made a fool of myself by stumbling over my own feet. My brother, who’s uh- also a firefighter, later told me he thought I was having a stroke.” Sam chuckled softly. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be a little lost in his own world.

By contrast, you were staring at him in shock. You remembered the day quite clearly, although in reality it was a wendigo that you were forced to kill by starting a fire since your flare gun wouldn’t work, but Sam got the rest of the details spot on. The lilt of his voice as he spoke had made it all sound so real, for a moment, you nearly tricked yourself. Who knew he had such incredible acting chops on top of all those other skills?

“Well, that sounds like a beautiful start. I’m assuming you work together now?” Taking note of the new edge in her voice, you gave her a nod and Dr. Ryan continued, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a pen, “It must be terribly hard to maintain a work-life balance and keep the romance alive. I’m sure there are issues from work that you’ll often bring home, conflicts that can never be resolved considering the lack of alone time? Maybe something you found annoying about the other that seemed bearable in the beginning but has now festered to become an unmendable chasm between the two of you?”

Your eyes narrowed of their own accord. Between the obvious flirting to the now obvious attempt to instigate discord between you and Sam, you were starting to think Marlena was undoubtedly the monster (that or she was an awful couples therapist). Her motive remained unclear though, so you played along.

“Uh, well Sam can be a bit… overprotective, at times, when we’re working, and sometimes it can get in the way of the job.”

“Ok but that’s only because Y/N can be ludicrously stubborn, at times, and she has a habit of running headfirst into danger." Sam was surprisingly quick to retort.

"It's literally our job to run into danger, Sam.” Your body was now twisted to face his, “And if I recall correctly, my ‘ludicrous stubbornness’ has led to the saving of multiple lives, yours included."

Sam lowered his head and scoffed lightly before he too turned to face you completely, golden eyes boring into yours with an intensity you were not prepared for, "I know it has but sometimes you act like other people's lives are worth more than yours and that's not true. Besides, it's my job to care about you, to protect you… I-I mean as your husband."

For a second, things got a little too real there, but you took a deep breath to remind yourself this was all just an act, "And I appreciate that Sam, but sometimes it can be a bit overbearing-"

"Well if I'm overbearing it's only because I'm terrified every time we go out there,” Sam began to enunciate every word stiffly, speaking almost entirely through gritted teeth, “Because I can't bear the thought of losing you, because I can't fathom living a life without you!"

And once again, you were left staring at him with your mouth agape. He sure was laying it on thick, or perhaps he just wanted to win the fight, because you had no idea how to argue against that.

“Alright, I think that’s enough on that topic. Maybe we should try something else,” Dr. Ryan interjected, “Oh look at that, time’s almost up! I always end my sessions with a fun little exercise. I want you to look each other in the eyes and take turns coming up with one positive word to describe the other, something you love about your partner, but it must be genuine.”

Quirking your brow, you struggled to restrain the smile on your face as you turned back to Sam. Well this’ll be easy.

“Intelligent,” you stated matter-of-factly, figuring you’d start with something relatively un-incriminating.

“Strong,” Sam came back at you immediately. There was a fierceness in his eyes, almost as if he was daring you to bring it on.

“Kind,” came your simple response.

“Discerning.” His voice seemed lower for some reason.

“Capable,” you kept your eyes locked on Sam’s as you lifted your chin.

“Tough.” There was an undeniable fondness that accompanied the word when it left his lips.

“Sassy,” you replied, unable to stop the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Tenacious,” Sam narrowed his eyes at you.

“Selfless.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

“Complex.” He was smiling at you now.

“Protective,” you finally admitted despite your earlier complaints.

“Beguiling,” Why were you both whispering?

“Tall.” Was that lust you could hear in your own voice?

“Badass,” Was that lust you could hear in his voice?

“Gorgeous… or handsome if you prefer.” When did your faces get so close?

“So fucking beautif-”

“Woah! OK, I think we’re done here.” Shit, you had almost forgotten about the therapist. “That was… excessive. I don’t think I’ll be needing to see you again,” she declared as she stood up rather suddenly, prompting you and Sam to do the same though you were both still a little caught up in your game.

“Wow, you really are tall,” Marlena breathed out as she smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt. The provocative tone of her voice had you back down to earth in no time. "And those years of firefighting have definitely paid off, what with all those big muscles.”

Sam gave an awkward half laugh as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you tight against his side. You weren’t sure what compelled you to but as if on instinct, you raised your outer hand and placed it lightly on Sam’s stomach, feeling his abs contracting even through the soft flannel beneath your fingers as you replied, “Yeah, that’s just another one of the many things I love about Sam.”

The laugh that escaped Sam this time was much more sincere, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Ryan.” He kept his hand on your waist as he led the two of you out the door, trying his damnedest to ignore the enticing sensation your touch had evoked throughout his body, as well as the subsequent questions of what your little hand might feel like on other parts of him if a simple graze of his abdomen could produce such a dramatic effect.

“Did it seem like she was rushing us to you?” you questioned Sam pensively when you were back at the motel half an hour later.

“Yeah, like the more we spoke, the more she lost interest in us,” he agreed.

Your next words tumbled out without permission and you could only cringe at the bitter inflection of your voice, “Well, she didn’t seem to lose any interest in you.”

Sam felt himself smile at your adorableness; he couldn’t help it when your bottom lip jutted out like that. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were jealous.

“Are you two outta your damn minds?” Dean looked from his brother’s face to yours. “Did you even check the time? She only gave you about half of what we paid for!”

“What, really?” you and Sam responded in chorus.

“Yeah, but luckily I’m a genius and I got everything we needed within the first few minutes.” Grinning in that cocky way of his, Dean explained, “Your EMF sensors were off the charts as soon as you walked into her office, and I found ectoplasm in the bathroom.”

“She’s a ghost?” Sam did that adorable scrunchy thing with his face and you had to physically stop yourself from staring.

“Possessed by one, yeah. And I checked the records. She spent at least an hour overtime with both of the dead couples.”

“So, what, are we not good enough to be her next victims?” you wondered.

“Maybe she saw through the act?” Sam suggested.

Dean was fumbling through a stack of papers until he found something, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it. Here, check this out.”

Sam started to read out loud, “’Grave of local girl found desecrated by joggers passing through the cemetery early Sunday morning…’”

“Turns out the kid got pushed out a window accidentally when her parents were fighting... Splat.” Dean elaborated, ever so tactfully.

You were starting to piece it together though, “So now she’s seeking out dysfunctional couples to kill them the way she died… for what, revenge? Or to stop them from accidentally murdering their own kids?”

“That’s my best guess,” Dean confirmed.

“Huh… nice work on research, buddy. I’m impressed,” the playful grin you sent Dean’s way was not lost on Sam.

“Yeah, well your husband’s not the only one who can look stuff up around here. Besides, someone had to do the work while you two were off playing Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Sam and I have never tried to kill each other,” you argued.

Dean snorted while grabbing his jacket, “And that’s about the only way your relationship differs.”

When he saw your brows pull together in confusion, Sam quickly cut in to change the subject, “So uh- what’s the plan?”

His brother was nearly out the door when he responded, “Nice and easy. I’ll go burn the bones while you guys go back and distract her with your little love fest, capiche?”

The ghost was surprisingly open this time around, admitting freely to her past crimes and even explaining her methods. Apparently, flirting with the husbands was a routine and easy test to spot any cracks in the relationships, one that she claimed Sam had passed with flying colors. But you knew better than to assume his achievement had anything to do with you. After all, you’d seen the man hold fast against the fervent advances of a high-end stripper before, while he was drunk. This was nothing.

“But why kill them?” Sam questioned, with the kind of genuine curiosity that only he could exhibit towards a murderous monster.

“Because it’s better to die than stay in a loveless marriage… But of course you two wouldn’t underst-“ Dean must have completed his task because the therapist was interrupted by a shapeless black plume bursting through her mouth.

‘Oh Shit,’ you thought relentingly as you watched the spirit eject itself and disappear into a fiery cloud of dark fumes, a forlorn expression upon your face, ‘I’m in love with Sam Winchester.’

→ CARRY ON

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

One Fool's Heart [Rank 6]

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira / Reader, later: Akira / Akechi (one-sided)

Warnings: age difference, consensual underage romance, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, references to depression, unreliable narrator, angst, hurt & comfort, p3 cameos, p4 cameos, no persona 5 royal spoilers

Summary: All you wanted was a nice part time job to scrape by. But if you had known how much of a smug sass-master Akira Kurusu would turn out to be, you’d have thought twice about agreeing to tutor him.

Notes: Rank 5 | Rank 7 Masterlist

[Rank 6]

“Pickpockets and cat burglars get charged with larceny, but what about these next two cases?” asks the game show host, pulling up cards to the viewers. “A: Take money from a lost wallet, or B: Joyride, but return the car?”

You’re nibbling on your cup’s rim, squinting at the TV screen. “It’s gotta be A, right?”

Narukami doesn’t even look up as he struggles to pull a pizza slice on his plate. “It’s B.”

“The correct answer is B! Saying you planned on returning it just won’t fly in court!”

You don’t have to see to know Narukami is giving you a smug smile, and for that you try and push him off the couch. He remains unfazed as if he’s Siddhartha Gautama himself sitting below the sacred fig tree. “That’s cheating,” you say.

“You consume gas and wear down the tires. Driving someone’s car without permission is larceny,” Narukami explains with a casual voice like he’s talking to a grade schooler. “Taking something that someone lost or dropped is theft by finding, a much lighter crime.”

“Stop showing off.”

Narukami gives you an indulgent smile. For someone claiming he hasn’t slept in 29 hours, he’s surprisingly attentive and ready to pounce on every sort of bullshit you think you might get away with. Only the grayish shadows under his eyes betray how exhausted he must be. And still he accepted your invitation to hang out. He’s either a fool for giving up so much of himself for you, or a saint. Sometimes the line between those is paper thin.

Suddenly, Narukami leans over and sniffs at your shoulder, which is rude much? You startle back to the other side of the couch, eyes wide.

“Oh, wow! Dude, wow! Ever heard of, eh, personal space? Is that still a thing that we do?” you say like you never huddle too close to him whenever you’re cold and rob him of excessive warmth.

“Coffee,” he says, ignoring you. “You smell like coffee lately.”

“Yeah? You do know it’s the only thing keeping me alive, right?” It’s a strange observation because you probably owe him a car’s worth considering how often he pays for coffee when you two meet up or you shut yourself in during exam periods and he comes over to check if you’re still alive.

“No.” Narukami shakes his head. “This is like … quality stuff. Not the cheap poison you drink.”

“Well, excuse you,” you mutter. Heat settles in your cheeks. He must pick on Leblanc’s trademark scent which is unsurprising. You’ve spent the past days lounging in Leblanc, helping Akira catch up with his studies during summer break. Those sessions only confirmed what you’ve learnt the last couple of weeks: Akira really doesn’t need tutoring. He’s smart and picks up on things very quickly. The way he adapts to problems with lightning speed is something you should learn from himin fact. So that opens up the bigger question: Why are you two still doing this? You’re sure he’s got better stuff to do than meet twice a week for barely needed tutor sessions. Even so he demands you two meet up, and still insists to pay even though you told him tutoring became more like a favour than an actual job.

“I don’t mind,” he’d said when you settled in his room, watching him play a game on his dinosaur of a console. “It’s the condition of our deal, isn’t it?”

“If you want us only to be all business, sure,” you’d told him, scribbling notes on a chart paper. “I just thought you’d have better use of 7,000yen than wasting it on me.”

“I don’t think I’m wasting it.” Akira had looked away from his TV at you, his grey eyes the colour of a storm cloud. “Especially not on you.”

“Sweet talker.” You’d nudged his knee with your toes, and Akira caught your ankle to place your foot on his thigh like it’s a daily ritual for you two.

It’s still such a mystery why he’s single.

Speaking of single, only one slice of pizza is left. While you were thinking about Akira, Narukami has vacuumed almost everything. He notices as much and stares from the now nearly empty carton to your plate.

“How are you still not finished?” he asks, considering your barely nibbled slice that’s gone cold.

“Huh?” You follow his eyes to your untouched plate. When you think back to your last decent meal, your mind becomes blank.

“Uh, I’ve already eaten. Brunch,” you lie. “Just two hours ago.”

“And you still decided to order pizza?” Narukami shakes his head. “Talk about waste of money.”

“Sorry, dad.”

“I didn’t raise you to be like this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” you mumble, tugging your toes under his naked thighs. Narukami looks at you like you’ve lost your mind, which might be true because it’s 86F outside, not uncommon for mid-August, and you still manage to have cold feet. He tries to shuffle away, but there’s only so far he can get on your small couch until he reaches the end. With a defeated sigh, Narukami succumbs to be your heater, as if he ever got a chance for a different outcome, that fool.

You lean back and slurp your ice tea, when your phone starts buzzing with an incoming call. The screen tells you it’s Cat Boy calling, and before you can stop it, a smile has already found its way on your face. Narukami raises an eyebrow at the name which reminds you that you have to tell him the story how Akira jumped into Ryuji’s arms and demanded to be carried because he refused to walk on wet ground. It’s a whole new level of extra that didn’t surprise you about him.

“What’s up?” you greed him, wiggling your toes under Narukami. He mouths “Stop it” at you.

“What do you know about cognitive psience?” Akira asks, his voice a little muffled.

You tug your phone between ear and shoulder, grabbing a note pad and pen from your table. “Cognitive science?”

“No, psience. With psi.”

“I, well. I’m not sure. It might have been mentioned sometime during a lecture as a new research field, but I don’t think I have much about it.”

“Could you look into it for me?”

“Uhh, what’s it for?”

Wood creaks in the background, and you hear a conversation in hushed whispers. “It’s part of our deal, isn’t it? ” Akira says, trying to sound carefree but you don’t miss the little edge to his voice. Or maybe it’s just bad reception. “You teach me about all the things I don’t know.”

“Okay. Fine. I mean, yeah, sure. Just give me some time.”

“You’re the best, teach,” Akira says, and before you can reply, he’s already ended the call. You blink at your phone, a little surprised. Narukami watches you with mild interest, chewing the last pizza slice slowly.

“Kids these days,” you say with a shake of your head.

“You tell me.” Narukami sighs and sinks deeper into the cushions. “Nanako stopped calling me big bro. She thinks it’s embarrassing for her age.”

“You poor man.”

Narukami pinches the thin skin on your ankle. “I’m serious. I can’t believe she’ll be 15 this year.”

“I bet she’ll be a real heart breaker.”

He looks at you in utter shock, like the very thought that Nanako might soon engage in romantic relationships didn’t occur to him at all. His protective instinct towards her warms your heart like the early sunshine winking in your room each morning.

“And now, please welcome the young Charismatic Detective, Goro Akechi!”

Your head snaps to the TV just as Akechi appears on screen. A bolt strikes through you as the image of your first meeting in Leblanc settles in your mind, him leaning over Akira. You scramble to your feet and jump over the narrow table, ignoring Narukami calling your name in warning as your toes barely miss a bottle of water. He probably worries for your sanity, but nothing can stop you. You kneel in front of your TV, holding your weight with both hands pressed against the screen and stare at Akechi’s face, waiting for a close up. When it finally comes, whatever he’s saying to the host and audience is lost on you. You stick your tongue out and drag it over Screen-Akechi’s cheek.

There’s silence. Then, Narukami, because he’s your bestest friend, very gently, says, “What the fuck are you doing.”

“My fortune reader told me that’s how I can get insight about my rival,” you explain, smacking your lips. It tastes like plastic. Which means Akechi must be fake. You’re a genius.

Narukami whispers your name softly. He sounds like you hurt him on a spiritual level.

“What?” you say, frowning. “Shut up, I’m an intellectual.”

“God, please help me with this idiot,” Narukami mumbles looking up at the ceiling. “Get back here and explain. How do you even know him. And please don’t believe everything your fortune teller says.”

You listen for now and retreat back to your seat, tugging your toes back where they belong under Narukami’s legs. He gives a disgusted groan, but you don’t know if it’s because of your feet or what you just did. Could be both.

“Let’s just say I became a fan of the Phantom Thieves and I don’t like what he’s saying about them,” you explain because it’s easier than the truth: that he’s your rival in love and you’re trying to conquer the heart of your underage student.

“Since when do you support the Phantom Thieves?” Narukami asks, looking more than doubtful. You haven’t really told him about the fallout with your dad and it causing your opinion on them doing a complete turnaround, but it’s constantly waiting on the tip of your tongue. You only need the right time to confide in him.

“Well, since … you know. Since they dealth with Kaneshiro.”

Narukami hums thoughtfully and nods, but the way he’s looking at you screams he knows you’re hiding something from him. Still, he lets it drop for now and looks back at the screen, considering Akechi. “I heard he’s the Second Advent of the Detective Prince. I knew the first one.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t tell you?” he says, turning back to you. “Naoto Shirogane was my underclassman in high school.”

“What is she doing now? Can we get her so she can hand him his ass?”

“You really don’t like him, huh?” Narukami observes impartially, watching the boy answer a few questions from the audience.

“Yeah, well, what can I say. He seems like a fake bitch,” you mutter, sharing your revelation with him. Narukami grunts a barely restrained laugh.

“He’s what? 18? Be the adult one, will you?”

You mumble where he can put being the adult one under your breath. Narukami pinches your ankle again.

“Well, he sure seems nice, doesn’t he?” he says. “And apparently everyone shares his opinion about the Phantom Thieves and Medjed.”

“Because that’s what he wants you to believe,” you groan, waving your hands in wild gesticulation and only missing the pinboard showcasing your conspiracy theory behind you. “What if he’s a serial killer. Detective at day, serial killer at night. Wasn’t there some case like that in a rural city a couple of years ago?”

Narukami tenses beside you for a moment, his fingers disappearing from your skin. “You’re paranoid,” he says with a strange edge to his voice. “And I don’t know. Never heard of a case like that.”

You hum thoughtfully, feeling like there’s something he doesn’t tell you. For all the things he demands you to tell him, there’s shockingly little you know about Narukami and it hasn’t bothered you much. But now that you’ve known the benefits of trusting someone thanks to Akira, maybe it’s time to work on your friendship.

So you lean forward and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

“It’s okay, Yuu,” you say, feeling confident. “I may be a paranoid idiot, but I am your paranoid idiot. And I’ll be it as long as we’re together.”

Narukami raises an eyebrow. “Why does this feel like a marriage proposal.”

“It can be anything you want, sweetie.”

He grunts, now unable to fight the smile on his face. “If you say so.” Narukami taps a rhythm on your leg, eyes fixed on the screen that’s showing a pole about the public’ votes of who might become the next prime minister. He narrows his eyes as he goes through the list. “I heard your dad might become a member of congress? They introduced him as a potential candidate,” he starts carefully, treading into dangerous waters. He eyes you sideways, probably waiting for a rejection that will stop him like an iceberg and sink his ship.

“He didn’t tell me anything,” you say, and you can see how Narukami visibly exhales as he’s allowed to transit. “And we haven’t seen each other since he blessed me with an unannounced visit. But politics is exactly the thing he needs to stoke his ego.”

Narukami throws you little glances as if he’s still estimating when you’ll close the door on him. ”He’ll be entirely focused on his work, even more than now, won’t he?”

“Nothing unusual about that,” you say, looking where he’s playing an uneven rhythm on your ankle. “I don’t even know the last time he went to see my brother.”

His fingers stop. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah.” You take in a shaky breath, focusing on breathing instead of thinking about all the ways to abandon the topic from its course. “And he’s what the kids call ‘troubled.’”

Narukami shifts, all amusement drained from his face as he gives you his undivided attention. Talking about Kinoe feels a lot less like fumbling on a thorn stuck in your flesh. It’s the soothing balm after a burn, the warming bath after spending nights in the freezing cold. Narukami listens to you as if he’s always waited all his life for this moment, knowing it’s the last piece to finish a puzzle that will give him a clear picture of you. When you’re done, he’s resting both hands intertwined on your foot as if in prayer, frowning deeply.

“Your brother deserves better,” he says quietly, his gaze solely fixed on you. You feel strangely vulnerable, but it’s the first time it isn’t connected to a bad feeling and instead you feel like you’re finally bearing your innermost fears. “And what your father does is unacceptable. Kinoe isn’t a minor anymore, and therefore should decide to leave the facility whenever he wants.”

“If only it were that easy,” you sigh. “At this point I don’t know if he knows … or wants.”

“But was his referral justified?” Narukami asks, straight to the case. It’s still hard to decide if you like or hate that about him.

“Yes, he needs medical treatment, if you mean that.” Meeting his eyes becomes harder, so instead you focus on a blank spot on a shelf where for some time after your moving in, you’d kept a picture of you and Kinoe that’s mysteriously disappeared after a visit from your mother. “I remember when he started feeling unwell. And when everything got worse.”

Not that this is something you might easily forget. Saying your earliest memories of him start in the womb sounds like something from a movie and you don’t believe in superstitious stuff like that. But then again, rather than a memory, it’s more like a feeling. The feeling that the only right way to be born is together, side by side with another person instead of alone. Some very clear memories of you together are how you two were four years and fighting for a pink doll’s plastic car. When you won, Kinoe was so upset with you he punched your nose bloody. Or when you mocked him for getting into anime and he didn’t talk to you for a whole week. The only way to make up then was to watch a whole season of his current favourite show, and yeah, you had to admit anime wasn’t so bad.

But once he became a teenager, everything turned worse. Instead of talking each other’s ears off, you spend hours silently in your separate rooms, a locked door to his room and heart not allowing to remain. The first time your mother found out he’d hurt himself willingly ended in a full night of her screaming at him to stop because she was afraid of what her neighbours and friends might think.

Kinoe turned from a bright boy charming everyone with his jokes and spectacular acting abilities to a withdrawn, quiet hermit not leaving his room with his eyes glued to the ground; moments of clear and bright moods more often and quickly followed by nervous breakdowns and uncontrollable crying. You imagine now he must have been like walking around with his head on fire and no one could see the flames.

You always thought you were the one helpless; unable to support him or help, unable to change the way he sees the world. But how much worse was it for Kinoe, imprisoned in a mind that didn’t allow him to; couldn’t see the good, the worthwhile, the little promises of overcoming hardships. It was something you learnt only once he was gone, locked up by your dad and never mentioned again like a dirty secret that might cease to exist once forgotten.

The word missing can’t even encompass what you feel right now. Everyone says twins have a special connection, that they are so much more emotionally linked to each other, but you doubt it’s different from normal siblings. Right now, you just want to see him, and hold him, and maybe hold him so tight you can crawl into his skin and stay there so nothing separates you again. Maybe that’s the only thing differentiating you from siblings. The physical proximity that calls for its original; being born from the very same egg, the very same protein structure.

“I wish I had a sibling,” Narukami says after you finish talking, and you’re very thankful he doesn’t comment on you red, tear-dimmed eyes. Something wistful lies in his expression, making him look a lot younger.

“Nanako left that much of an impression on you, huh?” you say, surprised by how steady you sound even though your chest feels like it’s crushed by grief.

“Nanako, uncle Dojima. Pretty much everyone in Inaba.”

“But you don’t really talk much about your time there,” you start slowly, unsure where this conversation is heading. “I always got the feeling it wasn’t so good after all.”

“There were good and bad things, as are everywhere,” Narukami states, his expression wistful. “I only managed because I met a bunch of great people who helped me and made me the person I am today.”

“Why did you go in the first place?”

Narukami hesitates for a brief second, bracing himself for God knows what. “I didn’t have much of a choice. My parents send me there because they were working overseas.”

“Were your parents also a little too focused on their work?” you ask, feeling like Narukami opens the biography to your own life when he nods.

“Work is like a religion to them. You either give everything up for it or you’re doing it wrong.” He pauses and looks at the TV screen. Ironically, a commercial about parents going on vacation with their children is showing, mocking you both. “So of course they wanted me to be their honour student, their perfect son. They were never satisfied.”

“How can you be so … nonchalant about it?”

He shrugs, returning your gaze. “I never hated them for focusing on their work or being away all the time. I knew pretty early nothing I did would change that. I didn’t give them a reason to be disappointed, but I never strove to outdo their expectations. I wanted to live. Be a normal kid and do dumb stuff kids do.”

And you feel the last one; know exactly what he means. It’s the same with your parents, even more so with your mother, and you understand why you still cling to the pride of youth, the glory of rebellion teenagers thrive on—the need to be different from them is so strong, it’s basically a own life force propelling you forward.

“You’ve become a suspiciously decent person despite having parents like that,” you say, not ready in the slightest to go on with such heavy, depressing topics.

Narukami manages a sound between groan and grunt. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I mean it,” you say, scrambling to your knees. “I’m glad you’re around. And I’m glad you are the person you are right now.” Struck with a flash of affection towards him, you lean forward and loop your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly. He tenses for a brief second, then relaxes immediately.

“I’m sorry our parents suck,” you mumble against his shirt, feeling tears burn behind your eyes again.

Narukami’s body rumbles with a deep chuckle. His hands settle on your arm, patting gently. “I’m not. It allowed me to meet a different kind of family. One that doesn’t start in blood.”

You exhale a shaky breath, your heart squeezed to the size of a walnut. “I can’t believe you’re quoting Supernaturalfor me, Yu.”

This time, he explodes into a real, throaty laugh. “I hate this show so much. But that is something they did right.”

“Yeah,” you say, listening to the beating heart of another warm, familiar body. “And so did we.”

———————

When news about the Phantom Thieves’ victory over Medjed spread, you consider sending Akechi a gift basket with flowers and a card saying Fuck you. Narukami chides you for your immaturity and he’s right, so you settle on stealing your friends’ phones and open their social media to unfollow Akechi. Not that it’s a major blow. His reputation dropped faster than your grades after the disastrous essay you wrote before Kenji took you to Crossroads. The backfire sort of tingles your sense of pity whenever comments border on downright inhumane, but whenever there’s talk about him on TV, you quickly switch channels or stop listening.

Nonetheless, it’s 1:0 for the Phantom Thieves and messages about their little deeds on the forum spread with each day. More and more often you catch yourself writing the first lines of a potential request, only to close the document and dump it into a multiple path of folders where you’ll hopefully forget about it because they’re just too many folders to open. How unfortunate something like quick access exists.

Your happy mood only lasts so long until Akira informs you about his class planning a school trip to Hawaii so there won’t be lessons for a full week. Which isn’t bad at all. No. You can totally go without seeing him for seven days; been there, done that. Especially since during his summer break he seemed to be busy with tons of other obligations and part-time jobs and something about needing to bring more water and sunscreen for the desert. Whatever that meant.

So when you finally, finally see him again around mid September, nerves tensed with joy and anticipation, the sight of a certain boy sitting at Leblanc’s bar with a steaming cup in slender fingers destroys every bit of excitement. When Akechi looks up, it takes him only a few seconds to recognise who you are.

“Ah, the tutor,” he greets you with a pleasant smile, lowering the cup from his lips. “I was hoping to see you again to clarify the misunderstanding from last time.”

“I don’t know,” you say, taking a seat at the bar as well but leaving two stools between you and the detective. He eyes you sideways, but doesn’t comment on it. “Does Akira know you’re walking around and deny everything?”

Akechi blinks. Sojiro coughs behind his newspaper, probably trying to cover up a laugh.

“Where is he anyway?” you ask, turning to Leblanc’s owner.

“Went to the public bath,” Sojiro grunts, flipping a page. “He should be back in a bit. You want a drink? Curry?”

“No curry,” you immediately reply, maybe a little too hasty. You hope you don’t grow pale. Sojiro raises an eyebrow but only shrugs. “Coffee it is then.”

While he goes to work, your eyes catch movement. Akechi turns his upper body towards you, opening the conversation without handing you an invitation. Unsure what to expect, you only turn your head a little, observing him with caution.

“Kurusu is very secretive about what you two do,” he starts, and you don’t know if he’s deliberately making it sound as if you two are holding conversations about starting an anarchy. Or fuck. Oh God, you hope Akechi doesn’t think you two fuck instead of study. “So I’ve been wondering about your studies.”

“You’re the detective,” you say dryly. “You tell me.”

Akechi laughs, but you fail to see the joke in what you said. “That is true. Which also means I can’t just guess and be correct. That would make me a psychic, which I’m not.” He leans forward, eyes focused on your face. You shudder. “Or am I?”

You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, like you’re the exotic exhibit in a museum. The sigh of relief escaping you when he finally leans back quickly dissipates when he says, “It’s psychology, right?”

What the, you think, and then “What the?” you say.

Akechi smiles, pleased with himself. “Excuse me, I couldn’t resist. After our very first meeting, I saw you once more inside a book store, purchasing a magazine about neuropsychoanalysis. I doubt you’d buy it if it was just a mere hobby since it belongs to the more expensive books on infantile amnesia targeting a specific audience. I deduced that it is something you really have to invest in and understand on top of it, hence psychology. So, not the work of a psychic, but it’s always a pleasure to see people react like you did.”

Yeah, not the work of a psychic, but a stalker, you don’t say, because fuck Goro Akechi, right?

“Okay, haha,” you say. It sounds like wheezing. “Got me there.”

“Does Kurusu plan to pursue the same field of study?”

“I don’t know,” you say, though you clearly remember Akira telling you that going to college isn’t something he can decide at the moment. Now that you know about his criminal record, it doesn’t seem so far fetched that only a handful of colleges might accept Akira. Which uncoils another knot of hot fury when you remember the unfairness of his case.

“Strange. I thought it’s something you talk about,” says Akechi and successfully forces himself back into the centre of your attention. This time you don’t miss how he deliberately makes it sound like such topics should be priority between tutors and students, and while it isn’t something you two explicitly talk about (no really, what do you two talk about, you wonder, and quickly remember you don’t talk much besides studying and occasionally exchanging sad cat memes), you’re aware of his situation and the difficulties coming with it. So of course you don’t bring it up, lest talking about it ends up rubbing salt into the wound, and Akira probably doesn’t want that either. Unless he’s a masochist. Now that might be an interesting conversation topic.

Thinking of the devil, Akira finally makes his appearance and strolls inside Leblanc, whistling an off-key tune. He notices Akechi first, and it’s strange to see how obvious he is, the smile reaching his eyes even before the corners of his mouth can catch up. If he thinks his glasses are obstacle enough to hide behind, you have very bad news for him. When he finally sees you as well, the smile is stuck between grimace and surprise. His eyes grow a little wider, and for a split second you imagine how they follow the curve of your exposed neck. Since the temperatures don’t get any more endurable in the evening hours, you put your hair into a loose bun, stray stands falling into your face and curling around the nape of your neck. Maybe he thinks you look more like a homeless than usual and saves his comment for when you’re alone.

Morgana is the first to set the picture back into motion. He jumps on the bar stool beside you and greets you with a loud meow.

“Why, hello to you too, handsome,” you say, scratching him behind his ears. He answers with another enthusiastic meow, licking at your thumb. Akira stops behind your stool, one hand drying his unruly hair with the towel hanging around his shoulders.

“Why don’t you greet me like that,” he mumbles but does a poor job saying the words quietly. You’d really like to jokingly ask if he means you or Morgana, but Akechi beats you to it and says, “You certainly look refreshed after your bath. Maybe I should try it as well some day.”

“You mean cleaning yourself? Yeah, that might help,” you say at the same time as Akira says, “Yeah, let’s go together next time.”

Only Sojiro’s pen scratching on paper and the quiet mumbling of the TV fills the silence around you. Morgana looks like he’d like to be anywhere but here and you agree. Akechi only smiles pleasantly, and you want to kick him under the bar where no one sees it.

“Well kids, that’s my cue to go,” Sojiro announces and folds his newspaper. You’re slightly amazed by the trust he places in Akira, leaving his shop to him, a bunch of fishy kids and a cat. He takes his leave, and you aren’t sure how to get through this evening without him. Begging him to stay seems a little too much for your current level of acquaintance, so you remain in your seat and stare at the shelf filled with coffee beans in front of you, trying to guess the prices for each sort and failing spectacularly. Luckily, life returns back into Akira. He pulls the towel off his shoulders and walks past the bar. “Wait here, I need to change again,” he says. “This heat is horrible.”

He disappears upstairs, and you can’t for the love of God and all that is Holy bear to sit any second longer beside Akechi, so you slide off your stool and quickly follow Akira upstairs, apparently deaf to what he just said. Akechi pretends to be interested in the evening news, but you feel his eyes heavy on you just before you disappear around the corner.

“Akira, can we talk about your taste in friends?” you start once you reach the top, “I mean, no offence, but—”

Your thoughts hit a brick wall, exploding into thousands bits you don’t know which to start picking up first. Right in front of you is the glory that is Akira’s naked upper body, white skin stretching over taut back muscles.

His damp hair is in soft, humid curls, and you feel a slow flip inside you, like your stomach running over. It seems unusually black, probably because his skin is so pale. Even the sun in Hawaii wasn’t able to leave any trace, and you wonder what would remain on his body. Does he bruise easily? How would teeth mark look on his skin? He looks so delicate—you have to glance away from the shape of his shoulder blades, the fragility of his spine, but there’s only so long you can avert your eyes while knowing that he is in front of you. When you return your sight on him, Akira looks up in just that moment. Your eyes meet, and there is something vulnerable in his eyes. Only now you notice he isn’t wearing his glasses, and it knocks the breath out of you realising how much younger he looks without them. That vulnerability disappears so quick behind a cocky smile, you wonder if maybe his glasses work as a sort of mask he usually hides behind. “Wanna take a picture?” he asks.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll be down in a second,” he says, grinning when you glare at him.

“Yeah, just hurry up.” When you turn away, Akira exhales audibly, making you stop. Before you can turn around and ask if everything is alright, Akira has already closed the distance and reaches a hand up to your hair.

“Don’t wear it like that.” His low voice is hot breath on your skin. You don’t dare to turn around, afraid of the look on his face. His fingers unclasp the clip from your hair, his thumb a ghost touch on the nape of your neck. Soft curls fall over your shoulders like a waterfall, obscuring your pounding pulse.

Akira takes a step back, allowing you to breathe again. Unsure how to react, you hold your hand out to him. “You wanna give that back?”

“No.”

“Okay.” It comes out more as an exhale and stays hanging in the air. Making your way back downstairs, you think about a different way Akira could have shown his dislike about you wearing your hair like that, but whatever. Now it happened and you’re glad about a few more seconds away from him so you can sort out your feelings about what you just saw and he just did.

Back down, you notice Akechi is gone. Good. Maybe Morgana ate him. Said cat lies curled up on a bar stool, purring, and you let him rest. Meanwhile, you spread out the tasks for Akira, and when he returns downstairs, wearing a dark red shirt to your dismay, and notices Akechi has left, the disappointment about that is so clear on his face, you have to look away and pretend you’re engrossed in the news coverage of a car accident that’s occurred a couple of days ago.

“Oh,” you say when they show the victim’s picture and occupation, forgetting all about Akechi. “Oh God. Your school’s principle is dead?”

Akira follows your gaze, and his expression darkens. “Yeah,” he says, his voice sounding distant like it doesn’t really concern him. “Some say he’s been targeted by the Phantom Thieves.”

“Why? I thought they only changed the hearts of criminals?”

“Remember their first target, Kamoshida? Apparently our principal new everything and covered him.” Akira sits down and opens a note book, scribbling a barely recognisable logo of the Phantom Thieves in a corner.

“Still, killing?” You take the seat opposite from him, starting a game of tic-tac-toe in the opposite corner. “The Phantom Thieves don’t do that.”

“Hmm,” Akira hums thoughtfully, and accepts your challenge.

Needless to say, you don’t get much studying done that day, and when you leave a few hours later, Akira still holds onto you hair clip.

———————————

The high temperatures are quickly followed by heavy showers and intense thunder you wish would hit you because no one likes finals and every lecturer thinks their seminars are the most important. Case studies pile up on your desk, charts wait to be analysed, and you dread the last week of next month in which every day holds an exam and no time in between to study properly. And student council wonders why the higher ups complain about dropping grades.

Unable to do anything but bow to the system, you stock up on additional literature and tons of coffee to fortify yourself in your apartment, deliberately leaving out ingredients or even oven-ready food. Just thinking about eating makes your stomach flip, and you’re not hungry anyway. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

Leaving the last shop for today, another bookstore selling additional scripts, you step out into the pouring rain. People hurry to catch their trains or get under a roof, and you entertain the idea to retreat to the Diner that added a new item to the menu: the Pururun Fresh Tea that somehow never fails to make you feel a little more charming after finishing one cup. But nothing beats the safe comfort of your own walls, and who knows, maybe you’ll pass out and when Narukami comes over to check on you, he’ll see how hard you worked and pity you enough to invite you to some drinks.

So towards home you go, hiding under your transparent umbrella, and clutching the book bag close to your side before water damage destroys the thousands of yen you just spent. Five feet towards Shibuya Central Station later you hear footsteps explode like gunshots somewhere behind you. Hoping the runners won’t hit you with puddle water, you step out of the way, but it doesn’t matter because you’re the target and just like that, Akira and goddamn freaking Akechi huddle with you under the safe, dry space, both flushed and breathing heavily like they just ran a marathon. Or made out in a dark alleyway. You bite your lower lip and force your mind to think about kitties and puppies and not how good a bruise would look on Akechi’s face.

“What is it with guys and not knowing about personal space?” you say, trying to avoid pressing your arm against Akechi’s. “Is chivalry dead or what?”

“We didn’t want to wait for the rain to pass,” Akira explains, and shakes his head like a wet cat, getting water all over the place. Akechi and you exchange the briefest look an outsider might interpret as you two planning to strangle Akira.

“So you just mug the first person you see?”

“No, but it’s you, and you live near Leblanc.”

“Still not convinced.”

“Please, it would be bad if any of us got sick in this rain,” Akechi joins, and tentatively places his hand on yours so he’s holding onto your umbrella as well, and leans it more to his side, getting you two others wet. Akira and you exchange the briefest look an outsider might interpret as you two planning to drown Akechi.

“Let’s just go to the subway,” you say when his eyes shift to where Akechi and you are basically holding hands. You want to tell him that you also hate it and that you’d love changing positions and those two could hands for all that you care. This evening can’t go worse, right?

As you make your way agonisingly slow to the subway, because it’s harder than expected with limbs everywhere and bodies touching all the time, you say, “So, are you guys on a date?”

Akira winks. “Maybe.”

Akechi opens his mouth and chokes on saliva, but you aren’t entirely sure that’s the only reason he flushes furiously. “Certainly not.”

“Hey, I won’t judge,” you say a little too sullen, wondering why Akira doesn’t take you out on a date.

“We went to the cinema,” Akira fails to clarify. He’s cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt, and you’re not sure how effective that is, but Akira seems pleased, even though there’s still the smudge of a finger left on a lower corner. You swallow the urge to play mother hen, currently preoccupied with untangling your elbow out from between Akechi’s side and arm.

“The movie was certainly entertaining,” Akechi says, not moving his arm whatsoever. Probably because he doesn’t want his shirt to get wetter, that jerk. “Though I’m not a big fan of open endings. What do you think, did the top stop spinning?”

“It did,” Akira says.

“It didn’t,” Akechi replies.

“You watched Inception?” you ask.

“We still got some popcorn left, if you want,” Akira offers to you, and to Akechi he says with the very same breath, “It totally did.”

“It certainly didn’t.”

“Does it even matter?” you throw in, returning your umbrella back to its case once you reach the station. It’s filled with people looking for shelter from the rain; the air humid and stuffy with the smell of sweat and wet clothes. “It doesn’t really tell us if it’s a dream, because consider how totems work in that world and you figure out it might stop because he expects it to stop because he thinks he’s back, but he also might still be dreaming.”

Akira and Akechi pull a face at you for spoiling their game. When you’re the first walking through the control terminal, you’re pretty sure you can still hear them argue quietly, completely ignoring your thoroughly-explained analysis.

The train compartment is surprisingly full at this kind of hour. Most seats are filled with teenagers and young adults either on their way home or heading for one of the city bars. You three huddle to the opposite end, where one only one seat is open.

“Take it,” Akira says to you, slowly pushing you down like you’re an old grandma.

“I don’t need it,” you say, but Akira insists, pushing harder until you’re sitting down with a clear sight of two pairs of slim hips. Immediately, your eyes go down to where the bag rests on your lap, pretending to check the contents. From down here, it’s harder to join their conversation. They’re talking about a show or a game, and Akira has his phone out and shows something to Akechi, and because it’s a situation like that, Akechi leans forward to get a better look and their cheeks almost touch. You watch them with with narrowed eyes, staring daggers at Akechi, which he notices because this is just your kind of lucky day. Your eyes lock for a second, but it’s hard to read anything in his. Also, what is this colour he has, you wonder for the first time, only noticing now how unnatural the brown is. Maybe it’s just the harsh neon light above you turning them into a strange, harsh hue that’s borderline aggressive. You blink, and it’s gone.

The train jolts.

Akira looses his footing, threatening to fall backwards and during the split second that you’re wondering if there’s anything you can do, Akechi’s hand shoots out and grabs Akira’s wrist, holding onto him like a vice.

The driver’s apology rattles unintelligibly through the cabins as Akira and Akechi stare at each other with wide eyes.

“Better hold on to something,” Akechi says with a brilliant smile that makes you want to vomit. Akira’s reaction is quite different as red blotches explode on his face, disappearing under his shirt where it covers his neck and you can’t believe this. Akira. Blushing. Embarrassed. Now you really feel sick.

“You should have taken the seat instead,” you say, nudging Akira’s foot with yours. He runs a hand through his hair, breathing a soft laugh.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, glancing sideways to Akechi who’s currently focused on an advertisement above your head. It sounds like he’s dismissing a peasant. “I think I’ll manage.”

You don’t doubt that for a second.

In Yongen-Jaya you finally snap back to their attention as the only one carrying an umbrella, and it feels more uncomfortable than before walking between them. By now Akira has noticed something is bothering you, and he keeps talking about Morgana’s strange morning habits. It barely manages to lift your mood, but his effort alone soothes your raw nerves and uncurls tight knots inside you.

Leblanc is dark when you reach it. Akira looks through the glass anyway, but it only confirms that Sojiro is long gone.

“You wanna come in too?” Akira asks, patting his jeans for the keys. Usually, you wouldn’t say no to a free cup of exquisite coffee, but right now your brain refuses to stay attentive for more than five seconds. Plus you feel like cockblocking them any longer isn’t good for any of you, so what happens should happen. Not that it concerns you. You can totally live with that. Without him in that certain way.

“I can hear my bed screaming for me,” you tell them, already waving goodbye. You wonder if they can see how desperate you are to get away. “Enjoy your quote-not-date-unquote.”

“Uuuhm.” Akira stops patting his pockets and finally turns around, dips his head, and looks up at you and Akechi with big, doe like eyes from behind thick, black lashes. “I may or may not have forgotten my keys inside.”

You want to ask him if he’s stupid, but then you remember all the times you had to couch surf at Iori’s before asking the janitor to open your door. Now you pat his back and head in condolences, cooing “There, there,” and Akira nods like he’s been kicked and deserves at least a million yen of injury award, leaning like a cat into your touch. You wonder how you could have thought just seconds ago you’d be totally fine without him.

Akechi clears his throat, looking like he thinks you both are imbeciles. “It would be a terrible inconvenience, but why don’t you give Boss a call. I am sure he’ll come at once to let us in.”

“Or accuse me of losing them on purpose,” Akira mutters, but his hand dips into his pocket and holds onto his phone, contemplating for a moment. His eyes land on you, and even while he’s chirping your name, you already say, “No.”

Akira’s shoulders drop. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“And you don’t need to. Listen to the smart detective and call Sojiro.”

You don’t understand why Akira hesitates, and it’s something you’ll probably never know. The only lead you’re holding onto is that even though he lives in the attic above the cafe, he doesn’t fully trust Sojiro with whatever is going on in his mind. Which is fine, because everyone carries their secrets, and even you know how hard it is to try and allow someone to help carry the weight. That’s the only reason you end up asking, “What do you want?”

Akira looks at you with an expression that’s clearly indicating he has a bad idea and he knows it. “We could go to your place,” he offers.

You think about that for two seconds. “How about we don’t.”

“You’d rather leave us here in the cold rain?” Akira pushes his bottom lip forward, bribing you with big puppy eyes. Behind you, Akechi starts a coughing fit that sounds as fake as his rehearsed TV interview responses. Akira joins, but he doesn’t even make an effort to sound authentic.

“You’re the worst,” you mumble, but no one is surprised when you gesture them to follow you. Moving past Akechi, you swear you can hear a quiet high five behind you. Or maybe that was only rain. Akechi doesn’t strike you as someone giving high fives.

So it’s back under your umbrella, and as you make your way to the student’s dorms, you realise it’ll be Akira’s first time seeing your place and finally your obsession from the last couple of weeks with keeping the place clean pays out. Not that you have anything to hide. Were it not for Akechi accompanying you, this moment could easily be stretched into a metaphorical meaning about you two deepening your friendship. Alas, with the detective prince closely trailing behind as well it feels more like the prelude to a comedy with a script you haven’t learnt fully but the curtains have been raised already. Of course improvising was never one of your strengths.

The student dorm looms like a prison into the dark sky, looking more like a haunted building than one which holds residents. The lift inside luckily works, sparing you from climbing stairs to the 8th floor. In front of your entrance, you fumble with your keys, feeling wet locks glued against your skin from the humidity.

“Just don’t expect anything fancy,” you say, glancing at Akechi and failing gloriously to hide your nervousness. But how can you not feel like the roof is going to fall on you when someone close to a celebrity is going to enter your little shabby apartment. Insecurity forgot to knock on your door this morning to announce you’d have to deal with it today, so of course you’re sort of overwhelmed.

But Akechi gives you a sweet, pleasant smile in return. “Please don’t concern yourself with my opinion. I am truthfully thankful for you to give us shelter.”

If he thinks he’s calming your nerves with his humble reply, he’s wrong because even the way he talks exudes superiority that’s frustrating on so many levels.

The door is stuck and only opens after you bump into it for the third time with your shoulder. Both boys are polite enough to keep their comments to themselves. When you enter, Akechi mumbles, “Pardon the intrusion,” at least sounding somewhat sincere about it unlike Akira, who enters the apartment like he’s a man on a mission. His eyes wander over every nook and cranny as he takes in how you live, what books you’ve arranged on your shelves, and what litters your desk. He moves like a cat in a new environment, curious and you’re just waiting for him to push stuff off tables and act like he couldn’t even begin to imagine how it landed on the floor.

Akechi is a lot subtler. He’s barely inside and excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you and Akira alone for the moment. You manoeuvrer around him, acting like he’s a big house plant that’s missing out a month worth of water sessions. He seems to think the same, and mopes like a wilted flower. You retreat to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets.

“You want coffee?” you ask, arranging three cups on the counter.

“Sure, but don’t let Sojiro know you drink this heretic stuff,” Akira says, and shakes the small container, surprising you by how naturally he just manages around you. You snatch the instant coffee away from him and push Akira out of the way to work. Looming above you and filling in the empty space is something he is unnervingly good at.

“Fascinating,” Akechi says somewhere behind you once you’ve prepared everything. “There are no mirrors in this apartment.”

A bolt strikes through your body. Your hand knocks a mug over, spilling hot coffee all over the worktop. Akira easily dodges the mess while your body immediately clicks into clean it, clean it, clean it before they see, so you don’t even hear him ask if you’re alright. Movement out of the corner of your eyes makes you flinch, but it’s only Akechi joining you, putting another paper towel on the puddle.

“Apologies,” he offers with a quiet voice, eyes cast down. He bends his head, like a knight acknowledging a lady in an old painting. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It was merely an observation, but it seems I should have kept my curiosity to myself.”

Something dark inside you really wants to stuff the wet towel in Akechi’s mouth to make him stop talking like that.

“No, I just thought I saw a House Centipede, that’s all,” you mumble, cleaning the rest. Akira is still standing a couple feet away, watching you two with an unreadable expression.

“I saw it too,” he says, shifting his weight from left to right. “Horrible thing.”

“Hmm.” Akechi doesn’t look convinced, but leaves it at that. Akira helps you prepare a new cup and carries it to the narrow table in front of your couch.

The realisation that you reallyshouldn’t have brought Akechi of all people to your place hits you when Akira excuses himself for a moment, stepping outside the room to get a call. Immediately, Akechi turns his body in your direction, focusing his eyes on you. It’s at Leblanc’s all over again.

“I was wondering what you were trying to clean up, using something strong as the Acid Wash 100,” he says in a light tone, and you decide he’s the worst at small talk.

“I wasn’t—” You stop, giving him every reason to be suspicious. “You know, usually people ask where I got that picture over there with Domo-kun. Or how much rent I pay.”

“I’m sure those are fascinating topics as well,” he says, and instantly dismisses them with a flick of his wrist. “I was just wondering, really. It isn’t something you’d find in a common household.”

“And I’m wondering why you think that’s any of your concern,” you snap, feeling defencive walls hulk up inside you, this time adorned with a barbed wire fence just for the detective, and you really can’t wait for him to bloody his hands in trying to climb over them.

Nothing could make you tell him the truth: the truth about the furious scrubbing of toilet and bathtub, the intense obsession with cleaning everything spotless until the intense caustic stench irritates your lungs so much you vomit and the vicious cleaning cycle starts again. The habit started when you cleaned the food you threw around the room after your dad had left. Who could have known it would turn into an obsession to cope with the hurt he left inside you. You created a prison that kept you docile in fear of your father’s wrath, its walls coated in poison.

Suddenly, the image of Akechi’s bony wrists and ironed shirt strikes you like a sudden, painful flash of bright light. The fact that he knows about a brand your friend studying chemistry vowed is hardly known outside except for people boarding on mysophobia, makes your mind leap to crazy ideas. It’s your turn to stare Akechi down, though you can’t possibly think of a way to ask without sounding like you’re crazy. He’s a detective. Of course he knows everything. And still, something about this doesn’t sit right with you, like a picture that’s put into the wrong frame.

Luckily, you’re spared of a reply when Akira returns and flops back down between you, either not noticing or ignoring the tense air.

“It’s still pouring cats and dogs outside,” he says, sinking into the cushions. “If this goes on, we might have to stay the night.”

“Or I’ll just kick you out once you finish up drinking.”

“I heard they predicted a severe storm for tonight,” Akechi chimes in, returning to his tooth-rotting pleasant TV persona and not like someone who invades other people’s privacy. “People shouldn’t leave their houses. But of course we wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome.”

“Technically you both got in here uninvited,” you say, ignoring the guilt-tripping.

“It doesn’t count as burglary,” Akira objects. He sprawls his legs over your lap and leans his upper body heavily on Akechi’s side, like a cat trying to claim as much space as possible.

“I could still call the cops.”

Akira jerks his thumb towards Akechi. “He’s on my side.”

Akechi smiles like a saint, his back straight like a sword. “I’m on the side of justice.”

“And I hate you both,” you conclude. “Shut up and let me watch the news.”

At least they listen to you now and keep silent as you turn on the TV and switch to a news channel. Akechi was right, there’s apparently only one short timeframe left before the storm picks up, buildings swaying and all. You really start to wonder if you should keep them overnight before they get hit by a traffic sign or something like that.

Your phone vibrates in one long call and shortly followed quick messages—Iori’s signature move when he’s in desperate need of help. You hope his hand isn’t stuck behind the refrigerator again.

“I’ll be back in a bit, just going to my neighbour,” you say and tap Akira’s legs so he releases you. “Try anything nasty in here and I’ll beat you up.”

Both boys nod absently, their attention solely focused on the screen and a report about the Phantom Thieves’ targets.

Just one knock, and Iori opens the door, breathing heavily. “Thank God,” he wheezes. “There’s a House Centipede in my bathroom and I think it’s eating the mice living inside the walls.”

If this isn’t karma, you don’t know what it is.

Iori’s apartment is like a trash dump, and it never fails to amaze you how he moves in it like he’s swimming in clear water. They do say only a genius dominates the chaos and Iori seems to live up to it. After convincing him that an improvised flame thrower made out of deodorant and lighter is a really bad idea, you manage to catch the little monster of a centipede under a glass, making Iori promise to bring it outside later. He nods vigorously but from the way he’s eyeing the centipede you can immediately tell he’s fallen in love and will prepare a terrarium for it. Stranger hobbies do exist.

Back in your apartment, you notice the rain doesn’t fall as hard as before against the windows. Either Akira and Akechi leave now or you have to think about food you could serve your guests. A choice is pretty much nonexistent since you’ve kept your fridge empty for almost a week now, only managing with chocolate bars and a few apples from time to time. Plus where would they even stay considering Akira refuses to ask Sojiro to come and open Leblanc.

The sight in front of your TV stops you dead. Akira has his eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. He leans on Akechi’s shoulder, curls into his side, while Akechi keeps his gaze on the screen, looking a little like a statue with how hard he tries not to move. It hits you with the force of a train. Jealousy: white-hot, boiling, venomous. It ripples through your body, making it shudder with the force of this feeling. Emotion tears at you; hot waves of jealousy mixed with desperate longing. This ought to be you Akira leans against; Akira trusts enough to rest against.

Akechi looks up when you approach, and slightly angles his head to the right. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” you hiss, retreating to the far end of the couch. “Why wouldn’t it be.”

“Well, we pretty much forced you to take us in,” he elaborates unnecessarily. “But luckily, we won’t be a bother to you for much longer.”

That brings a stop to the furious pounding of your heart, the angry bee swarm buzzing in your ears. “What are you talking about?”

Instead of a simple answer, Akechi shows Akira’s phone. On the screen is a message to Sojiro asking to open up Leblanc because he forgot his keys, and you stare a long moment at the letters and the sentence, trying to understand what sounds so off about them. An answer plops into the thread just as you realise, “You wrote that.”

The corners of Akechi’s mouth twitch. He deletes both messages, closes the app and puts it back beside Akira’s bag. “Like I said, we won’t bother you.”

“That isn’t nice,” you shoot back. “Don’t just take other people’s phones and impersonate them.”

“What makes you think I just took it?” he replies. “Maybe Akira asked me to write to Sojiro?”

With how he reacted back in front of Leblanc, you seriously doubt that, but before you can say anything, Akechi blinks thoughtfully up to your ceiling, and adds as an afterthought, “And anyway, doesn’t the end justify the means?”

You scowl. “Don’t talk philosophical to me at this kind of hour, kid.”

Something in your expression makes Akechi back down. He simpl shrugs, the motion stirring Akira awake. He grunts unpleasant and nuzzles into Akechi’s shoulder.

“What time’s it,” he mumbles, running both hands through his messy hair.

“Time for you to go to bed,” you provide, humour void in your voice.

Akira shoots up, wide awake now. “You sound exactly like Morgana,” he groans miserably.

“What?”

“I mean, you sound exactly how I would imagine Morgana to sound like if he could speak. I imagine he’d always tell me when to go to bed,” he blurts, his expression turning sour. “And it would be the worst.”

“You seem very tired, Kurusu,” Akechi unhelpfully contributes. Akira considers him for a short moment, then yawns. “Yeah. Yeah, seems like it.”

“Well, then it’s good Sojiro will come and open Leblanc,” you say, unable to hide the bitter edge to your voice. “Better go now, before you make him wait, right?”

Akira blinks in confusion, but Akechi already rises, brushing off his spotless shirt. “That’s right. We don’t want him waiting in the rain at this late hour.” He marches to your entrance area, not looking if Akira follows him. But he does, and you’re so focused on the fact that Akira trails behind him like a little puppy that you don’t notice the way he looks at Akechi: the keen eyes narrowed sharply in question and careful contemplation.

At the door, you consider just closing it on Akechi’s face and keeping Akira inside. But he also slips into his shoes, not showing any hint of wanting to stay. You want to tell yourself the feeling of disappointment is linked to Akechi’s rude behaviour but your talent of bullshitting yourself is fairly non-existent at this moment.

“Thank you again,” Akechi says, his smile razor sharp. “It was an interesting experience and good for future reference to see how a student lives.”

“Don’t mention it. And no,” you say. He blinks in confusion. “The end doesn’t justify the means. Unless you want immoral or violent means to corrupt the end.”

“Ah,” Akechi breathes softly and smiles like he’s pleased that you did engage with him in philosophical talk in the end. “Fair point,” he says. “Oh, but isn’t it the same as All’s fair in love and war? Don’t you think so as well?”

He smiles like a beautiful angel seconds away from throwing heavenly fire at mortals. That is the moment you realise. You realise that Akechi knows what you feel towards Akira. It’s in the way he looks at you, the things he just said. He’s a detective, for Christ’s sake, and reading people belongs as much to his repertory of skills making him so successful in his profession as to your studies of the mind and brain. Caught off guard, you can’t help but stare at him and for the first time you feel like Akechi is deliberately showing his superiority. You lost a game he knew from the very beginning he’d come out as victorious.

“When did you two bond over consequentialism?” Akira says, breaking the staring contest between you and Akechi. He sounds a little sulky, and God you hope he isn’t reading too much into it.

“We’ll be taking our leave now,” Akechi says, and says goodbye with a curt nod.

“Yeah, do that.” And don’t come back, you throw at the back of Akechi’s neck, hoping he feels it burning on his skin like the Cain’s mark expelling him from this place.

Akira remains a little longer. He bows his head in your direction. “Thanks again, teach.”

“Don’t sweat it.” You stare at the top of his head, feeling the urge to pat him. And you do. Akira hums approvingly, and you allow yourself to breathe again now that Akechi’s out of sight. “Just be careful on your way back.”

“Scared someone might snatch me away?”

More than you think, you don’t want to admit. “Knowing you, you might go out there and punch a police man. We don’t need that.”

“Only if he wears Prada.” Akira winks and grins when you try to kick him off your doormat. Without him, your apartment already feels a few degrees colder.

——————

A couple days later, the first thing you notice when entering Leblanc is that Morgana doesn’t greet you like usual. Now that maybe wouldn’t be that big of a deal were it not for Akira sulking in a booth, flipping his pen so vigorously around it looks like he wants it to take off and fly towards the ceiling.

“Easy there, cowboy,” you say. The skin under his eyes is a few shades darker again, and his slumping form speaks louder of sleepless nights than a yawn. “You might hurt someone with that thing.”

Akira looks from you to the pen and throws it carelessly on the table. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I just don’t want you to stab yourself. Or me.”

Seeing how that sneaks a little smile on his face, you relax a little. “Where’s Morgana?”

Akira tenses slightly. “Outside. He is a cat after all.”

“Yeah, but…” Somehow this answer doesn’t satisfy you. At the same time, you don’t really feel confident enough to say that you always thought he and Morgana were inseparable; that if Akira was a cat, he’d be like Morgana, and if Morgana turned into a human, he’d be like Akira. But maybe you’re just overthinking it and Morgana will stroll inside the shop in a couple of minutes to place a dead mouse in your lap.

“So, you wanted to talk?” Akira changes the subject, playing again with his pen. He must be either really nervous about something or just needs his fingers occupied in general, which is a whole new revelation you want to hide inside your chest and unfold later to wonder about.

“Yes. Remember when you asked me to look into cognitive psience? I found something.”

Akira’s expression falls, then gets solid with a frown. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to know about it,” he says. “Throw away everything that you’ve found about it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. Not about that.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to see if he’s really playing with you. But this might easily be another one of those rare times you see him serious. He’s agitated and keeps peeking at this phone that’s blinking repeatedly with fast incoming messages. Whatever happened in this short time that has changed his mind, apparently it’s still holding him in its claws and tightens its hold around him. Akira looks like a prisoner hold at gunpoint, preventing him from sayingt the wrong thing.

“You won’t answer if I ask what’s wrong, will you?”

Akira looks from you to his phone. “No.”

“But you do know that I’ll look into it myself. Why cognitive psience specifically. You’re not someone who loses interest in whatever is on your mind. Telling me to throw my research away means there’s danger included, and you don’t want danger and your friends inside the same room.”

He pales slightly, and swallows. “Stop it. I’m not your patient, and I didn’t ask for you to look into my head.”

“I’m not looking anywhere,” you say, slightly growing irritated. “I’m only taking what you’re giving me.”

“Then stop taking.”

You consider each other from the distance of the table between you. After bracing yourself for a fight you might lose, you get up and take the seat beside Akira, turning to him.

“You know I won’t keep pestering you if you continue to refuse to answer. But please tell me if you’re in danger or something like that. I want to help.”

He exhales audibly. “I know. Thanks. But it’s nothing. I just thought cognitive psience isn’t as interesting as I expected.”

“Okay,” you say, and leave out that you found suspiciously little on the matter because apparently the government keeps it secret. Which could also be just typical government conspiracies, but you feel like dropping the subject is a better course of action.

A guest enters Leblanc even though you’re sure Akira has flipped the sign to Closed. Your mood drops when Akechi moves to your table like he owns the place.

“Apologies,” he says in way of a greeting. At least he understands he just walked in on something, because he hesitates and pulls his eyebrows together. “I’m only here to return the clothes you lent me.” He puts a paper bag on the table, successfully putting a wall between you and Akira.

“Your clothes,” you repeat like a parrot, looking from the bag to Akira and back. “Why would you—” Immediately you can think of one reason, and oh boy, is it hot in here or is it just you? Akira seems to follow your train of thought and immediately turns red. Akechi looks between you two like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“I want to thank you again for letting me stay on the night of the storm,” Akechi explains, and to you he says, “You might have noticed the storm resuming once we left. Kurusu was nice enough to offer me shelter.”

“Yeah, well. He’s a nice guy like that,” you admit, trying to smother the desperate desire inside you to throw yourself on Akira and obscure him from the detective’s eyes. “Unlike someone I know,” you’re unable to hold back, staring at the detective.

Akira pinches your thigh. “Be nice,” he mumbles, pushing the paper bag to the opposite end of the table.

“Don’t worry about it.” Akechi shakes his head, his easy-going smile saved for his fans and the public turning into a sad little curve that changes his whole face into a picture painted in tragedy. “I am quite used to people calling me unkind. I assume you too are a fan of the Phantom Thieves? Apologies if anything I said about them upset you.”

You want to tell him this has nothing to do with them and that you didn’t like him before it became cool with the kids, but under the table, Akira squeezes your thigh in warning, and up until now you haven’t even noticed how his hand has remained there. You nearly choke on your saliva and manage a high-pitched, “No need to apologise. I’m the one who stepped out of line.”

Akechi smiles heart-breakingly wistful as if he knows Akira’s the reason for your sudden change of heart. “No, please don’t. I should go now. Have a nice evening you two.” He leaves Leblanc, his usually straight spine slightly bowed and for the first time you can see past all the jealousy and petty hate where a boy condemned by the public leaves a warm shelter.

You swallow past the bitter taste, feeling your thigh getting cold and Akira’s hand nowhere near it. Instead he surprises you by bowing his head until his cheek rests against your shoulder, his glasses pushing uncomfortably against your skin. You look at the door’s reflection in the black TV screen; slim shoulders hidden underneath a white shirt on your mind.

“Do you like him?” you ask, shuddering when the tips of his fingers ghost over your knuckles.

Akira’s warm breath brushes against the crook of your neck as he settles in more comfortably, puts more weight onto you. “Yeah.”

His whisper is like silk, hiding the dagger that pierces into your heart. But you are prepared for this. It’s a moment you’ve dreaded coming but also braced yourself for a long time.

“Then why are you doing this?” you say, and turn your hand around, the open palm facing upwards. Just like you expected, Akira wedges his fingers through yours. A trembling breath leaves his mouth, ghosting over your skin when you feel his lips brush the nape of your neck. Nothing can stop the shudder rippling through your body, earning a deep, low chuckle from him.

“Because I know that he’ll never feel the same.”

Ah, you think, and wonder how many people are out tonight who can’t be with the one they love so they settle for a substitution.

You squeeze Akira’s hand in return. A shadow settles over his eyes when he searches for yours, a question waiting on the tip of his tongue you answer when you dip your head once he raises his and your lips meet in a silent vow.

Kissing is new to him. It’s evident in how he tries to do so much at the same time, kissing, licking, whispering your name against your mouth. He tastes like coffee and you regret you drank it earlier because you want to know how Akira truly tastes. When his grip on your hand tightens, you flinch, your joints hurting because he’s holding on too tight, too hard, even though he should know by the way you willingly open your mouth that you won’t just abandon him.

As an apology, he drags his tongue over your lower lip but it feels half-heartedly when the thumb of his free hand digs into your jaw to prevent you from moving away. Fine, two can play this game. Sneaking your free hand to the back of his neck, Akira grunts in pleasure when your nails scratch his scalp. His smile pushes against your lips and smugness curls in your stomach when you yank his head back, black curls caught in your fingers. They really are as soft as you’ve imagined.

Greedily, your mouth latches onto a spot just under his jaw, the skin so soft and warm you want to rip it apart with your teeth. A pleasant sound leaves his lips when you straddle his lap, and you hastily stretch up to catch it with your mouth but it escapes, and hangs between you in the dark cafe; the only source of light is the dim, orange light from the lantern outside the shop that catches Akira’s ethereal, beautiful expression—a face artists want to paint so history remembers him. His thumb dugs into the inside of your thigh, his nail scratching against the fabric of your jeans.

Oxygen is unfortunately something you both need to survive. You reluctantly break away, interlacing your fingers behind Akira’s neck and lower your forehead against his collarbones, trying to piece your mind back together to form words to say how bad of an idea this is.

But then he kisses the top of your head and loops both arms around your neck and your plan flies out the window as you relish in his warmth, his unexpected softness.

Seconds tick away. In this short moment you feel like there’s only you two in this world, a population of two, uninhibited by anything and anyone.

“Do you want another cup?” he asks quietly, affectionately tugging your hair.

You nod, but none of you move immediately, and you think, Just five more seconds until five become ten, then twenty. He’s the first to move, placing both hands on your thighs and drawing lazy circles with his thumbs until you lean back and finally find enough courage to look at him.

Akira smiles, his grey eyes filled with a glint that can’t be from a reflection somewhere around you. It’s the kind of inner light shining to the outside that can only be explained by pure happiness, and it uncurls something deep inside you, loosening a knot that finally disappears after so long. Reluctantly, you climb off his lap and allow him to get up. He moves across the room and switches the lights on above the bar. The first shock of sudden brightness to your eyes doesn’t make you react as strong as the sight of dishevelled Akira, his hair sticking to all sides, his lips red and bruised with a dark spot just under his jaw where the hickey is already blooming. He moves behind the bar and you take a stool, desperate to close the distance between you, and when he has his back to you, you wonder if you’re the only one so deeply rattled to the bone just from a little kissing.

“I’m sure Sojiro won’t mind if we treat ourself to some of his better beans,” Akira says. “Or rather I treat you to some better beans.”

You’re already a great bean, you want to say but maybe cheesiness is better saved for another day. Or not used at all. “Ok,” you say instead. “Thanks.”

He gives a little smile, then proceeds to open the cap. And struggles. And almost drops the can with Jamaica Blue Mountain beans, successfully giving you both a heart attack because that shit is more valuable than you two together. What usually is a smooth procedure of Akira making coffee turns into a spectacle of bumping, him almost dropping half the dishes and nearly burning his hand on the glass syphon.

“Christ, are you okay?” you ask, finally awarded with hot coffee. Akira looks at you from behind the counter, eyes big, and suddenly, he just falls into himself, both elbows leaning on the counter as he puts his face in his hands and you notice for the first time that his fingers are shaking.

“How can I be after that,” he mumbles into his hands, peeking at you between his fingers, and oh—maybe he isn’t so unaffected from kissing you as you thought. Struck with a forceful flash of affection and endearment towards the boy, you’re pretty sure you’re a lost cause.

Crushing on Akira was a laughable joke, a fling that would disappear and remembered fondly like summer—only missed when it’s gone. But falling for him was never meant to happen, never a plan, and the implication of that and what might follow is like a pinprick of ice driving into your heart. The sorrow mixed with excitement is so bittersweet, you don’t know if the tears pricking behind your eyes are of joy or fear. But the worst and best part is seeing the hope in Akira’s eyes, the affection towards you in his gaze as he whispers your name again and leans over to steal another kiss.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #yu narukami #p5 #reader insert #akira kurusu #alto plays p5s #persona 5 joker #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya x reader #persona 5 joker x reader #kissing #fluff #slight angst #hurt and comfort

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wh0reyp0tter · 3 years

Text

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? F.W

Song fic based on Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High by Arctic Monkeys

Fred Weasley x fem!reader (house not specified but I pictured Gryffindor)

Includes: Swearing, angst, FWB, unresolved pining, a bit of crying, and “one-sided” love

___________________________________________________________

The mirror's image, it tells me it's home time

But I'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side

I look around confused as I realize Fred’s no longer beside me. I look around to see him standing in front of a small blonde Gryffindor. She’s laughing at something he says. I sigh softly as I shake my head and make my way to the table full of alcohol. I pull one of the red cups off of the stack before pouring firewhiskey almost to the brim. I fill the rest of the cup with pumpkin juice.

“Y/N!” I hear my name called. I turn to see Lee and George waving me over. I smile at them as I walk over and join them on the couch. “Where’s Fred?”

“Over there,” I reply, pointing out the tall ginger. The two look at the boy before they shake their heads.

“Didn’t he ask you here?” Lee asks confused.

“Yep,” I say, popping the last syllable before taking a big swig off of my drink. The liquid burning its way down my throat.

“He’s such an idiot,” George murmurs. Lee nods in agreement before taking a sip of his own drink.

“At least someone’s having fun,” I say with a soft laugh. I turn to look at Fred, only to see him being pulled up the stairs by the blonde. I bite the inside of my cheek as a twinge of pain runs through my chest. George looks over at me with a soft look in his eyes. I down the rest of my drink before standing to get a refill.

And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin', carryin' your shoes

Decided that once again I was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you

I wake up with a loud groan before I sit up and rub my head. “Bloody hell,” I mutter. I stand up before pulling clothes over my torso and walk out of my door. I see Fred tiptoeing out of the door across from mine, shoes in hand. He closes the door softly as he turns to look at me.

“Morning,” he says with a bright smile. I look at him with a tight-lipped smile as I walk out of the hallway and towards the Great Hall.

Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply

I’m woken up by a loud buzzing beside my bed. I blink a few times as I sit up and reach over to grasp my phone. I squint at the almost blinding brightness. As my eyes adjust to the new brightness I see Fred’s name across the small screen. I roll my eyes before I click the answer button.

“Hello?” I say into the phone.

“Hey, love,” Fred giggles. “Miss you.”

“Bloody christ Fred, it’s,” I pause to pull the phone from my face and check the time. “Fucking 3 in the morning! What could you possibly need?”

“Just missed your voice,” he hums into the receiver. His words slowed and mixing together. “Wanted to hear it.”

“What are you doing awake? We have class in like 4 hours!” I exclaim.

“Got bored, so Georgie and I were smoking,” he laughs. I close my eyes before I take a deep breath.

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?" I ask softly, my voice cracking at the end. There’s silence for a few moments before a giggle rings through my ear.

“Hi,” Fred says, I can practically hear the grin in his voice.

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?" I repeat my question. There’s more silence, this time not followed by a laugh. I shake my head in annoyance as I click the red button and put my phone back on the table before laying back down.

Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

I feel someone pull me into a dark corridor as I was walking towards the Gryffindor common room. “What the fu-” I begin to say loudly. My sentence was cut off by someone’s lips on mine. My eyes widen as I push them away from me.

“Calm down darling, ‘s just me,” a voice chuckles.

“Christ Fred, you gave me a bloody heart attack!” I say in a hushed voice as I slap his chest. “What are you doing.”

“Just figured we could help each other out,” he hums as he begins placing soft kisses down my neck. I close my eyes as I let out a soft sigh.

“I’m supposed to be meeting Hermione,” I say as I feel his hand trail under my skirt. Fred pulls away from me with a smirk.

“Guess we’ll just have to be quick then,” he replies before I’m being pressed against the wall behind me.

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

“C’mon love, we can keep the boys waiting for a little bit,” Fred pleas as his hand tugs on mine.

“Fred, no,” I say sternly as I look at him.

“You always want to,” Fred argues.

“We agreed to hang out with George and Lee. I’m not blowing off more of my friends just so you get a shag. I’m going. You can join me, or get your dick wet somewhere else,” I reply. I pull my hand out of his grasp before I continue towards the boys’ dorm. I push my way through the door as I let it slam shut behind me.

“Y/N/N, are you alright?” A voice asks. I bite the inside of my cheek as I move to sit on George’s bed with him and Lee.

“I’m okay,” I say with a soft smile.

“Fred?” Lee asks. I nod silently as I feel a soft hand rub up and down my back.

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply

That night my phone buzzes a few times and my screen flashes showing multiple text messages. I roll my eyes before I pick it up only to see five missed calls from Fred and a few text messages.

‘hey u up?’

‘u can’t stil be ignoring me’

‘fuk Y/N/N, i’m sorry alright’

‘just com 2 my dorm’

‘miss u’

‘every part ;)’

I close my eyes for a moment before texting my response quickly.

‘Why'd you only call me when you're high?’

Moments later my phone begins buzzing in my hand as I see Fred’s name flash across my screen. I take a deep breath before answering it.

“Hello?” I ask, clearly annoyed.

“You answered,” Fred says softly. “Hi.”

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?" I ask.

“You walked out earlier, just wanted to see if you fancy a meetup,” Fred replies. I let out a scoff before hanging up quickly. I place my phone back where it was before laying down, staring at the ceiling.

‘Is that all I’m good for?’ I think to myself. I feel a few tears roll down my face as I close my eyes.

And I can't see you here, wonderin' where am I

It sort of feels like I'm runnin' out of time

“Where’s Y/N?” Fred asks as he sits beside his brother. George shrugs as he leans on the wall. Fred looks around the room to see the small girl standing in front of Cedric Diggory with a bright smile on her face. ‘She only looks at me like that,’ Fred thinks to himself. Before he knows what he’s doing he’s already across the room.

“Hey mate,” Cedric says offering the tall ginger a smile. “Good job on your win today. You played great!”

“Thanks, can I borrow Y/N for a second?” Fred asks. Before either of the pair could argue, Fred pulls her away from him. “What are you doing?”

“Talking, before I was so rudely yanked away,” Y/N scowls.

“Why were you look at him like that?” Fred pries.

“Like what?” Y/N laughs.

“Like you fancy him!” Fred exclaims.

“Maybe I do,” the smaller girl scoffs. “Why does it matter?”

“You’re supposed to fancy me!” Fred argues.

“Yeah, I did,” she says softly before she walks away. Fred stands in place for a moment, in shock, before disappearing.

I haven't found all I was hopin' to find

You said you gotta be up in the mornin'

“Oi Y/N!” A loud voice calls after me. I turn to see Fred jogging up to me. “Fancy coming to my dorm with me?”

“I can’t,” I reply.

“It’s been ages! I miss that pretty little pussy of yours,” Fred says. The last little bit of his sentence turning into a whisper pressed into my ear. I feel my cheeks heat up as I shake my head at the boy.

“As much as I would love to, I have class in the morning. Have a good night Fred,” I say before I walk away.

Gonna have an early night

And you're startin' to bore me, baby

Fred sighs softly as he stares up at his ceiling. He pulls his phone out to see it’s only 9:30 at night. ‘I’m never in this late,’ he scoffs to himself. Fred sets his phone on the table beside him before closing his eyes, trying to sleep. After what felt like an eternity he decides against sleeping. He stands up before pulling a hoodie over his torso. Fred puts on a pair of trainers before walking out of his dorm. He quickly makes his way up to the astronomy tower, only to be met with a figure standing in front of the large opening. Fred moves further into the room only to be met with the girl who’s been occupying his thoughts. “Y/N?” He says quietly. She turns around as he sees tears evident on her face.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Why'd you only call me when you're high?” She asks, tears falling down her face.

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fanfiction #angst #pining #one sided love #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins x you

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razorblade180-heated · 3 years

Text

Warmth

[Smut! Also I’m aware of the canon, and? Read my tags]

Nice guys finish last, a common phrase tossed around to any dude with dipshit friends that clearly fumble their way into relationships. At least that’s what Ilia thought. She also wondered why it was just guys? It’s not like they’re the only ones striking out or being told to act rude. She should know. Unfortunately, she’s been both the worry wart, and the dipshit. You would think romance had clear instructions by now. After all, love comes for everyone given enough time. Even her, but there lies the problem. Ilia couldn’t admit it. Not to the only person that it matters to. Ilia could fight grimm, be a terrorist, a good person, and stand outside a hotel room an entire kingdom away with luggage held tight like she is now, but for the love of everything not annoying, Ilia couldn’t tell one nice guy that he makes her feel like she’s walking on air.

It had been several months since her and Sun got a little more serious. The emotional soul searching definitely took time, and every choice felt like do or die for her, but Ilia was finally in a place emotionally that truly felt good. Most of that was thanks to Kali. The woman was always there to lend an ear. All that searching though put several things temporarily on a back burner. One of those things was visiting Sun. Expenses to Vacou was one thing, but Ilia didn’t want to visit him while feeling completely out of sorts. It wouldn’t be fair to him. That didn’t stop Sun from blowing up her scroll with facetime messages. That dork worked out a time zone schedule and everything. It was sweet; the kind Ilia wasn’t used to but definitely wanted more of. It had been far too long since she saw that cheeky monkey boy in person.

Ilia stared down the door as she psyched herself up. “Don’t be nervous. Dooooon’t be nervous.” She muttered to herself. She finally knocked on the door and waited in brief suspense as the door swung open aggressively. Ilia was effortlessly pulled into the room and more importantly, into a hug. It took her a moment to realize she was less than an inch away from pecks and wrapped in warm arms. She tilted her head up to see shiny white teeth smiling at her.

“Hey Ilia. Have a safe trip?”

Her freckles turned a little pink and she pouted. “We’re skipping over the fact that you just surprised me? How’d you know it was at the door?”

“Ummm you were mumbling out there for a few minutes.”

“Oh…” Ilia lost the nerve to look at him and choose to hide her face in his chest. How much did he possibly hear!? It was too embarrassing to think about. “How’ve ya been?”

“Oh ya know, missions. Scarlet had a party yesterday, obviously things got out of hand.”

“Fire?”

“No it was actually bandits. He didn’t help fight. Him and Neptune song Toxic while Sage and I handled everything.”

Ilia looked back up at Sun. “That sounds awesome! Man, I should’ve booked an overnight flight!”

“Yeah we could’ve used another fighter.”

“We both know I would’ve been drunk onstage with them.”

“Listen, you could’ve let me dream.” Sun said, laughing gently. It was criminal to be this endearing. Ilia wasn’t sure how Neptune or anybody could deal with this brightness so easily. However, Ilia would love to learn.

“Uhh, Sun? You’re still hugging me.” Ilia stammered.

The boy's face turned a little red and he quickly let go. “Whoops! Hehe, my bad. Got a little carried away.”

“That’s nothing new.” She jabbed at him. “Wearing your heart on your sleeve is what you do best.” Ilia stepped further into the room. “Or maybe it’s picking rooms…”

The hotel room had a glass door on the other side that led to a balcony to look out at Vacou’s desert beauty. A huge couch was smack dab in the middle of the room that faced a wide screen. Sun clearly brought his own things. Wires from the bottom went down the wall and connected to a game system with tons of things to play and watch. Ilia walked to the back of the room to a door that led to another big room. This one had dressers, a door that most likely led to the bathroom, and a massive bed that looked softer than a cloud and covered in pillows.

The thought of sleeping in it was both heavenly l, and a little too much to deal with. It was a big bed, and the only bed. Ilia jumped a little as she felt Sun poke her back to get her attention.

“You alright?”

“How much did this all cost!? This is Atlas grade stuff right here.”

Sun folded his arms and smiled with confidence. “Funny you say that. This is the room Weiss gets when she’s here. I asked very nicely for her to let me use it. The missions I went on for the company definitely helped with a discount.”

“Discount?”

“Yeah Weiss said she isn’t paying for room service.” Sun let out a sad sigh. “Weiss said it’s the only way we wouldn’t order nothing but lobster.”

Ilia was soul crushed. Weiss was right but that didn’t make it better. Lobster is great. “I don’t blame her, but I’m offended. I was gonna go all out.”

“Well now you can do that, but on a budget.” Sun walked back to grab Ilia’s bags. “Feel free to take a shower. I still have things I wanna set up.”

“Alright, thanks.” She grabbed her things from him and went to the bathroom. It was much bigger than she expected. Ilia was used to a bathroom the size of a closet. Not another room! It was half the size of the bedroom and magnificent. The entire thing was tile and the tub was deep. With a removal shower head and other things Ilia couldn’t begin to know what they were for.

“Really glad he didn’t pay full price for anything.” A heat rose to her cheeks. Sun totally would’ve paid full price if it came down to it. Nobody is worth this much effort. Then again, Kali would beg to differ. She would think going all out would be just enough. How Ghira surpassed all expectations is beyond her.

xxxx

Sun finally finished his set up of movies and games and was ready for the hard part. Not screwing things up. Hanging out came naturally to him but it was much harder when he could tell Ilia had a lot on her mind. Maybe he was trying too hard. Should he ask her about it, or give her space. Months to think about this and he let it slip through his fingers. “I wonder if she’s reading me as much as I am her? Huh, maybe I should stick to being straight forward?”

“How’s the set up going?” Ilia called from behind him.

Sun started to turn around. “I’m finish-fin...umm.” He had lost his train of thought. Ilia had derailed it completely by walking around in a white bathrobe with her hair down. Sun’s eyes drifted to her toned legs and didn’t leave them.

Ilia noticed the distraction and blushed. “Ahem!” Sun snapped out of the daze, embarrassed and rubbing his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, caught me by surprise.” Not that he was complaining. By any means, and his tone made that very clear to her.

Ilia sat down on the couch and carefully kept her legs crossed. “Don’t get used to this. My hair always ruins my clothes when it’s wet so I’m letting it dry is all.

“You know I never noticed, but your hair and size is kinda like Weiss. It’s kinda fortunate. Don’t think that bathrobe would work for me.

“You’re shirtless all the time. All you need is a towel.” She looked passed him to see his setup. “Games or movies first?”

“Choice is all yours. I’m perfectly fine owning you in all of these games.” He boasted. Ilia wasn’t gonna take that at all.

“Famous last words, banana breath. I’m about to be eating lobster and kicking you but for the rest of the evening! Pass me a controller.”

Sun laughed confidently and tossed her one. She seemed to be in a better mood than before. Deep conversation can wait. Now was the time to enjoy each other’s reunion. “Winner decides the movie.”

Ilia grinned. “You’re on!”

xxxx

“Rematch!” Ilia declared, for the tenth time. She was not about to admit defeat and watch Speed Racer. Though at this point the amount of food she ate would probably knock her out before the halfway point.

“I think you gotta accept the loss here. I don’t know why you thought you’d beat me in a fighting game finally. Should’ve chosen racing.”

“Whatever. It’s no fun if a bet is one sided. I totally would have won though.” Ilia let out a sigh and handed her controller over, shooting him an evil look at his victory. Sun could only smile. “That’s a weird response to a glare.”

“Can’t help it. I’m just really glad you’re having a good time with me.”

That was sudden. Ilia blinked twice then began to play with her hands. “Why wouldn’t I…?”

He shrugged. “Earlier you looked a bit spaced out. Like your mind was somewhere else. Couldn’t tell why. I almost asked why but you know, trying to be better at letting things go at their own pace. Being a leader doesn’t mean I have the most tact hehe.”

That was an understatement. It never mattered what was happening, if Sun was a part of it then he was all in. Helping, fighting, everything. True, it made things feel a little overwhelming at times; but it was a pleasant change for people like Ilia. Having a person that was always in your corner was a stark contrast from her time before the White Fang and during it. Blake wasn’t even always around. Not that it was a problem. But Ilia would be lying if she said she didn’t used to wish that would be the case between her and Blake. Oh well. Life goes on.

Ilia leaned closely to Sun, then flicked his forehead hard.

“Ow!” He flinched.

“Blame yourself. Your brain needed a jumpstart apparently. I could’ve sworn I told you not to hold back around me once upon a time. Be greedy, stay outspoken. Even if I seem sensitive about it.” Ilia knew she had a bad habit of putting up walls. That’s why she was thankful for her friends. The only tactful person was Blake. Everybody else would just try crashing right through any wall. A crude approach, but Ilia knew herself well enough to admit she doesn’t leave people many other options. “What did you wanna ask me?” Being caught up in lecturing Sun, Ilia had legitimately forgotten her little crisis outside the door. Knots in her stomach hit hard the moment she remembered. “Me and my big mouth!” Ilia screamed, internally.

“You were outside my door for a good while. Then it took you some time to process the hug. I wasn’t sure if you were worried about seeing me or if there’s something in general that had you distracted. Heh, I guess you can say I got worried about you worrying. So, what was on your mind.”

“Oh you know, things…” her voice trailed off and it was hard to look at him again. Why was this so hard! Ilia hated this. Confessions weren’t anything new to her, and yet Ilia genuinely felt scared to even work up to it. Her skin changed between gray and pink constantly as the room went painfully silent. Sun was waiting for an answer and Ilia was left with her throat feeling dry. She came all the way here to get this off her chest in earnest and now it felt like she was being crushed flat by it.

Ilia continued to be mad at herself for saying nothing as she felt Sun take her hand and rub his thumb across it. Amazing how simple touches like this could change the atmosphere. Against his, Ilia hadn’t realized she had been shaking. She looked up to see Sun staring at her, concerned while remaining patient. It wasn’t fair, those eyes. The way they built her up and disarmed her all at once. Ilia never wanted them off her.

“Take your time with it.” Sun said with reassurance. It was easy to see he was anxious as well from the way his tail couldn’t keep still behind him.

“I...it’s….” she gripped his hand tighter. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of this. Us. I’m scared that if I tell you exactly what this means to me, it’ll end. I don’t know how or why but I know no matter how badly I wanna say the words I want you to hear…” she holds her head down and clenches her robe. “I probably sound so stupid right now huh?”

“I wouldn’t say so. Listen, I know that no matter what I say you’re gonna beat yourself up about this. Me being understanding or not, wasn’t gonna change that fact; and you know that I was going to understand.”

Ilia let out a small pity chuckle. Sun tilted her head up gently. Even with misty eyes, Ilia remained completely beautiful. “I don’t hear the words, but I’m smart enough to know they’re there. I haven’t said them, but do you think for a second you don’t know how you make me feel?” He placed her hand on his heart. Even he couldn’t escape the uneasiness of this situation. Sun could feel the heat go to his face and could do nothing but gently place his forehead against Ilia’s. “You know how I feel, right?”

The gray from her skin went away inch by inch, only leaving pink and red freckles. “Of course I do.” Her voice trembled. Their eyes didn’t remain sad, but switched to something equally intense. Pleading. Ilia’s expression softened. Her hand let go of her robe and found its way to Sun’s face. His own hands rested on her hips and he began leaning forward because of Ilia until she was on her back. The trembling didn’t stop from earlier but it was okay. She was okay.

“How many times have we’ve found ourselves like this?” She asked, rubbing his face.

“Not enough.” Sun whispered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, so much. You...are beyond word to me.” Ilia couldn’t wait a moment longer. She closed her eyes and was met with Sun’s lips, tenderly pressing on her own. Ilia carefully bit his bottom lip as he pulled away, aiming for her exposed neck. Ilia let out a gasp at the contact. Her hands began rubbing up and down his back from the inside of his shirt. Her own legs instinctively parted in order to draw him in closer. Each nip and kiss was brutally slowly and methodical. As if he was letting her know the depth of his feelings.

Ilia kept exploring his back torso. Every groove felt like magic. Muscles were never something she was into on anybody. What really had her was the honest fact the body on top of hers belonged to the person that had completely captured her feelings. His hands slipped into her robe and made her body shiver. He never stopped being gentle but somehow was firm enough to let Ilia know how badly he wanted her. She was absolutely defenseless against the way his left hand groped her chest. As for the right, it wasted no time drifting to her wet folds, continuing the trend of slowly rubbing Ilia’s body; before she felt his middle finger open her up.

“Mmmph~” her nails dug into him a little. She could feel him curl his finger as he pumped in and out.

Sun could feel Ilia squeeze tightly around the digit. Her chest started to rise higher, her breath becoming sharper by sucking in air through her teeth. Sun finally let her neck free and kissed her, adding another finger in the process. His movements became faster and hid her face the crook of his neck the moment the kiss ended. She couldn’t stop her legs from fidgeting and the girl tried her best to repress her whimpers by any means. She even bit down on his neck briefly. All the while, Sun kissed and breathed on her very red ear.

“Let me hear your voice Ilia…”

He made it sound so easy. Ilia couldn’t stand sounding so needy, even with him. It just wasn’t her to give in and he knew that. “You’re the worst.” She whined. Her eyes shut themselves and her body clung to him as if she was falling. His fingers split from each other. Ilia could feel them press down as they went in, before sliding up to the top and pulling out to the entrance, connecting and splitting apart to touch everywhere.

“Mmmmm aaaahhaaa~ Sun!” Ilia couldn’t hold that one back at all. The first of many, until she had no will left but moan as her face turned beat red. He really was the worst. “Suuuun~ aaha!”

“I knew you could do it.” He managed to make her free himself enough to be able to kiss her face and neck again. His labor bore the fruit he wanted as Ilia kept moaning freely. Her body finally caved from his touch when she arched her back and Sun felt both fingers being squeezed tightly. Ilia’s entire body was tense and she couldn’t even make a noise until her body went limp on the couch. The breath hit heavily against his body as she tried catching it.

It didn’t take too long because she quickly went back to kissing him passionately, even moaning into it. If there was anything she loved most, it was kissing. It didn’t matter how skilled a person could be in anything else, a kiss had a way of showing exactly how much the other person really cared. There was no dying a spark when it was there. She learned that the hard way.

Sun could feel Ilia’s tongue all but dominate his own as he tried to do the same. He couldn’t help but groan from the pleasure. Ilia’s leg presses against his erection, stoking the flames further, but it was still only second compared to their lip locking. A subtle warmth hit his cheeks. Sun reluctantly pulled back to see why and witnessed Ilia panting,tears falling down her face. Sun put his hand against her face and Ilia pressed into it. He traced over the tear track and kissed the path of the other one away. “You okay?” He said quietly, earning a nod.

“Yeah. I’m just...you’re so warm, safe. I can’t remember feeling this...happy.” Her own words threatened to make herself shed more tears. He was looking at her again. That same gaze that never failed to make her heart jump and want to continue growing if it meant being even closer to him. “Please,touch me deeper.”

Sun’s face went redder. He sat up briefly and officially took off his shirt. His pants came next. Ilia tried removing her bathrobe but Sun quickly took her hand. “Wait, I uhh really like you in it.” He confessed, embarrassed. “It suits you.”

Ilia felt her heart flutter again. Sun’s infatuation with her legs and hips was flattering for sure, but Ilia never imagined how much. “Well, if we’re doing things that excite us.” She reached for his red boxers and slipped her hand between the seams, fishing out Sun’s hard six inch shaft. A simple grab had him throbbing and breathing deeper. “Having you like this is more my style.” Keeping underwear one while having sex just felt more intense and made Ilia ache. “Need me to get you slick enough.

“You tell me?” Sun pressed the tip of cock past her entrance and was welcomed with Ilia’s body dripping at the touch. He pressed further in to be guided with ease. She more than wet enough on her own. He was already halfway in and still felt no real resistance. Only Ilia spreading around him before clamping down. “Gods, your pussy is so wet.”

He really knew how to push her buttons just right. Her body betrayed her mind by gripping him even tighter for his choice of words. “I hate that word so much. It’s-mmmmph! Ahhh! S-Sun!?” He couldn’t wait any longer and hilted himself inside her completely. His hips began thrusting on their own and Sun found his way into Ilia’s arms yet again. Unlike her, Sun had no shame in letting her hear just how good she made him feel. His groans and grunts invaded her ear willingly, and passionately.

“Mmmmgh ahhh~ fuck. Ilia…” Sun couldn’t keep his thoughts straight anymore. All he wanted was to feel her and let Ilia feel him. He panted roughly and did his best to satisfy the woman beneath him.

Ilia was more than being satisfied. There wasn’t a moment she wasn’t feeling full by how wide his cock spread her apart. Her moans came back in full force to sing with his own. Ilia’s legs felt their strength drain from them and could only react to Sun’s hips. They once again kissed deeply and Ilia’s right hand was pressed against the sofa by Sun’s left, interlocking tightly with each finger around one another. It wasn’t long before Sun held the other one as well. The stimulation made Ilia feel alive with energy that was dead set at reaching its peak. They hadn't been going any longer than nine minutes by her guess, but yet they were near their limits already. Neither could help it. Today, it was nothing short of what they wanted. There wasn’t one touch or look that didn’t shout “ I love you with everything I have.”

“Ilia! I’m-“ he couldn’t contain himself long enough to speak. Ilia wrapped a leg around him as he came inside her. The feeling of it all knocked her past the point of no return and Ilia came as well; her body squeezed all it could as she cried out in pleasure. Sun’s hips rocked slowly to draw out the ecstasy of it all until they were left tired. Both found themselves staring yet again, smiles plain to see.

“Am I still the worst?” Sun chuckled.

“Without a doubt.” Ilia jabbed. “Kiss me again already will ya?”

Sun playfully rolled his eyes. “So needy.” He gave her what they both wanted and more. After all, he had a lot of love to give.

xxxx

They must’ve gone at it at least three times. The sun had set, food was ordered once again, and Speed Racer played for Sun’s viewing pleasure while Ilia slept peacefully. The boy was on his side while his girlfriend’s arms remained around him, her head resting on his chest. Sun couldn’t help but brush her hair out of her dreaming face and remain connected to her. Every so often she’d laugh quietly in her sleep.

“Always up to something. Even in your sleep.” Sun was only proven right by her body holding him closer.

“Mmmmmm love you.” Those words stopped Sun in his tracks. He had no choice but to look down at her once again and kiss her head. “I love you too.” A confession neither of them would officially remember, unburdened by the fear or memory. When it was right, they’d both say it. And what a day that would be. Until then, there was no rush.

#rwby #rwby sunshower #sun wukong #ilia amitola #sun x ilia #rwby ships #no i did not make her straight or bi. I like the idea of demi Ilia #you won’t change my mind on that.

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

Always made to break (S.M.)

Summary: Shawn meets someone who reawakens his soul and makes him question his choices in love.

Warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 4k

A/N - I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, so I decided to post it and see how you guys like it, so let me know if you want more.

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''Were you ever going to tell me?“ She practically growled at Shawn as she threw a magazine in his lap, the tone she used scaring him enough to look up at her face, the beautiful features now twisted with rage and disappointment, something he never wanted to see her direct at him.

''I don't unders-'', but then he saw just what she meant, seeing his face attached to Camilla's on the front page of a random gossip magazine. He knew why she was looking at him with such fire in her eyes, and not the kind he expected to see in the bedroom, but the purest form of hatred mixed with pain.

''Not only did you poise as some poor photography student, but you also claimed you're single?! How stupid can I be, right?“ She put her right hand on her hip, using the back of her left one to wipe under her nose although nothing was there but a fathom sensation of coldness he had caused her insides now manifesting on the outside as well. She didn't shed a single tear yet, her anger not allowing her heartbreak to show.

It is better to hate him for his lies than to feel sorry for herself, she decided.

''I didn't want to...“ Shawn trailed off, unable to find the words. He, a man of many words, a person who had always managed to put his emotions in the most eloquent of ways had found himself speechless at a time he needed his words the most.

''Didn't want what? To tell me you're rich and famous? That you're dating a star? Huh?!“ She huffed, her eyes burning him with the intensity of the unrestrained pit of bursting flames within.

''What was this to you? Huh? A joke? Did it make you feel good to make me the fool?!“ She shouted, the raw emotion ripping her throat like a thousand razorblades.

Bowing his head down, Shawn swallows thickly, his eyes filling with tears he knew would only anger her more in this moment. He doesn't get to cry over breaking her heart, he just doesn't.

At the beginning

It was supposed to be a calm, ordinary Monday morning for Shawn. After months on the road, it was nice to be back home for a short break from the stage and screaming fans, just him and his earplugs and a good cup of coffee. It was supposed to be a regular, lonesome morning to start the day off right, but things never really work out the way we want them to.

Whether he meant to sit in that particular café, in that particular chair, with that particular song playing as he lazily glanced around before taking the first sip of his coffee, Shawn had started a chain of events that would lead him into a world of trouble, yet unimaginable love and heartache.

In that lazy glance, Shawn had managed to catch a young girl's eye, his curls falling over his eyes obscuring his vision. She had merely smiled at him, so sweetly, so shyly, enough for Shawn to return the gesture. Her eyes fell back on her phone and he assumed she was likely sending a message to all her friends about seeing THE Shawn Mendes, probably posting a sneakily taken photo of him in his moment of supposed tranquility as well.

It's not as if he's not used to it, but Shawn really hoped he'd have this morning to himself, a moment to put his thoughts in proper order and a second to breathe. He's been having his picture taken every day, multiple times by fans and paparazzi, especially since he started the whole agreement with Camila and her team.

Shawn was tired of it, drained, so when he hoped for a moment of his own and lost it? He truly didn't feel at ease anymore.

He looked back at the girl once more, angrily with eyes narrowed. She seemed oblivious to his newfound outlet as she kept scrolling on her phone. She was beautiful, Shawn couldn't deny that. In fact, it's why he looked her way in the first place – it's why he sat in this particular café, outside on such a cold morning to have his coffee, all because she caught his eye as he was passing the street. However, whatever drew him in had now pushed him away as he scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

That's when she looked up from her phone and trained her eyes on him again, a confused look passing her features as she stood slowly, setting herself on a path toward him.

Rolling his eyes, Shawn reminded himself to be nice for his image is kindness and never random rage outbursts on young girls who want a photo with him. He drew in a short, quick breath of fresh air before he looked up at her when she stopped a few feet away from him, prepared to fake it if need be.

"I’m really not in the mood.” Shawn says before he can stop himself, mentally face palming when he sees the girl’s eyebrows furrow, her bottom lip sinking between her teeth as she cleared her throat.

“I wanted to ask if you needed something aside from the coffee considering you’ve been looking at me this whole time. I just assumed you were annoyed because my colleague hasn’t been out in a while. I’m sorry for making the wrong assumption and bothering you.” She wasn’t harsh or rude, making Shawn feel even guiltier as he paled. Finally realizing she’s the waitress, Shawn’s paleness is quickly replaced with a crimson shade that he could never truly hide.

The girl didn’t get a chance to walk away as he stood up abruptly, knocking the table up in the process with his thighs, some of his coffee spilling over.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be so rude, I just…I do want something.” Shawn exclaimed, hoping he can dig himself out of this deep hole he managed to dig for himself in a matter of seconds. “A bagel! And a brownie, please?” Shawn gave her an awkward smile, running his hand through his messy curls as she studies him with care, unsure if she should say something about his odd behavior or just take it like she usually does.

There are worse customers than him, she thinks.

“Sure.” She sighs, placing her phone on his table before whipping out a small notepad to write his order down, walking away right after.

Sitting down, Shawn sighed heavily at his stupidity, chuckling at himself. Rubbing his forehead to soothe an oncoming headache, he opens his eyes only to find her phone is still on the table, unlocked at that!

He stared at the gadget with great interest, wondering if he had assumed more than one thing wrong and if he had to change his opinion of this girl entirely. He didn’t want to take the phone and search it, but what’s the harm in peering over his cup to see what app she’s got open, right?

“Most common complications of a bowl resection?” Shawn reads under his breath, his eyebrows knitted together as he stares at the words that quite frankly sound like they came from a Grey’s anatomy episode.

“What are you doing?” A sweet voice startles him into a small yelp, the girl chuckling at this tall hunk who seems to be so clumsy and presumptuous that she can’t quite figure him out yet.

“Oh, I…Uh…I’m a simple guy, really. I see a phone screen and I have to sneak a peek, except I can’t understand a damn thing written on there.” Shawn rubbed the back of his neck nervously, sure as hell that his face is tomato red by now. He hates tomatoes just as much as he hates his treacherous cheeks for betraying every emotion he’s ever had.

Giggling, she places his order on the table, pushing back a strand of hair behind her right ear. She takes her phone swiftly, pocketing it in a single move.

“Yeah, I’ve got an exam to prepare for. Been working the night shift! Lucky me!” She exclaims sarcastically, her lips pressed together before she places the bill on his table too, turning around to go.

She isn’t even wearing a uniform, Shawn realizes, watching her as she takes her bag and begins to pack her things from the table she was sat at before. She took his order even after her shift ended. Biting down on his bottom lip, Shawn could sense a war is brewing between his head and heart, each arguing why he should or should not go after her.

Shawn’s always been a heart guy, deciding to go ahead and listen to it once again.

Jumping to his feet, Shawn moves toward her on instinct, not quite ready for her to go. He’s got too much accumulated guilt over judging her and assuming things about her that he was clearly wrong about and while she didn’t know it, he still wanted to make amends. Shawn needed to do something nice for the girl who had been kind enough not to cuss him out for being inexcusably rude to her.

“Where are you going?" He asks before he could stop himself. His head cocked to the side, his eyes shifting from the ground to the unknown girl. He barely knew her, hell, Shawn didn’t even know her name, but his heart stopped and he could barely breathe when she decided to leave.

She looked up in wonder, observing him with slight worry in her eyes, another thing he found endearing.

“I have that exam in an hour. Gotta get to my bus on time.” She shrugged, giving him a tiny wave as a means to say goodbye.

Shawn needed more time with her. He needed to talk to her, to get to know her, to at least find out her name. For some reason he couldn’t even fathom, Shawn felt drawn to this stranger, this girl who didn’t seem to know or give a damn about who he is. She is the type of people he surrounds himself with – people who are grounded and will keep him human. He wouldn’t admit to it, but she was also a beauty he couldn’t part with for reasons not of the mind, but of the heart. He knew it wouldn’t be a smart idea to get involved with someone now, not when he was under contract to be with someone else and so publicly.

However, when she made a move to leave, Shawn had to react before his heart completely stopped.

"I'm guessing you need a ride?" His voice was soft-spoken and mellow, sending a warm glow throughout Y/N’s body.

"Taking the bus won’t kill me, but thanks for the offer." Y/N smiled, waving at the café’ window. Shawn grabbed a twenty and left it on his table quickly, pointing at it in hopes of someone coming out to take the money for he had no time to pay for it right now. Shawn had decided to get in his car and chase after the girl who had started her walk to the nearest bus station, her determined walk noticeable and distinctive.

“You said you’ve been working all night, right?” He talked loudly, needing her to hear him, as if she could miss a car like his slowing down beside her or the doe-eyed guy nearly shouting at her through his open window.

“Yeah. So?” She stops, crossing her arms over her chest, uncertainty in her eyes. She looked at Shawn with such confusing emotion that he could hardly breathe when he allowed himself the luxury of staring into her eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she knew him for years, that they have history, that they’ve met in a previous life. The look in her eyes and the feeling he’d get in his heart when he’d meet her gaze? It felt like more than two strangers talking.

“Don’t want to fall asleep on the bus and miss your stop, now do ya?” Shawn tried, unsure how to convince her to let him drive her.

“I’d also prefer not to be killed by the seemingly kind stranger who offered me a ride.” She cocked an eyebrow, starting to walk again which forced Shawn to press down on the gas pedal lightly.

“My name’s Shawn and I promise I’m not a killer, just a big supporter of education who has nothing better to do than help a girl who looks like she could use a kind gesture after a hard night.”

Y/N stops again, rolling her eyes at the sky before letting out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. Was it wise to get into a car of a man she knew for less than an hour? A handsome stranger that could easily turn out to be a Ted Bundy she found herself attracted to?

Definitely not wise, she thought as she opened the passenger door and sat inside.

"Cute name." she smiled shyly.

“I’m Y/N.” She tells him, putting on the seatbelt before looking into his whiskey brown eyes.

“Your name is cuter.” Shawn’s crooked smile made her heart flip. The wind gently brushed his curls as he kept his window open, the breeze grazing his face, almost soothingly.

This is what he needed though, some adventure. Some risk. Some danger. Giving a ride to a girl he met didn’t constitute as adventure, risk or danger, but being seen doing so? Definitely.

She types in the location in his GPS, leaning back in her seat as the radio fills the silence. Nearly choking on his own saliva, Shawn changed the song he had recognized just by the first few beats, before Senorita could blast through the speakers.

“So, uh…what kind of music do you like?” Shawn asked awkwardly, feeling her gaze upon him not a second later. It’s as if being set on fire, but not in the way it hurts the skin, rather puts the soul on a path worth taking.

“Classical mostly. Old rock music too.” She responds, receiving a hum from Shawn in response. He relaxed visibly, knowing there’s a much lesser chance that she’d know he’s Shawn Mendes if he’s not what she usually listens to.

“You seem like a pop-rock kind of a guy.” She assumed, lifting her left eyebrow quizzically, waiting for him to agree or deny.

Shawn couldn’t hold himself back from smiling widely, nodding before sparing her a quick glance. “Nice guess.” He adds, noticing her cheeks redden, not nearly as bad as his, but enough to know she’s not indifferent.

“So, you’re a med student or a method actor?” Shawn chuckled, catching her playfully rolling her eyes at him and his stomach flipped at the gesture. She looked cute even annoyed with him and he knew he’d love to annoy her for a really long time if she’d let him.

“First one would be right!” She exclaimed, pressing her lips together as she turned to the side, looking out the window instead of him.

“That’s pretty impressive! Beauty and brains? It’s every man’s dream.” Shawn told her honestly, at least from his perspective. He had already found himself on her hook, wanting more and more all the while knowing he’ll soon have to leave her at the university and in less than a month, he’d leave the continent as well.

“You might be the only guy thinking that. It feels the day I started med school, I signed some invisible contract where I was doomed to be lonely and friendless. I never have time for friends or relationships. When I’m not in class, I’m working or studying. If I do have free time, I’m usually exhausted to the point of just curling up and watching Netflix. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” She bit her lip, eyes everywhere but on Shawn.

She didn’t know why she told him this, something she’d been carrying around on her shoulders for so long. She barely knows him, yet Shawn just oozes good vibes and trustworthiness that she couldn’t help herself. It’s been a while since she had someone to be genuine with, so what’s the harm in oversharing with a stranger she’ll likely never see again?

“If you’re passionate about something, it will often demand you abandon all else. There will be times where you’ll wonder why you ever did it, why you’ve made such a decision as if you didn’t know it would be like this…you did, I know you were aware it would be hard and let me tell you, all the good things in life are hard and demand sacrifice and once you’ve got it, you’ll be reminded just why you chose it. Something happens and you’re reminded and you’ll be back in the right mindset.” Shawn tightens his hold on the steering wheel, aware he’s telling himself the same.

He’s lost the passion he used to have for music in the circus his team imposed on him and now he’s here, in the car with a girl he just met yet felt so incredibly connected to in comparison to the girl he’s supposedly dating that it was hard not to feel like life turned on him.

When he started writing music and playing it live, Shawn never realized how fake the public persona he’d have to create would be. He always thought musicians had free reign to be who they are, to enjoy life, but he’s received a cold shower of pure facts in the past year and he’s still struggling to come to terms with it.

“I really hope so.” She smiled, reaching out for his hand. She laid her palm gently on the back of Shawn’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it quickly.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of bummed we’re already here.” Shawn sighed as he parked, looking over at the girl he wanted to stay more than ever. She wasn’t a stranger anymore, not even close. In his world, the rule states you’re no longer strangers if you’ve:

A) gotten drunk together

B) had a heart to heart.

“Bet you say that to all the strangers you give a lift to.” Her lips pulled to the left into a crooked smile, one Shawn wanted to make wider, brighter.

“Just ones I really like.” Shawn countered, smiling as well. It’s hard to resist a smile when she’s got her angelic lips spreading into the smile he wanted to see.

“You like me, eh?” She teased, coyly lifting an eyebrow as she lets her lips pucker.

“Never denied it.” Shawn raised his hands in a mock surrender, chuckling.

Then he moves closer with those eyes that look so deeply into her own, as if he could see who she is underneath all the layers she’s created to protect herself from the hurt. It’s like he sees her soul, the real Y/N and never in her life had she felt seen like she did with Shawn. He made her feel like she’s the only girl in the world and she knew then she’d never find that gaze in any other man’s eyes, never such intensity, raw emotion and understanding.

“As long as we’re clear on that.” She smirked, moving away slightly, not ready for what his eyes were telling her.

“Are you feeling better about the exam now? About everything? Because I meant what I said. You’ll be okay, even if it feels otherwise.” Shawn decided to diffuse the situation, the tension growing too fast for her to be comfortable with it, he could tell.

“About the fact that I’m not sure if I’ll ever find love or be the girl a guy would go to the ends of the world for?” She shrugged, chuckling dryly.

It’s much easier to make fun of what bothers her than face it head on. She’s been feeling so lost for such a long time that her coping mechanisms weren’t quite something most people are used to. But Shawn? He doesn’t even blink at her darkness. He doesn’t look away or shows he’s tired of her already. He doesn’t push her away for being so gloomy, he’s doing the opposite. He listens as if her words are golden, some elixir he's been waiting all his days to hear.

From what he says next she can tell he is thinking so deeply, already with a strategy that's several moves ahead of her. And in his words is a kindness, a concern that is so quick that, for him, it is natural. This attentiveness is a part of who he is and that is the most attractive feature Y/N’s ever seen in a man.

“You are though. I’ve known you for an hour and I’m already thinking just how badly I want to take you out and shower you with affection. You’re so beautiful, so raw, so fucking oblivious to your qualities that it makes me both angry and stubbornly certain that I want to change your view of yourself.” Shawn takes her hand in his, clasping it between his palms as his left hand, the one with a swallow tattoo, closes over hers. A tattoo like that would be hard to forget.

“I’ve found out that you’re intelligent, hardworking, ambitious, funny in a nonconventional way, incredibly brave for setting out on this journey, extremely good and devoted to helping humanity one person at a time, caring and you think of others even when you don’t have to. You were kind to me when I wasn’t to you, honest and open with your heart and mind…And that’s all within an hour of knowing you. And I desperately want more as creepy as it may sound.” Shawn’s words have made her eyes gloss over and she couldn’t stop herself from chuckling too.

When a woman’s sure she’s destined to be alone and that her perfect man isn’t real and then finds him when she’s given up on the notion – it’s a shock to the body. His smile alone burnishes her soul into a beauty it could never have achieved on its own. Before they met, both Shawn and Y/N were one, now they’re each a half, yet somehow so much more than they ever were before.

“I’m really glad I met you, Shawn. It’s truly an honor.” She managed to say before she leaned in so swiftly he had no chance to even move. Her lips brushed his for no longer than a moment, a single breath yet long enough to make him crave more, so much more. Just as quickly as they warmed his heart, her lips were gone and so was she.

He watched her walk away, her head bent as she stared at her shoes in thought, his heart slamming against his ribcage helplessly. He’d have ran after her, but he couldn’t afford some of the students recognizing him and snapping a photo. He couldn’t risk the world knowing he was living a lie, dating Camila on paper but already in love with a woman he was destined to fail in the long run.

Shawn should have let Y/N become a sweet memory he’d return to when the nights became too cold, too lonely to brave on his own. He should have let it be a fantasy, but he couldn’t. Whether he wanted it or not, Shawn was drawn to the same café the very next morning, hoping to run into the medical student who had captivated him.

#shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic

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tomurasprincess · 4 years

Text

If Only (Shigaraki x Reader)

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki meets a young woman at a local convention that leaves an impression on him and has him wondering: could he really have a normal life with her, or is his life destined to be nothing but destruction?

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader Rating: G. Warnings: Angst, manga spoilers for Shigaraki’s backstory. Word Count: 3.5k+ Note: My entry for the BNHarem Discord collab! Yes, this is a SFW one, and yes I did enter it. It was a bit of a challenge for me to write but I like how it turned out! The full masterlist can be found here, so make sure you check out the fics from all of the talented writers!

Tomura Shigaraki decided this was a mistake within the first ten minutes of entering the convention center. Furthermore, he had decided to correct this mistake within the first fifteen, leaving without the thing he went to the convention for in the first place. The entire hall was too loud, too noisy, too full of people. The atmosphere was stifling, the air conditioners running at full blast still not being enough to cool down such an enormous space with so many people crammed in at once.

But one thing happened that made him change his plans. He ran into someone. Literally. As he is turning a corner, trying to find an area that was not packed full of people so that he could catch his breath, he runs directly into someone. The sudden collision takes you by surprise as you barely right yourself from toppling over.

As you gather your bearings, Shigaraki finds himself taking the opportunity to study your outfit. You are cosplaying as a character from a video game series that he is a big fan of, the costume remarkably true to the character herself. He finds himself appreciative of your attention to detail and the level of work you must have put into the cosplay.. But annoyance bubbles up inside of him as he sees that you ran into him because you weren’t paying a bit of attention to where you were going, choosing to stare at your phone instead.

“How about you watch where you’re going?” He sneers at you, giving the glare that usually gets people to back down immediately. But he is mildly surprised when he sees you are not intimidated by his presence, choosing instead to give him a bright smile.

“Sorry, but I am so close to beating this level! Didn’t want to put it down.”

He blinks at your response before leaning around to glance at your phone. You’re playing a popular mobile RPG on a particularly difficult level. He knows this because he plays the same game, and even he had a hell of a time beating it.

You curse under your breath as you lose, putting up a good fight but ultimately being overwhelmed by the third phase of the boss. When you look up at him to see him staring at you, you blush and quickly glance away. Huh, he thinks, that’s new. You’re not afraid of him, not disgusted by his appearance like others.

“The third phase is the hardest,” he finally ventures as he points to a few skills and characters on your screen. “Try using those instead.”

Your face turns serious as you revise your setup, restarting the level and playing through it again. You are so focused on your game that you don't even notice Shigaraki watching you like you are something new and unique. He tears his eyes away long enough to start watching your screen as you enter the third phase, utilizing the characters and skills he told you about with a decent amount of skill.

When you finally beat the level, you do a happy fist pump and a squeal before moving towards him. He tenses, anticipating an attack and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. But when he feels arms wrapping around his neck, he freezes completely.

This is new territory for him. The only way people touch him is with malice as they try to kill him, as they try to harm him. Not with kindness or gratitude. He’s still trying to process it as it ends with you pulling away with a big smile on your face. He finds himself wanting to help you again in some way so that he can experience the feeling of being hugged again.

“Thank you, I’ve been trying to beat that level all day!”

“It’s no big deal.” He shuffles a bit in place before scratching at his neck.

“Well I appreciate it anyway. I was on my way to lunch when we bumped into each other. Do you want to go with me?”

“You can stop mocking me,” he narrows his eyes at you. “I don’t appreciate it.” Nobody is this nice, he thinks, you must be making fun of him somehow. His fingers itch to wrap around your neck, to kill you for this offense against him.

He expects you to finally be afraid, to stop talking to him and leave him to his solitude again. But instead, you furiously shake your head. “Oh no, not mocking you at all!” You bite your lip and fidget with your costume. “I just think you seem cool, is all. My friends make fun of me for liking games, and they definitely don’t help me beat levels.”

This time, the rage he feels is directed at anyone who would make fun of this woman in front of her. He’s shocked by this realization, and at the fact that he really does want to talk more. To get to know the one person who doesn’t seem to be bothered by him. He glances down at his shoes as he mumbles an apology, not knowing what else to say.

“Well there’s only one way to make it up to me.” Of course you want something. Nobody ever wants him for him, only what he can do for them. He was stupid for thinking anyone could be different, that -

“You gotta take me to lunch,” you happily explain. “It’ll be my treat!”

He gives you a slow blink, staring as if trying to process your words. Someone wants to spend time with him? Voluntarily, simply because they seem to like him? He didn’t expect anything like this, and yet there doesn’t seem to be any deception from you. You’re simply standing there as you wait for his answer with a hopeful look on your face.

“I, I guess that’s fine,” he agrees hesitantly, “I still have some time before the thing I want starts.”

You instantly light up as you hear his agreement. “What is it that you’re waiting for?” You ask as you begin to lead the way to the dining hall. “Maybe we could go together?”

“Oh, it’s the big event for Cyberpunk 2077. Been waiting for that game for years and since I was in the area, I thought I’d stop by.”

“Oh god, I am so excited for that one. The character customization alone is going to take me hours.”

He chuckles at that, your sheer excitement for everything shining through as you discuss the details of the game together while walking to the dining area. True to your word, you happily pay as you finally choose a place to eat, and the two of you settle in to continue to talk about games. He finds himself really enjoying talking to you. You are so innocent compared to what he’s used to, so carefree and eager to talk about things you enjoy.

“You know, I was wondering something. Why are you here alone?”

Your face falls at that statement as you glance away from him. It was the first time he saw such a sad look on your face, and he finds himself almost mad at being the one who caused that look, even if it was indirectly.

“Ah, I was supposed to be here with a few friends.”

He waits for you to finish your sentence, but you trail off and say nothing. “And? Where are they?”

“They - they had to cancel. But it’s totally okay!” You wave your hands quickly as you try to change the subject. But Shigaraki is not about to have it.

“They abandoned you,” he states flatly.

“Abandoned is a strong word,” you hedge. “They said they just had other things to do. It really is okay.”

His eyes narrow at the last part. He knows a lie when he hears one, and this is the first that he’s noticed since he started talking to you.

“They didn’t just have other things to do, did they?”

You glance anywhere but at his face, willing him to not ask any more questions. But now his curiosity has peaked, and he repeats the question.

“Okay, fine,” you give a long drawn out sigh. “They were supposed to be here today, cosplaying with me. All of us as a character from the group, you know?”

He nods his head as he internally realizes where this is going, the very thought making his blood boil.

“But well, they - they said,” your voice wavers just a bit, “they said this morning that they had better things to do and cancelled. It’s okay, really.”

But he is perceptive enough to realize that it’s not okay. The look in your eyes says you’re hurt, but you’re also used to it. You simply accept being abandoned by your friends as a thing that happens. He knows the look of defeat and rejection in your eyes very well. After all, he sees it every day in the mirror.

“That’s why I asked you to join me for lunch, you know.”

He gives you a questioning look as his thoughts race to figure out what you mean. Do you mean that you invited him to lunch just so you wouldn’t be alone? That thought hurts, for some reason that he couldn’t explain.

“You’re alone too, aren’t you?” You look him directly in his crimson eyes and hold his gaze. He knows on some instinctive level that you don’t just mean at this convention. You’re more perceptive than you initially give off, he realizes suddenly.

He finally nods his head. “I have a few people who support me, but -”

“But you don’t have your person yet, do you?”

This question confuses him, and he waits for you to elaborate on it.

“You know, your person!” Your voice is back to a slightly happier tone, and he’s glad to hear it. “That one person you really connect with, who you would do anything for.”

“That is a rather naive concept,” he says automatically, without considering what he’s saying. But you don’t seem phased by his slightly rude comment.

“Naive, maybe. But I think it’s true. That you just connect with people sometimes.”

He must have inadvertently started frowning at your words, because you give him an adorable pout. “Don’t give me that look,” you playfully reprimand him as you give him a light poke to the forehead.

He gawks at you in sheer surprise for several moments, leaving you to giggle at his expression. He has never had anyone touch him as casually as you do. Instead of making him uncomfortable, however, it makes him feel strangely warm.

It’s then that he hears an announcement come over the convention hall speakers, informing everyone that the keynote presentation for Cyberpunk 2077 is about to begin in 10 minutes. He glances at you, waiting to see your reaction.

“There’s your cue, right? Go have fun!” You give him a smile that appears forced, as if you don’t want him to leave but are holding yourself back from saying so.

“I mean, you could come with me,” he murmurs, “I guess I wouldn’t mind you tagging along.”

“Ah, I don’t have a ticket for that part. Couldn’t afford it. But go ahead, I wouldn’t want you to miss it on my behalf.” You stand up from the table as you turn to leave. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s grabbing your arm and gently pulling you back towards him. You stare up at him with both surprise and hope in your eyes as he tucks you into his body, wrapping his arms around you. You feel stiff for only one second before you link your arms around him as well, burrowing your face against his chest with a contented sigh.

You stay there for what feels like hours, neither of you wanting to part. But when you finally do, it is with reluctance on both your parts. “Hey, one last thing before I go,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that I really wish -” He is interrupted when another announcement blares over the speaker, warning of 10 minutes left until the presentation. Your face turns to one of disappointment as he shrugs off what he was about to say. “I have to go, bye.”

He turns on his heel as he quickly leaves, trying not to remember the look on your face as you wondered what he was about to say. In truth, even he’s not sure of it. He doesn’t know how to feel about you, about his feelings. But he does know one thing. He liked you, liked talking to you. He thinks he’d like to get to know you more. Could someone like him, a villain who destroys everything he touches, really have someone like you, someone kind and upbeat?

Probably best that he doesn’t answer that question, even to himself.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

The presentation finally ends, crowds of people filtering suddenly out of the biggest convention hall on the property. The crowd is finally starting to bother him, too many people pushing against him, and he is eager to finally leave when he hears the sound of crashing glass and screams. His head turns in the direction of the commotion, vowing to leave, when he hears his name being mentioned and something else that makes his blood turn cold. Your voice, saying something with sheer terror in it.

He’s moving before he’s even aware of it, racing around the corner and pushing people aside to get to you immediately. When he finally makes it to you, his vision almost goes red with the sheer rage that he is feeling at what he sees in front of him. You’re laying on the ground with minor cuts and bruises from broken glass and two heroes in costume standing over you.

“Where is Tomura Shigaraki?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes you do, we have witnesses saying you were eating with him earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I ate alone.”

He is shocked at the fact that you, of all people, are lying to heroes. To protect him, even though you must realize who he truly is at this point. He doesn’t understand why he feels he has to do something to prevent these heroes from hurting you. Only that he does.

“If it’s me you want, I’m right here.” They whirl around instantly to attack him, but he’s ready for that. These are heroes who have no business hunting down a villain such as him, and he disposes of one of them instantly, knocking him completely out before turning away to meet the other one.

But fear floods his veins as he sees the hero has lifted you up and is holding you by your neck. You look at him with wide, tear filled eyes, as if asking him to save you.

“She has nothing to do with this,” he hisses at the hero, “leave her alone and deal with me.”

“You mean to tell me that someone like her willingly spent time with you, not knowing who you are? I don’t believe that at all.” The words cause Shigaraki to almost physically recoil, but he holds it back as he glares at the hero.

“Jet let her go.”

“Do you happen to care about her? I didn’t think you could care.” He narrows his eyes at Shigaraki. “Just turn yourself in and she doesn’t have to get hurt.”

At these words, rage unlike anything Shigaraki has ever felt fills him, and before he can even think of what he’s doing, he’s grabbing the hero with all of his fingers, tossing him away as he grabs for you.

“You saved me,” you mumble quietly as you look up at him, tracing a finger down his face tenderly.

He puts you down just a shade too quickly, causing you to lean against the wall for support. “I did not save you, you were just here.”

“No, I saw you. You were going in the opposite direction when you heard me. You came back for me.”

“Why were you even in this area to begin with? You said you didn’t have the ticket to be here.”

You glance away from his harsh tone, but your cheeks look flushed. “I went ahead and bought one. So that I could see you again.”

The wind is taken from his lungs as he realizes that you were here waiting for him. You were injured because you were waiting for him. You’re too vulnerable, too weak, not able to defend yourself. Everything in him rebels in what he’s about to do, but he has to. He squeezes his eyes shut as he realises this is it. This is his answer to the question of whether someone like him could have someone like you.

“Yeah? Well I sure as hell didn’t want to see you again.”

Your eyes go wide as you shake your head. “You’re - you’re lying. You wanted to say something to me before you left. It was that you wanted to see me again, right?”

He lets his expression grow cold. “No. I decided to be nice and not tell you how much I hate you. How much I wanted to leave so that I didn’t have to spend a moment longer with you.”

“You’re only saying these mean things because you want to push me away.” Tears run down your face as you try to deny his words. “But I won’t let that happen. I care about you!”

“You don’t even know me,” he snarls, “I could kill you in an instant and would think nothing of it.”

You let out a small gasp as you continue to try and deny his words. “No, you’re lying, you don’t mean any of these things. You didn’t have to save me but you did.”

“Maybe it’s because I wanted to fight them. Wanted to kill them.”

“But you didn’t! They’re still alive. You’re a good guy, you just -”

He growls at you as he steps aside, pointing backwards to something on the floor. You stare in incomprehension, trying to figure out what you see. When you glance back up at him, he knows you realize what happened. But he also sees the desperate need you have to deny it.

“Fine, I’ll show you the truth.” He wraps his hand all the way around the unconscious hero’s leg, watching your reaction closely. You begin to tremble, not looking at him but at what is happening to what used to be a man.

Ah, he thinks, there it finally is. The look he’s been expecting to see since the moment he met you. The fear. The disgust. The hatred. It’s written all over your face, all the expressions that he never wanted to see.

“Why,” you whisper as tears run down your cheeks. “They didn’t have to die, there was no reason for it.”

“I told you. Because I wanted to. And I could kill you just as easily, if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now.”

“But I love you!” You blurt the words out suddenly, and he feels the whole world collapse around him. No no no, this was not supposed to happen. He lunges at you, pressing your back against the wall as he raises a finger up over your skin.

“Yeah? Well I don’t love you. You’re useless and annoying, and it’s no wonder your friends abandoned you. Keep your worthless love.”

“No,” you choke back a sob as you pull away from him completely, an action that he allows with reluctance. Even in these circumstances, he doesn’t want to let you go. But he waits for the words that he knows he’ll hear from you. To be called a monster, less than a person, nothing but a being of chaos and destruction who lives only to destroy.

“Well you still have it,” you sob, “you need it more than I do.” And with that, he watches as you take slow steps away from him, and he watches as you turn away and flee. Running out of his life for good.

It had to be this way, he tries to convince himself. There was no other way. Someone so innocent, so kind, would never make it in his world. If she couldn’t handle what she saw just now, there was no chance.

But your final words keep echoing in his head, refusing to leave. So he briefly allows himself to consider the possibilities, as he wipes away a tear that he pretends was never there at all.

If only his quirk hadn’t activated as it did, killing the few people in this world who cared about him. If only he hadn’t committed his first murder shortly after that, killing his own father. If only he hadn’t been taken by All for One, manipulated and molded into a weapon of nothing but destruction and decay. If only, if only, if only. So many places where things could have been different, where he could have had a life where he was loved. But he knows, deep in his heart, the only “if only” that truly matters.

The one that, if true, would change everything, make everything in his life be okay again. Allow him to have love and a life worth living for instead of worth dying for.

If only he were still Tenko Shimura.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @1-800-callmekatsuki, @league-of-thots, @ichor-and-symbiosis

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnharem collab

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