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radiant-reid · 2 years

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The Public Eye

Summary: Spencer gets closer to a famous actress, discovering they're incredibly similar and she really likes him

reader is the famous actress that reid kisses in the pool instead of lila archer with s/8 spence, and the team teases him ofc but he thinks nothing of it, but later in an interview she says he’s the best kiss she’s ever had and penelope (bc who else would be up to date on pop culture hotch? LMAO) is ecstatic and shows it to him

A/n: I went for season 8 Spencer because he deserved some of the happiness the CM writers refused to give him,but this isn't a direct rewriting of the plot in 1x18 Also, there is a part two coming

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: stalking | being held at gun point | discussion about the dark side of Hollywood (disordered eating, racism, sexism)

Word Count: 8.6k how ? idk and i'm sorry

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When the first few murders happened in LA, Y/n was slightly concerned. Of course, crime had never been uncommon in the city, but the people being viciously killed were her fellow celebrities, people she'd brushed shoulders with at the Oscars or Golden Globes. Usually, she only heard about burglaries in their neighborhoods.

The terror sunk in when the notes started coming in. The threatening content caused enough grave concern for her manager to be dragging her to the police station. She was worried for her safety, but there wasn't any way she would get a reputation of being noncommital.

When the police detective introduced her to the BAU of the FBI, she didn't understand what part of her situation warranted that level of seriousness.

The team immediately recognized it had to be the same person. Especially when the note came right after the latest victim was found. They didn't wait to go and talk to the actress and her slightly irritating manager, Stephen.

Spencer didn't know much about pop culture or celebrities. Obviously, he figured they had to be attractive and appeal to the golden ratio. His expectations were exceeded an impossible level when he met Y/n L/n. So beautiful, in fact, that Spencer was considering watching some of the movies and TV shows she was in. If it wasn't unprofessional.

"It's only letters." Y/n tried to plead with the six agents and the high-ranking members of the LAPD. She turned to look at her manager, eyes begging him to side with her. Being put in protective custody wasn't something she could afford to do. "Seriously, I've had crazy fans before. Remember the guy that broke into my place and cooked me dinner." She reminded him and the police detective who had handled the case back then.

Spencer frowned at the anecdote, amazed it was something she could casually deal with. He'd seen it in other stalker cases, but somehow it hadn't occurred to him that famous people weren't always adored.

"Situations like this almost always turn violent if you don't comply to these demands," Spencer informed her of a part of their profile, reading over the note. "Especially since this person has already killed."

Y/n turned to him, frowning as she looked around the room like she was asking if Spencer was serious. She was dumbfounded, both by what he was saying, and his lack of bedside manner.

Her manager looked at her sternly. "This is just as serious as I told you it was, Cariño."

It wasn't easy news to process, but her initial reaction was stubbornness, giving everyone the allusion she was just like any other pretentious celebrity. "I'm not just going to bail on my commitments because of some creep." She firmly stated.

Morgan was looking increasingly irritated, picking up a headshot to show her. "Do you know who this is?" He asked her.

There was no confusion on her features, just annoyance, but at the photo, not the situation. "Of course, she's doing this. In the last week, she's done two interviews where all she did was drag my name." She told them, most definitely still irritated about it. "Girls supporting girls has not caught on in Hollywood." She scoffed, meeting JJ and Blake's eyes in the hope they'd relate.

Spencer knew what Morgan was about to do, and he wanted to stop him from sliding the photo to her because he could see a flicker of another emotion in her eyes. "She turned up dead this morning." He informed her.

Her eyes widened when she looked at the photo, jaw falling open. The color was draining from her face when she looked at the brutal wounds. It was, for lack of a better term, a bloodbath. The unsub's most vicious kill.

Guilty, she looked between Hotch and the police chief. "I-I didn't. I swear-" She stammered out, assuming that's what they were insinuating.

Alex placed a hand on her shoulder. "We don't think that you did." She assured the younger girl, who finally looked like she could breathe again after hearing that.

"What am I meant to do?" Y/n asked, her eyes shifting to Hotch, who she could see was in authority.

"She needs to go to set today," Stephen informed Hotch like her life was worth less than his paycheck. She nodded anyway despite how scared she looked.

Hotch sighed, glancing at the police chief as he came up with a plan. He could see how persistent the two of them were. "Make sure they clear all the nonessential personal from the set, and Morgan and Reid will go with you." He instructed her manager before looking at the two younger male agents, who nodded. They caught the underlying meaning of studying her victimology. "Ms. L/n, we're going to have to comb through everything about your life. There will be officers around you all the time. It's likely you know who this person is."

Her face paled again, and she had an urge to be sick. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure if I can be of any help. I meet so many people each day." They always profiled before having suspects anyway.

While Y/n was handing all her information over, Hotch rounded up the team to go over their job. Spencer and Morgan, obviously, were going with her, Rossi to the latest crime scene, JJ was dealing with the media circus, Blake to the ME, and Hotch was running point from the precinct.

"Did you really have to show her the gruesome photos?" Spencer asked Morgan on the short walk to the SUV while the paparazzi clamored around them. The sun was almost too hot and the atmosphere too muggy for Spencer to be in a suit.

Slightly, he frowned, eyeing Spencer with suspicion, like he was trying to find out what he was thinking. "You're sweet on her." He spoke after a moment, with a teasing tone.

He tried to stop his eyes from bulging. "N-no, I'm not." His attempt to sound firm was futile. "A serial killer is stalking her. I just... feel bad for her, that's all."

"Mmhmm," Morgan commented, completely skeptical. "All I'm saying is she's pretty."

It was an understatement, and Spencer wasn't about to ruin his career, but if it was in a different universe, he'd be jealous of the fact she'd be interested in Morgan. Trying not to think about the hypothetical, he got in the passenger seat.

Morgan drove, getting directions from Y/n. He tried to engage her in some form of conversation and drag her attention away from her phone. "So, you like LA?"

She half scoffed, half chuckled, still scrolling on her screen. "Does anyone?"

He shrugged at that. "I saw your last movie. It was good." He complimented, causing her to look up at him.

"Thank you," Y/n replied, the second time Spencer had seen her genuine, even enthusiastic. "It was the first all-star, A list cast movie I've ever done. I remember being nervous the entire week before the first day." Spencer was taking in everything she was saying, profiling but also admiring.

"Your performance was incredible." The smile she gave Morgan was, as well. Spencer wished he'd seen it if it meant he got to see her smile like that. "You won an Oscar, right?"

She grinned even wider at that. "Best supporting actress and the movie won best picture." She replied, not in a boasting tone Spencer had expected from a celebrity. "I really wasn't sure what to say when I got up on stage because I definitely didn't think I'd win." Y/n continued, blushing when she replied she'd been rambling like she was scared of showing them her true personality. "It's in my bedroom if you wanna come see it." She offered, flashing him a flirty wink.

Morgan's reaction was what Spencer expected. The smirk Morgan was trying to hide was an expression he made at bars. "Who's your favorite person you've worked with?" He asked her, diverting the conversation to keep his professionalism.

She had already turned off her phone, gaze fixed on Morgan through the mirror. "Emma Watson." She answered without hesitation. "And, she knew who I was, so that was like a 'wow, I made it' moment. Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds are also fun, but I've only seen them at parties. Just as funny as they are on Instagram and Twitter." She realized she was doing it again, truthfully expressing herself, and stopped, getting out of the car once Morgan had parked without another word.

Two FBI agents acting as an entourage was not how she expected to arrive at set, but she didn't let it deter her from acting naturally. Her public, bubbly persona was something she wore like a shield. They trailed after her while she greeted everyone. Sociable, Spencer acknowledged, talking to everyone from the people putting food out on the buffet table to the producers.

Y/n turned back to them, clearly in her element. "You guys can have anything you want to eat or drink." She offered, spinning away from them when someone called her name.

It was a guy Spencer didn't recognize. Probably a celebrity since he wasn't wearing a shirt, muscles rivaling Morgan's. Spencer knew it was illogical, but it made him insecure. His brain went back to studying her victimology like he was meant to be doing.

The guy, who Morgan identified as her co-star, wrapped his arms around Y/n and lifted her up as he hugged her. "Brought some bodyguards today, princess?" He asked, reaching out to shake Morgan's hand with Y/n tucked under his other arm.

Spencer noticed her stiffen, but it was slight enough no one else did. "Yeah, something like that." She replied, pleading with the agents to not reveal her secret. They didn't even have a chance to before Y/n was being called to hair and make-up.

"I'll check her trailer, and you go with her," Morgan instructed, already stepping away like he knew Spencer would protest.

"What? Can't I go to the trailer?" Spencer challenged, feeling increasingly uncomfortable about being left alone with at least a hundred people on the film set. Profiling her trailer would be much less challenging, providing him with fewer possibilities to look like an idiot. Morgan turned to shake his head, already walking off. "Please, man?"

Spencer didn't get an answer before Morgan was gone, and he followed the direction Y/n went. He found her sitting in a swivel chair with her name on the back, dressed in a white robe.

"Hi." She waved when he came in, nodding at the seat next to her in a silent invitation to sit down. "Riley, this is Spencer. Spencer, Riley." Y/n introduced them. Spencer hadn't realized she knew his first name, but it sounded nice coming from her.

She shut her eyes when Riley put what Spencer thought was a pen on her eyelid. Intently, he watched as she drew perfect straight lines. She could sense he was looking at her, confirming her theory when she opened her eyes.

"You can ask me anything you need to in front of her," Y/n assured him with a smile. She could feel the nerves coming off him, noticing he was out of his comfort zone.

Spencer nodded, all of the questions he'd thought of asking her slipping out of his head. "D-did you know the beauty industry is valued at $527.4 billion a year?" He immediately blushed, already feeling like an idiot.

It wasn't exactly the question she was expecting. She could sense Riley chuckling at him warmly, but Y/n wouldn't have hesitated to kick her out if it was malicious.

"I didn't, but this set probably contributes half of that," Y/n answered, unknowingly reassuring him. "You're some kind of a genius, aren't you?"

Spencer could not contain the blush on his cheeks, hoping they'd think it was the weather. "I, uh, have a Ph.D. W-well, three." Apparently, it wasn't the answer Y/n or Riley had expected, from the way their eyes widened.

"Beauty and brains," Riley remarked to the actress, but Spencer caught it. His blushing only intensified when Y/n shot him a wink.

He tried to focus on the investigation, asking her questions about what she did each day so he could feed the information back to Penelope, who was digging through her life. He struggled to differentiate between her public eye character traits and her authentic personality.

"Spence, can I do your hair?" She asked him while she was having her hair done. His eyebrows furrowed together as he watched her snap the hair straightener together in her hands.

"And ruin those beautiful curls?" Riley commented, effortlessly twirling strands of Y/n's hair into perfect ringlets. Hearing people talk about him like that made him blush while his ego grew slightly.

Y/n was still grinning hopefully at him. He couldn't turn that down. "Uh, yeah, o-okay." Spencer agreed.

He turned around while Y/n adjusted her position, letting her clamp strands of his hair between the hot irons. It didn't take her very long to have his hair all straightened, running the end of a comb through it, so he had a middle part.

"Hey, pass me your phone." She requested, holding her hand out for Spencer to place his phone in.

Without thinking, he gave it to her, unlocked. There were secrets on the phone, but he was willing to do just about anything she asked. Y/n took a photo of his hair from the back. Before turning the camera around to hold it in front of his face. Using it as a mirror to show him the front view of his hair, she grinned as she looked into the lens, snapping a picture. Spencer always objected when Penelope tried to get him in her selfies, but he was sure he wouldn't be deleting the one she just took.

Y/n's fingers were still in his hair, gentle as she adjusted it. Spencer knew he shouldn't, but he liked being around her. Even if he was really just a bodyguard trying to figure out as much as he could about her because she was being obsessively stalked.

"I think it looks great." She told him when he spun back around to face her.

"Okay, you're done," Riley informed her, fluffing out her curls at the end.

Y/n looked at herself done up in the mirror for a moment. "Thank you. It looks amazing." She replied, flashing her friend an award-winning. Her phone buzzed on the dressing room table, and she picked it up to glance over the message. "No time to rest around here." She joked, getting up from her seat. Spencer followed, and they farewelled Riley before the tent.

Spencer insisted on walking her towards the wardrobe tent. Although the set was essential personnel only, it was still bustling with people. "If you, uh, n-need anything, I'll be... around." He assured her, awkwardly fiddling with his fingers.

"Thank you." Y/n sincerely replied, squeezing him on the arm before disappearing.

Spencer walked back across the set in search of Morgan. He found him stepping out of Y/n's trailer, his phone to his ear.

"Hey, baby girl, I'll call you back real quick," Morgan said as soon as his eyes locked on Spencer, or more specifically, his new hairdo. He walked to Spencer with a teasing smirk, shaking his head gently. "Pretty boy." He singsonged, clearly amused. "What happened to you?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, dodging Morgan's hand when it came to messy it. "She wanted to straighten it." He answered, trying to casually shrug it off. It only made Morgan chuckle. "It was for victimology!" He defended far too loudly, drawing the attention of some passersby.

"Garcia's collating information, so we'll have a file on her life when we get back," Morgan informed him, ignoring his reasoning. "So we're just sitting around here until she's done." His glance wasn't on Spencer. Instead, he was waving to three girls who were clearly talking about him as they walked past.

Figuring he'd make the most of her previous offer, Spencer went to the food tent. Thinking about the fact she had a stalker, he made sure he picked a bag of sealed chips. He and Morgan watched while they shot her scenes, one of which was Y/n kissing the guy she'd hugged when they first got there. Spencer could see how her hand slightly clenched like Y/n wasn't thrilled about the plot. Which was most likely why she insisted on retaking it twice with accompanying profuse apologies.

Once Y/n's scene was over, she made her way to Spencer and Morgan, talking to a few people along the way before pulling a seat over to sit next to them.

Casting a brief look around, she reached across to take some from the packet. "Thanks." She said, gently smiling at him. Spencer mirrored her smile, tipping the packet closer so she could have more if she wanted, while he purposefully ignored Morgan suspiciously eyeing the interaction.

Spencer was thankful he didn't have to give her an awkward reply when a young blonde came up to them. Someone Y/n closely knew, judging by how she jumped up to hug the girl.

"Ally!" She greeted her, turning back to Morgan and Spencer. "This is Spencer and Derek from the FBI. This is my PA." She informed them.

"Oh, about the stalker." Ally realized, eyeing Morgan up and down with a smirk. So she was close enough to Y/n to know what she was trying to keep secret. "Someone dropped these off at your trailer, maybe your on-screen, maybe off-screen romantic interest." She suggested with a smirk.

Faking enthusiasm, she took the teddy bear and box of fudge. Her excitement turned genuine when she read the label. "All the way from England! My favorite!" She cheered.

Morgan and Spencer shared a frantic look, springing up before she could do anything else. "Don't," Spencer said, shaking his head while Morgan took the box and bear out of her hands.

"Really?" Y/n exclaimed, looking irritated once again. Ally put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. Morgan was already on the phone with Hotch, getting the rest of the team there.

Only 15 minutes later, Y/n was in her trailer, with Morgan, Spencer, the police detective, Hotch, and Blake, desperately trying to calm herself down. Spencer noticed the odd looks they gave him at seeing his hair.

"We can's get a hold of Stephen at the moment, but Rossi's going to go see him once he's finished helping Garcia," Hotch filled them in. "And JJ's... busy." Understatement of the century.

Y/n brushed it off, knowing his schedule. "He's in a meeting, negotiating a New York Fashion Week contract for me." She told the group. "Can we read it now?" She questioned, looking at the letter still in Spencer's hand. It was in the fudge box, which was on the way to the lab for analysis.

Delicately opening the letter, Spencer read it. Then decided the extensive content was too violent to speak allowed. The silence tensioned the mood of the room as everyone's suspense grew.

"Blake." Spencer handed the letter, waiting for her reaction.

There were pictures, too. Of Y/n in the police precinct with the BAU. Even more troubling, photographs of Morgan and Spencer at set, labeling them as a threat.

She confirmed she was thinking the same thing with a direct nod, handing the letter over to Hotch. "The stalker's a woman." Even just from the number of adjectives.

Y/n clamped a hand over her mouth, the tears threatening to spill. It was all too real when she realized the stalker had been on set and potentially in her trailer. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

"Can I just read it? Please?" Y/n questioned, her emotions swaying between mad and sad.

"You don't want to do that." Spencer tenderly said, sitting down next to her on the couch. If he could have hugged her, he would. Hell, he would have done anything to make her smile.

With a frantic look, she turned to the agent she was closest to. "I can't put my life on hold until you catch whoever's doing this!" She vented, bouncing her knee up and down.

"Ms. L/n, I can assure you, we have our profile, and we will find this woman," Hotch assured her, restating the facts before dividing the team. "Reid, take her home. The rest of us will give the profile and run it against your acquaintances."

She opened her mouth to argue about the one scene she had left to shoot but stopped herself. After all, they were trying to protect her. It didn't mean she had to like it. "Okay, and thank you." She mumbled out.

The rest of them left the trailer, Hotch waiting back to slip Spencer a file on her. "Are you sure you don't want Morgan to do this?" Spencer asked, trying to keep his voice low while Y/n grabbed her things. "He'll actually be able to defend her."

"She needs someone she feels comfortable with who we know isn't involved, and from what I can see, that's you," Hotch told him, glancing at Y/n, who looked like fragile glass about to shatter.

Spencer frowned at the underlying message of the Unit Chief. "You think it's someone close to her?" He asked, worried about the effect it would have on her if one of the few people she seemed to be herself with was the stalker.

"We can't rule it out." Hotch reminded him.

"71% of stalking victims are stalked by someone they know and 27% by a stranger." Spencer justified his point before backpedaling. "But she's in the public eye, so I'm not sure the statistics can be interpreted the same way."

Hotch looked over Spencer's shoulder to see Y/n was almost ready. "They'll be officers outside. It's the safest place for her to be." He assured Spencer, leaving with the rest of the team when Y/n finished packing her things.

"So, you didn't want to be the one babysitting me?" She joked when they reached her car. A dark grey, two-door, convertible Ferrari with a red interior.

"I-it's not, uh, l-like that." He awkwardly defended himself, eliciting a giggle from Y/n, who clearly wasn't offended. "I can drive if you want." He suggested, hoping she'd turn him down.

Y/n softly stroked the door of the car. "Not my special Quicksilver." She joked, unlocking the car and getting in.

"You named your car?" Spencer asked, frowning slightly as he fumbled around to take his bag off and get in.

"Of course," Y/n replied like it was blatantly obvious. "Plus, it would be nice for me to do something myself." She said playfully, grinning at the other bag Spencer was holding. Hers. He was slightly apprehensive, not about her driving but because he knew how fast a car like that could potentially go.

She was a good driver, even in Los Angeles traffic. The 25-minute drive gave him enough time to read over her file Hotch had slipped him. But it was slightly uncomfortable with her being there.

"That's my entire life, isn't it?" Y/n asked, glancing over at him while she drove.

"Sorry. I just, uh, I have to." He cringed at the part of his job he hated, dealing with living victims.

Taking a left, she drove up a driveway Spencer wouldn't have known was there. "I just feel it should be thicker to summerize 27 years."

"The font size is small," Spencer explained, making her laugh even though it wasn't his intention. "I read really fast too."

"How fast?" She asked, unsure if he was serious.

Spencer wasn't sure he was ready to admit it, but she already knew how many PhDs he had. "20 000 words per minute."

She frowned to figure out if he was serious. "I don't know if I could read that many words in an hour."

"If you could, you'd be reading at 1.6x the lower end of the average 200 words per minute rate of an adult." Spencer rambled, about to say something else, when he stopped once the trees cleared. The house was impressive, but behind it, he could see the whole city in the distance. "Wow."

"Cool, right?" Y/n asked, parking the car near the garage. She wasn't deterred by the police cars there.

Stunned, Spencer nodded. The house was incredible as well. Luxurious, but not in an old-money rich type of way. It was minimalistic and modern. There were floor-to-ceiling windows along the entire bottom floor, and he could see the grand staircase in the entryway from outside.

He scrambled to get out of the car after her. "Your house is amazing." He complimented, following her to the front door.

"Thank you," Y/n replied, holding a key card up to the door panel like it was a hotel room. She opened the door and entered.

Inside, he could see all the way across the ground floor to the impressive view. The furniture didn't show much of a personality, all lavish and, Spencer was sure, expensive. He'd been in Rossi's mansion, but this was something else. The whole house was open-planned, with lots of squeaky clean glass. Technological too, by the complicated-looking control panels and automatic lights.

"You can put our stuff anywhere." She told him, watching the way he awkwardly stood there. Her statement contrasted the cleanliness of the mansion, where there was nothing was out of place.

Out of place himself, Spencer put his satchel and her bag on a chair at the kitchen island. It was like the rest of the house, with marble countertops and shiny floors.

Her attention was turned across the room when she heard paws against the floor. Spencer followed her gaze. "Buddy, hi!" She greeted the massive Saint Bernard, bending down to pat him. The dog nuzzled into her palm as she scratched around his head. She spun back to look at Spencer. "I promise I'm not a crazy dog-mom." She assured him.

"Dog mom?" Spencer questioned what he assumed to be a pop culture reference.

Upon speaking, the dog's attention was drawn to Spencer. He let out a low bark, suspicious of the new guest. "Hey, none of that," Y/n commanded. "This is a friend." Even though she was telling a dog that, Spencer smiled. "His name is Judge." She told Spencer. Suspiciously, Judge walked over to sniff the new guest, causing Spencer to step back. "Not a dog person?" She asked with a smile.

"Uh, I guess, but he's kind of big." Spencer froze as the dog sniffed him.

Y/n stoked his red-brown coat near his back while she spoke. "172 pounds." She informed him, grinning at her pet. Spencer reached down to pat his ears. "Someone abandoned him when he was just a little puppy. I've had him for 5 years now, and he has not stopped growing. He's kind of lazy, but Ally takes him out walking most mornings." She continued while they both petted the dog. Then her attention was elsewhere. "Do you want something to eat?" She offered. "I keep the good snacks by the pool."

Spencer followed her outside, looking around at the furniture before going past the big glass doors. The view of the city was even better out there. With trees lining the property, it almost felt like they were the only people in Bel Air.

There was an outdoor kitchen on the left side, with two bathrooms and a pool shed. Like a puppy, Spencer followed Y/n and Judge along side the pool's edge towards the kitchen.

She opened the mini-fridge to reveal drinks, jello, and ice cream in the freezer and a drawer to reveal chips, pretzels, cookies, and candy. "Gummy bears?" She suggested, giving him a packet.

"Can I have jello?" Spencer requested, causing her to grin at the fact he was relaxing a little. Before she could hand it to him, his phone started ringing. He checked the screen to see it was Hotch. "Sorry, I've got to take this." He apologized, stepping away so she couldn't hear the conversation. "Yeah, Hotch." He answered.

"Reid, her manager, Stephen, he's dead." Hotch filled him in. "Don't tell her yet."

Spencer frowned, spinning back to the happy-ish actress. "You want me to lie?" He returned.

"No, just don't tell her." Technically, a lie by omission. "The unsub is picking targets closer to her. Morgan, JJ, and Blake are on their way over to you. Make sure she's safe and don't do anything reckless." Spencer realized that was probably why he was sent there instead of Morgan.

"Hotch, this place has seven bedrooms and twelve bathrooms, and it's over 13000 square feet. She could easily already be here." Spencer whispered quietly, looking up at the second floor and realizing how easy it would be to be there without her knowing.

Although Spencer couldn't hear it, Hotch was concerned about the same thing. "Be prepared to talk her down then."

"Alright, bye." Spencer farewelled once Y/n walked over, plastering a smile back on his face.

"Sit," Y/n instructed, handing him the jello before sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the warm water. Spencer sat next to her, crossing his legs. "Did something happen?" She asked.

He gulped, well versed in hiding his lies. "No, I'm sorry." She drew her lips together, taking a handful of gummy bears. "Before, when Morgan asked if you liked Los Angeles, you didn't really answer."

"Are you looking for an answer now?" Y/n asked, waiting for a nod from him. "I like that." Her head turned to look at the sky glowing pink as the sunset.

"You're good at deflecting, too," Spencer observed, carefully eyeing her.

Instead of being mad, she smiled. "Thanks." She replied although she knew that wasn't the reply she wanted. "Do you ever feel like you're meant to adore your job? Just because everyone wants it." Her voice was quieter when she was being truthful.

Spencer knew how to reply to that. "Every second Wednesday of the month, they bring people in the academy or college students into the FBI to show them around. And they walk around our floor with dreams of being part of the team or the Bureau." He described, thinking back to last week. He realized he needed to open up if he wanted her to do the same thing. "I just lie when they ask me if this is the job I want to do."

"I've wanted to do this since I was 6," Y/n admitted.

"When you got played Dorothy in your elementary school's production of The Wizard of Oz?" Spencer cut her off to ask.

She turned to him with raised eyebrows. "You really know everything about me, don't you?"

"It was on the front page of your hometown's newspaper," Spencer informed her, thinking back to the contents of the manilla folder.

"My mom was so proud," Y/n said, smiling at the memory. The moment she decided, on stage with the spotlight on her. "I was so thrilled, just to be in the paper. Not the second time, though." She shook her head.

Spencer knew what she was talking about, 15-year-old Y/n on stage with jealous high school seniors while she had the lead. "You moved just after that." He recalled.

"Jet-set right into stardom." She dryly added. "I love this job, and I know I'm so fortunate." She prefaced while Spencer ate his jello, handing off her every word. It was nice, for once, to have someone to talk honestly to. "I was only 16 when I moved here, which is every 16-year-olds dream. And my mom was with me for a while, but this wasn't her home."

That wasn't exactly in her file. "You were here alone?"

"Sort of. I mean, you're never alone in LA." She answered, trying not to make it seem sad. "I loved it, and I still do, but I was kind of... groomed for this."

This was very clearly her. Not filtered for the public eye. "I know." He informed her, having noted the behavior. She frowned, not knowing how that was possible. "You flirted with Morgan when you spoke personally." He explained, Y/n cringing as he said it. "I know what it's like. I was 12 when I finished high school, and I left Las Vegas to come here and go to Cal Tech. I was 22 when I joined the BAU, and that's all I've done."

"What did you want to be as a kid?" She asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

"A magician," Spencer replied, beaming.

It was adorable. Without a doubt, Spencer had the prettiest smile Y/n had ever seen, and she couldn't help verbalizing it. "There's a lucky girl somewhere in DC." When his eyes snapped onto hers, she realized she might have said the wrong thing. "Or guy."

Spencer chuckled, shaking her head when he realized what she was saying. "No, there's not."

"There should be. You're a good listener." She absentmindedly commented, causing him to blush bright red nonetheless.

"It's more about listening to what's not being said," Spencer spoke. "The nonverbal communication. Like how there's something else you don't like about Hollywood."

How he could know, she wasn't sure. When she nodded to the food in front of them, it clicked in Spencer's brain; how she looked around at set before eating his food and the hidden fridge. "You've always got to look perfect." She mumbled. "I eat what I want, but Stephen is always pushing clean eating, even when I was 16, so it's easier if he doesn't know." Spencer hid his detectable reaction, and while it was sad he was dead, it didn't make him a good person.

"Why does he call you Cariño?" Spencer asked one of the things he still couldn't figure out while consciously using the incorrect verb.

She smiled slightly, showing their good bond. "It means-"

"Darling. It's Spanish." Spencer cut her off before she could continue. He worried she would take it the wrong way, but she laughed softly at him.

Y/n went on to explain it. "His real name's Esteban, but it's much harder to make it in LA with a name like that." Another thing that made her bitter towards the city. "So, what do you actually know about me? Or were we just hanging out today?"

Profiling people while they were there wasn't something Spencer liked, but he was confident in what he knew about her. Just because of their similarities. "I think that most people would assume you're extrinsically motivated, but they would be wrong. You've always been driven, which I know from how dedicated you were this morning about going to the set. I'd say you were a perfectionist" Y/n chuckled at her own stubbornness, but she could tell he knew what he was talking about. "People see it as self-importance because you're a celebrity, but you're extremely careful about your public image because you've never really felt like you belong." It made her slightly uncomfortable, feeling stripped from her carefully constructed qualities. "Private, too. No one knows just how much you donate to charity, and even your dog is a rescue. Your team manages most of your social media, and you try not to look at articles about yourself." Those were less of her dark secrets and more of her morals, something she wasn't ashamed he knew. "You don't trust too many people, although you appear warm towards everyone, again, because you're desperate for them to like you." There was the same uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, and she bit her lip as she tried not to cry. Spencer didn't notice enough to stop himself from continuing. "But I think you're lonely. When you're finished with award ceremonies, parties, or on set, you come back here, and you just feel empty." Spencer understood. He knew from the nights out with the team and trailing home to an empty apartment while everyone else had families. Y/n's heart was pounding, and her eyes were stinging as she bit back tears. "Of course, you don't need anyone because you've learned to be alone, but you overcompensate with a big house and a need to please. The praise is addicting to you. Once you started getting it, you needed more each time to feel good about yourself like a drug addiction."

When the tears streamed down her cheeks, Spencer wished he'd stopped the psychoanalysis before it got too personal. He felt guilt-ridden about it, unsure of what he would do if someone profiled him so thoroughly.

There was so much honestly Y/n didn't know what to do, trying not to sob out loud. He didn't say anything she hadn't thought before but hearing it aloud hurt.

By the time he realized what he'd done, she was already wiping up the tears. "S-sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No." Y/n placed a hand on his arm, smiling gently. "It's okay." He didn't look like he believed her. "Seriously, Spencer. I asked what you knew, and I'm impressed. You're good at your job."

Spencer was still worried about what he'd done, even more so when Y/n got up. "Where are you going?"

"Just to get changed." She replied, with a genuine smile, assuring him nothing was wrong. He waited when she left, looking at the darkening sky as the stars appeared while he thought. What he had said was just what he wished he could say to himself in a mirror.

He didn't even notice she'd walked out of the house until there was a splash in the pool. "Y/n, what are you doing?" He asked when she popped her head up.

She floated on the surface, cheekily grinning at him. "Swimming, duh." The heating made the pool perfectly warm, and it made her feel like there everything was normal.

"We need to go inside," Spencer told her. "It's getting dark, and the unsub could be out here." Halfway through his talking, she put her head under the water. "Y/n? Seriously, come on." He begged, looking around at the dark hillside. "Get out, please."

"Why? This is fun." She replied, running a hand over her wet hair. "Come in."

Spencer quickly shook his head. "No." He firmly replied. "I'm meant to be protecting you."

"So, you've got to be close to me, and I'm in here." Y/n reasoned with flawed logic.

"Please, just get out." Spencer requested. He liked seeing her smile, but he didn't want to put her in danger.

There was a smirk on her face before she conceded. "Okay, give me a hand." Spencer reached down to grab her wet hand and pull her out of the pool. She took it, letting him pull her up a little before tugging hard and pulling him in.

When he came to the surface, he was spluttering, attempting to push his hair out of his eyes. "Y/n! I could have drowned." Spencer complained, his voice rising as he swam to the side of the pool.

"I would have saved you," Y/n assured him, floating around with a proud smile.

"Well, I'm wet now, and so is my gun." He grumbled, taking it out and putting it on the edge as he neared the steps.

"No, don't go." She begged, reaching out for his arm. He looked cute soaking wet with his hair pushed back and his shirt tight around his body. "Live a little."

Spencer stopped, turning to look at her wide grin. His frown quickly broke into a grin as he shook his head at her actions. "I'm drenched now, so thanks."

"You're welcome." She softly replied, swimming closer to him. His lips were too captivating for her to think before she acted. Holding his forearm, she pushed her lips onto his, kissing him roughly.

It was far too perfect a kiss for Y/n to care. He started to kiss her back when he tore himself away from her. "This is unprofessional." He insisted, trying to get some space between him and the half-naked actress.

"No one's watching." She guaranteed, pulling him back. One more light kiss convinced him.

Against his better judgment, Spencer cupped her cheek, long fingers reaching around to the back of her neck. His fingers were cold on Y/n's skin, holding her face firmly and spreading out. It was so genuine. The most real kiss she'd maybe ever had. She let him lead it, moving her face to follow his as the kiss deepened. Each time one of them moved away, the other dove back in, addicted to the feeling.

JJ clearing her throat promptly stopped them, and they both pulled away as quickly and as guiltily as possible. Caught red-handed. They scrambled to get out of the pool, Y/n grabbing the towel she'd brought and wrapping it around her wet figure.

Morgan walked past with some guy in handcuffs, dragging him while he was read his rights. He flashed Spencer a smirk, but he knew there was more teasing to come.

"Not our unsub, but he was going to try to sell these," Blake explained, carrying a camera and showing them the photos of their make-out session. If they could blush and cringe more, they would have. JJ was trying and failing at stifling a giggle.

"Are you going to..?" Y/n asked quickly before realizing what she was implying. It wasn't something she wanted Spencer to think when she had enjoyed kissing him. All she wanted was to have one private kiss. "No, I didn't mean it like that." She blurted out.

Blake shook her head. "We won't." It made Y/n breathe out an instant sigh of relief. There was more teasing to do, but the team still had a case to solve. "We think your manager was trying to get him to not sell nude pictures of you before he was killed."

Her heart stopped at hearing that. "Stephen is..?" She couldn't even form the four-letter word that had changed her life. A glance at Spencer proved he was hiding something. "You knew!" She exclaimed, anger taking over her. "We just... and you knew."

"I'm sorry." Spencer quickly rushed out, feeling terrible for what he'd just done. Knowing he'd made her cry twice was a horrible feeling.

With the tears rushing down her cheek, she shook her head. "I'm going to change." She decided, walking away from the agents before she could further embarrass herself.

Spencer looked like he wanted to go after her, big doe eyes growing tearful. "I just fell in." He tried to defend his actions to JJ after Blake went after Morgan.

"It's all here," JJ smirked, clicking through the photos so he could relive it.

"I s-shouldn't have," Spencer said, his brain catching up to what he'd just done.

JJ pulled her lips inward, raising her eyebrows like she was challenging his idea. "How well does she know Allison Cartwright?" She asked, keeping the focus on the investigation.

Spencer's mouth parted in shock, replaying meeting Y/n's friend. "Allison as in Ally who walks Judge and could get into Y/n's house whenever she liked?" He asked, urgency in his voice as he rushed to pick up his gun from the ground.

JJ unholstered her gun, calling Blake quickly with the urgent news. "We think she's in the house." She informed her, waiting for a reply before hanging up. "They're going to lock down the perimeter." She told Spencer. "You go to her room." Their usual don't-split-up rule didn't apply when the house was so big, and Y/n was in immediate danger.

Spencer ran towards the door Y/n went in, dripping wet with his gun at his side. He heard a loud cry coming from one of the rooms, and he quietly pushed the door open.

It must have been her bedroom. With the same view from the big windows as the living room had. It was minimally decorated as well. Stepping into the bedroom, Spencer held his gun up as he scanned the room for danger.

"Spencer!" Y/n cried, coming into view. Ally was holding a gun to her temple and using her as a body shield. She looked as terrified as she sounded, tears on her cheeks as her wide eyes searched Spencer's for a way out.

"Put the gun down, Ally," Spencer commanded, fixing his gaze on her. "You don't want to hurt Y/n. Not when you love her, and you've done so much to help her career."

Ally's fingers hovered over the trigger, definitely showing some sign of hesitance. "I have!" She agreed with his statement. "I love her more than anyone else does. More than you do." Haphazardly, she waved the gun at Spencer, seeing him as a threat.

"Ally, please don't," Y/n begged, unknowingly worsening the situation. With his eyes, Spencer was assuring her it would be okay. She trusted him, but her best friend could still kill her.

"No!" Ally frantically exclaimed. "You kissed him!" Quickly, she was devolving.

With his eyes, Spencer was instructing Y/n to play into the fantasy. It took her a deep breath before she did. "Ally, it didn't mean anything. They're destroying the camera because I don't want to be reminded of it."

Spencer was trying to dissociate from what she was saying. He knew it was too good to be true. She was nothing less than perfect, and he was a lanky, rambling FBI agent. Behind Y/n, Spencer could see Blake, gun raised as she stepped quietly until the barrel hit the back of Allison's head.

"Let her go and drop the gun." She commanded, and, thankfully, Ally did.

Y/n squealed when she was released, running out of her grip while Spencer moved forward to make the arrest. JJ was there too, comforting her with a hug while she cried about the longest day of her life.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion around her as police officers came and went, and people made sure she was alright. JJ sat with her until the team had to leave, offering her comforting words of advice as everything sunk in. In one day, she'd lost her best friend and her manager.

The one person she didn't see was Spencer. When she found out he was leaving, she ran out after him.

"Spencer!" He was standing near the SUV with Morgan and Rossi, both of which were teasing him. Y/n figured someone must have brought him a change of clothes because he was in a new dress shirt and pants.

When he heard her voice, he spun around to face her, Morgan and Rossi giving them some privacy. "Are you okay?" He asked, scanning her face analytically.

"I will be," Y/n answered, smiling slightly. "Because of you." Spencer opened his mouth to tell her it was a team effort, but she stopped him. "Thank you."

Spencer nodded, not sure if he should hug her, shake her hand, or kiss her, which he was desperate to do. "You're welcome." He settled for. "I'm sorry for-"

She cut him off. "Don't be." She handed him the card she was holding, unsure about giving it to him. "If you want to call."

Smiling, Spencer took it, brushing his fingers against hers. He memorized it in case he lost it. "I will. Stay safe, Y/n."

"I will." She farewelled, waving at him before she felt Judge against her feet. "Say goodbye." She ordered the dog. He sat down, holding up his left paw and moving it side to side.

It made Spencer laugh, patting his head. "Keep her safe, Judge." He instructed, looking up at Y/n, who was still smiling.

When he got in the car, it was far too quiet. "What did she give you?" Morgan asked suspiciously.

"Her number," Spencer mumbled, reading over the numbers for the 20th time. He wanted to call, of course, but, then again, she was a beautiful, world-famous actress. How would he ever maintain a relationship with her? Plus, he knew what transference was and how the pool kiss was only because she was confused.

"Spencer Reid, my office, now," Garcia commanded, walking into the bullpen before turning around and expecting him to follow. Spencer did, assuming he wasn't in trouble. Morgan's birthday was soon, so it was probably to plan a party. "When were you in LA?" She asked, secretively shutting the door.

"Um, last week," Spencer replied, unsure where she was going with the line of questioning.

"Which date, genius?" She asked, bringing up a webpage and going to Twitter.

Spencer frowned as he tried to figure out her aim. "Wednesday, February the 18th. You know you're not allowed on Twitter at... work." His voice dropped off at the end of the sentence when he saw the video.

Y/n L/n, the one and only. Being asked some questions on a talk show, but his focus was on how beautiful she looked. Even after everything she went through just a week ago, impressively resilient.

The sound of her voice filled the Batcave when Penelope played the interview.

"So, you've had a lot of on-screen kisses, but everyone's dying to know what the best kiss of your life was." The interviewer prompted, accompanied by a cheer from the audience.

Video Y/n blushed, giving him a confident answer. "Before last week, I'm not sure I would have been able to tell you." She started, charismatic and holding Spencer's attention. "But now I can certainly say it was last Wednesday night."

That was why he was there. A grin took over his face, wanting to pinch himself to make sure it was real. Next to him, Penelope was still in shock, eyes flicking between Spencer and the screen to confirm what she already knew.

"And who was this mystery lover?" The interviewer asked, realizing he would get good publicity over the interview.

She held a soft smile with traces of disappointment. "He never called, so I can't tell you. If I thought he might see this, I'd tell him to hurry up, but I doubt he will be watching."

Penelope decided the video didn't need to go on any longer. She turned it off and spun in her chair to point at him. "You! You kissed the Y/n L/n, and I never knew! And she's talking about it! Everyone is talking about it! And you never called!" She exclaimed, not breathing in between each fact. "Why didn't you call?"

"Transference," Spencer answered. He'd looked at the number hundreds of times, sitting on his bedside table, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Which would have gone away!" She reminded him. "She very clearly liked you. Call her." She demanded, waiting for Spencer to take his phone out and call right then.

"Morgan has photos of the kiss, did he not show you?" Spencer asked, smirking smugly.

Penelope was up and out of her seat quicker than ever. "Derek Morgan!!" She yelled once she left the room. Spencer knew whatever treatment Morgan was about to get wouldn't make up for the week worth of teasing.

With the paused video on the screen and a smile on his face, Spencer was confident about what he was about to do. He dialed in the number he'd be able to recite in his sleep. "Hi, Y/n, it's Spencer." He said once she answered.

"I know." She giggled. "You're the only person who knows the phone number."

That made him smile, determined not to let his brain psych him out. Even though Y/n had a complicated life, and Spencer seemed to make things difficult, their relationship didn't have to be hard.

"Can I take you out on a date?"

Part 2 here

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alrightberries · 3 years

Text

“may i?”

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff & angst. ❈ word count: 8k

❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.

alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.

❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.

a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands.

Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.

There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.

He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.

But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.

The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.

He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.

And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.

He was hideous.

Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it.

The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.

He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless.

His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.

Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.

All because of that damned explosion.

All because of that damned bearded bastard.

Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice.

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand.

The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.

“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”

Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.

“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”

He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.

“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.

“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”

“No.”

“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”

“No.”

He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.

“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”

“...yes.”

A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”

Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.

“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”

His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”

It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”

You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.

“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.

He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.

“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.

Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.

Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.

Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.

“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”

“Y-yeah.”

FUCK.

What the fuck.

Did he just fucking stutter?

Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.

He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.

Fuck. So you did notice.

Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—

“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”

Oh, right.

He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses.

“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”

Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”

You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.

“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.

“An hour at most.”

“Are you lying again?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations.

“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”

Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”

You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.

“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”

As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.

He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.

Yeah, he definitely was not lying.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”

He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.

“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”

“I’m not feeling any—“

“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”

Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.

“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.

Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.

Nothing goes past your observant eyes.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.

“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”

You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.

“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”

“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”

“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”

Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.

“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”

Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.

“Your brew’s better.”

“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”

Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.

The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.

Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.

“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.

“Yeah.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.

“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”

You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”

He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.

“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.

“Are you relaxed?”

Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.

“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.

“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”

Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.

“Your tea’s not bad today.”

“Really?! You think it’s good?”

“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.

“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.

“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.

He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.

His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.

“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.

“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.

“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”

Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?

“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in.

Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.

Was this what insecurity felt like?

He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.

He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.

“I don’t want your shitty tea.”

Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.

“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”

Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.

“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”

Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”

“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”

Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.

“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”

Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”

The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.

“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.

“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.

“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”

Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?

“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.

“They didn’t say.”

Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.

Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.

“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”

Hange shrugs.

“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”

Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.

But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.

“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”

Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.

“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”

“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“

His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.

“I will not repeat my order. Go.”

The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.

That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.

Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.

That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.

The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”

Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.

“Come in.”

The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.

“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.

“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”

You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”

“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”

You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”

You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”

“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.

I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.

“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”

Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?

Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.

Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.

“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”

Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“

“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.

“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.

He eyes you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.

He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.

“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”

You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.

“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”

Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)

He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”

To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred you to continue on.

“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”

Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.

His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.

Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.

Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.

You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?

Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.

Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.

And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for.

Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.

Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.

Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.

“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed.

He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.

Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.

Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity.

From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head.

“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”

“Levi.”

“What?”

“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”

You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.

“Levi, what are you—“

“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”

You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.

“I’m just Levi.”

A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes.

Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.

“May I?”

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.

“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”

“Then what am I to you?”

Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.

...would you really tell him?

You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”

Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more.

“Are you lying?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”

“I can’t.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.

“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”

He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—

“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”

You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.

But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”

He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”

You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.

“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.”

And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant.

In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.

His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.

He pauses.

“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.

“You may.”

And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.

There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.

Home.

The feeling of home.

Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”

“Come in.”

As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.

“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.

“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.

“Good.”

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

#the bit where levi visits oc #is my favorite part to write #and the lil banter at the start too #i love banter but i also love sweet little words #this is proof that i can be romantic without calling someone a dumbass #writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine

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swtki · 3 years

Text

HP Boys: Surprise Pregnancy Head Cannons

Summary: The HP boys and their reaction to their s/o (afab) being pregnant when its not planned.

A/N: This takes place post Hogwarts so all characters are 18+, though no real smut happens in this so its not an 18+ fic.

WARNINGS: UNPLANNED PREGNANCY, MENTIONS OF PRO CHOICE OPINIONS, MENTIONS OF SEX IN LITE TERMS, SWEARING, FLUFF, MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL, ALSO THIS IS SUPER LONG SORRY LOL

Draco

So everything is going great for the happy couple, you two just moved into a flat together and are working normal jobs, drinking wine like adults.

And sure, Draco knows he wants to marry you, but he knows you’re not ready to settle down like that so he just plans and dreams.

Due to poor choices, when you’re late by two weeks, you know what it probably is.

Draco doesn’t even notice that you ran out to the store and came back and hid in the bathroom for 10 minutes. CEO of minding his own business ig

You just kinda...walk up to him and hand him all 3 tests while your eyes fill with tears because what if he demands you get an abortion?

Or what if he fucks off to god knows where?

But instead he just looks at you with the most un-draco like smile. Like his face was soft and it looked like he could cry any moment.

“Oh my god,” He says, putting his hand on your belly, “I can be ready for this, but if you aren’t then we can you know...”

“No, I want it” then both of you rejoice bc yay baby!

Cut to 6 months later when your feet hurt so bad you have to lay down and watch while Draco fails to put a crib together.

He eventually gets it done tho.

And when the time comes, he’s built and arranged everything for your bundle of joy.

Harry

So you guys are probably already married, but with everything at the ministry going on, it makes Harry less than a family man.

You both agree that it’s probably better to wait so you can be home and yk...raise it.

Well smart man Harry forgets that to not have a kid you need to use protection.

So of course when your period is late you don’t think about it, until its four weeks late.

That night, you and Harry are laying in bed, and thats when you tell him.

“Harry..I’m late.”

“Late for what?” headass.

You: 😳😐

Him: 👁👁😲😲

He’s hesitant to say anything, because he knows its ultimitley up to you what happens with it until its out.

“I think I want to keep it...you know it wont remember much for the first year and a half so if things are stressful it will be okay and-“

“Love...Its going to be perfect”

Mf built the crib in like 45 minutes I swear.

And of course he forced you to keep up with your vitamins, pre natal care, and appointments.

Swear tho you’re about to kill him because cofFeE

But the way he holds your baby 🥺 its his most valued thing ever now.

Ron

Ron is iffy on the kid thing sometimes.

He does want them, but only later when you guys have lived and travled.

So no, you two haven’t planned nor is it even in the picture when your wedding roles around.

It’s in the early days of the marriage when you see his family at the burrow on the way back from the honeymoon.

And of course Molly knows

Because Weasleys are hyperfertile I swear.

She takes you into the kitchen and puts her hands on your arms, shes got that big Mrs.Weasley smile on too.

“I knew it!” She says and pulls you in for a hug, “How far dear??”

You’re just standing there like🧍🏻

“I can see it by the way you glow! Oh my you and my Ron must be so happy!” This woman doesn’t notice that you’re confused.

“Wait what? Mrs. Weasley what are you-?” Then you count the days, “Oh. Well I guess I just found out for myself”

Her face falls slightly, but then she tells you can make you a potion that will tell you if you are or not, stan.

The stupid potion turns green when you spit into it, so everything is confirmed.

That night, you and Ron are getting ready for bed in the guest room and you decide to tell him.

“Ron, sweetie. We need to talk.” He looks like he’s gonna start crying but sits next to you on the bed.

“Y/N...I know its scary but please, we just got married I don’t want to divorce quite just yet 🥺🥺”

“Ron I-“ you start smiling, “I’m pregnant you dufus.”

He just freezes, for a while. Not saying anything, he just looks at the wall with his mouth ajar.

So you get up and go to Ginny.

“Gin, I broke him.”

“Ew, I don’t want to know about how you and him”

“No, I told him that I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, yeah that would do it. Just I don’t know... Give him a minute?”

You give him several, getting a glass of water then heading back up to the room.

Ginny was right, he needed a minute.

“I don’t...I wasn’t...you were.?”

“You don’t have to stay, but I think we can do it. Plus, you would disapoint your mom if you left so...”

“Okay...we’ll do it. I’ll be the best damn Father you have ever seen.” He says, talking to your womb.

Well...he’s a father I’ll give him that.

Pro of having a Weasley baby: free crib thats already put together.

Even if it looks like a death trap.

“We’ll put some blankets over it don’t worry”

You know how some Dads hold their parters hand during the delivery? Yeah he got sick and was moral support from the outside.

To be fair, you weren’t screaming in pleasure by any means.

Scary. But beautiful.

He shows the kid to everyone, he might be more in love with the baby than he is with you.

Ron see’s the appeal of having kids now.

Neville

Moving in with your boyfriend is always fun, right up until you guys go at it so much you forget protection more than once.

You think about it, then move on with your day.

Until the doctor calls, then “oh fuck”

Romance Neville bf

“Why aren’t you having any wine? I thought it was your favorite?”

“I don’t think fetal alcohol syndrome is my favorite.” BRO HE SPAT

But he looks up with tears in his eyes, and runs over to you to grasp you in a hug.

“Oh my god! You’re pregnant! Oh my - We’re gonna be parents!! Oh my god we’re gonna be parents oh-“ Que you petting his hair till he’s calm again.

Lets be honest, this man probably swapped the herbology books for the parenting guides.

“Well I mean I’m just wondering if we should go with this color or this one”

“Nev, it doesn’t matter. Our baby will not care.”

“I read in my book that Infants actually can recognize mood in-“

He won’t let you do anything during your pregnancy.

Gotta love a man who cries because he loves you so much and you’re having his kid.

“I never had a father, what if I do it wrong? What if the baby hates me and runs away at seven?”

“We’ve got quite a lot of time before then.”

He was there during delivery, letting you crush his hand like a champ.

You can’t help but cry when you see him sleeping on the floor next to the crib, its so sweet.

Fred

You two most likely already had two kids, so you decided to wait a bit so your hands weren’t quite full.

Well...your body decided not to wait.

A test provides the two lines, another wild child.

The two toddlers already run around like thing one and thing two, only with red hair.

I think Fred would gladly make the family dinner, and wear an apron. He’d own it, as he should.

But mf gotta not drop the salad bowl when you tell him of the fetus inside you.

“Fred we are going to have a bee-ay-bee-why.”

Your five year old has just begun to spell 😐

He’s happy tho.

Like over the fuckin moon.

He buys the two kids big brother/sister shirts too 🥺🥺

He knows the drill pretty well, so he isn’t too worried about the future.

But its funny that he still freaks out about the crib and feeding chair since he gave it away, you know because you guys werent having another kid.

He packed a hospital bag and kept it in the trunk, counting down the days.

Hours of delivery (He just sat back and held your hand) only to end up with a room full of 7 Weasley family members.

Fred always said that 3 was his lucky number :)

George

You guys were taking it slow, no marriage until you both felt it was time. And certainly no children before that.

Well you know...things changed when the test was positive.

You slid it over on the table, tears pooling in your eyes. He was stunned and quiet, which made you burst out sobbing because you knew that neither of you planned on having a baby.

But to your surprise he starts to smile.

“I want whatever you want, I’m staying by your side no matter what.”

“I mean...would it really be so bad? A house, a kid, a dog?” He holds your hand as you think aloud.

You both give it a week to think it over and the virdict is to keep it.

Thats when he decides he has to marry you, asap because he loves you and will never let you go especially now.

He loves to gush about the carrier of his child, to him you are a godess.

He’s the Dad with a predestination complex.

“Y/N, I just see him being a star quiditch player”

“George, we don’t know if it’s a him.”

He rolls his eyes “Okay then I can see her being a star-“

He made Hermione take you out for a movie date so he could rearrange your bedroom, since you only had a single bedroom flat.

You come back to a new set up including a cot.

Damn pregnancy hormones make brain go 🥺😭😭

He freaks when your water breaks lol

ceo of driving like a maniac to the hospital.

He can’t hold your hand, he’s pacing back and forth, sweating and maybe crying though he’ll never admit to it.

You get the joy of watching him cuddle the baby while refusing to give your child to you.

“George I’d like to hold-“

“No, you need your sleep honey, don’t worry”

Hogging the child.

Cedric

Its no secret that Cedric wants a baby someday.

And he makes it clear your wedding will be spectacular too.

However, finding out you’re pregnant the week of your dream wedding was a shock.

A shock that made you bang your head into the wall because how could you be so stupid?? We had a plan??

So you decide to wait until after the wedding, that way it wont add onto the stress (happy stress) of the wedding.

Cedric keeps trying to fill your glass at the reception, to which you kindly refuse saying you want to remember the night entirely.

Yeah he’s like 🤨 mhm okay.

You can only pick at the dinner because ew salmon doesn’t sound like an option if you want to keep the contents of your stomach.

As everyone waves goodbye to the car, and you both set off into married life, he leans over.

“I may be out of my mind, but are you...?”

“Pregnant.” His face lights up, pulling you into a hug.

Finally, your car pulls up to a small cottage with lush garden scapes all around, putting a hand out, he walks you both from the car to the door.

“Ced, where are we?”

“Home.”

Somehow it was perfect with Cedric, even when it was rushed.

He loved talking to your womb, even if it was weird that he was talking about the babies future brothers and sisters.

“Cedric, slow down. We haven’t even had this one yet”

Basically he is father of the year before he’s a full father.

He’s there while you deliver, holding your hand and telling you how great you’re doing.

He doesn’t even complain when you insult him <3.

He updates you on everything.

If his eyes aren’t on that child, he’s either asleep or dead.

I think Cedric was meant to be a family man, because he loves everything about being one.

Taglist: @truly-insatiable @amourtentiaa @imdoingathingmom @annasdani @anchoeritic @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @cedricsyellowscarf @faeinorbit

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yourmcu · 3 years

Text

V-Day

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary:

You’re not like most people who enjoys Valentine’s Day. Can a certain redhead change that?

A/n: just a late valentine related imagine for all of u bc I’m incapable of posting this sort of stuff on the exact day. enjoy! (I’m finally using this iconic gif don’t mind me)

Word count: 1,753

Warnings: fluff

The 14th of February is just another normal day for you. You always find Valentine’s Day cheesy, you don’t see the point of celebrating it. That sort of thing isn’t as important as Christmas or Halloween. Not that you're bitter because you're single, you couldn’t care less about that, it just isn’t the occasion for you.

Tony outdone it this year. The compound looks like it was powdered pink and red overnight from all the decorations when you step out of your room. You almost don’t want to know what the main area looks like. Sam and Wanda are probably getting started on breakfast which would consist of everything shaped like hearts.

Your plan for the day is to stay in your room, only coming out for snack and drink refills, simple as that.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s...” you pretty much tone out every v-day greeting that came your way, rolling your eyes playfully as you sit down with everyone, greeting them with the usual good morning. You expect the compound to be deserted by midday since surely all of them have plans with their partners for the rest of the day, which is perfect. For you. And for them, of course, yeah.

Sam and Bucky made their way to you. “So, Y/N, how are you?” Sam greets. You already suspect that they were hyping you up for something. “Food good, coffee good... sleep well?”

You turn to them with a smile on your face. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Well,” Bucky lets out a breathy laugh. “Sam here was just helping me-”

“That is not what’s happening. What he wanted to say was,” the birdman cuts him off. “We both wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, we can’t settle on who, so we’re letting you pick.”

You blink. They have to be joking. Do they not notice your routine during this time of the year? After socializing with the team you’d grab a day’s worth of snack, head back to your room, lock the door and lose your mind on video games until the next day.

Unhealthy, but it's for one day.

“Only if you want to,” Bucky adds hastily.

“Come on, this is a chance of a lifetime!” Sam insists, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to your favorite restaurant.”

“It’s just a friendly date.”

What you fail to notice was Natasha listening to the events happening. Her foot taps against the floor as she discreetly waits for your response, taking coffee sips and bites of food and looking away whenever she looked like she's eavesdropping. No one else is paying attention, everyone has their own conversations.

Inside, she pleads that you’d turn both of them down, just because she’s planning to ask you out herself. They just beat her to it.

“I appreciate the thought but I’m sorry, I have plans,” you shrug. “Why don’t you take each other out instead? Not literally.” You give them another smile and walk out of the room, coffee in hand.

Sam and Bucky nods indicating they understood. Sam tells his friend that if he had more appeal you’d agree to the date. But they take you up on your advice, already planning a guy’s night.

Natasha almost cheers when she hears the first part, only to spiral when she hears that someone had already asked you beforehand. You're unavailable. She could ask you out any day, but you deserve something extra special. She sees this day as her only chance to confess her feelings for you.

Her eyes trail you as you walk out, turning to Wanda when you were out of sight. “Do you have any idea who asked Y/N out?”

“I don’t,” Wanda replies, a bit distracted. “They’re lucky, I’ve never seen Y/N show interest in anyone since I met her. Anyway, I have to go, Vision and I have a whole day planned...”

Natasha huffs while people slowly file out of the kitchen. As far as she knows, Tony's with Pepper, of course, Wanda and Vision, Steve is probably going to join Sam and Bucky on their night out, and Clint is back at his farm celebrating with his wife.

And you’re with that person, which most likely someone who isn’t on the team otherwise she’d know. She's left by herself to mope.

Few hours have passed, maybe three, it’s lunchtime. As you suspected the compound is empty, so you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Boxed mac and cheese is the only thing you knew how to make.

“Y/N?”

You almost drop your stirring spoon at the sudden voice. You feel embarrassed about your choice of outfit, you feel and look like a grizzly bear while she looks stunning, even if it’s just plain workout clothes.

“Hey, Nat.”

“I thought you were... out with someone?” Knowing you, she might’ve misunderstood when you said you ‘had plans’. You look so cozy she would love to hug you on the spot if she isn’t so sweaty.

You let out a curious hum, turning off the stove. “I was?” You giggle. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I didn’t, just, I assumed you’d be,” she mutters and finishes her water bottle.

You're now grabbing a bowl for the mac and cheese you made. “I mean, Sam and Bucky did ask me if I wanted to but... y’know, if I’m being honest they’re not really my type.” You pause to look at her who was staring back. “Have you eaten? This batch I made is enough for three people, I think.”

Natasha nods at your offer. “They did say it was a friendly date.”

You stop scooping the macaroni and perk your head up with a grin. “So you were listening.”

“Not like I had any choice, I was in the same room.” Quick save.

“Mmhm.”

Then there's a minute of comfy silence as you clean the area you made the meal on, putting the pot away and stuff.

“Why don’t you have a date today?”

“What?”

“Anyone would kill to go on a date with you, Nat.” Is what you say in your head. But instead you say, “Well, you know, I didn’t expect you be here too.”

Natasha shrugs and before she could answer you add, “No one’s caught the notorious Black Widow’s attention yet?”

She chuckles at your words, looking up at you. “Who did you think I’d go out with?”

“I dunno, Steve-”

“God, no,” she quickly cuts you off and laugh, you laugh along but at the same time sigh in relief.

“Crap, I just remembered I have a game to finish,” you hold the bowl of cheese and macaroni and stick two spoons on the side. “I’m cordially inviting you to my room, you are very much welcome, after you change.”

Natasha tells you she’ll see you there in a bit.

“Huh. I just noticed you do this every Valentine’s Day,” Natasha notes as she takes everything in. Your PlayStation's on, your trash bin is almost full of snack wrappings, couple of beers tucked at the side of your bed. “Cozy.”

“Why, thank you,” you say sarcastically, picking up a controller and waving a vacant one at her. “Feel free. Or you can just watch me fail at this game.”

Natasha decides to join the game a little later, now she's lost in thought on how someone like you spends such a day like this, or how beautiful you looked as your eyes dart at every direction of the screen and how you sometimes bite your lip when you're that focused in the game.

It's always the little things she likes about you.

Glancing at you one more time before eating a spoonful of mac, she turns back to the TV to watch how you're doing.

But you're witty, kind and easy to get along with, why wouldn’t you have a date - or why wouldn’t you want a date on Valentine’s Day?

If only you knew how she feels, she’d make sure to treat you well. Like you deserve. She’d take you on dates you’d enjoy every time the 14th rolls by. If you don’t like the holiday for some reason she’d find a way-

“NO WAY,” you cover your mouth and bump your head to Natasha’s shoulder in defeat, making her come back from her trance to look at the big red words on the screen, indicating you lost. “I almost had it!”

Natasha leans into your touch and pats your back. “You can try again.”

You groan. “I definitely will but for now, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Great,” she shifts a bit to get comfy, switching to Netflix and choosing whatever’s trending right now. “I’m just curious but, do you like someone?”

You hum in response, sipping on a beer, not completely processing what she said. “I - yeah. I guess so,” you tug the blanket closer and pout at the movie that’s on. You don’t like romance movies. You always prefer an action or a mystery one any day. “Do you?”

Natasha feels her heart ache for a moment. “Yeah. She’s kind and sweet, goofy but can still seriously kick your ass type.” Your eyes land to her hands. You knew fully well Natasha isn’t straight, she admitted and definitely doesn’t act like it. “There’s just something about her that makes me... love her.”

“She sounds great,” you mumble, starting to get lost in your own thoughts. “I guess I just-” you hesitate, just because the woman you're about to describe is the same one sitting next to you. “I feel bad for her that someone like me likes her.”

“Why would you think that?” Natasha chuckles, shaking her head.

You shrug. “She’s amazing. So out of my league, I’d say she’s so close but so far away but that would be really cheesy and ugly,” you laugh. “I don’t know, she deserves way better.”

Natasha hums. “Sometimes I think she needs to her worth, because what she doesn’t know is, she’s very much amazing in her own way.”

Looking up at her from her shoulder, your eyes light up and you don’t know when it happened, but you just found her lips pressed against yours softly.

Even if it was just a short kiss you feel breathless when she pulls away to look at you again.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re just describing each other like idiots right?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha leans in to kiss you again.

---

oh my god I want a hug

[shameless plug] check out my natasha romanoff ambience here

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snxxiao · 3 years

Text

Your Fall | Tsukishima Kei (feat. Yamaguchi Tadashi)

—Pairing: Tsukishima x f! reader, Yamaguchi x f! reader (kinda, not really)

—Summary: When you were head over heals for his best friend, how was Tsukishima meant to tell you his real feelings?

—Content: angst, fluff, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, unrequited love, pining, everyone is really bad at emotions, drinking (of age), mentions of vomit/nausea, innocent! reader, college party, heartbreak, heated make out sessions, a bit of groping, young love, clueless (read: idiot) everyone, corruption kink if you squint, slow burn (?), yams and tsuki are kind of ooc, loss of innocence? (kinda idk), walking in on two people doing the deed, cussing!!, virgin! reader, possessive! Tsukishima, tsuki is a little out of a perv?, very very loose discription of a panic attack if you squint real hard, vi I think that’s it?? Tell me if I’m missing something :)

—WC: 8.5K

—Notes: first full blown one-shot for this blog!! Woo!! It’s not even nsfw, idk how I managed to do that. I just got into an angst reading mood and decided to write this so here we are! I’m still not fully happy with it, but I never really like the things I write so it’s okay :). I’m not happy with the ending, either, so at some point. I might come back and fix it. Umm,, oh! There will be a nsfw part 2 at some point called “winter”. I was originally going to add it here, but by the time I finished the main story, I realised it was already 8k (plus I didn’t really know how to include it bc I hate when smut is just thrown into a fanfic without incorporating it to the plot) and decided just to include it in another part :) when it’s finished I’ll like it bother here and on my Masterlist :) have a nice day!! Sorry if this was bad!!

—Masterlists <3

Yamaguchi was an easy man to love. You knew that very well. How exactly couldn’t he be? With his big puppy-dog eyes and his warm heart to match, how was anyone meant to not fall for him?

He was the type to carry around hair ties or pads just in case you needed them. The type to always offer up his jacket when you were cold. Not to mention the freckles- oh my god weren’t his freckles just the cutest thing? He was the perfect man. You knew that, of course you did.

You had been nursing a crush on him since you first made it into Karasuno. You had bumped into the then second year on your very first day. You had somehow managed to get lost enough to end up in the second-year hallways, and he, being the oh-so-kind gentleman he was, helped you back to class.

Back then it was just a crush, puppy-dog love if you wanted to call it that. To be honest, you even followed him around like a lost puppy. But you couldn’t help it, you were just so enamored by his being. All logical thoughts didn’t matter, only those surrounding your senior did, and that was okay. Of course it was.

Ever since that day, you did everything you could to force your way into his tight nit friend group- even if that meant having to put up with the berates of Tsukkishima Kei. You just wanted to be around Yamaguchi in any way you could, and if that meant putting up with the mongrel that stole your food and called you an idiot, you would take it. It was all worth it for Tadashi.

He was like spring- the warmth, the happiness, the new beginnings. It was amazing.

To everyone else, your crush on him was obvious. Whenever you were around him, whenever he was giving you the slightest bit of attention, your cheeks would always become flushed. Your words would stutter. You’d give him gifts you that you didn’t seem to give anyone else. Not to mention how you would go all out for valentines day, spoiling him with homemade chocolates and any gifts you could find.

How could everyone not notice when it was so very obvious?

But, as stories like these go, it wasn’t obvious to him. He just thought you were nice. Maybe shy like him! You guys could understand each other because you were both so timid, must’ve been one of the reasons you were always around him and Tsukki, right? You must’ve been too nervous to make friends with anyone in your own grade. He didn’t mind, he liked your company. He hoped you guys would stay friends even after high school. You were a kind, calming personality to be around- a perfect comparison to Tsukki.

He was naïve, you both were.

Of course, he didn’t know about your feelings.

Tsukkishima, on the other hand, was the first person to notice. How could he not? No other girls really gave his best friend the attention that you did. None of them brightened at the slightest amount of physical affection from his friend. None of them made food or brought snacks to him. Obviously, he made fun of your antics, how could he not? You looked so stupid with your ears pink, your voice stuttering.

You were especially cute when he was teasing you, how your personality did a 180-degree flip for him. He got to see the side of you that you never let Yamaguchi see out of fear that he wouldn’t find you appealing. The side that was quick-witted and loud while still managing to maintain an air of innocence. The side that would surly make Yamaguchi turn his head up at the idea of even dating you. It was the same side that made Tsukkishima actually like to be around you. He loved your reactions; they were always so funny. How could he stop himself from teasing you? Especially when Yams was around.

Tsukkishima would never admit that he found you cute though- anytime the thought crossed his mind he’d push it away and shun it. You weren’t cute, just annoying, and stupid like everyone else. It wasn’t his fault that you gave amazing reactions. That’s all he wanted- a reaction out of you. Not for you to pay attention to him, to get your attention away from Yamaguchi for one goddamn minute of your life. Not for you to let go of that faux, overly shy persona that you had when it was his best friend around. Of course, it wasn’t that.

Thankfully, much to Tsukkishima’s delight (even if it was delight he was not yet willing to admit to), as you grew closer to the two men, you let the personality you had around Yamaguchi falter a bit more. The longer you three stayed friends, the more comfortable you must’ve felt. Yamaguchi didn’t really pick up on any difference, but Tsukkishima, whether it was consciously or not, did.

He noticed how your words would stutter less, how you slowly gained more confidence around them. How you were more willing to fight back against Tsukki, even in the presence of Yamaguchi. He liked it, it made you more fun to be around. They weren’t just your seniors anymore; they were your best friends.

You three did everything together- shopping, karaoke, meals. On special days you even brought Tsukki a bento box. He didn’t like to admit it, but he loved your cooking. The cute touches you added made him smile inside. Still, he kept convincing himself that the only reason he wanted to smile was because your childish antics were so stupid.

The only time he even came close to realizing his feelings for you was when he finally noticed how many guys confessed their feelings to you. When he picked you up at your locker (a habit he gained after learning you two attended the same cram school), more often than not there was a confession letter waiting inside. He never really noticed them, though. That was until white day, March 14th.

He saw you coming down to your lockers after your club activity, a giant stuffed dog held firmly in your arms. That was something he surly noticed. Something he couldn’t miss.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, glaring slightly at the offending object in your possession. He had no right to be jealous, he hadn’t even come to terms with the fact he liked you. But he knew you having something like that made him upset.

“Hmm? Oh! This? Some guy gave it to me,” you smiled, a pink blush dusting your cheeks, “His name is Ruffus!” He rolled his eyes at the stupid name you gave the stuffed puppy before smirking slightly. You were blushing, that meant Yamaguchi must’ve given it to you right? You did give him home made chocolates on valentine’s day. You were probably so happy because this meant he was finally reciprocating.

“Ahhh, I get it. Yams gave that to you huh? So, you two are finally a thing? Took both of you long enough.” You blushed at his comment.

“Of course, not you idiot, some guy in my class gave it to me. I didn’t even give him anything for valentine’s day.” You told him as you opened your locker. He looked inside, noticing quite a few pink cards located inside. The same type of envelopes those guys put their disgusting confession letters in. The feeling in his gut sparked back up.

You didn’t pay them any attention though, you just stuffed them into your bag so you could write them each a letter back, rejecting them as politely as you could. That’s what you normally did, anyway. The letters weren’t really anything new.

“Yams’ didn’t get me anything.” You said, forcing a smile, “I would say there’s next year, but you two are graduating, gonna leave me all alone! How will I survive!” You smiled at him and continued on your way to the train station. He actually felt bad for you. He normally doesn’t feel bad for anyone, but there you were, still pining after a guy who hadn’t shown any interest in you for over a year. He knew you had plenty of options (himself being one of them), but there you were, still going after his best friend who saw you as northing more then a cute little sister.

He wanted to tell you to get over him, but he was never very good at expressing what he wanted to say in words. Even if he did tell you, you both knew your feelings wouldn’t just go away. He could just tell you that Yams liked some other girl, but something in him told him not to. He didn’t want to see you sad.

So, instead, the next day he popped into your classroom early in the morning. Before you were even able to greet him, he walked over to you, put a stuffed frog on your head, then left the room without saying anything. He had never done something like that before, he wasn’t the type to give people gifts. You were confused, very confused over his actions. But happy.

He knew a gift from him was different then a gift from Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi was better than him after all. But, he had the urge to help in some way, so getting you a gift was the least he could do.

---

When graduation rolled around for your third-year best friends, you were there to support them. You always would be. You had flowers for the two of them, as well as a big dinner planned for later that night. You were going to treat them. The thought made you smile, they really deserved it.

After the ceremony, when you arrived to their classroom, Yamaguchi looked as handsome as ever, but then again, when didn’t he? His smile looked so pretty talking to his classmates. You wished he was smiling at you. But then again, when didn’t you?

Tsukkishima finally came over to you before Yamaguchi did. He had an annoyed scowl when you gave him the flowers, but then again, he always did, didn’t he? You were so proud of your friends that today you didn’t mind the teasing or the typical rude comments. You just wanted to spend a nice, happy, last day of high school with your crush and your best friend.

---

Your friends had both gotten into the same university, a university that you hoped to attened yourself the following year. You couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. You wanted to be with them again.

When the next school year started up you realized how terribly you missed the duo. Sure, you had other friends in your classes, but it wasn’t the same as the time you got to spend with the seniors you held so close to your heart. So, what else could you do other then put your head into a book and study? You worked as hard as you could to be able to make it into their university. Then you’d get to spend time with your friends once again.

As expected when their classes started up you didn’t get to see them as often, typically only getting to text them rather then actually meet in person. Yamaguchi seemed really supportive about you going to university with them, often sending you texts of encouragement on long nights of studying. Even better was when he had the time he took you out to get coffee, then to the local library to help you study. It reminded you why you started to like him in the first place; you wanted to be better for him. Better then just a silly little high school girl with a silly little crush.

Tsukishima, while you hoped would be just as supportive as Yams, didn’t really seem to care much. The occasional hangout still took place, you both still texted. However, college was stressful; it was really hard. Never mind his volleyball career and the countless hours he put into practice. The time you used to take up in his life was now consumed by school. You didn’t really expect any more or any less from him. At least you still had Yamaguchi, that was who you really needed, right?

He was your springtime, remember?

---

Finally, you managed to do it! You graduated your final, painstaking year of high school! Even got into your top university, the one Tsuki and Yams went to! You were so excited. You couldn’t believe it when you got your acceptance letter.

Finally, you would be re-united with your best friends again. It would be just like high school all over again, right?

As per usual, you were wrong. It seemed like most of the time you were. While they were both happy for you (overjoyed actually), when you finally started attending the university, the dynamic was drastically different than before. You hoped you would get to spend time together once again, just like you did back in the good old days. You hoped you would all get to eat lunch together, hang out after school, study together. But none of that was really the same.

Your and Tsuki’s schedule always lined up together, however, Yamaguchi’s always ended being the opposite. Which left you and Tsukishima to hang out a lot more often, something neither of you could really argue with. He missed you, a lot more then he was willing to admit. You missed your big old oaf as well, especially your late-night talks about life. More often than not, he ended up in your room until the moon was high in the sky, just, talking to you. After his long, stressful days, you were the exact break he needed.

Your talks never got emotional, at least they didn’t on his end. But that was okay, you didn’t mind. That was always just… him. And you liked your friendship with him. Whenever your conversations ventured to Yamaguchi, he made sure to never talk about his friends love life. The crushes he had on other girls at the time, his friends ideal type, none of that. Maybe that was a mistake, he didn’t know. Maybe you would have finally taken the hint and gotten over your feelings. He just didn’t want to hurt you. The way your eyes lit up when his best friend was around, he couldn’t take that away from you. That just wasn’t right. He just wanted to see you happy. That was his excuse.

As the years continued on, your puppy-love that originally began in high school had only grown and bloomed into a full-fledged love for none other than Yamaguchi Tadashi, the innocence with it still carried over. He had nurtured that love without even knowing it himself. He was an easy man to love. In your second year of college, you knew that for sure.

There you were, laying on the floor with Tsukishima occupying the bed like most other nights. That day you had gone out with the two of them, now, you were flustered. Mad even. That day, while you were out, you noticed Tadashi staring at a pretty 4th year girl. His cheeks were completely flushed, and when she managed to bump into him on accident, he could barely utter a word. The two of you were opposites, that was pretty obvious, even if it was just based on looks alone. She was graceful and elegant, and so very mature. While you were still cute and innocent; your second year of college and you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.

It hurt, it really, really hurt to see that. So, you now sat there, stewing in silence as Tsuki kicked your head for the umpteenth time trying to get your attention.

“Oi, you fre-“

“I think Tadashi is into experienced girls.” You said abruptly, finally breaking out of your once quiet demeanor. Tsuki shifted uncomfortably, not really knowing how to traverse around this.

“What the fuck are you on about this time?” Was the response he settled with. You turned around, finally making eye contact with him.

“Think about it! We both saw how he was around that girl today!” You pouted, standing up. You put your hands on your hips. Kei thought you looked stupid (cute) like that, with your cheeks all puffed out in obvious irritation.

“Yeah and?”

“Do you think if I was more experienced then I would have a chance with him?” He really didn’t know how to answer this one. It was one of the subjects he always avoided. He knew Tadashi’s ideal type, but he would never actually tell you it.

“(y/n)..” he signed out, rubbing his face slightly in irritation. That’s when you said words he never thought he would actually hear from you.

“Could you teach me how to kiss?” It was silly of you to think knowing how to kiss would suddenly make him fall in love with you, but people did silly things for love didn’t they? You crawled between his legs, looking up at him with a smile and a pale pink blush adorning your features.

Tsukishima sat up straighter than he had before, and looked at you with evident shock across his features. You, his innocent little best friend, was asking him for kissing lessons? You were sitting so prettily between his legs? You weren’t actually serious were you? Sure, he knew how to, he had quite a bit of experience and that kind of thing didn’t mean much to him with other girls. And sure, the idea did excite him- but no. No, he couldn’t do that. Not to his best friend who was in love with their green-haired counterpart.

“Idiot, stop talking out of your ass.” He said, turning his face away from yours, a pink settling on his cheeks as well, “You wanted to save that for someone you cared about.” He knew this, of course he did. And he wasn’t that person. For some reason, at the thought of that, something panged in his heart.

“So what? It doesn’t matter anymore does it? I don’t care about that kind of thing anymore.” Yes you did. You both knew you did. Kei was the only one who was willing to admit it though.

He signed and tried to push you away from him slightly, “Yes you do. You just need to sleep this idiocity of yours off.” He was blunt about it, he always was. But, suddenly he felt a gentle tug on the bottom of his shirt and he instinctively met your gaze once again. His eyes couldn’t help but widen.

“Pl-please Kei…? I… I really need your help… I’m too inexperienced… I trust you a lot.. and I really need your help with this…” Now you were just flat out begging him. It tugged on his heart strings; it really did. He never wanted to make you sad.

He signed, you were always able to make him give in to stupid things. Only you though.

“Fine. But don’t come to me asking for shit like this again.” He stated bluntly. And suddenly, all the sadness vanished from your face, replaced with that big stupid smile he told himself he hated.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re the best person in the world!” And for once, maybe he believed it. When you spoke things so earnestly, it was hard for him not to believe them. He rolled his eyes.

“You better not regret this okay?” He spoke softly. He slowly reached out and took you chin between his forefinger and thumb, leading your face closer to his.

“I promise I won’t.”

And with that last bit of consent he needed, he kissed you.

It was gentle, so gentle. It was too easy to kiss him back. Your grip stayed firm on the bottom of his shirt, your eyes screwed shut awkwardly tight. Eventually, he pulled away only to kiss you again, this time deeper and more passionate. He felt years of weight rushing off of him all at once and he had no clue why. All he knew is that for some reason he was finally able to relax. He removed his hand from your chin, instead resting it on your waist gently.

Before he realized what he was doing, he gently licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You squeaked but nevertheless obliged, opening your mouth just enough so he could move his tongue inside.

He kiss itself was slow and passionate. He slowly coaxed out what he wanted from you without exchanging any words. The only time the two of you pulled away was to take a breath before he kissed you again and again, each one rougher then the last. Eventually, you began to relax into his touch, into him as he kept going. You never really thought just kissing another person could feel this good.

At some point throughout the exchange, Tsukishima had managed to take hold of your ass, pulling you onto his lap. You let out a little whine when he gripped you too hard. That whine excited him. He didn’t think he could take it anymore. He was getting hard, too hard. Your innocence, your inexperience. He loved all of it.

He wasn’t thinking anymore, why should he think when he gets so drunk off of just kissing you?

Oh right.

That’s why.

Because its you. His best friend of 5 years who was hopelessly in love with someone else. Someone that wasn’t him. It made him upset, deeply so. Why didn’t you love him the same way you loved Yamaguchi? What did Yamaguchi have that he didn’t?

Wait, was he in love with you?

Thoughts over the last 5 years finally registered with him as you began to pull your shirt off. As much as he wanted to continue, this was all too much for him to deal with him at the moment. Years of feelings and emotions that he kept supressed rushed out of him like the Niagra falls. It was too much. This was too much.

That’s when he remembered, you weren’t doing this for him. You were doing it because you wanted Yamaguchi to like you. He had to stop this.

You moaned again and pulled away from the kiss, once again attempting to remove the annoying material known as your shirt. If he didn’t know the truth maybe he really would believe it, that you actually cared about him and wanted to do this.

Abruptly, Tsukishima stood up, causing you to fall back onto the plush, stuffed animal covered bed. You looked at him confused. He must’ve just been nervous to take things farther, he probably thought you didn’t want to. It was okay! You needed to learn about that stuff too anyway if you were going to show Yamaguchi how mature and elegant you could be. Just like that other girl. The girl he really liked.

“‘S okay!” You smiled and sat up on the bed, “We can keep going, I don’t mind.” You looked at him with hopeful eyes, expecting him to move back on top of you to continue. But instead, he began to grab his things and make way for the door. You were confused. Why was he acting like this all of a sudden? Didn’t he say he would help? Didn’t he wanna do this? You quickly got up and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Did I do something wrong? Was I that bad?”

“No.” He bluntly stated, not looking back at you. He couldn’t deal with this. He pulled his arm away, “Just confess to him already. This is getting annoying. Shit it’s been annoying. It’s been 5 fucking years!” Suddenly, you felt insecure. You felt rejected.

“Wh-what? But I thought…”

“You thought wrong. Just tell him you like him.” And with that, he left your dorm room. He really didn’t understand why he was getting so upset, he didn’t exactly have a right to either. He had never felt this jealous before. He didn’t feel it when he fucked around with girls, didn’t feel it when guys hit on the other girls he had been interested it, but you were different. He needed to come to terms with these newly discovered feelings, yet he didn’t know if he could ever actually face you again. Not with you still head over heels for Yamaguchi.

So, the days trailed on with no sign of Tsukishima. Yamaguchi was showing up less and less, too. Presumably, he was meeting up with that girl again, Riko, as you learned her name to be. You saw them around campus a few times. But you didn’t let yourself admit the truth. You didn’t want to. It was better to just protect your heart. They were just friends, study partners. Had to be right?

The worst of it was that whenever you tried to talk to Tsuki, he always left you on read or said something so dry that you couldn’t reply to it. Seems like your spring, your happiness, your youth had finally faded.

Over the coming weeks you were alone again. Just like high school, you took to studying to drown out the feelings of loneliness. Helplessness maybe. Eventually, you stopped trying to spend time with them. It was obvious Kei had been ignoring you since that night, and Yamaguchi was clearly occupied with his summer fling.

That’s it.

This had to be the feeling of summer. Uncomfortable, alone, and warm. School was over, it wasn’t as easy to be around friends. There were still pretty flowers, they just weren’t around you. You had to seek refuge in your cool house. The cold was much more calming.

But eventually, you got tired of that too. You were tired of this. All the awkward tension, all the avoidance of each other. Maybe, just maybe, if you couldn’t save your relationship with Tsuki, you could at least save it with Yamaguchi.

You chose a day and marked it on your calendar. That was the day you would finally tell him your true feelings. Up until now, you were too scared of the rejection, too scared of loosing him, but you practically already had. Your friendship with the two men was in shambles, so if there was an all or nothing chance that could make things better, you decided you needed to take it.

If he rejects you, you decided that you could take it. You have to take it. You cant just sit there pining after him anymore. Back in your younger years you thought that you might still have a chance if you just waited it out. Maybe he would confess! But he never did. Maybe you just needed to confess your feelings to get over him. Maybe just maybe that’s what you wanted.

Or maybe you wanted him to accept you with open arms. You didn’t really know what you wanted. You just wanted to be done with the drama your crush on him has brought you so you could go back to spring.

But seasons change. The cruel clock continues to tick on and on without stopping. Once you passed spring you couldn’t get it back.

—-

Finally, when that fated day arrived, you walked up to his dorm. You tried your best to look nice and calm, but you knew you weren’t very good at that. Even when you tried your hardest you always looked slightly disheveled. You once hoped it was something Yamaguchi would like about you, but it never seemed like it was. Tsukishima loved it though, he was finally willing to admit it too.

You looked down at his door handle and noticed a sock placed on it. Looking back on that moment, you wished you knew what it meant. That might’ve saved you from seeing what you did.

You had a lot of wishes.

But alas, you never got that lesson from your female friends- hell you didn’t really had any close female friends other than the guy’s team managers in high school. So, in your naïveté, you gently took the sock off the handle, maybe it somehow ended up there when he was doing the laundry? He was clumsy like that. You shrugged it off and twisted to see if it was locked. It was.

That should have been your second red flag to turn back, he always kept his door unlocked.

But, once again, you always seemed to make the wrong choice.

You found your keys, pulling them out of your pocket. Located on the ringlet was the same key he had given to his dorm back at the beginning of the school year. Back when the 3 of you were closer. You suck it in the keyhole and turned it before opening the door, the sight inside scaring you.

Yamaguchi had his face scrunched up in pleasure, his cock buried deep inside Riko’s cunt. She was on her hands and knees with her back bent at an angle that couldn’t have been comfortable. Your eyes went wide as the sound of skin slapping against skin was all you could hear. Suddenly, you felt hot. Very hot. You couldn’t breathe either. It was like you had just run a marathon in 90-degree heat. It was awful.

You wished you had just turned around and ran before Yamaguchi saw you, you really wished you did. But you were frozen in place. It was like the summer heat had dragged you down to the fiery pits of hell.

Eventually, when he did see you, his face flushed even brighter than it had been before. He quickly pulled out of her, hurriedly dressing the two of them while you just stood in place. How long did you stand there? You had no idea.

You should have been happy for your friend; you really wish you could have been. You wished you could have just said something funny and walked away like nothing happened. If only your 5-year love for the man wasn’t in the way. Without it, this would have just been an awkward experience, not an utterly heartbreaking one. You didn’t have a right to be upset either, you knew that; you didn’t have a claim over him. But it still hurt. It hurt more than anything else. Like a sunburn after a long day at the beach.

“A-ah! (Y/n)! I didn’t know you were coming over!” Yamaguchi laughed out awkwardly, finally pulling up his pants. Of course he wasn’t hurting like you. He was in a relationship. You wanted him to be happy. Its what he deserved after making you feel so happy, so cared about for so many years.

So, what else could you do other than you force a smile onto your face. You could wallow in your own emotions another time.

“Yeah! I just needed to um.. grab something! I didn’t know you were in here.” You said, fumbling with your words a bit, “But I see you’re busy! I’ll head out!” You quickly closed the door, leaning against the wall right next to it. You needed a moment to compose yourself before your walk back to your dorm. You didn’t want to burst out into tears in the middle of the campus for everyone to see.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, she’s just my friend from high school!”

“Just a friend? Why did she have a key to your place then? I know I locked the door.”

“Ah, you don’t have to be so worried about her, she’s like my little sister. Sometimes she needs my help with things.”

You wished you just left. Wished you just ran straight home. Wished the walls weren’t as thin as they were. Wished they weren’t standing so close to the door. Anything you could have wished on in that moment you did. Just a high school friend. Just a little sister. Not even one of his best friends. The words made you feel sick. Who cares if anyone saw you crying, you just needed to get out of there. You held a hand over your mouth as you practically ran home, afraid you might actually throw up if you didn’t.

Oh, how the summer stung.

---

You hadn’t left your dorm in days; you really shouldn’t have been as upset as you were. You didn’t have any right to. The most you ever did with poor Tadashi was hold his hand- even that wasn’t in any sort of romantic manor. But still, there you were. Heartbroken. It was only natural really, you knew he didn’t owe you anything, you knew you weren’t in a relationship. He could do whatever he wanted! But that didn’t stop it from hurting. You didn’t think it would ever really stop hurting.

It was on the fifth day that you decided you needed to do something. Something to forget. Go out to a party, get drunk, fuck some random guy. It didn’t matter. Maybe you just wanted to continue the destructive streak you already had going. Why not fuck around and loose your virginity? None of it mattered anyway. Not when the man you had loved since your first year in high school never even thought about loving you back.

Unrequited love was a bitch.

You decided that you needed to get over yourself, get over this pity party you were throwing. Maybe if you went out tonight you could get over him. Maybe then the summer bee sting would finally go away.

You didn’t have many clothes for going out, it wasn’t something you were really into. So, you tried your best to put together an outfit to make yourself feel appealing. Did your hair to make yourself feel pretty. Put on some makeup to feel a tad bit more confident. Even if your skills weren’t that great, it didn’t matter. You felt prettier then you had the whole week. That is what mattered. You didn’t really think guys cared how you dressed anyway, only what was underneath, so it didn’t really matter.

When you finally left the dorm and arrived at one of the various parties going on, the moon was high in the sky. The confidence you had walking to the building had all but vanished when you finally manouvered inside. The music was loud, people were sweaty, the place was a mess. But that didn’t matter right? All that mattered was getting over your spring, some other girls Yamaguchi Tadashi.

After all, one thing that stays the same is the seasons changing.

You made your way over to the kitchen to grab a drink. You never really liked the idea of drinking, the smell making you feel sick, but you needed to let loose. That’s what alcohol was for anyway, wasn’t it? That what all the teen movies you watched as you cried into your pillow told you. It was really childish of you, but you had never gone through heart break before. Maybe you were just a late bloomer. Maybe this was the moment that would make you mature. As you took your first sip, your nose scrunched up, but you kept downing it.

Eventually you made your way to the dance floor, the alcohol taking a firm hold on your system as you finally let loose. You relaxed as you swayed to the music and laughed easily. Your consciousness was still there, you were still clear enough to make decisions. A certain wall had just otherwise broken down.

A guy came up behind you and began grinding against your ass as you danced. You giggled and turned around to face him. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. If you were going to do this now would be the time to.

“Hey.” You smiled at him. He smiled back.

Little did you know, the source of one of your problems was also there that night, also there trying to drink away his feelings. He was so stupid. Tsukishima knew very well he was. All this time and he never realized his liked you more than just his idiot best friend. And now that he did know, he knew he had no chance with you. Every emotion he didn’t understand surrounding you from all those years came rushing at him tenfold. He didn’t like the dog because he was jealous, he didn’t like the confession letters because he didn’t like the idea other men could have you.

He loved you smile, he didn’t think you looked stupid, he thought you looked adorable. The stuffed animals that he once made fun of you having were now the cutest thing. The reason your food was so good was because you made it, not just because you were a good cook. He was pretty sure you could feed him garbage and he would love it all because you were the one who gave it to him.

He knew why he didn’t like talking about Tadashi with you- it was because he wished he was Tadashi. He wanted to be the one you loved and cared about. But now he knew that that would never happen, all because you loved someone other then him.

He had been avoiding both you and Yamaguchi since all of those realizations. He tried quick fucks to make up for the feelings you left him with, but nothing helped. He was there again that night to try to do the same thing. To look for an easy pussy to stick his dick into as an attempt to get over you. It was better that he did, for all three of you.

That was when he saw you on the dance floor, with some other man’s filthy hands all over you. Hands that should be his. At first he honestly didn’t really believe it was you, he just thought it was whatever drink he was having that night making him delusional. You wouldn’t be at a party like this. You couldn’t be. But when he inched closer and closer, he realized it had to be you. You were standing there in the skimpiest skirt he thought he had ever seen and thigh-highs, with some guy biting disgusting marks into your neck.

When the man whispered something in your ear, you blushed. Tsuki’s face was red for other reasons. He saw the guy take your small hand into his own and start to lead you up the stairs. Wait, no. He couldn’t let that happen. He shouldn’t let that happen. You should be with him. He listened to the thoughts in his head and rushed over to you, pulling you against his chest. The other man stepped back in an offended manor.

“Huh? What are you doing here?” You mumbled out, a pout forming on your lips, your cheeks pushed out just the way he liked. It was so cute. He loved it so much. But right now was not the time to get caught up in his own feelings.

“It doesn’t matter. What are you doing?” He said in a stern manor, glaring down at you dangerously. You giggled and stood on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear. His aggressive deminior didn’t really mean anything.

“I’m gonna get fucked! I think this guy likes me!” You giggled; your cheeks dusted with rose. He scoffed in annoyance, could you really be that stupid?

“No, you’re not. You’re drunk.”

“Hush! I’m not drunk! Perfectly sane!” You smiled, while the other man stared at the two of you awkwardly.

“Hey uh… I’m sorry if this is your girl. I had no clue… Um… I’m gonna go… I don’t wanna be a part of your weird jealous fuck… I’ve been roped into that one too many times before, and it’s never a happy ending.” The stranger said, before awkwardly trotting away and grabbing himself another drink. You whined and pushed at Tsuki’s chest, sad your fuck to get over Tadashi had now walked away and seemingly had no interest.

“What did you do that for?!” You whined and squirmed around cutely like you were actually disappointed. He really hoped you weren’t.

“We’re leaving.” He murmured bluntly, picking you up and carrying you outside of the building. You squirmed the whole time, constantly berating him about putting you down and how he ruined your night. He didn’t listen though, only carried you back to his dorm, most likely waking up all of his neighbors in the process due to your voice.

Only after you finally made it inside did he put you down, dropping you on his bed. He turned his back to you, scavenging through his dresser.

“I cant believe you! And when I was this close-“ He interrupted you, handing you some of his clothes to change into, “What the fuck are these for?” You said, holding them up and shaking them slightly for dramatic effect.

He only sighed and sat down at his desk chair, “You don’t see me as one, but I am a man, (y/n).” You only looked at him confused, but he sighed again, opting to not explain himself further, “You’re staying the night. You should be comfortable.” He turned around in his chair, now facing away from you. Oddly, you missed his gold, piercing stare.

“Oh, so just cause you’re a guy you cant keep your dick in your pants?”

“That’s not what I meant you idiot.”

“That’s what it seems like. I was hoping to have that effect on someone else you know! Not you!”

“I know.”

“Then why the fuck did you take me away?!”

“You were going to regret it. Can you please just shut the fuck up?” He signed, rubbing his temples. It seemed like you were really itching to get in a fight that night. He kind of deserved it, he didn’t have any right to drag you away. What you wanted to do was your choice, he shouldn’t have any say in it. But he couldn’t just stand there and watch as you got taken from him- even if he decided that you would never like him in that way.

You scoffed and stood up, “I’m leaving.” You didn’t want to go.

“Don’t...” You didn’t expect him to say that. You expected him to laugh at you and say see if I care. Did he… care..? Maybe, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter though, as you listened to her stern, dominating voice, you sat back down on the bed, just as he wanted. You stained into his muscular back with confusion and annoyance.

“What do you want Tsukishima.” You asked, well, more so stated. And he really didn’t have an answer for you. He wanted you to fall for him instead of that green haired twig who couldn’t see the amazing thing right in front of him. For once he wanted to be in a dumb romcom where he was the guy the girl actually fell for instead of just the supportive best friend. He wanted you. He wasn’t going to say that though, opting to just change the subject entirely.

“Why were you going to do that?” He questioned, still not able to bring himself to turn around and face you.

“Do what?”

“Fuck him. It wasn’t to.. You weren’t just trying to make yourself more experienced for.. for him right?” He was having trouble finding the exact right words to say. However, when a sudden sharp laugh (a laugh that he loved) moved past your lips he whipped around quickly, watching you almost keel over in laughter.

“Him?” You laughed, “You mean Yamaguchi? Hell no! I was trying to get over that cabbage patch kid.” You calmed yourself down, while Tsuki just stared at you, now it was his turn to be confused.

He had no clue about the events that happened between you and Tadashi, so you explained, “I know, finally right? I walked in on him fucking that chick. I threw myself a pity party and now here I am, trying to get over him before you so rudely pulled- no sorry, carried my ass away.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, you were finally trying to get over him? He knew he should’ve felt bad, your heart had been broken and he wasn’t there to help, but the only thought going through his head were thanks to whatever god there was.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, yeah, here comes all the teasing and mocking, I know the drill. You can spare me from it.”

“I’m sorry that happened.”

“Haha yeah the jokes all on me- what?” You were bamboozled! You had never heard him say those words before, even when he made you cry from mocking you about your creepy pasta phase in high school.

“That sucks, I know you really liked him.”

“I… Yeah.. Yeah it does suck.” You pulled your legs up to your chest, not really knowing how to react in this situation. He had never been this emotionally open with you, never really showed you any form of empathy. You kind of wanted to cry, let your emotions out now that you finally had someone to actually listen to you. All he did was nod, trying not to pay any mind to your pink panties that had now been exposed due to your new position.

“Get changed okay?” He said gently. It was a tone you weren’t used to hearing from him just yet. You nodded your head before he turned back around in his chair. You took that as a sign to get started, pulling off your top and exchanging it for his bigger, comfier volleyball jersey he had handed to you earlier. The sweats he gave you to wear were huge as well, but they were really your only option. You didn’t want to go back to your dorm anymore, it was much too hot there. Summer emotions were strong and evident. But Tsuki’s room, it was cool like fall.

Oh, how you were soon going to love fall.

When you finished changing, you perched yourself back on his bed, nestled into the corner with all the pillows. His bed was comfortable, maybe you wouldn’t mind this sleepover.

“You can look now, I finished.” When he turned around, he should’ve known what to expect. However, he was not anticipating the effect you had on him. If he thought you looked amazing in that skirt, you looked even better in his clothes.

He wouldn’t say anything about it though, you didn’t need that right now.

You fiddled with the bottom of your shirt; things normally weren’t this awkward between you. But then again, you two hadn’t talked for the last couple of weeks, and the last time you did you were begging him to teach you how to kiss.

“So,” You decided to try to make some form of conversation at least, “Why were you out tonight?” You smiled slightly at him as he took his glasses off, “You normally just like to say home and study.”

Same reason you were. “The rest of the team went to it; I just went for them” You nodded in understanding.

“You can come over here, you know? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I wont bite unless threatened.” You smiled, patting the spot next to you in bed.

He hesitated for a moment before you sweetened the deal, “I’ll watch your lame volleyball games with you.” At that he stood up and slid next to you in bed. You couldn’t help but cuddle up to him, resting your head gently against his shoulder, waiting for a nudge off of him that never came. He pulled his phone out and pulled up a game for the two of you to watch. This was nice, this was peaceful. It was like autumn. Your autumn.

After awhile of listening to him talk about the game, you fell asleep nuzzled up to his neck.

—-

In the following months you and Tsuki grew closer- a lot closer, much to his delight. Those late-night talks came back and eventually morphed into sleepovers. Sleepovers where you always found yourself cuddled up to him by morning. Eventually, he even starting initiating affection in his own, albeit rough way. It was relaxing, he was so nice. Well, not literally. He still made fun of you, which resulted in you making fun of him back.

But on those nights where he would be softer and open up to you, it would make you so happy.

Eventually, after seeing you and Tsuki walk around on campus, Yamaguchi realized the friendship he had been neglecting with the two of you. He started hanging out more and more, but the shift in your trio’s dynamic was obvious. You and Tsukishima seemed a lot closer then you two had before, which Tadashi only saw as a good thing. He was happy his friends were finally closer! He smiled at the thought of you three remaining friends even after college.

He was still clueless about people’s emotions towards him, always had been, always will be.

So, your friendship with the boys was back in full bloom. You were excited about it, finally realizing how relaxing it could be to spend time with your friends without stupid emotions in the way.

That was until emotions did, in fact, start to get in the way again.

They always did.

Yamaguchi’s girlfriend broke up with him, and of course, who did he come running to other then you? You let him cry into your arms. You had to. You wanted to make your best friend feel better, but that “making him feel better” did not include him kissing you, at least on your end it didn’t. To him though, it did.

In the middle of his shaking and crying he looked up to you with his red puffy doe eyes. Before you knew it his lips were on yours. You weren’t expecting it, you didn’t know what to do. The moment you had been waiting your whole life for had just presented itself, and all you could think about was Tsukishima and how he kissed you, how he made you feel so good with nothing but his tongue.

You pulled away and stood up, apologizing quickly, and leaving your dorm. Yamaguchi sat there confused as well. Why did he kiss you? He didn’t have the slightest clue either. He was probably just so upset, maybe looking for a rebound. You shouldn’t be his rebound though. He was probably just confused. That’s what the both of you told yourselves anyway. He couldn’t have actually realized his feelings for you in that moment. Tsukishima would’ve told you he didn’t deserve to.

When you arrived at the door, you were hot again. Summer was back and you didn’t know why. But, Tsukishima could cool you down, he always managed to. When he opened the door and saw your distraught figure, he did nothing but open his arms. When you were upset you always seemed to want to be held. He didn’t get it, but making fun of you in that moment wouldn’t help.

You lunged into his arms and held him tight, burring your face in his shirt in an instant. He slowly picked you up, closed the door, and maneuvered over to his bed to sit the two of you down on it. You needed a friend right now.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” You stilled for a moment, taking a long hesitant breath before speaking. You wanted to try to remain as calm as possible.

“Y-Yams he.. his girlfriend broke up with him… He kissed me…” Tsukishima tensed up at this and started to rub circles into your back.

“Oh, he did? Dream come then?” You were gonna leave him again weren’t you?

You only shook your head, “I-I….I don’t think so…” you managed to squeak out, “I don’t know what I’m feeling… I just know I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Tsuki looked at you confused before sighing, now wasn’t the time to have a talk about your potential feelings for him. You just needed to rest.

“Emotions are shitty aren’t they?” He sighed out, you nodded and relaxed against him. Hopefully, you wouldn’t leave him for his idiot best friend. Not this time.

“T-Tsuki… I know I’m being really selfish right now but… I want you to make the pain go away.. I-I don’t think anyone else can do it..” You looked up at him with your eyes watering. It felt wrong to kiss Yamaguchi, like you were enacting a sin that god forbit you from. It felt dirty and wrong.

“What do you want me to do?” He sighed, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. It was sad how easily he gave into you.

“I-I don’t know.. I just feel dirty.. I feel wrong..” You said, bottom lip quivering slightly. He was honestly amazed at this. How could he make you feel like this? Why did kissing Yamaguchi make you feel dirty? Why did you think he could cleanse you? He shouldn’t act. He really shouldn’t. But your lips, they were so soft and inexperienced he kissed you.. would they be the same as last time? Would you be so quick to make a sound? He wanted to know, and he wanted to make you feel better.

So, he leaned down and kissed you. You didn’t pull away, didn’t scream in disgust. Rather, it seemed to be exactly what you wanted. A soft mewl of approval you let out shot straight through him. You learned into his touch, finally starting to cool down. This is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed. You need Tsukishima. It finally dawned on you that that’s why you were so repulsed by Yamaguchi kissing you, it was because you didn’t want anyone other then Tsukishima to be doing that kind of thing to you.

Once the kiss finally broke, a string of saliva connected your mouths. You were panting, your head dizzy from the overwhelming emotions. Tsukishima’s eyes just stared down at you, lust clouding his vision as his breathes labored slightly. He wanted to take things further, but he refused to let himself do that just yet. He had already indulged himself too much, but you looked so happy.

“Th-thank you..” You finally breathed out, “I-I.. thank you..” you mumbled, collapsing against the blonde’s chest. The effect he had on you was unbelievable, but it filled you with such pure and utter satisfaction.

He smiled down at you, a real genuine smile, “Get some sleep.” He told you, and you listened.

The following morning wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. When you woke up, he just held you against his chest. After a long talk that was much too sappy for Tsukishima’s liking, you two eventually decided to give dating a shot.

It scared you a little, you had to admit. You were nervous about your inexperience, most guys your age wouldn’t like that kind of thing right? But he reassured you, adding in a line making fun of you, calling you a baby to lighten the mood. He was happy. So happy. You both were.

This was right, it felt right.

As summer melted away into autumn, you found a new love, a new hope.

Maybe a new start wasn’t spring. Maybe a new start was Autumn after all.

Your fall, your Tsukishima. <3

Thank you all for reading!! Part 2 will be up at some point!! Have a lovely day <3

—masterlists

—rules/ requests

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jonnnysuh · 3 years

Text

Never Not - Park Jinyoung

Pairing: idol!Jinyoung x gender neutral reader

Summary: Your bad day is turned around when your childhood best friend, Jinyoung, returns to your hometown and takes you on a tour of your favourite memories together.

Genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: suggested sexual experience

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hi guysssss. I took a small break from tumblr bc I got super busy with work. I haven’t written something like this in a while, but I actually loved how it turned out. I recommend listening to Never Not by Lauv to get into the mood <33

Effort was hard to make these days. Even the way you walked had an unmistakable slouch. Your exhaustive strides were just a shallow reminder that there used to be a hop in your step. Five more minutes and you were free from the shackles of work. Free to figure out what to make for dinner, and appease the gurgles of your stomach.The seconds on the point of sale system didn't seem to move fast enough as you folded the customer's final item and shoved it into a bag.

When you were a kid, no one told you how exhausting being an adult was, and thus it became something to look forward to. You were so caught up on getting that first kiss, sneaking out to go to parties, seeing people that your parents didn't approve of, that you didn't realize that life didn't slow down from there. It was like you blinked, and you were no longer 16. Instead, you were twenty-something perpetually feeling like life was just an endless pit of "what ifs" and building up the courage to make something of yourself. Another mindless "Have a good day." escaped your lips as you bid a customer bye for the nth time that day. You wondered how many of your years would waste away telling others to have a good day, when you yourself hadn't had one in a while.

You pressed your fingers against your temple to sooth a small growing headache. Working in retail for as long as you had, you knew that the s-curved line of people didn't stop for your discomfort. With a fake smile on your face, you welcomed the next few customers as your eyes wandered around the store looking for the person who was going to take over for the next hour. Fifteen minutes past the hour, your replacement finally came. Externally, you wanted to scream and ask them what took you so long? but you knew that would only make you as good as the worst customer. Graciously, you nodded at them, before walking away to the back room to fetch your things and head out.

...

You stood against the wall at the bus shelter shivering from the cool summer breeze that was disguising just how rapidly autumn was truly coming. Today probably wasn't the best day to forget your coat. You rubbed your arms for warmth, taking micro footsteps in place. The pain in your feet made you romanticize the comfort of the sturdy old bus seats as a place of rest. You felt your phone in your pocket vibrate, but you let it ring out. You were determined to get a seat on this bus. A deep sigh escaped you as you surveyed the density of the crowd on the platform- the ride home was definitely going to be longer than usual. When the bus arrived, you queued behind a long line of people. Your phone rang a second time, at this point the crowd was getting larger and you knew you weren't going to get a seat on this bus.

PRIVATE CALLER

"Hello?" you pressed your phone to your ear. Sometimes your mother used phone booths to reach you, so you expected her voice to be on the other end of the line. "I'm offended I had to call you twice for you to pick up." The voice was much deeper, and the delivery much more lighthearted than anything that would've came out of your mother. The absence of a greeting was distinct and direct, but no matter, you knew exactly who this was.

You felt the tenseness of your shoulders drop with just the sound of this voice. "If I had definitely known it was you, I wouldn't have picked up, Mr. Private caller." you jest with the phone pressed between your ear and the crook of your shoulder.

"You know, I was gonna suggest that I pick you up, but just for that comment, I change my mind."

You poke your tongue at your cheek, coyly. For all the changes that occurred in your life, for some reason you could depend on Jinyoung's quick wit and humour to hit the spot even after all this time.

"That's fine, I just finished work so I was thinking of just going home anyways." You had no idea he was even back in South Korea. Last you heard, he was on tour somewhere in North America. More than that, you couldn't even remember when the last time you actually talked was. You were curious about what he was up to these days, but you you knew any hint of urgency in your voice would lead to incessant teasing on his part. The line progressed slightly, but you still didn't feel any closer to the entrance of the bus.

"I'm about to get on a bus home."

"Well, don't get on."

"If I don't get on then you're gonna have to repay me for the fare I paid to even get here." You eyed the bus reaching its capacity, and stepped aside. You twisted your fingers in hope that he was being 100% serious, otherwise you were going to have to wait out for the 6:30pm bus.

"I can't believe the cost of your attention is only $2. Do better." the voice quipped.

"Okay, Jinyoung I guess I'll just get on, then." you threatened, although you had no intention of boarding the departing bus.

"Fine, fine. I'll pay for your fare. Just wait for me."

...

The sky had darkened tenfold since you hung up from Jinyoung's impromptu call. The streetlights glowed gold against the lavender backdrop of the sky. You sat on the bus shelter bench, swinging your feet back and forth as you waited for him. If he took even a minute longer, you vowed to somehow become the president of the Park Jinyoung hate club. Of course, you wouldn't actually, but the idea became more appealing the longer you waited.

You weren't one to go on spontaneous outings- at least not since your teenage years. Recently, you followed the strict routine of work, home, sleep, and to stray from it seemed pointless. But the fact that he even thought of you when he came back home to South Korea was still not something you could wrap your head around.

In the distance, a glow of headlights appeared, stopping perfectly adjacent to your bus stop. The window rolled down, and there appeared Jinyoung's face in all its glory. To say all the words in your vocabulary disappeared would be an understatement. A part of you doubted he would even follow through. Without missing a beat, he returned a look to you. "You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna get in the car?"

...

Your backpack was sitting atop your lap, bouncing with the movement of the car. Jinyoung hung one hand over the steering wheel. The orange and purple of the sky twisting, and creating a brand new colour that only seemed to grace the skies at this hour. The music was unidentifiable, but the volume was low enough that you didn't even bother trying to figure it out.

"So what'd you do today?" he asked.

"I worked, I told you that." you replied, matter-of-factly.

"And how was it?"

"I honestly can't tell the difference between this week and last week. Or even last month. Same old, same old. Annoying customers, stale lunch, forgot my jacket at home even though it's 15 fucking degrees outside."

"Do you still work at that clothing store you started at when we were 20?"

Your eyes shifted, following the ever-changing scenery of the highway. No idea where he was bringing you, and yet you were brought to comfort by Jinyoung's habits. You knew he didn't have a drug deal, or a random party planned. Jinyoung was always the type to be home before midnight. He was a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes, but you weren't completely fooled. You knew he could bend the rules if it seemed to serve him.

"That exact same one."

"Anything else?"

You looked at him, the shock settling in that he was really right next to you-- no longer just a figure on a billboard that you used to know. The changes of his physicality were subtle; his face was more defined, but his cheeks still carried the baby fat that had been there since childhood. The shadow of his facial hair loomed on his smooth skin. The mole on the top of his lip, not necessarily gone, but faded. He looked older, but the aura of his presence remained the same.

"And then I was dumb enough to get into a car with a stranger because he said he'd give me $2."

Jinyoung side eyed you, causing you to erupt in laughter. His glare was also unchanging. "Stranger? Your memory's fading already?" He shook his head disappointedly. "I thought you still had a few good years left."

"Oh yeahhhhhh. Sorry Jinyoungie. Didn't recognize you with all the fame." you pinched and pulled on his ear- both things a relic of your grade school years. When you were kids, you never let him forget the age gap. Granted, it was only 3 days, but that gave you the freedom to refer to him however you pleased, while he was stuck with the honorifics.

As you let go, the curve of his ear flushed red. "OWW.” he cried, swatting your hand away. “You’re lucky I’m driving otherwise I would pull your hair.”

Being raised with Jinyoung meant that you were inseparable but kind of in the worst way. If Jinyoung got a good mark on a test, his parents would immediately flaunt it to yours. If you wanted to sneak out, he was on your tail telling you to go back home. And if he knew you liked someone, then that person would know soon enough by the words of Jinyoung. All of that warranted ear pulling, and if you did something in retaliation he would pull your hair.

He was one of the few people in your life, who encapsulated a certain time of your life. The time in your life when you were young, and the world felt so big and everything was possible.

The car rocked back and forth as it shifted into the elevated ramp of a parking lot. Your eyes widened as you realized where you were. He lingered in his seat before popping his seatbelt off and exiting the car. You followed him, swinging the passenger door open.

"So you randomly called me because you wanted to hang out at the...convenience store?" you gestured to the old, orangey building. The bricks were chipped, and the fluorescent lights illuminated the outside through the big glass window. You remember the days when you and Jinyoung would sit on the parking blocks and split a bag of chips until you were chased off the property by the owner. He pulled on the store door, pressing his back to it and letting you enter first.

"Well, I wasn't going to come here until you started yanking my ears. That's when I knew you were hungry."

Without stopping, you weaved through the store until you reached aisle 3- the snack aisle had become a home to you and Jinyoung when you were growing up. In grade school, you were both fearful of what was beyond the boundaries of your home and school so you indulged in after school snacks at the convenience to talk about the latest happenings in your life. As you aged, it became the place of solace after exams, or the meetup location for last minute plans.

He picked up a package of gummy worms, and shook them in your face. "Do you remember what happened the last time we ate theseeee?" Jinyoung smirked. For a moment, you were taken aback by how much he had grown. In your teens, you and Jinyoung met eye to eye. Now, you felt like you had to look up at him in order to be taken seriously.

You crossed your arms, "Yeah, we ate them in the parking lot and you made me confess who I had a crush on."

"Chan, right?"

You nodded, with a sulk as you reminisced. "That wasn't fair."

"Why? Do you still have a crush on him?"

"I haven't thought about him in so long. You really think I'd have a lingering crush on a guy I haven't seen in years?"

Jinyoung shrugged, and shifted his feet. "You had a huge crush on him, though. You even stared at him like this." He rested his palm to his cheek, letting out a deep sigh while trying to maintain an enamoured expression. You snorted, hitting him on the chest. "You'd write his name all over your notebooks AND you bullied me into giving you one of my new ones." he added.

You let out a belly laugh. "And then I wrote his name all over that one too."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "They were premium quality notebooks. My aunt sent me them from the states!"

"You had a kabillion of them. Besides, you pestered me for-like-ever to know who I liked, but you never even told me who you had a crush on." You grabbed the bag of gummy worms from his hand and placed it in your shopping basket. Your attention shifted, as you realized you should be in search of your favourite chocolates. You knew that you were far too old to be eating junk food for dinner, but there was something familiar about being hyped up on food that you knew would rot your insides. Your eyes landed on the top row of the wall, and before you could grab your favourite chocolates, Jinyoung stripped it from the wall and dropped it into the basket. He piled on a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and then you both ventured to the drink refrigerators.

Both of you stared deeply at your drink options. On each level of the fridge, stood several different colourful drinks. If you knew Jinyoung, then you knew he would pick a Coke- it was something he swore by in your younger years. You hummed, mentally deciding between an iced tea or a vitamin water. You weren't sure why it bothered you when Jinyoung picked up a Sprite, but you tried to hide your dismay. With an ice tea in hand, and a basket full of both of your favourite things, you made your way to the cashier.

At the last moment, Jinyoung placed a bright yellow umbrella on the checkout counter. He looked down at you, surely, “You never know when it’s gonna rain.”

...

The following car ride to your next destination only lasted about 3 minutes before he parked on the side of the road and dragged you down the street, with the plastic bag full of your foods in hand.

"I should've known you were going to bring me here." you said, strolling down the familiar gravel pathway towards your elementary school. All colour in the sky had disappeared now, finding it hard to see anything but the outline of each other and some features.

Both of you settled on the grass field, onlooking the tall school building that was the foundation of your formal years. As soon as you opened the bag of chips, you found yourselves deep in conversation, talking about what life had been for him the last few years. You couldn't help but be in awe when he explained the rush he got when he got on stage, and how he got anxiety when he thought he wasn’t doing his best. The candidacy of his thoughts drew you in and you were surprised that he trusted you with his secrets.

All these years, you had always wondered what he was up to, if he was living a life far better than the one he left at home. To everyone else, he was this huge pop star that had travelled the world 3 times over, but to you, he was your best friend who left home at 16. You had seen him through the bad hair phases, the adolescent temper tantrums, the voice cracks, and the questionable fashion choices both your parents had put you in.

He leaned back on his arms as he gazed at the school. "Are you afraid of change?" You were silent for a moment as you thought. "On a scale of 1-10?" you rocked your head back and forth. "It's a 15."

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows. You held your legs to your chest, and looked at him. "Why?"

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and looked smugly in the other direction. "Heyyy." you poked him repeatedly. "You can't just ask me that and not tell me why."

He enclosed his hand around your finger, forcing your poking to come to a halt. It felt like he was studying your face. Never in your life had you ever felt like you were under the scope of Jinyoung's gaze. The darkness of the sky acted as a mask, hiding your blushing face.

"It was the last thing I asked you before I left." he admitted. "I asked you that when things were about to change big time for us… I always wondered if you resented me for leaving you behind."

The last day before Jinyoung left to become a full-time trainee, you two snuck on to this very same field. Both of you ran across the grass, picking up dandelions; believing that if you gathered enough and blew on them, that they would fuel your wishes.

“You thought I could resent you?” He nodded. “Well, for starters, I hate your guts.” You replied sarcastically, causing him to look at the ground with embarrassment and your face softened at the sight of it.

“You know what I wished for on all of those dandelions, Jinyoung?”

“Not to fail the math exam.” Even in a soft moment, he couldn’t help but be sly. “No!” You exclaimed.

“Well, you should’ve. You got a 48.” He sensed your killer look on him. “So what’d you wish for?”

You played with your fingers. You thought you’d take this secret to the grave. “I wished that you’d be successful in whatever you chose to do.” His eyes enlarged, alarmed at your confession. “but maybe I should’ve wished for the math thing.”

Jinyoung giggled, inching closer to you so your legs were pressed against each other.

“What did you wish for?” You asked. He smiled with the side of his mouth, shaking his head.

“I wished that I’d always find my way back home.” “Oh goddd.” You gagged. “you’re so corny.”

“What about you, huh? You used your wish on me!” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the school playground.

“Hey, I might just be the reason why you’re famous.” You fought back.

You flipped your phone over, 7:53, the brightness of it only barely illuminating the dark. You thought about what you would be doing at this moment if you weren’t here, if he hadn’t picked you up. Mmm probably falling asleep to a tv show. Probably dreading tomorrow. Probably not as happy.

"But what did I say? You know… the first time you asked me that question?” You couldn’t even begin to imagine how 16-year-old you answered.

"You said you were excited to see who we were going to become.” The words of your younger self were so hopeful, yet your current self felt hopeless. Your expression sank, and Jinyoung offered a small smile to revive it. He felt guilty having asked you the question in the first place.

You sat in silence for a bit, dwelling on the excitement for life that you once had. Where was it? And how could you get it back?

“I feel like I’ve let myself down. I don’t even know who I am now.”

Jinyoung blinked slowly, watching his childhood best friend crumble. He rested a hand on your shoulder. "I just look at you, and in so many ways you're the same. I still know what makes you laugh, and the way you say things. I can still pick out your favourite snacks, and know you’re gonna pull my ears when I do something to piss you off.” he yanked on yours softly. "Everything about you feels just how I left you. I feel my youth when I'm with you. But at the same time I’m comforted by how much you’ve changed.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” You shook your head no. “Do you remember how scared you were to even leave the house when we were kids? Now you live on your own. You never took anything seriously back then, but you’re now one of the hardest working people I know…” his voice softened. “And you let yourself be vulnerable with me when it used to take hours to drag it out of you.” You laid on his shoulder, and he rested his head on top of yours, snuggling closer. “You fear change, yet you’re changing right before your own eyes. And maybe one day, I’ll come back here, and I won’t even be able to recognize who you’ve become.” You sniffled, the idea of Jinyoung not remembering you broke your heart. You held your chest. “But if that day does come, it’ll be okay. Because I know that the person that you’ve become will have it all figured out. I’ll always be rooting for every single version of yourself even if it doesn’t include me.” You sobbed quietly, interlocking your fingers with his. He held your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. For once, there was an action not done out of habit or relic. It was an action evoked just for this moment, and it was a change that you didn’t mind.

…

Jinyoung held your hand, leading you down a narrow road a few minutes away. The sound of crickets, barking dogs, and distant vehicles could be heard as you stood in the middle of the road of your childhood neighbourhood.

You hadn’t been here since you moved in 2016. You looked up at the large modern house that sat on what used to be two lots. Yours and Jinyoung’s childhood homes were purchased by a wealthy business man and demolished to build the business man’s dream home. You stared at the foreign house that sat on the place of your childhood dreams and frustrations.

Jinyoung placed his hands on your shoulders and stopped you at the exact halfway point between what was once his house and your house. You rubbed your arms as a gust of wind rushed by. Without thinking, Jinyoung slipped off his hoodie and placed it on top of your shoulders.

“I remember racing you down this street.” You piped up, pointing down the end of the road. Jinyoung always won that race. No one was faster than him on this street.

“I remember finding that stray puppy and fighting over who got to keep it.” He responded.

“It should’ve been me.” You bickered. Jinyoung laughed, amused at how you were always one to hold a grudge.

“Do you remember that day when it started raining soooo hard and we had to walk shoulder to shoulder under my umbrella?”

You nodded. “Ya, that was the same day with the gummy worms, you dummy.”

“So do you remember what happened right here?” He pointed at the exact spot you were standing. You racked your head for a memory, but nothing stood out to you clearly. You shook your head no. “We always said bye to one another here...but…?” you trailed off.

He took a step forward, both of you standing directly under the streetlight now. You watched his face light up as he likely played the moment back in his head. “So that day, standing under my umbrella, we were about to go our separate ways. You turned into me.”

He took another step closer, popping open the bright yellow convenience store umbrella and holding it over your heads.

You could see it now. It was drizzling so hard, even your hair wasn’t protected from getting soaked. You wrapped your hands around the handle, just like how you did back then. Chest to chest, huddled under the umbrella. Jinyoung locked eyes with you, your heart beat faster.

“And you looked at me, and I swear I was going to say everything I wanted to tell you right then and there.” Your mouth opened in shock. “This was the place where I almost told you I loved you.”

You studied the eyes of the boy you watched grow up. He looked scared, but sure. There was no doubt in your mind that Jinyoung meant what he said. He lowered the umbrella, not letting his gaze veer from you.

Your life was just a build up of what if’s and trying to gain the courage to make something of yourself… but you didn’t want that anymore. With your heart beating out of control, you leaned into him, taking the risk and kissing his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the heat of the kiss.

A round of thunder boomed above you, and little by little, raindrops began to pour from the sky.

You and Jinyoung separated to look up at the sky. “I did say, you never know when it’s gonna rain.”

You both ran for the car, shoulder to shoulder, under the umbrella. From your heads to your toes, you were soaked in the rain, but neither of you cared. You silently thanked the world for every bad thing that happened to you today that led to this.

…

You blinked your eyes awake, surveying the damp clothes strewn across your living room floor, and the heat of the bare body laying next to you on the couch. You stared at your sleepy childhood best friend, a smile spreading across your lips. This was a change you were ready for.

47 notes · View notes

kim-ruzek · 3 years

Text

Girl Crush

Summary: This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

Or; at the end of 3x23, Sylvie doesn't go home with Roman-- but instead with Kim. And gets the fucking she deserves.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. This is just my excuse to give Sylvie the orgasm she deserves and the one she clearly did not get with Ratman. And so there's also Roman bashing bc Roman is trash.

Word Count: 4.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: For @gilbxrt-blythe bc Abby started™ something in my mind on Sunday, thus leading me to writing this all yesterday bc,,, our girls deserve so much better than Sean Roman and this fandom needs more wlw content. Let's save our darling girls!!

Someone’s hooking up tonight.

Chili’s words go around in Sylvie’s head all night. Largely, she ignores them—or rather, tries to—just focusing on the beer she’s sipping faster than usual and the joyous atmosphere in the bar but there’s those moments it creeps into her thoughts.

Her PIC is right about one thing, the thing she said about volcanoes. The firehouse has been so tense of late and she can tell that a weight has been lifted off them, and Sylvie thinks that’s quite like a volcano. But she—perhaps, stubbornly—refuses to admit Chili might be right about the hooking up part.

If anyone was to know Sylvie’s thoughts, know that she’s trying, more vehemently that she should, to deny that, they question why. To which Sylvie would just claim that it’s because she hates gossiping about her co-workers, people who are her friends are family, and that she doesn’t like speculating on their sex lives.

Sylvie even tried to insist this to herself, not that it works. How can it when she can feel her toes curl slightly at the thought of just... Throwing everything to the wind and just enjoying some pure, unadulterated primal ecstasy. That she finds herself subconsciously looking around the bar, as if she’s trying to find a suitable candidate.

She has always felt the weight of her friends’ turmoil so heavily. Empathetic to the core, her father said, when he grinned at her becoming a paramedic, telling her it’s what she was born to do. She likes it, she does. She likes caring about those important to her, to care about anyone who’s a decent human—and even those who aren’t—but it gets tiring, feeling the weight of their unhappiness on her shoulders.

It’s not even like she was directly wrapped up in the drama going around in the house, but it was so intense—a volcano getting ready to burst. And something tells her that she won’t be able to shake it off with just getting drunk amongst her friends.

“Hey, Brett,” Sylvie looks to her left, seeing Sean Roman slip into the seat beside her. The paramedic smiles at him, ever polite, turning so she’s more face on to him. He was close to her before she shifted, and she thought that would be annoying, if he wanted to converse.

Only, Sylvie quickly gets that he doesn’t have talking on mind.

The patrol officer is quick to close the space between them again, shifting himself and resting a hand on the back edge of her seat. She could get away if she wanted, but it gives off a certain trapped vibe, a vibe that shows exactly the kind of intentions Roman has.

There’s a twist of uncomfortableness in her stomach. Roman is sort of attractive, she guesses, although she doesn’t know if she’d fully trust her taste in men yet; there being too many wrongly stacked choices compared to the right. But even if he was the hottest specimen she had ever seen, there’s something off putting about his approach, leaving her with the impression he doesn’t want her to move away from him.

But there’s that volcano inside her, wanting to explode, and the alcohol is already coursing through her veins, so despite the sober parts of her brain metaphorically screwing up its nose at the officer, Sylvie doesn’t attempt to move again, instead leaning on her arm, interested in whatever he has to say.

“I’ve got a few more interesting stories like that, if you want to hear more?” Roman smiles hungrily at her, his eyes making her feel like a piece of meat. He had just finished telling her an amusing story from patrol and she gets the impression that’s his hook, and that now he’s trying to reel her in.

“The bar’s a bit loud, though. So we should go back to mine,” There it is, the beginning of the reel. He’s looking hopeful at her, and there’s an attempt to look appealing, sexy. It doesn’t work, but Sylvie finds herself shrugging, thinking that she could do a lot worse that Sean Roman.

“Hey, Sylvie. Roman.” Before she can agree, Kim appears, seemingly out of nowhere.

The brunette is on the other side of her, her arm lightly touching her as she greets them. In a way, Kim is affectively penning Sylvie in like her partner did, but it doesn’t make her stomach twist in that same uncomfortable way. There’s some meaning to that, she knows, but she doesn’t bother to reflect on what.

“Hey, Burgess.” Roman seems irked. He’s looking at her rather rudely, and Sylvie doesn’t like that. She cares about her friends and Kim is one of her first Chicago friends who doesn’t work with her. So she grins at her a little wider then she already would, wrapping her arms around the other officer.

“Hey, Kim!” If Roman picks up on the pointedness in Sylvie’s tone, he doesn’t let on.

“Hi,” Kim smiles at her again, repeating a greeting before continuing and Sylvie must be a little more tipsy than she thought because her mind is immediately drawn to how pretty Kim looks when she smiles. “Chili had to leave early and asked me if I could drive you home instead. She said sorry, but there was a cute guy who she needed to know a bit better,”

Sylvie knows instantly that Kim is lying. Chili asked no such thing, considering she wanted to get absolutely wasted tonight and had no intention of driving herself home, let alone Sylvie. This lie is an anchor, a get out of jail card, a bailout. For who, she doesn’t know—doesn’t think that she’s too drunk to need it, but she takes it anyway.

“Oh, she promised she wouldn’t!” Sylvie goes along with the lie Kim has spun. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you,”

“Eh. It’s no problem.” Kim shrugs her off with a wave of a hand.

“I was actually about to leave myself. I can take Brett, you can just relax. That way I can continue telling her some patrol stories,” Roman inserts himself back in the conversation but Kim has no patience for him.

“We’re partners, I can tell her the stories. C’mon, Sylvie, let’s go.” Kim gently encourages Sylvie up. There’s a disappointment at not being able to expend all this tension away, but girl code is more important, and girl code is telling her to go with Kim.

“We have to walk around the block—I don’t actually have my car, so we’ll have to call a taxi.” Kim tells her when they leave Molly’s, arms linked. Neither of them are anything more than tipsy, but Sylvie finds herself giggling at her words.

“Then why did you drag me out? Was a guy bothering you?” She asks.

“Oh, trust me, I did that for you. You’d regret that so much tomorrow. The guy’s my partner and all, but he... I was on patrol with his ex. Going there—that wouldn’t give you any sort of satisfaction.” Kim explains, and Sylvie widens her eyes, giggling again.

“Really?” The irony of Sylvie spending the evening denying that she cares about gossip saying this, leaning in with intrigue, is not lost on her.

“Jenn didn’t say anything outright but... I asked why she got engaged so quickly and she expressed that he—her fiancé—is very talented with his tongue, if you get what I mean. I inferred the rest. A man who won’t eat out his girl is not a man worth your time.” Kim says very manner of fact, and Sylvie laughs at it, the brunette joining in shortly after.

“It’s the truth!” Kim insists through her laughter. They’ve walked around the corner, now, Kim quickly dialling for a taxi through her laughs.

“My ex fiancé never did.” Sylvie confesses when their laughter died down. Kim lifts an eyebrow.

“Never?”

“Never. He said it was disgusting. Didn’t stop him wanting me to suck him, though.” Sylvie can’t help the bitter edge to her words, thinking about Harrison and thinking about how she could waste her time on him. Kim, evidently, thinks the same.

“Life is too short for those kinds of men.” Kim says. Her words are assured, confident, just a statement and Sylvie just hums in response, thinking that Kim probably never wasted years like she did.

“Hey, Sylvie. I don’t mean that like... You deserve so much better.” Kim picks up on her sudden drop of mood. “I don’t know why we lower ourselves for arses like that, but you deserve so much better. Better than people like Harrison and Roman.”

“So do you—if your exes never..?” Sylvie quickly adds on and Kim lets out a snort.

“Oh yeah. I’ve dated my fair share of arseholes.” She nods. “I don’t know why they’re like this. You’re so pretty, I don’t know how anyone could want to fuck you and not completely worship you.”

This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

It deepens Sylvie’s blush.

The air between them immediately shifts, and it feels almost so natural, Sylvie finds herself questioning whether the air always felt this thick and charged. The air is heavy, and there’s this certain kind of electricity between them; an electric energy of sorts that reminds her of when she was eighteen and her friends and her caught a ride into the nearest big town and snuck into the club—and of Sylvie waiting outside for her friends after and sharing her first—and only—kiss with a girl.

“That’s cos we’re women, though? We know what we want.” Sylvie tries to push all those thoughts aside.

Tries to ignore what she feels building in the air—because surely, it’s just in her mind? Just because she was thinking about throwing caution to the wind and having a night of passionate, explosive sex—and tries to not focus on how pretty Kim looks, how she looks like she’s the best and worst decision she could ever make wrapped up in one.

On how Kim is looking at her with such intense eyes, almost hungry eyes, eyes that says she wants to be one of those men.

“That’s not just why. I wouldn’t just eat you out until you come screaming because I’m a woman, I’d do it because I want to make you come undone at my doing—like you deserve.” Kim’s words sends pulsating throbs through her body, and she can feel herself getting turned on, her body feeling like Kim has just found the secret code to her with just her words. Sylvie stares at Kim, with shock.

“You... I... What?” Sylvie splutters, unsure of what exactly Kim is saying.

“I’m just saying. You’re hot, Brett. I can see why Roman tried.” There’s a pause. “I’m not trying to ruin our friendship. Tell me if I’m wrong, that I’m not picking up on some things and I’ll shut up and just get you home. But if I’m right, I’ll fuck you right.”

“I...” Sylvie is facing Kim dead on, now, the space between them feeling like too much, electric and heavy. It’s dark, the only light being the street lamp. But it catches the side of Kim’s face, lighting it up in such a pretty way and it stirs something deep and primal inside her.

The dark, positively hungry eyes Kim is looking at her with doesn’t help, either. It’s not like earlier, with Roman, it doesn’t make her feel like a piece of meat. It makes her feel like she’s the world’s most precious delicacy and that Kim would give her left arm just to get a taste.

“You’re right.” The words are barely out of her mouth when Kim is closing the space between them. One of her arms slips around the blonde’s waist, pulling her flush to her, the other gently resting on the bend of Sylvie’s neck as she kisses her.

Kim’s lips are soft, her touch gentle. The kiss starts off slow, although Sylvie wouldn’t have thought it with the way her body immediately responds, aching and her heart beating. But then Kim deepens the kiss, encouraging her mouth to open wider, slipping in her tongue. Sylvie responds eagerly, her arms wrapping around Kim, practically grabbing hold of her so she can return the kiss more fiercely.

If this was a preview into the abilities of Kim’s tongue, Sylvie doesn’t think that she’ll have to work her long before—to use Kim’s words—Sylvie’s coming undone at her doing.

When the taxi arrives, honking it’s horn on the two, busy kissing each other like they’re the only people in the world, the alcohol running through their veins and their and respective tiring days edging them on, making them so filled with want for this, they pull apart, out of breath, chest heaving.

They share smiles, little light-hearted giggles as they pull apart, climbing into the taxi. Kim opens the door, grabbing at Sylvie’s hand as she does so before moving swiftly out the way so she can climb in first.

They don’t make out in the taxi. They’re not even jammed up too close together, their bodies just turned towards each other. They are close enough for them to still have their hands interlocked, although it’s more like their arms at places and for their feet to lightly tap at the other’s, playing a footsy kind of game but they’re friends, they shared a taxi before, they’ve even had this ease of physical contact before.

Sylvie would almost wouldn’t be able to tell that the line between friends and lovers had been blurred for tonight, if it wasn’t for the electric energy between them, from how Sylvie’s just waiting until they can get back to hers, and how whenever Kim moves her fingers up and down her arm, gently running against her skin, it feels like little shocks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to yours,” Kim says as Sylvie leads her up the stairs. They’re deviating between holding hands and not, joking around as they make their way. Sometimes Kim’s spinning ahead of her, their hands dropping from their grip, and sometimes Sylvie is.

“We have only known each other a year and we have busy jobs.” Sylvie points out. Kim sticks out her tongue playfully and Sylvie has to stop herself from capturing it, and kissing Kim again. “This is me.”

Sylvie goes in first, opening her front door and placing her keys in her pot. Kim follows, and Sylvie watches as the brunette kicks off her shoes immediately, shrugging off her coat. For someone who’s never been here before, Kim fills the air with a confidence and it only fuels Sylvie’s need, her own confidence as the volcano erupts.

With a swift kick, Sylvie shuts her door and then her hands are on Kim, pulling her close. She grabs her hand, stopping her from moving further away from her, pulling her to her and capturing her lips in a kiss.

“Hm,” Kim moans against her, kissing her with a casual, yet urgent force. The melodic hum is tinted in amusement, and she pulls away briefly, to Sylvie’s disappointment. “So, we’re going straight to this? Aren’t even going to ask if I want a beer?”

Her words are said in an amused tone, but Sylvie still finds herself blushing, cursing herself slightly.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Do you—” She’s interrupted by Kim kissing her.

“You’re so easy to tease. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to drink. Eat, maybe.” Sylvie goes to panic again but then she sees the glint sparkling away in her eye and she blushes, getting the play on words.

“Hm, well there’s only one thing on the menu if you’re,” she pauses, “Hungry,”

Sylvie could swear that Kim licks her lips but then the brunette is kissing her again and all thoughts go out of her head, the only thing on her mind being the taste of Kim and getting her to her bedroom as soon as she can.

Neither of them are determined to disconnect from one another for long, not even in the interest in getting to her bed unscathed from injuries. Kim hits into the sofa and Sylvie nearly trips over something she left on the floor, but the two stay touching, kissing each other hungrily and needily.

Sylvie would love to say that she savoured the moment Kim took off her top, but any clothes removed is done hastily, urgently, the clothes feeling too much, too intrusive. All Sylvie can do is give Kim a quick, appreciative look over after she tosses off her top.

Although, she thinks, that could do more with that Kim then helps her get her top off, and rewards her with her lips on her neck immediately after.

“There,” Sylvie manages to gasp out, pointing at which door is her bedroom’s, as Kim pushes her up against her wall, attacking her neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh. She’s going to have a mark there tomorrow, but tonight, tonight she doesn’t care, just tilting her head aside for her to have more access, her hands just grabbing at Kim as she does so.

Despite the urgency to get this far into her apartment, Kim has apparently decided they don’t need to finish the stretch right now, focusing on kissing along her collarbone, back up along her neck and jawline, stealing kisses from her lips before heading back down. She doesn’t go too far down with her kisses, but it’s enough to send Sylvie’s mind haywire, especially when she brushes along with her teeth.

All Sylvie can do is grab at Kim’s hair, the other hand resting on her waist, running up and down her back with her nails and moan at the kisses, grasping at her. One of Sylvie’s legs loops around Kim’s in a kind of way, pulling her lower body closer to her own, in the perfect place for Sylvie to grind against, needing to alleviate some tension.

It’s only when Kim’s hand snakes away from it’s current position and runs along the waistband of her jeans, deftly undoing her button and slipping inside does Sylvie gasp, pushing at Kim slightly. Kim’s hand is still cold from the cool Chicago night air, and Sylvie can feel the cold as Kim runs her hand against the cotton of her panties, lightly brushing over her throbbing clit.

“Bedroom. Kim, bedroom,” Sylvie gasps.

“Hm. Impatient, are we?” Kim grins at her, and Sylvie can’t help comparing it to a wolf looking at it’s prey. The brunette is so sweet and kind, Sylvie never would’ve guessed that she was like this—so confident and devious—in the bedroom. Or, rather, the hallway. But Sylvie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kim steps away from Sylvie then, and she immediately misses the warmth of her body, and her hand's presence from where it was so close to where she wants—no, needs—her. She’s going into Sylvie’s bedroom, beckoning the blonde to follow.

Sylvie is starting to rather feel like putty in Kim’s hands, and she’s never been a passive participant in her sex life—well, except when she lets men (Harrison) rule how she should be—and she’s not about to start.

She follows Kim on through, and she already has an advantage knowing the layout of her bedroom. Sylvie’s hands are on Kim again, and she’s leading, practically pushing, Kim to her bed, the brunette having no choice but to lie down on it, Sylvie immediately straddling her.

“Not a very good cop, are you?” Sylvie teases her, and when Kim goes to protest, she grinds down slightly, knowing exactly where it’ll cause friction. It has the desired effect, Kim moaning, her eyes fluttering shut slightly. Her hands are resting of Sylvie’s hips, and they go up then, stroking at the soft skin of her stomach.

“Bra, off. Now,” Kim says, running a hand along the edge of the bra. Sylvie grins wickedly at her, wondering why Kim ever thought she still had the upper hand, to doll out an order.

“Yes. That’s a good idea.” Sylvie shifts down Kim slightly, resting more weight on her own kneeled legs, allowing for Kim to sit up. The brunette clearly thinks it’s so she can help Sylvie with the bra, but Sylvie catches her hands, stopping her, and instead undoes Kim’s bra.

Sylvie’s never been intimate with a woman like this. There’s been those dreams—day dreams and actual dreams—that she spent a while trying to ignore, and thinking she’ll never act upon. But she’s never, physically, been with one and whereas her confidence has gotten her this far, she falters as Kim takes off her bra.

There’s that hesitation, that hesitation that she wants Kim—needs Kim—that this is exactly how she wants to explode tonight, but there’s that knowledge that she’s inexperienced in this, hitting her as she’s confronted with Kim’s naked chest.

“Is this too much?” Kim picks up straight away that Sylvie is having a moment, her eyebrows furrowing, turning concerned. “We can stop or just make out. Whatever you want—consent still applies with two women, y’know, and I won’t mind.”

Sylvie looks at her, Kim’s voice so gentle and caring, her big, brown eyes only filled with concerned, and something inside her throbs and Sylvie’s hesitation wears off as she realises that there’s nothing to be intimidated by, and Kim won’t mind if she has to guide her a little.

“Nah, I’m just taking your beauty in.” Sylvie jokes, before adding more seriously, “This is exactly what I want, Kim.”

“Good.” Kim smiles. “Because I’m feeling that we should even things here.”

Sylvie should’ve know that Kim would take off her bra as soon as she could, the brunette raking her eyes greedily over her body. She grabs at Sylvie’s thighs, positioning her in a way that she can sit on her and they can kiss with ease.

Kim doesn’t spend long kissing her lips before she’s travelling again, her fingers gently tracing patterns on her back as she kisses down her neck, collarbone, going between kisses and nips. Sylvie tries to adjust herself so that she can kiss the dip of Kim’s shoulder as she does so, but Kim tries her hardest to stop any attempts, not wanting to be restricted in her own explorations.

When Kim’s mouth gets to her chest, she pauses. Sylvie has barely any time to wonder what will happen next when Kim’s hand is palming one breast, making her gasp in surprise. The brunette lifts her mouth from her body, instead taking advantage of her agape mouth, kissing her deep. And then she’s moving them, laying Sylvie down, shifting who’s winning this lustful game of cat and mouse they’re playing.

Kim doesn’t straddle her like Sylvie did earlier, just making them vertical, Kim between her legs. She’s squeezing her breast again, and then her mouth is around the other’s nipple, rolling her tongue around it, and Sylvie lets out a loud moan she’d almost be embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so good. Kim works her like this for god knows how long before switching.

And then Kim is once again pulling away and Sylvie pouts, to Kim’s amusement.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kim coos at her. “I’m just taking off your jeans so I can fuck you with my mouth.”

Sylvie never knew hearing Kim swear could sound so hot.

“Your jeans too. I was you as naked as I am,” She doesn’t know how she still has brain power to compose thoughts, focused so much on the needy ache in her body.

Kim steps off the bed so that she can shimmy off her jeans. Her panties match the bra she was wearing and Sylvie couldn’t even describe how much that made her desire spike. She wonders if Kim was working today and if she changed before going to Molly’s—curious to know if Kim wore such lacy stuff to work.

Surely not? Sylvie sure as hell doesn’t, let alone wearing a matching set.

“Like what you see?” Kim flirts before climbing back onto the bed, immediately getting to work on helping Sylvie get off her own jeans. There’s a moment when they’re off that Sylvie gets momentarily self conscious of her near-naked body, but then Kim’s running a finger along her panties again, pressing down on her clit through the fabric.

The sound it elicits from her is a mix between a gasp, moan and whine.

“Kim,” Sylvie practically begs as she releases the pressure, resuming to gentle barely there strokes as she returns her mouth to her breasts, collarbone and neck. Kim seems to get the message because then she’s—with skill that makes Sylvie wonder just how many times Kim has done this—hooking her fingers around her panties and taking them off.

She doesn’t hesitate to resume her actions, now without the fabric in the way. Kim dips a finger inside her, her thumb brushing against her clit with differentiating levels of pressure and Sylvie can’t help but shut her eyes and moan at the sensation, Kim working her with her talented fingers.

“You’re so wet,” Kim whispers into her ear, nibbling against her jawline before adding another finger. She laughs hotly against her as Sylvie tightens, squeezing Kim’s fingers. She’s just about used to the feeling, and the motions, a pressure inside her building, but then Kim’s pulling them out and she’s whining.

And then Kim’s pulling away from her, and Sylvie just about opens her eyes, lifting up her head, in time to see down her body, looking devilishly. And then Kim’s licking her and it’s everything she’s wanted, needed, and her head is falling back down. Kim works her with her mouth, and all Sylvie can think is about how indeed, Kim is mightily skilled with her tongue.

The tension in Sylvie builds quickly, fast approaching her orgasm, Kim lapping at her and using her fingers to add that extra sensation, rubbing and pinching, alternating between making she’s in place and fondling her breasts and Sylvie’s gripping at her covers, gasping and whining as she writhes, overwhelmed at the sensations.

All thoughts have left her mind, and all Sylvie can focus on is the quick approaching climax, not caring about how lost in it she must be—not caring how loud she’s being, how unfiltered and uncontrolled she is, just focused on how good Kim is making her feel.

And then she reaches her climax, Kim is taking her over and she gets her wish—it’s everything Sylvie has needed, and she screams, full of ecstasy, her body overcome with sensation, toes curling as she comes around Kim’s tongue, the brunette continuing to lap at her, guiding her through her orgasm.

“That...” Sylvie pants as soon as she can. “That—exactly what I needed.”

It’s not perfect grammar, but she thinks Kim gets it, if how she smiles and moves so she’s cuddling against Sylvie, is any indication.

#kim burgess #sylvie brett #chicago pd #Chicago fire #kim burgess x sylvie brett #Chicago pd fanfiction #Chicago fire fanfiction #ree writes #ree's.writing #ree.smut #ree.wlw

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jean-kayak · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: really this chapter is just fluff, underage drinking (reader is 20), Eren being a huge SIMP and SAP, reader gets a little tipsy, suggestive like once bc its Eren

Word Count: 3408

A/N: This one is not even close to being as long as the next chapter, but yeah, I really went in on the fluff and cuteness on this lmao enjoy

Tags: @iwascrybaby, @germinvasion, @styxtm, @prxttyguardian, @bigdaddyzawa, @erensblackgirlfriend, @kbbvbz, @tomsadversary, @pettyluxury, @protectpancakes

Chapter Summary: A mini vacation makes Eren come to a stark realization

Playlist for this Chapter:

1. While We're Young- Jhené Aiko

2. Morning Glory- Kehlani

3. Normal Girl-SZA

4. Off The Grid- Alina Baraz ft. Khalid

You raise your eyebrows when he tells you that you need a pack a bag, and you frown at him in suspicion, but he doesn't even blink at you as he goes back to whatever he was doing.

Your parents weren't home at the time you were leaving, so you just told them that you were hanging with Ymir for a couple of days, Jean wasn't going to be home, and you were going to be back before him, so you figured you didn't need to tell him anything.

So Eren decides to leave late at night on Friday, and ten minutes later he texts you that he's outside, and then he's driving down the street and to who knows where. You yawn widely, tears forming in your eyes, and you wipe them away as you notice that you've been driving for more than thirty minutes.

"You taking me somewhere in the country or something?" you ask, seeing that you don't recognize your surroundings anymore.

He chuckles as he reaches over to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "I told you. It's a surprise, it's about a couple hours away."

You roll your eyes when he tells you it's a surprise but nod anyway even though that still doesn't tell you exactly where you're going, and he huffs when you say you're going to go to sleep for the rest of the ride, and as you doze off, you feel his lips on your hand.

You feel something shaking your shoulder, and you breathe in deeply as you peel your eyes open, looking around to see you're in a parking lot. "Where are we?" you ask with a yawn, looking ahead of you to see a big building about two stories tall.

"Furniture store." You frown, turning your head to look at him.

"A furniture store? Why?"

"Wanted to change up my apartment," he answers, getting out the car and you follow.

"And why did I have to come?" you ask, meeting him on his side of the truck as he locks it.

"To get you some practice, since you wanna do interior design. You can use my apartment as a project or something." You feel your face heating at the thought, and you mask it with a scrunch of your nose.

"You're a dork." He smirks softly as he wraps his arm around you, walking you towards the building.

"Only for you."

The automatic doors slide open, and the place is pretty huge, but not big enough where you feel like you might be lost, and you let him lead you whichever way. "Okay, so what do you start with?" he asks you, stopping at the living room section, and you shrug.

"Colors, I guess," you admit, looking at the different couches. "What's your favorite color?" you ask, absentmindedly running your hand over the back of an armchair.

"Any color that you look good in." You roll your eyes as you scoff, turning to look at him.

"Which is?"

"Everything." You chuckle as you push at his chest lightly, almost thinking it's a lost cause until he speaks up again. "I don't know. Dark green, maybe?"

You nod as you look at the different furniture. "Okay, that's a start. And sometimes, I look at how big you want something to be depending on what you want to use it for. So, for example, how big would you want your couch to be?"

"Big enough for us to have sex on." You drop your head as you scoff, having trouble fighting the smile off your face.

"You're insufferable." You're pretty sure Eren makes you walk through the entire store, looking at stuff that you know he doesn't even own, and you notice that he keeps asking you if you like certain things or not.

"Why does it matter if I like it or not? It's your apartment," you add, and he busies himself with pulling the drawers open on a desk while he keeps his other arm wrapped around your waist. He mumbles something that you don't catch, but you don't get to ask because he's pulling you somewhere else.

You're almost out of the place when your eyes land on the prettiest coffee table you've ever seen. You gasp in surprise, stopping in your tracks and walking towards it, pulling Eren with you.

It's a deep mahogany, glass on top, and there's storage for smaller things like magazines or coasters, and it's just right height, you never understood the appeal of coffee tables that are nearly touching the ground. "You like it?" Eren asks you, jumping you out of your trance.

"I love it," you breathe, running your hand over it softly. "But there's literally nowhere for me to put it," you joke, giving it one last look before you start to walk away, and you stop when you realize Eren's not following. "Are we leaving?" you ask, pointing towards the door, thinking that maybe he wanted to look at something else.

But then he's waving you off, walking towards you. "Yeah, let's go."

"You know we just passed the college Jean goes to, right?" you say, your eyebrows raised, and Eren just shrugs as he keeps his attention on the road.

"Yeah, so?"

"So? What if he sees us? He said he had something to do for school," you stress, starting to feel yourself panic a little.

"Don't worry. Seriously, he's not going to find out." He sounds confident, so it calms you a little bit, but that panic is still underlying. He grabs your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. "I'm being serious. I already checked beforehand, we're fine."

You nod this time, his words reassuring you as you start to notice the light poles on the street you're driving down are covered in decorations. The further he drives down the road, the more decorations seem to be lining the buildings. "Is there some kind of festival?" you ask, looking around.

Eren shrugs as he pulls the truck into a parking spot on the street. "Let's find out," he says, and you're once again following him out, and when you get out, you can hear music playing. You follow the sound of the music, and you reach what must be the main area because there's suddenly food trucks lining the streets, a bunch of activities to do, and a crowd of people dancing.

They've cut off the whole street for the occasion, and you smile widely as you look around. "I think this is some festival for the town or something," Eren says, remembering hearing something about it before he went back home, and you bounce on your feet excitedly.

"Well, we can't just stand here!" You grab his hand, almost pulling him off his feet as you run towards the thicker part of the crowd. He laces his fingers with yours as you both walk through to look at the different venues and the different food they have.

He nearly buys everything that your eyes linger on for too long, and you firmly tell him to not buy you anything else, to which he just responds with a roll of his eyes, both of you knowing that he's still going to do it.

He watches you fondly when you get excited about the face painted, but he denies it when you say that he should get one. "Oh, come on, you have to get one," you urge, feeling the paint on your face starting to harden.

The person who did yours tells you that you could paint on Eren's face and that only makes you more excited. You force him to sit down on the bench as you look through the options, grabbing his wrist when he tries to sneak away.

"Just pick one, please?" you say, and he gives you a warm look as he smiles softly.

"Fine." He gives in, and you grab the brush excitedly. "Anything yellow," he responds when you ask him what he wants.

"Why yellow? Because I look good in it?" you tease, picking out something that's easy for you to draw.

"It's the color you picked on the fortune teller." You freeze, looking up at him, before smiling softly as you dip the paintbrush in the paint.

"You remember that?" you ask shyly, and he would nod, but you're already starting to paint on his face.

"Of course I do. It's the first time I talked to you." He huffs softly when he sees you shy away again before you focus on the flower you're drawing. He chuckles softly as he watches you stick your tongue out in concentration, and you pull away with a frown.

"Why are you laughing at me?" you ask, grabbing his chin to angle his cheek closer towards you.

He moves before you can turn his face, pecking a kiss on your nose. "Because you look cute." You shake your head, feeling your face flush warm before grabbing his chin again and moving his head where you want it.

"Okay," you sigh when you finish, putting the brush down, and you hold the mirror up for him to see what it looks like, and you put your head on the side of it. "Do you like it?" you ask impatiently, and he nods as he stands, pulling you up with him.

"Yeah, it looks good for someone with no art skills," he jokes, making you roll your eyes but you laugh anyway, and you both walk away as he takes out his phone.

You peek over his shoulder, not realizing he opened the camera app, and he plants his lips on your cheek that doesn't have paint on it, snapping the picture, and he locks his phone before you can see it. You're trying to convince him to let you see it, both of you walking closer to the music, and suddenly you're being pulled into the dancing crowd.

Both of your eyes widen in surprise, but then you notice a kid grabbing your hands, and you laugh instantly as you start dancing, blending into the crowd, but to Eren, you're the only one he sees.

And huh.

Is that what this feels like? He's always seen it in movies, read it in books, but he's never experienced it like this, the feeling so strong. He unlocks his phone, his heart skipping a beat when he looks over the picture, the biggest grin on his face before he looks back up at you.

You look like you're having the time of your life, and he realizes that he's fallen so far, so fast in so little time. He feels like he's living in some kind of movie, and he always thought it was unrealistic to feel this way about you in a short amount of time, but the longer he looks at you, the more he believes that it's more than possible.

And he looks back down at his phone, making the picture his lock screen.

"Let me have some more," you whisper, and Eren rolls his eyes as he scoffs, checking to make sure the coast is clear before handing you his glass.

"Woah, woah," he says when you take a huge sip of wine, taking the glass out of your hand. "Ease up will you," he chastises, setting the glass on the stool next to the both of you.

"I have to get as much as I can before they see me," you respond, having trouble hiding your giggles as the alcohol fills your system.

The festival had started to die down, and he saw a sign for wine and art. He knew they weren't going to let you have any, but he was having a hard time denying you, and now he scoffs at your tipsy state. "We're supposed to be painting," he responds, grabbing the paintbrush.

"Well, what are we drawing?" you say, your words slurring just a bit, and he shrugs as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

"Whatever you want," he says, adjusting the both of you on the stool you're sitting on. He was surprised the both of you could fit on it, but he only took that as an excuse to hold you. "How about four flowers?"

Your eyebrows crease before you turn to look at you. "Why four?" He smiles at you, and you feel like you should know the answer, but you can't think of it. "The fortune teller?" you try, and he nods, making you roll your eyes.

"Why are you such a sap?" you reply playfully, and he laughs softly before putting the brush in your hand, then putting his hand on top of yours. He guides your hand over the canvas as you start painting. "How'd you know that these are my favorite?"

"Lucky guess." It's the flowers you had in your hair at the wedding.

You frown at him again, but go back to painting anyway, the strokes not as clean due to a variety of reasons, but the outline comes out good, and he helps you color them in.

He lets you have one last sip before he tells you that you're not getting anymore, and you frown but listen anyway. "Why aren't you drinking?"

"Because I'm driving," he replies lamely, and you nod softly as your mouth falls open.

"Oh. You're so responsible."

He rolls his eyes. "Thanks," he says dryly.

You both finish your painting around the same time everyone else does, or rather people are starting to get less incoherent, so they can't focus on painting, and Eren takes the canvas, leading you out of the gallery with an arm around your waist.

"I'm so full and tired," you whine, your steps a little wobbly, and he chuckles as he carefully puts the canvas in the backseat before helping you in.

He starts driving away and about ten minutes in, he realizes you're really quiet, so he assumes you've fallen asleep, but then you gasp, making him jump out of his skin and almost swerve off the road.

"What the fuck--"

"A drive-in movie, we have to go!" you yell, probably a little bit more loudly than you needed, pointing out the window, and he looks to see an empty lot with cars and a giant movie screen.

He finds himself already slowing down and turning into the lot without even thinking about it, backing in so that you can watch the movie from the bed of the truck. He gets out first, letting the tail down so that he can set up some of the blankets he still has in his truck before helping you up, your steps shaky as you get in.

He lays down first, and you follow, and he chuckles as you instantly grab a blanket, wrapping yourself up before you lay on him. "Don't fall asleep, this was your idea," he speaks up when he hears you go quiet again, and you shift slightly.

"M not sleep. I'm just tired," you mumble, making him huff fondly.

The movie that's playing is something he's never seen before, and he's actually pretty focused on it when he feels you moving, and he just assumes that you're trying to get comfortable.

"Eren," he hears you whisper, and he hums to show that he heard you, keeping his focus on the movie.

"What, baby?" he says when you say his name again, and he tears his eyes from the screen to look down at you.

"I want a kiss," you say softly, and he half rolls his eyes before leaning down anyway. "One more." He sighs fondly before leaning down again, cupping your face in his hand, and he pulls away when you try and deepen the kiss.

"You're drunk, baby," he tells you, and you frown as you shake your head.

"No, I'm not," you argue, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Intoxicated," he tries, and you purse your lips as you think.

"Maybe." He huffs again before kissing you on the forehead.

"I'll kiss you again when you're sober." You groan softly in protest, but you don't say anything else as you turn your attention back to the movie.

Eren rolls his eyes when he hears you complain about being tired for the millionth time that night as he guides you into the dark apartment. He leads you to his room, catching you every time you almost fall, and the moment your eyes land on the bed, you're flopping on it face down.

"Hey, you gotta change first," he tells you, dropping your bag on the floor softly, but you groan softly, turning your head so that you can breathe.

"M fine," you argue, and he scoffs as he walks over to you.

"Trust me, you'll want to get changed." You groan as you roll over, unbuttoning your shorts, sliding them down your legs before letting them fall to the floor. You roll back onto your stomach, reaching under your shirt to unhook your bra, maneuvering it out from under you before it joins your shorts on the floor.

"Are you happy now?" you groan, and he rolls his eyes again as he moves back to your bag. You feel the bed dip next to you as he climbs in, but you don't move.

"Can you sit up for me?" he asks, and you sigh, turning your head to look at him. "It'll only take a second."

You sit up slowly as you start to feel a headache coming on, blinking slowly, and you notice that he's putting your bonnet on, and he catches you when you try and lay back down, not letting you go until all of your hair is in it.

"Now you can lay down." He barely gets the words out as your body hits the mattress again, and you get comfortable as you snuggle your face into the pillow, and he notices that you're blinking gets heavier, but you're looking at him.

"What?" he questions softly, running the back of his fingers over your face gently, and you give him a sleepy smile.

"You're really pretty," you mumble, and he huffs in surprise as he feels his face heating up.

"You think I'm pretty?"

You nod as fast as your body can let you, sighing heavily. "You're like...like," you nod again. "Yeah, you're like really pretty." And then you're out like a light.

Your soft snores fill the room, and he finds himself smiling fondly as he watches you sleep, and before he can think, he's slowly getting out of the bed and grabbing his sketchbook. He slides back in the bed, and all of the images from earlier today come flooding into his head and onto the pages.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, filling every last inch of the paper in you, but he can't stop until he's drawn everything. He draws your face when you were concentrating on painting on his face, he draws you attempting to concentrate on the painting even though the wine was making you even more incoherent, and he finds himself smiling for long enough that his face hurts.

When he gets all of those images out of his head, he looks back over at you before starting on the next drawing, chuckling softly at how your face is smushed by the pillow.

And he wonders if it could work between the both of you, but he doesn't know how you feel, and he doesn't want to do anything that will cause you to stop talking to him like you did back then even though he still doesn't know what he did.

But he's scared to ask, and part of him thinks it's the reason for that conflicted look you have in your eyes sometimes, and he wants to ask you what he did so that he can fix it because he doesn't want to hurt you. Not when you mean so much to him.

When he thinks that he's gotten most of the images drawn, and when he's about to run out of room is where he should call it a night, putting the book somewhere you won't be able to find it easily before laying down next to you.

You breathe in deeply, shifting closer to him in your sleep, and he carefully lays you on his chest, and the familiar weight of you puts him to sleep.

|Chapter 13|Masterlist|Chapter 15|

#nothing changed #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren jaeger x black reader #eren yaeger x black reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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mysmegrace · 3 years

Note

hey love, how are you? i was wondering if you could do mc (any gender) and 707 going on a dinner date:)

hello love, i'm excellent (bc of u). of course i can, anything for you :3 i've decided to use they/them pronouns in this fic so it's easier for people to insert their own pronouns and gendered language as well as it being applicable to more people yknow. anyway i hope i did this justice <3

summary: saeyoung and mc got out to dinner to end the day. unbeknown to mc, saeyoung has a surprise to ask you.

words: 1.8k

Elly The Fourth (707 x MC)

---

you knew saeyoung had a tendency of being late, sometimes he’d even push it to the 15-20 minute mark. you vividly remember telling him about it in the past, but you two always came to an agreement. after all, you couldn’t stay mad when he’d grab the cat ears he had laying around, putting them on while puckering his lips to express false innocence.

however, he had failed to hold up your previous agreement of “if you are to be late, let me know beforehand”. passing a new number on the clock every time you looked up, the restaurant continued to populate with no sign of the man you longed for. boy would you let him have it this time.

you needed something new as a form of punishment. something that would make him stick to your agreements. maybe the silent treatment, or perhaps you’d whip him with the belt he spent a ridiculous amount of money on? “wait no... that wouldn’t end well on my end” you thought as your memories reminded you of his sadistic nature.

while trying to come to a consensus, the vermillion haired man entered the establishment. showing off his typical goofy, yet tender, smile as he eyed your sitting position down. you could hear the clicking of his shoes coming closer, but paid no attention as you had heard that the entire evening from strangers surrounding you.

“boo!” you hear suddenly, almost springing out of your seat, partially convinced your heart would jump out of your chest for a split second. however you had no time to take in sudden scare as your body instantly started to heat up. he arrived 25 minutes late and has the audacity to make his grand entrance by frightening you?

being met with silence on his end, he decides to quickly break the tension. “sorry i’m late, it was an accident” he says, only telling half of the truth. it was an accident in the fact that he was late and didn’t intend on being, but wasn’t an accident in the sense that he knew what he was doing beforehand.

however, he would keep that a secret until the time was right. surprises are better if they’re unexpected after all. snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed how your lips haven’t dared to move in the few minutes he’s been here. trying to come up with ways to lighten the mood while getting a response from you, he says “i’m really sorry. please forgive me and talk to me. it was for a good reason, i promise. you’ll find out soon enough”.

watching as your eyes softened and your posture lightened exactly when he was now eye level with you, he takes it as a sign to continue on with the original plan. only hoping your body language was from you being convinced by his words rather than because of your growing disappointment towards him. going to take the seat across from you, you answer “saeyoung, we’ve talked about this. why were you so late?”.

“babe, i can’t tell you yet. it’s a secret, please understand. let’s enjoy what i have planned for now and we can talk about it later, please?” he answered quickly, not giving a moment for him to accidently spill the beans. after a few seconds, he saw the look on your face as you decided to give into his proposal and make amends later.

for the next hour, tonight would strictly be about you two. he loves nothing more. once you give your verbal agreement, he gives back a small smile. one that reads of gratitude. calling the waiter over, you both receive your menus.

the food all looked so good, but it wasn’t something he’d want everyday. that kind of taste isn’t much appealing to him. after all, he only chose the restaurant because of your open wish to eat there one day. hence why in classic saeyoung style, he decided on honey garlic chicken wings. commoner food, as jumin would say. honey garlic chicken wings, honey buddha chips, close enough.

on the contrary, you were in awe at the food selection. as long as you ate a few things off the menu, you could die happy. yet shock consumed you when your eyes glided across to check out the price. it was incredibly expensive. guilt started eating you up by the second.

you couldn’t ask him to get you something, it was simply too much. your conscience wouldn’t let you. unbeknownst to you, saeyoung noticed your sudden distress. he could read you like the back of his hand. “what’s the matter?” he asked.

taken aback, you responded “well.. everythings so expensive.” you had tried to mask your emotions in the moment, but to no avail. you should’ve known better than to think your love wouldn’t have his eyes on you 24/7.

saeyoung could sense that was the issue. you had always been hesistant about spending other peoples money, however that just made him love you more. attempting to calm your worries, he says “don’t worry about it. you know i get paid well”.

you paused, thinking about his statement. “i know, but you should put that money towards savings. after all your work is illegal” you respond, after giving it a half-assed thought. your eyes peered up to find the love of your life smirking, just before replying “pshh, laws are just words on a paper”.

you had to admit, that was a playful thing for him to say. so far he had succeeded in his plans of lightening the mood, it being confirmed when you returned his reply with a giggle. god he loved hearing that giggle.

calling the waiter over again, you two placed your orders. meaning now you both were participating in the waiting game. in saeyoung’s mind, this was a perfect opportunity. he would have at least 20 minutes to explain everything he had been planning to.

so, he starts to go for it. opening by saying “so, about why i was late earlier.” now he had your full attention as you were dying to hear his reasoning so you could decide whether or not an ass whooping would be an acceptable punishment for this evenings occurrence.

“i had booked an appointment to sign some paperwork, but the appointment got moved 30 minutes. i didn’t have a choice but to leave you waiting. and i was too caught up in the moment to let you know beforehand” he continued, giving you a second to take in his words.

yet your mind began racing with questions. what paperwork? why did he need an appointment? why would he plan it for today? you left no time to waste before you let the questions out, not wanting to waste a single second.

perfect, he thought. you were going along with what he had planned out to happen beforehand. giving you your much deserved answers, he continues “well, i needed to do it today so i could give you a proper surprise. i never want you to be in any unnecessary stress, hence why i did everything in advance.”

he left you hanging for no more than a second. he loved being able to see the face you made while you were practically on the edge of your seat. he also loved the dramatic effect, the one he’d never be able to nail unless he were an experience actor. nevertheless, it was fun to try.

so to finish his statement, he lets the secret free, exclaiming “since we both have an undying love for cats, i’ve decided to adopt one. we pick her up tomorrow” giving a genuine, ever so loving, smile at the end of the long awaited sentence.

focused on your end of the table, his heart nearly exploded seeing your face go from suspense to pure joy. he couldn’t ask for anything more. you had began to let out an excited scream, only to contain yourself once the table next to you started to stare. however that didn’t stop you picking yourself up to meet the red head sitting across from you, smiling like a saint.

pulling him into a hug, you whispered “we’re really adopting a cat?” as your lips stood 2 inches away from his ear. his head pulled back from the embrace for a quick moment, only to confirm your statement with a nod of happiness.

standing there in pure bliss, fantasizing about your new life with your fur baby, you found yourself nearing crying from the overwhelming announcement. only to be brought back to reality once the waiter arrived with your meals. you pulled away, only slightly embarrassed, to become your feast.

“i’m glad you’re so excited” saeyoung spoke. god was all too good to him, he thought. you smiled, softly replying “thank you”. your eyes glanced up from your newly delivered meal to find your lover looking no different than a child being delivered delicious ice cream.

“shall we begin our meal then, 606?” he proposed. you nod, picking up the utensil placed to your right. creating the passage way for the two of you to continue your night full of bliss, no more, no less.

as you silently decided against an ass whooping as reasonable punishment.

BONUS: *on the way home*

“saeyoung” you begin, feeling the once scorching sun hit your revealed arm. “do you have a picture of our future daughter?” you ask. after receiving a gentle laugh, your eyes are met with your loves phone. once inspecting the picture, you could feel yourself melt on the spot.

“she’s adorable, isn’t she?” saeyoung asked, taking a notice of the way your eyes lit up like stars at midnight. with an aggressive yet playful nod of confirmation, in the next second he could feel the way your body pushed into his side, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“thank you so much” you let out, barely being heard from muffling yourself in your lovers flesh. although you couldn’t see it, you had a sense of saeyoungs current facial expression.

one full of excitement, love, passion, and warmth. he would treat this cat like his child, you were positive of it. and on the plus side, jumin wouldn’t have to worry about saeyoung trying to get a hold of elizabeth now.

in that moment, almost as if he heard your thoughts, he says “we should name her elizabeth the fourth, elly for short!”. there was the silly, child-like man you loved, you thought.

for the remainder of the late hours, you would be convincing saeyoung not to name her any variation of the name elizabeth the third. you knew for a fact that letting that name slide would result in a lawsuit by the morning.

elly the fourth did sound cute though... perhaps you should propose keeping it as a nickname for times jumin isn’t present.

---

3:07 AST - 07/22/21

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fanfic #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x mc #707 #mysme 707 #707 x mc #luciel choi #saeyoung

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satendou · 4 years

Text

⟼ poolside service

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous | next

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi hajime/reader/oikawa tooru

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: you’ve just moved into your new house and, wouldn’t you know it, the air conditioner is busted. iwa is quick to remind you that you now own a pool and thank god for that.

⇥ masterlist

⇥ requests are open! | rules

⇢ warnings: established relationship, polyamory, smut, fingering, praise, double vaginal penetration, daddy kink

⇢ word count: 3.4k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: uh,,,lit you should use lube if you’re gonna have sex in a pool but bc this is fanfiction, who cares? also the position might be a little unrealistic but wouldn’t it be sexy? alsox2 disregard my overzealous use of the word “pretty”. i have a problem.

“Remind me why we decided to move in the middle of the freakin’ summer?” you asked as you hauled yet another box up the stairs. It was only the fourth or fifth one-- you weren’t too sure-- but you had at least another fifteen or twenty out in the truck Iwaizumi had rented for the day.

Iwa grumbled a noncommittal response and Oikawa sighed, panting as he followed behind you with a box of his own.

“It seemed like such a good idea at the time,” he whined, and you snorted, accidentally inhaling beads of sweat into your sinuses. You felt absolutely disgusting, your shirt sticking to your back and your hair-- already up in an effort to keep your neck cool-- still clung to your skin. The air conditioner wasn’t on yet either, so the inside of your new house was not only sweltering but stifling.

“Well, it wasn’t,” Iwaizumi snapped, dropping the box he held by the front door. There were several already stacked up haphazardly around the foyer and entrance hallway, and you nudged his further in to keep the path clear and to set yours down on top of it. “Is there any reason the damn A/C is still off?”

You shifted your weight, leaning away from him. He was in a foul mood, from both the heat and plain exhaustion after spending the last two weeks packing up after your classes were through for the day.

“We just keep forgetting to turn it on,” you murmured, wiping away the sweat from your forehead with your shirt. It was too tempting to take it off, but then you would have to worry about sunburn and that just...wasn’t appealing. “I’ll go check it now.”

“Goddammit,” he snapped, then softened. “No, I’ll go. I’m sorry for snapping.”

You gave him a small smile as he passed by, but it turned into a grimace when he touched your cheek. “It’s too hot, don’t touch me, ugh.”

It took another twenty minutes before you got all the boxes in, and even then you had to sit around waiting for the air conditioner to even make a dent in the heat of the house, all while sorting the boxes into their appropriate rooms when all you wanted to do was shower in ice water. It was the worst experience you had ever had, and that was including the very memorable day when you had fallen into an algae covered lake while on vacation, and had had to walk around wet and slimy for hours before you could get back to the hotel.

“Ah, hell,” you whined, rubbing at your stinging eyes. Sweat had dripped into them without warning and you groaned in frustration. The air was barely any cooler even though the sun was setting by that point, but the most important boxes containing clothes, the food, and the bedding were unpacked and put away and you were going to do nothing else before you showered.

Oikawa was just stepping out of the bathroom when you walked up, having finished putting things away in his designated room, and smiled. “All yours, princess.”

“Thank you,” you said sarcastically and he laughed, walking off down the hall toweling his hair.

Not even looking at the handle for hot water, you turned it on full cold and stepped under, shivering even as you sighed in relief. The first ten minutes were spent just standing there relishing in the goosebumps breaking out over your skin until you felt a little more human, and you spent another ten working your hair and body into a lather.

You could have cried as you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and feeling that the air was still far too warm for your liking. Grumbling, you got dressed in a huff before wandering through your new home towards the sound of the TV in the living room.

“Why in god’s name is still so hot in here?” you whined as you fell into the empty spot between Iwaizumi and Oikawa. You realized almost immediately what an awful idea that was when the temperature rose another ten degrees and groaned.

Oikawa was frowning, sweat starting to bead on his forehead again already. “Dunno. We’ll probably have to call someone tomorrow to look at it if it isn’t working then.”

Uncomfortable silence fell as you squirmed, trying to figure out how you were going to sleep through the night if it remained this hot, when there was a smack from your other side.

You and Oikawa both jumped and looked to Iwaizumi, who’s palm was flat against his forehead.

“We’re so stupid,” he said, and you were bewildered when a grin spread across his face. “What was the biggest reason we picked this stupid house in the first place?”

You shook your head, unable to think of anything. Oikawa was mirroring you, eyes narrowed as he wracked his brain.

Iwaizumi groaned, glaring at you. “The pool, you idiots. Let’s go find our suits and--”

“Fuck that,” you said, standing up. You couldn’t believe you had forgotten that the three of you literally owned an in-ground pool now, complete with a built-in hot tub to boot. And there was a six-foot privacy fence to keep the neighbors from peeking.

“Wha--?” Iwaizumi started to say, irritated at your dismissal of his idea.

Until your shirt hit him in the face.

Oikawa laughed at that, eyeing your swaying hips and naked back. “You little minx. I like the way you think.”

You grinned over your shoulder, shedding your shorts and leaving them laying in the middle of the floor as you opened the sliding glass door. The lights in the pool were already on, creating a rippling light show beneath the surface of the water, and you disrupted it when you jumped in with a splash.

It was followed a moment later by another one, and you surfaced to find Oikawa fully naked and swimming towards you with a devious smirk. The water was blessedly cool, and your hard nipples did not go unnoticed. Iwa was taking a little more time, carefully dropping his shirt on one of the deck chairs as he watched you and Oikawa splash around and giggle, already feeling you up.

“Come on, Iwa. We won’t bite,” Oikawa said as he dragged you backwards through the water towards the deep end.

Your stomach dropped a little when you felt your feet leave the bottom, but Oikawa kept you up in his strong arms. Still, you squirmed around until you could loop yours around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“Careful, princess,” he warned playfully, feeling your hot core settle against his soft cock ( or at least, it was soft until he felt that, anyway). “It’s a bit early to christen the pool like that when we haven’t even managed the bedroom yet.”

You giggled in his ear at that. “Says who?”

Another set of arms wound around you then, and hot breath hit your neck a split second before teeth did. Iwaizumi was apparently not as reserved as Oikawa was, as he was rock hard against your ass.

“You two are fucking ridiculous,” he snapped, leading a trail from your shoulder up to your ear, nipping the lobe a little sharply.

You squealed in response, arching into Oikawa’s chest. They grinned wickedly at each other, and Iwaizumi pulled you back to lean against his chest.

Your tits were now above the water line, exposing your hard nipples to the warm air and Iwa’s touches. He palmed both breasts in his rough hands, pinching and twisting the hard little buds between his fingers and your legs tightened around Oikawa’s hips in response. Your nails dug into the skin of his biceps, your head tipping back onto Iwa’s shoulder as you sighed.

Both their cocks were fully hard and rubbing between the cheeks of your ass and the lips of your wet cunt, Oikawa’s tip grazing over your clit nonstop. Your toes were starting to curl from the endless pleasure, small noises that might have been pleas escaping your lips.

“That feels so good, Haji,” you murmured, slipping your fingers into the wet strands of his dark hair. His lips were still pressing against your skin, teeth leaving bright red marks all over the side of your neck and shoulder that you knew you would be covering up tomorrow.

“Hold her up, Haji,” Oikawa said, and you whined when his hands left your tits to brace beneath your knees. The new position had them up near your shoulders, your pussy on full display under the water, and you shivered at the rush of coolness against your hot lips. “God you look so pretty like this, princess.”

The tip of one long, slender finger skimmed your outer lips, teasing as it skipped over your clit and traced down the other side. “And so wet already. Very naughty.” He added a second finger and made a round again, listening to your breathing hitch and huff when he came close and missed again, and laughed.

“You’re such a tease, Tooru,” you whined, toes curling as he came close yet again and missed yet again. “So mean.”

“Awe, don’t say that, princess,” he tutted as his thumb finally pressed to your clit causing your hips to jump in Iwaizumi’s hold.

His hands squeezed tighter, spreading you open further to Oikawa’s featherlight touches. The cool water intensified the feeling of his fingers on your clit, and when one finger teased your slick opening, you gasped.

Iwaizumi was nudging at your cheek, still grinding between your ass cheeks, and when you turned your head to him his lips landed on yours. His tongue immediately swept between your lips without permission, delving and tasting and swallowing the noises you were making, his fingers so tight they were sure to leave marks in the morning.

“You’re already so needy and we haven’t even done anything,” Oikawa said, feeling your walls clench as he pressed in to the second knuckle and grinning. “Tell me how good it feels, hm?”

Iwa pulled away, listening to your whiny pants, lips shiny and swollen and eyes glassy. “Feels good, Tooru but I need more, please. Mm, want you to stretch me out on your fingers so I can take both your cocks.”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing tonight?” Iwaizumi asked teasingly. His cock jumped at the thought. He always loved seeing stretched to the point you were crying, begging for more even though you can’t take it, so full that your orgasms were empty as you fluttered around them. “You’ll have to ask nicely if you want that, princess.”

You gasped as Oikawa slipped a second finger inside you, eased by the copious amounts of slick you were producing now as his thumb ground against your clit.

Iwa wanted so badly to join him in teasing you open and to orgasm, stuffing you full of their fingers as they prepped you to take them, but the view over your shoulder as Oikawa’s slender fingers pumped in and out of you was making up for it.

Your breath rattled as they scissored inside you, the words pouring out of your lips in a whiny, high pitched tone. “Please please please, can you both fuck me? Want both of your cocks in my pussy tonight, please?”

A third finger fit and spread and you keened when every pass began to grind against the soft spot inside you. You couldn’t help it, wailing as you clamped down around them, and Oikawa slowed down to work you through it.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cum,” Iwa growled into your ear, but you barely processed what he said in your addled state. His muscles were straining with the effort it took to hold you like that for so long, but it was worth it to hear your breathy moans on the air. “Since you asked so nicely, I suppose we should reward you, huh, Tooru?”

Oikawa nodded as he started up again, feeling your walls flutter and clench from overstimulation, and he carefully avoided your clit for the time being. You were so wet now that a fourth finger slid in with no effort, but you gasped anyway at the stretch. It was a familiar sting that ebbed away so quickly you hardly noticed it, focusing on the feel of them inside you and you moaned Oikawa’s name.

“Feels so good, Tooru,” you said, fingers tightening in Iwa’s hair. The pleasure was surging again, still too intense but you reveled in it. “Always feels so good when you stretch me. Wanna take your cocks, please.”

Oikawa’s cock throbbed at your praise, neglected and achingly hard as he worked you open.

Iwa pressed a kiss to your sweaty cheek and said, “Patience, pretty girl. You’ll get what you want soon, but only if you let Tooru work that pretty hole open.”

You whined again, toes curling as you tried to do what he said, but you wanted it so bad. At last, Oikawa dragged his fingers from you and nestled his cock between your swollen folds, taking your legs from Iwaizumi and placing them over his arms. Iwaizumi repositioned as well, letting his cock slide alongside Oikawa’s while he cupped your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh.

“Ready, princess?” Iwa asked, prodding your drenched hole and you nodded, toes curling when his head slid in. He didn’t wait for you to adjust, stuffing you full in one thrust and you couldn’t help the scream that filled the thick night air. He stopped when he was fully seated, feeling you clench and spasm around him and released a deep, stuttery moan into your ear.

You reached up and gripped the back of his neck, head tilting to the side and lips parting in a soundless ‘o’ as Oikawa eased in as well. Your back arched, but you couldn’t go anywhere pinned between them the way you were, and tears filled your eyes at the intense, pleasurable stretch as both their cocks settled against your cervix.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you breathed, high pitched and scratchy, nails digging into Iwaizumi’s neck and Oikawa’s shoulder. “So good, so full, I can’t take it.”

Both men were panting as they felt your walls trying to squeeze down around them, fluttering uselessly and when Iwaizumi pulled out, you almost cried.

“Ah, ah, princess. You asked for this, remember?” he asked, and his hips snapped back into yours, hilting again while Oikawa pulled out. “You can’t back out now.”

“Never,” you cried, tears pricking your eyes as they alternated fucking you. You were never empty for a second but when they both snapped into your tight pussy, you squealed. “Want you to cum in me at the same time, fill me up, please.”

They listened to your babbling with smirks, eyes rolling as their veiny cocks rubbed and filled every inch of your cunt, tips taking turns kissing your cervix.

“You sure, princess? I’m not sure you can take that,” Oikawa teased, slowing his hips, and laughed when your head whipped up to look at him, pupils blown wide and pleading.

“I can take it, Tooru. I promise I can take it, please don’t stop,” you begged, almost sobbing when Iwaizumi slowed as well. Both of them now were just rocking their hips, both settled deep in your stretched pussy, and could feel every vein and the crown of their cocks dragging against your walls. “Pleasepleaseplease, daddy.”

You had whined it accidentally, but Iwa reacted with a sharp jerk of his hips to the name and you cried with relief.

“Say that again, princess,” he groaned, pulling out to the tip. As soon as you gasped the name again, he was fucking up into you with abandon, joined by Oikawa a moment later.

He was amused by the turn of events, but he was turned on by the bounce of your tits with every hard thrust, your head thrown back and moans and whines flowing nonstop from your parted lips.

“Gonna cum,” you cried, toes curling as someone’s cock tapped your cervix. “Gonna cum all over your cocks. Daddy, please, let me--”

It was like they both knew who you were referring to, because Oikawa said nothing while Iwa groaned low in his throat, teeth nipping your pulse point before commanding you.

“Cum for us, pretty girl. Gonna fill you up full of our cum but we need you tight around us first. Gonna make you feel so good, princess,” he snarled, and his thrusts changed so that he and Oikawa were filling you at the same time. Oikawa watched your eyes go wide, mouth open in a silent scream as you came, fluttering and trying to clamp down on both their cocks but it was useless. He rocked his hips gently, stimulating your g-spot while Iwa’s fingers found your clit and circled roughly. You jerked, your voice breaking as you screamed their names, first Oikawa’s and then Iwa’s.

You were jelly in their arms after that, fingers wrapped weakly around their wrists but you whined when Oikawa pulled out of you.

“Sorry, princess. Daddy has to cum, then I’ll fill this pretty pussy back up,” he said and leaned down to kiss you softly. But you tasted too sweet and his tongue dipped into your mouth for more, swallowing the sounds you made as Iwaizumi resumed fucking you.

He sounded breathless when he came, a low, raspy groan filling your ears as a warmth filled your cunt, and he paused for a moment. Oikawa pressed in beside him again, and you tensed in their arms, moaning until Iwaizumi pulled out.

“My turn, pretty girl. One more and then we’ll clean you up,” Oikawa promised against your lips. He wasn’t gentle as he chased his pleasure, listening to you babble and plead for more, you can’t take it, feels so good, fuck*. “Shit, you’re still so tight after that.”

He tensed up as the pleasure broke over him in waves, hips rocking as he spent himself inside your womb, cum mixing with Iwa’s and you basked in the full feeling.

Iwa picked you up in a bridal carry and waded to the side of the pool, where Oikawa helped pull you up onto the cement deck. Your legs were sore and stiff from being held up for so long, and he just lifted you up again, walking naked into the house and dripping water everywhere.

It was, to his surprise, cool inside and you shivered as the air cooled the water on your skin. Iwaizumi’s footsteps headed to the thermostat while he carried you to the bathroom.

“Let’s do that again,” you said, nuzzling your nose against Oikawa’s neck. He smelled like chlorine and his body wash, and you couldn’t resist the need to press open mouth kisses all over his skin.

He laughed, setting you down on your feet and reaching for the towel over the shower rack. “Sure, princess. But not tonight. We’re gonna go to bed.”

“Well duh,” you answered as you helped each other towel off. Iwa joined you a moment later, letting you rub him down with the fluffy towel. “I’m exhausted.”

Iwa laughed, snatching the towel from your hands and throwing it on the sink. “Then let’s get you into bed, hm?”

You squealed when he hoisted you up and over his shoulder, smacking his bare back as he carried you down the hall. Oikawa couldn’t seem to resist the urge to pester you, poked your nose and tugging your hair all the way down, listening to you whine and slap at his hands playfully.

Iwaizumi dumped you onto the bed, grunting as you bounced and then bounced some more when your partners fell in beside you. The covers were pulled up and you were tucked between them, head resting on Oikawa’s chest while Iwa’s arm lay across your waist, fingers laced with both of yours.

In an instant the steady rise and fall of Oikawa’s chest beneath you and their combined warmth lulled you towards sleep, but not before you murmured, “I love you both.”

Iwa’s voice was thick and rumbly as he said it back, squeezing your hands. Oikawa pressed his lips to your forehead before he answered, light and airy and full of happiness.

And how could he not be? He had everything he wanted in his arms.

⇥ masterlist

⇥ taglist: @umihami, @kunimwuah, @visaintes

#oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader x iwaizumi #.poolsideservice

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years

Text

feels like we're dreaming, we're tripping and reeling

summary: requested: andy barber being obsessed with the thought of reader being pregnant and wanting nothing more than to be a dad. being the most doting, caring man throughout the whole pregnancy, rubbing reader's feet and going out to get all her cravings and rubbing her stomach constantly. crying when he feels the baby kick. painting the whole nursery himself and spoiling the hell out of their little bundle when it arrives. andy barber being domestic and soft as hell in general gets me so weak.

warnings: some smut. pool smut. not the same pool bc that was a public pool but it needed to happen so. andy being cute, as cute as i’m sure he was when his wife was pregnant. (my proof: that smile every time someone asks him if he’s jacob’s dad)

word count: almost 10,000. honestly, i was going to keep going but jesus 10,000?!

pairing: andy barber x reader

How many brands of pregnancy tests existed in this world?

Honestly, beyond 5, what the fuck was the point? They measured the same shit, did they not? You didn’t care enough to find out, but during the period of painful silence, you thought about googling the answer.

You were in the tub, wrapped up in one of Andy’s hoodies, just watching him. He was at the counter, looking at the timer. He’d gone out to pick up the tests for what you guys had decided would be your new routine.

You’d always had sex a lot, but lately, Andy didn’t want to go a night without. Not because he was under the impression that would be a more effective method, he just literally could not keep his hands off you anymore. He asked you that morning if you wanted to make Friday night the test night. It made sense, he had his weekends off and that meant he could skulk around the house if it didn’t happen.

Most tests took 2 to 3 minutes. Some took 15 for whatever fucking reason. He wanted to wait for all of them, so for a quarter of an hour, you were just stuck there. Waiting. With him. Which shouldn’t have been so stressful, but it was.

The day you told him you wanted to try for a baby, he didn’t let you out of bed. Even though he knew it wasn’t going to happen for a while since you needed to finish your last week and a half of birth control. He had just been so happy, any attempts made to hide his obsession with you getting pregnant were tossed out the window immediately.

He’d thought about it before you, he’d wanted it before you, but hearing that you finally wanted it too just triggered something. He bought parenting books because he figured during your pregnancy, he wouldn’t have that much time to read. He bought this huge ass book of names and after he fucked you, he liked to bring it out and try to talk you into names he wanted while you were in such a blissful state.

Every second of trying had made you fall in love with him more. Yes, you wanted kids, but honestly, babies didn’t much appeal to you. You understood that to get to kids, you had to deal with the babies and you were okay with that, but mainly, you wanted to make Andy a father. You knew he would be good at it, possibly the best in the world.

And even with all the wanting, he never put pressure on you. The morning you told him you were done with the birth control, he sat you down and had the longest talk with you just to make sure that he hadn’t done anything to make you think he was losing patience with you. He wanted a baby, but he needed a happy wife. He didn’t want any part of something that you weren’t completely on board with.

But with wanting to try, you needed to make some changes. You were always fairly active since Andy had his busy days and you didn’t like just sitting and doing nothing while you waited for him to get home. With trying to conceive, your workouts had to be a little more basic. Longer, but less intense runs, some yoga. Andy had read that cardio was important, you thought up swimming. The very next day, he was already making plans to expand the house and add an indoor swimming pool. When you gave him a look, he pointed out that the kids would love it when they were old enough to swim. How could you possibly say no?

Caffeine was next on the chopping block. Andy, the sweetheart that he was, knew how much you loved coffee and tried his hardest to cut it out as well. He wanted to show you that you weren’t in this alone. It was your body, yes, but he would make sacrifices, too. The first time you caught him falling asleep at the dinner table, you had to tell him to end his noble support. With a job like his, he needed his coffee. The compromise was that he wouldn’t drink it in your presence.

He also did insane amounts of research. Even after you stopped the pill, he insisted on using condoms for a month after so you could start getting some folic acid before ending up pregnant. That was quite the sacrifice. One of your favorite things on this planet was when he finished inside you. Not a fucking condom. But you were trying this thing where you didn’t express negativity because with Andy as your husband, there was no way not to feel like a brat. How was someone so perfect?

Your period hadn’t returned yet but that didn’t mean you were incapable of getting pregnant. Hence the random, shot-in-the-dark pregnancy test Friday plan. You didn’t feel pregnant and you knew that was stupid. Some didn’t know they were pregnant until they were giving birth. And you’d never been pregnant before, so how would you know what to look for? You just couldn’t stop thinking about how you didn’t feel it. You also didn’t want to tell Andy because you hoped you were wrong.

It had been a week short of two months without the pill and three weeks since he stopped wearing condoms. The chances of it just falling into place were slim—you didn’t have research to back that up, just some deeply-rooted cynicism. Maybe it was your defense mechanism, act like you saw it coming and you wouldn’t be disappointed. Right?

Wrong, which you discovered when you saw Andy’s face after he turned over one of the tests. You wouldn’t cry because it had been a total of 5 seconds and some people had to try much longer, and you didn’t want him to have to put aside his feelings to then console you. You did, however, want to cry.

“We should see a doctor,” you said.

He scoffed. “We haven’t really been trying that long.”

“But we can, why not?”

He finally turned to you, forcing his expression into something that didn’t break your heart just to see. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Andy, I told you that I’m ready.”

“I know, and trust me, there’s nothing that I want more. I just also think there’s still some romance in being old fashioned and just letting it happen.”

“Google is your new best friend, Andy. Why not consult an actual professional?”

“We can, if you want, but like I said, it hasn’t been that long. Besides, until you start your period again, it’s probably just a waiting game. Not always, but it can be. We should be realistic about this. I don’t want to waste a visit down to the doctor just so they can tell us what my new best friend already has.”

“Okay,” you shrugged, “if that’s what you want—”

“None of that. What do you want?”

“I want to be the mother of your children.”

He sighed, crouching down to your side. “You will be.”

“You don’t know that—”

“No, I do,” he insisted. “Because I’m not going to stop fucking you. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll go see a doctor. If there’s a problem, we will fix it. If we can’t, we will adopt. Are we clear? There is no way, Mrs. Barber, that you will not be the mother of my children one day. And because I damn well know that I deserve it, I will have the great honor of being the father of your children.”

You sighed and melted, but you hoped that much wasn’t apparent. “You’re so lame.”

He smirked. “Wanna get out of that tub so we can have sex?”

“Why can’t we have sex in the tub?”

“Do you want to?”

“Maybe, but no water.”

“Okay, that’s weird.”

You shrugged. “Fine, I’ll get out of the tub.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He went to stand up but you caught his arm before he could. He took one look at you and was already shaking his head. “Don’t even say it—”

“I am, though.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Ever.”

“I feel bad.”

“You shouldn’t. It could be me. It could be nothing. Baby, it is too soon to start worrying about anything. Avoid stress, that is what you need to be doing.”

He could say it a million different ways, you were still sorry.

It was troubling how excited you were to get your period back. Honestly, when the birth control had finally taken it away, you cried. Tears of joy. To have the same reaction over getting it back felt weird.

Andy also seemed excited until you outlined just how inconvenient the whole thing was. Okay, that was being negative, but you were kind of in a bad mood. Something he was not at all bothered by. Because of course. He hadn’t been bothered by a single thing since you told him you wanted to start trying.

Officially, four months into wanting a baby and the only thing keeping you holding on was your beautiful, loving husband. He always knew when you were feeling down, so he would talk about the future and how nice it would be when you could finally take the kids out on family trips. How great taking them to school would be. All the fun things you would get them into, dance, sports, anything that you both could go and support. You were completely lost on how he was so positive all the time.

You needed to keep going, though. Like he said, you guys had options. It was better to know sooner rather than later, so you pushed forward. Sadly, your periods were irregular so you would probably ovulate irregularly. And you weren’t even aware of when you were ovulating because Andy still wanted this to be “natural”.

The second Friday with negative results was clearly taxing on both of you. He decided to end it immediately. That was why you had taken to sneaking pregnancy tests any chance you got. You didn’t like not telling him but you always felt like a failure every time it came back negative. But life went on, that much he made sure of.

The pool was finished and he seemed to like it more than you did. In fact, your liking it extended only as far as getting to see him wet and shirtless. But you were still in there 4 to 5 times a week for 30 minutes after you got home from work on weekdays and early on weekends. Because you did everything you were supposed to do. Because you didn’t want to feel like this was your fault, like there was something you were doing that would prevent this.

He came in one Saturday morning just as you were getting out. “Done?”

“Yeah, I served my time,” you joked. “I should get started on lunch. Any requests?”

“No, whatever sounds good to you.”

You went inside, fully intending to make lunch. But something that just didn’t make sense was how much you craved sex with Andy. It seemed like the more you had, the more you wanted. You guys were always sexual. At the start, after a month or so, every date ended with sex. When you moved in with him, it was more nights than not, even after you got married. But this was every day, numerous times a day.

He was turned on by the idea of getting you pregnant. He was insatiable for that reason. Sex this often wasn’t normal and it probably wasn’t raising your chances of conceiving since you weren’t being too methodical about it, but you were thrilled with this change. You worried about how much sex you would have once you were pregnant anyway, you figured you should start preparing for the long months ahead.

You were only in the kitchen for three minutes, trying to find food that would interest you more than what was currently on your mind. It didn’t work.

You returned to Andy. He was swimming his laps, completely oblivious. You stripped out of your bathing suit where you stood at the edge of the pool. He only made it three more times back and forth before he must have sensed you there.

He turned up, brushing his wet hair out of his face. When he saw you naked, his eyes widened. “Here? Now?”

“Well, unless you want me to wait for you to finish. I could just sit and watch, take care of myself until you can.”

“Here,” he decided. “Now.”

You smirked, sauntering off to the right where the stairs were. He made his way to you just before you descended the last step. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you took your cue to jump up and wrap yourself around him.

He carried you further into the water, lips moving against yours. You clung to his shoulders and your legs locked around his hips. “You are wild and demanding,” he accused.

You scoffed. “Me?”

He pretended to think about it. “Well, I guess it was me who stopped dinner last night, me who couldn’t wait until we left the grocery store, me who had you pull over while we were driving a few days ago, and me who came in here naked—oh, wait—“

You laughed. “Well, I’m just trying to prepare myself for when we’re hardly doing this anymore.”

“When we retire?”

You snorted. “No. You know, when I’m pregnant.”

He scoffed, pressing you against the side of the pool. You felt a hand moving between you, working his shorts out of the way. “You think I’m not going to fuck you when you’re pregnant?”

“Well...I assumed, yeah.”

He nudged your chin with his nose until you tilted your head back, offering him your neck. He kissed you softly as he indelicately pushed into you.

You clutched at his shoulders harder, whining his name.

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to be able to refrain from touching you. Especially while you’re pregnant.”

You angled your head so you could see his face. He looked downright amused at what you were saying.

The pace and pressure of his hips immediately became punishing. He held you tight, hands on your hips as he fucked you. “You don’t even know how hard I get thinking about you carrying my child.”

Maybe it was what he was saying, maybe it was that you had wanted him inside you since you woke up, but it wasn’t taking long to get you there. You brought one hand up to the edge of the pool for a little more support.

Andy began kissing your neck and nipping at your chest. “I think about how beautiful you’re going to look, I think about how I’m going to have you riding me every day.”

You could picture that. Fuck. You were rarely on top now because you loved being underneath him and he loved pinning you down to the mattress, but when you got bigger, you would have to adapt. It didn’t sound as boring as you’d had yourself convinced it was when he said it.

“Every morning before I go to work, I’ll wake you up with my mouth between your legs.”

You let out a shaky breath. “What’s stopping you from doing that now?”

“You,” he promised. “I can barely open my eyes before you’re telling me to get inside you. You’ll be slower when you’re pregnant, less of a predator, more of a prey.”

You scoffed but it became a moan. If he kept talking like this, you were going to come soon.

“Some women are more sensitive when they’re pregnant,” he asserted. “I bet you will be. You’re already so sensitive. I’m going to spend every weekend fucking you until you’re begging me to stop.”

“Andy.” You turned your head toward him and he kissed you. You whimpered when you felt his hand at your cunt, fingers pressing against your clit so gently.

You finished first but he was close behind, turning his head down to groan into your shoulder.

He rode out his high slowly, kissing any part of your skin that was in his reach. He lifted you out of the water, onto the tiled floor surrounding the pool. He kissed both of your knees, then your calves, all while keeping his eyes on you. “Sound like a plan?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “Really, I should make lunch.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You headed out, back to the kitchen.

“You’re not getting dressed?”

“Nope.”

Four months, one week, and six days later, you were pregnant. You’d felt weird, it was 3 in the morning, Andy was asleep, and you knew you weren’t going to be able to rest until you found out.

Technically, you hadn’t missed your period yet. Sometimes you started on the 17th, others the 22nd through the 24th. Oh, but there was also the wonderful time you had started on the 5th. That time, you did cry. He might have too, but never in front of you because he was trying to be the most positive man on earth.

You only took two tests, the ones with the least amount of wait time. The results came back positive and for a moment, you just sat there. You had been terrified that it wasn’t going to happen. You worried about how much that would hurt Andy. You also stupidly worried about the possibility that he would leave you over it.

But that didn’t matter anymore. You were pregnant and he was going to be thrilled. After being a little annoyed that you took the test without him, you assumed.

You weren’t sure how to tell him. When to tell him. It was 3 in the morning and he had to work. Maybe after he got home. If you told him when he woke up, he was just going to want to stay home.

Logically, you knew false positives were not the same as false negatives. But it was just like when you were in junior high and you didn’t get your period so you were convinced you were pregnant even though you were very much not having sex. Yes, you were paranoid but you just wanted to be sure. The only thing worse than not getting pregnant would be getting Andy’s hopes up.

You waited until he was at work and then made an appointment. This would also annoy him because he wanted to do extensive research when selecting a doctor. You weren’t robbing him of that, you just wanted to have confirmation. The second you did, you would tell him and start looking at doctors.

You had it scheduled four days out, Thursday. You could get in on your lunch hour. It was odd going and explaining to the nurse your thought process and why you couldn’t schedule a follow-up appointment after the confirmation. She must have thought you were an idiot, you possibly were, but you were a happy idiot.

That night, when Andy arrived home, you were waiting on the couch for him. Once again, unclothed. You’d gotten quite used to being nude, having him undress you every time either of you wanted sex was just ridiculous. There wasn’t a word said as he laid over you on the couch, not bothering to get undressed. He just moved his pants and then he was inside you.

He didn’t move at first, instead, he rubbed your clit until you finished around him.

You draped a leg over his ass. “Andy, fuck me.”

“Not yet, baby.” His fingers circled over your clit again, his eyes fixed on yours and wanting to see pleasure on your face. He was in a mood and that meant the sex was going to be exhausting. Worth it, but very unlike the easy and quick routines you’d gotten used to in all of the chaos of trying to get pregnant.

When he would join you in the shower because usually, you woke up earlier than him even though you went to work later, he would wrap his arms around you all sweet then shove you against the wall and make you come with him. When he would find you making dinner and fuck you over the counter. When you were up later than he wanted so he would just fuck you wherever you were until you were so exhausted that he had to carry you upstairs. No other married people had as much sex as you guys, you were almost certain.

You’d made a complete mess of his pants but he didn’t seem concerned about them. He sat up and set you on his lap, holding you in place as he thrust his hips up. There was always something amazing about sex with him still in his suit. It wasn’t like his clothing left much to the imagination anyway, you could see and feel the muscles in his arms and chest.

He continued fucking you until he was close, then he settled you flat against him and used his fingers to make you come again and again. Until he was sure he had come down enough from his almost-finish. Feeling your pussy move around him, the way you would tighten when you orgasmed, the way you continued to get wetter and wetter, he was addicted.

You grabbed his free hand and placed it on one of your breasts and he closed his mouth around the opposite. Again, he held you up so he had enough room to drive his cock into you, hard and deep, and so painfully slow. It must not have been the best day. He loved being in absolute control of you when he couldn’t be at work.

Once more, just as he was about to finish, and you could tell because his hands would tighten and his hips would start to stutter, he sat you on his lap.

You curled your hand under his jaw, pulling him from your breast up to your mouth. The kiss was sloppy, all tongue and desperate moans from both of you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he directed as he pulled away.

Your fingers instantly dropped to your clit and you began drawing yourself toward another end. He wouldn’t let you stop, not after the first, the second, the third. Your hand was shaking, you were shaking, he had to hold you by the shoulders otherwise you would have fallen back. The entire time, he remained buried in your cunt, hard and not doing a damn thing about it. He was using you to edge himself and that made you impossibly wet.

He repeated this, more times than you could count. He didn’t say a word either, just led your hand down to your clit or used his own when he knew you couldn’t. Sometimes the sex was like this, he was working through something and he didn’t want to talk at first. It was about proving to himself that he had enviable control, and he definitely did because it wasn’t like you made it easy for him.

When he laid you down on the coffee table, he began pounding into you. You could tell when he was almost there because he was getting louder, grunting into your skin, or groaning as he bit down on your shoulder, your breast, your neck.

He pulled out before then and you felt inclined to put a stop to this madness.

“Andy.”

His hand made its way back to your pussy as he stroked his cock with his opposite. Moments later, he was spilling out onto your skin. As he continued fucking you with his fingers, you ran your hands over your stomach, spreading his cum along your body until you reached your breasts. You loved having his cum on you and he loved seeing it on you.

After your orgasm, he sat back on the couch as he worked to catch his breath. “Sorry, that was kind of a waste.”

“Not really.” You continued teasing him with your hands on your breasts and these small mewls that you knew he was already getting worked up over again.

He probably didn’t even realize what you’d said, too focused on watching you pinch and pull on your nipples.

You turned down a few minutes later, meeting his eye.

He kept his eyes on your hands as he spoke. “Wanna get in the shower while I make dinner?”

You moved off the table, legs shaky as you made your way to him. You caught his hand before he could sit you on his lap and sat down on the couch at his side. Leaning over, you took him in your mouth.

“Jesus,” he hissed.

After swallowing as much of him as you could, you set one of his hands on the back of your head. He knew what you wanted.

Holding you in place, he began rolling his hips. It wasn’t too forceful but you could feel him in the back of your throat. He was hard again in a matter of a few moments.

“God, your mouth is fucking perfect, baby.” He was losing his steady pace, his hips jerkier, slower sometimes. “All I could think about today was you. Your beautiful cunt, your fucking mouth. I’ve wanted to see you covered in my cum for so long, but...” he didn’t finish his sentence, you knew why he hadn’t.

You weren’t satisfied until you’d swallowed every drop of him. As you pulled off, he grabbed your hips and brought you onto one of his thighs. He kissed your forehead and began running his fingers through your hair.

“How was work?”

He shrugged. “You know.”

“Rough day?”

“It usually is,” he attempted to dismiss.

“Sounds like you could use good news.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You have good news?”

“Well, I’m pregnant.”

He blinked slowly, then abruptly sat up straight as his hands dropped to your hips. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, okay,” he blurted out. He moved you onto the couch, standing and tucking himself back into his pants. “Do you want to take a test?”

“I already took the test.”

“Without me?” he demanded. “How many?”

“I took two, but I went to the doctor to get it confirmed.”

“Without me?!” he repeated.

“Don’t be mad, I just wanted to make sure.”

“I am mad.” But then he leaned down and started kissing you so you figured he was going to get over it fairly quickly. He pulled away, both hands coming up to your face. “I can’t believe you. How long have you known?”

“I took the test 4 days ago. Went to the doctor today.”

“4 days?!”

“Andy, I didn’t want to get you excited if I wasn’t actually pregnant.”

“Well, can you take another test so I can see it? We have a billion upstairs.”

You scoffed. “Do you want me to? I will.”

“Yeah, kind of. I know it’s stupid—“

You shook your head. “It’s not, I can do it.”

He got on his knees on the floor, gently pressing you back to the couch. “I knew it would happen, I just didn’t think it was going to happen this soon.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re still okay? You still want this?”

“Of course.”

He leaned forward, kissing your throat all the way down to your stomach. You shivered at the sensation of his beard prickling against your skin. He continued kissing you and you ran your fingers through his hair.

He turned up to you, lips still pressed just below your navel. “It’ll be a girl.”

You scoffed. “Andy, you don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insisted.

“You never said you wanted a girl.”

“I want any baby you can give me.”

“Even if it was a demon baby that turned out to be a cannibal?”

“As long as it had your smile, yes.”

You snorted. “And your eyelashes!”

“And your cheekbones.”

You ran your finger along the bridge of his nose. “Your nose.”

“Is it red like all the other demon babies?”

“You’re in too good of a mood.”

“Impossible, no mood is too good considering you’re carrying my daughter.”

“Stop,” you scolded half-heartedly. “Look, you have a total of at least 15 weeks before you find out whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

“You have 15 weeks.”

“Andrew Barber,” you scoffed, “stop.”

“Let’s bet.”

“No!” You laughed.

“Scared?”

“Don’t even try that with me.”

He shrugged. “You sound scared. I never knew that the woman who gave me a hand job in a movie theatre would be such a baby—“

“Andy, if you don’t stop talking, all of this pregnant sex you’ve been fantasizing about is not going to happen.”

With a small smile, he shut his mouth.

“Upstairs? You want me to take the test?”

He scooped you up off the couch and headed toward your bedroom.

The next day, Andy was already working on all those grand promises he’d made. You woke with your calves draped over his shoulders, his lips wrapped around your clit, his hands folded over your hips to hold you down, and his beautiful blue eyes looking up at you.

Then he wanted to go shopping. He’d already called into work, not even bothering to lie about being sick. He was thrilled to let Lynn know that you were pregnant and apparently, she knew how big of a deal that was so she let him off the hook after making him promise to take pictures of what he was intending to do to the nursery.

He wanted to paint. You had wanted to leave it white. Gendered colors were stupid anyway. He’d said the same at the start, but he was currently waving pink swatches in your face.

“Andy, what if it’s a boy?”

He shrugged. “Then he’s going to have a pink nursery. Pink sky or pink pearl?”

You spared the colors a glance. “Pink pearl. Why can’t we just do one of those gender-neutral colors?”

“Because yellow is ugly and purple is loud.”

“Green.”

“Reminds me of spring.”

“Orange.”

“Pumpkins.”

“Red.”

“Blood.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, why not dark blue? I was kind of hoping we could do, like, a constellation theme.”

He thought for a moment. “Let’s do both. But instead of blue, we’ll use pink.”

“Okay,” and you were excited again. “You are insane, though. Just so you know.”

“Hardly. Do you know how behind I am? I wasn’t expecting this to happen so soon. I haven’t found the doctor yet, I’m just barely starting on the nursery. We don’t have a name, we don’t have a crib. Essentially, we have nothing.”

Was he seriously already stressing about this? And that probably wasn’t even a fourth of what was going through his mind.

You reached over, finger tapping on the only pink color you’d seen that you liked enough to put on the walls. “We have a paint color. If you like it.”

He glanced between you and the color twice before nodding. “Okay.”

Walking through the aisles, you decided to take over. You threw all the tools he could possibly need in the cart and didn’t stop until you spotted the glitter. You stared straight at it until he got curious enough about what you were so focused on that he made his way to you. Adding glitter to paint was difficult, you knew because you had attempted before. Your friend’s sister’s kid was turning 7 and wanted to redesign her bedroom and you tagged along because glitter. It ended in tears and Andy buying you ice cream to make you feel better.

He sighed. “You want the glitter?”

“I simply cannot live without it.”

With another sigh, a much more resigned one, he started tossing in bags of the glitter additive. “You know you’re not helping, right?”

“What? Because of last time—?“

“No, because you’re pregnant.”

“Andy, it’s not even a baby yet. It’s a fetus. Can’t I just do what I would have always done up until the point that I can’t get an abortion?”

“That is not funny.”

You snorted. “It kind of is. Stop worrying.” You rolled onto your toes and kissed the tip of his nose. “Otherwise, you’re going to look like a grandfather instead of a father. And hey, I’d still be pretty attracted to you but we have more kids to make, so calm down.”

He banned you from the house. Yep, you had a total of one friend who was currently married and interested in children. That was the friend he wanted you to focus on, not the others, he said, that they meant well, but couldn’t possibly be supportive at a time like this. In reality, he never liked most of your friends. You kept them out of college and he always thought they liked to go out and drink too much.

Your friend was excited when you asked if you could stay with her for a bit. Andy wanted to paint immediately and then make sure all lingering traces of the paint were adequately gone from the house before you returned.

Painting took two days. He called you both mornings, brought you lunch at work, took you out to dinner, and made sure to call you before you went to bed.

Then he checked you both into a hotel for 3 days. You had to force him to go to work on Monday, pointing out that he really needed to be making money. You loved your job but it wasn’t as if the salary was sufficient to raise a baby on.

Andy let you revel in the beauty of the nursery up until the weekend. The constellations were a soft champagne color and the glitter was mixed in perfectly, evenly. It looked professionally done, but you weren’t surprised. He was perfect and everything he did for you and his child would be perfect as well.

Next, his mission was to find a crib and pick the doctor. Something that kept him on his laptop most of Saturday while you slept soundly next to him. You were already beginning to feel tired and you weren’t sure if that was because of him or your baby.

Time went by in a blur. He’d fallen into a routine effortlessly. He would wake you up as he told you he would, eating you out, then he would get you in the shower with him, and make sure you ate a good breakfast before he headed off to work. He would call at lunch, just to make sure you weren’t too exhausted to be at work. You always felt inclined to tell him stories about working pregnant women every time. He would come home and fix dinner and wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help. At night, after he thoroughly fucked you, which honestly didn’t take much, you would fall asleep together. It was a great first two months.

At the start of your 3rd month, you were already showing. It seemed like it was the best day of Andy’s life. In fact, he wanted to start a scrapbook. He wanted to document everything and you didn’t have the heart to tell him he was absolutely crazy. Besides, it was pretty cute.

It was around this time that you had the most absurd craving for almond butter. He loved almond butter so it was always in the house and you never once wanted any part of it. Randomly, you thought apples and almond butter sounded great and you finished the entire jar before he got home. Something that amused him greatly, he promised he would get more on his way home the next day. That new obsession lasted for a week and a half, and you had yourself convinced that it was going to be the worst of it.

No. Swap out apples for Cheetos. Seriously, you wanted to eat Cheetos and almond butter. You were downright ashamed so you didn’t even ask him to get you anything, you just snuck out to the store before he got home one night and bought yourself a sufficient stash that you kept hidden in the very back of the pantry. This wouldn’t work for the entire pregnancy but until you were further along, you intended to hide these horrible cravings.

Well, as well as you could. He was anticipating more after the almond butter so he always texted and asked if you wanted him to bring something home. So far, your genius combinations had been tacos and chocolate, macaroni and cheese and sour patch kids, cashews and Doritos, French fries and hot chocolate, and orange chicken and lemonade. Andy drove everywhere at any given hour. If there was a store open, he would go. If it was closed and you couldn’t wait that long, he would go to a 24-hour fast food place. He’d started stocking your favorites as well, and hiding them until you really needed them.

The day before you were set to find out the sex of the baby, he went shopping. You were far too tired to try to leave the house, especially since Andy could shop. You thought he would come home with more for the nursery. Since he’d found the crib, he’d started looking at bedding and the other matching furniture. You knew it would be extreme since you weren’t there to stop him. What you did not expect was that he would sneak in and take full advantage of your unconsciousness. If he hadn’t dropped something, you never would have caught him.

When you found him in the nursery, he was in the closet. Hanging up clothing. Pink clothing. For a girl. “Andy.”

“We are having a girl,” he stated simply.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered to yourself.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be, I’m glad I’m witnessing this insanity.”

He gave you a flat look, fully turning to you with a tiny black bodysuit with white hearts printed on it. “This could be for a boy, I don’t know what you’re so upset about it.”

You smirked. “Anything can be for a boy if you try hard enough. Look, if you wanted a girl so bad—“

“I wanted a baby.”

“Andy, you bought girl clothes!”

“Because we are having a girl.”

“You’re going to have this child alone if it doesn’t stop making me crave the most ridiculous things.”

He hummed. “Is that why you’re up here?” Smirking, he made his way to you. As usual, his hands went straight to your stomach, he had to feel any movement and it was driving him crazy that he hadn’t. “What do you want?”

You scoffed tiredly. “A lot of things. Yogurt, peach and blueberry. Something lemon, lemon squares, lemon cake. A lot of pasta, I really want spaghetti. And despite your incorrigible behavior, I want you.”

“You do mean sexually, right? Because I read sometimes pregnant women want to eat things that aren’t food—“

You placed your hand flat over his mouth. “I take it back, I just want the food.” You turned away to escape from the room but he was right on your tail. “Andy, I’m hungry.”

“I’ll get you the food,” he promised. “Let’s just make a quick stop to the bedroom first.”

You didn’t put up much resistance as he began leading you that way. He had been correct about one thing, you were so sensitive. You’d given up on wearing bras or underwear, and your clothes had to be loose. Especially given the dreams you were having. Much to his simultaneous joy and dismay, you would send him pictures and videos of certain sexual situations at least twice a week just a couple of hours before he got home.

That cocky bastard was correct. A fact that had him beaming the remainder of the appointment, all the way home, and even in his sleep. You weren’t upset that you were having a girl. It wasn’t that you thought you had a right to be picky, but very simply, you wanted a girl more than you wanted a boy. You weren’t even sure why. Gender wasn’t real and it wouldn’t upset you if someday in the future that little girl told you that she wasn’t a girl at all. Logically, you knew there was no point. But you didn’t have to be logical, not while you were carrying a baby.

Even though Andy was annoyingly smug about the whole thing, you were excited. You finally got to take a look at the closet and discovered yesterday was not his first time buying clothing. You wanted to be mad at him but he had the softest look on his face. This was everything he wanted and you liked that you were able to provide it for him.

At 5 months, he absolutely needed to feel her kick. If he wasn’t fucking you or feeding you, or shopping, or at work, his hands were on your stomach. One of his favorite things, when you got out of the shower, was covering you in lotion, something you were supposed to do to prevent stretch marks, not that either of you much cared. During that time, he would speak to her, try to get her to give him any kind of movement. Or sometimes, you would wake up and he was just level with your stomach, whispering things to her.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d felt what you presumed were “flutters” and maybe one good kick a couple of nights ago, but you weren’t certain. You sort of enjoyed that she didn’t just give in to his murmurings of “come on, baby, give daddy a kick”, or “if you kick, I’ll never tell you no”. That line was dropped from rotation after you pointed out you would be holding him to that when she wanted to start dating.

She seemed to like his voice, you could admit. Sometimes it wasn’t him that woke you up, it was her responding to him. They weren’t fast movements, they weren’t particularly forceful either, but they were there. You didn’t understand how he’d yet to feel anything. And since you were still telling him you hadn’t really felt anything, he brought it up at the next appointment. The look of pure horror on his face when the doctor told him the likelihood of fathers never feeling any movement was sad, in a funny way. Kind of. Being pregnant had made you a little meaner.

He was pouting about it all night but you told him you were sure he would feel something. You told him you wouldn’t have her until she kicked for him. He knew you couldn’t control that, obviously, but it made him feel better.

At 5 months and 2 weeks, it happened. You were failing at staying awake and trying to read a book when you felt an abrupt tap. You startled awake, discovering the book on the floor. That had to be it, you just dropped it on yourself. But then it happened again, a bit harder and a tad painful.

“Andy!”

He bolted to your side in a matter of seconds. Seriously, he had to have broken world records with that trick. “What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed his hands, pulling his arms over the back of the couch, and placed them over your stomach.

“Are you okay? Do we need to go—?”

“Shut up,” you ordered.

After a couple of minutes, he sighed. “You felt an actual kick?”

“Sorry, she tends to move more when I’m so still.”

He moved around the couch and sat on the floor. “It’s going to happen. I’m not going to feel her.”

“No,” you argued. “Are you working?”

“No, just scaring myself with more books.”

You held your hand out to him and he helped you up. You crouched down to pick up your dropped book and handed it off to him. “Read it, she seems to like your voice... I’ll fall asleep, see if that works.”

You were settled in bed next to Andy, his one hand pressed to the side of your belly as he read the book aloud. You were trying to keep still but also trying to stay awake, you wanted to see his face when he felt it. That was out of the question, Andy’s voice was like honey, or a fall morning, or the feeling of being home after a long day. You were out after a few paragraphs.

When you woke up, you weren’t sure why. You saw Andy hovering over you fully with wet eyes and the softest smile you had ever seen. “Baby?”

“I felt her.”

You scoffed. “I told you that you would.”

He kissed all over your stomach, lingering each time. “Maybe she finally knows I’m her daddy.”

“She always knew.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Truth?” He glanced up at you and you explained, “I’ve been feeling her for a while now. That’s why I knew she liked your voice... I have some bad news, Andy. It seems like she already knows you’re wrapped around her finger and she is going to enjoy making you jump through hoops.”

“Just like her mom.”

You smirked. “Guess so.” You reached out to touch his face. “What are you thinking?”

He shrugged. “Every morning, I wake up and I’m so sure that my life couldn’t get any better but every day, it does. I didn’t know it was possible to love as much as I love you and as much as I love her.”

You turned to mush instantly.

“I didn’t have this growing up, you know. I didn’t have a dad but I’m going to do it right. I’m not going to be like him. I don’t understand how he could just walk away from his child, I would never do that. I could never do that. Or from you, my beautiful wife. For a long time, while we were trying, I just hated him so much. More than usual. I hated that we had to try so hard and that he was given a family that he just tossed away.”

“Well, he was an idiot. You are truly the best man I will ever know, possibly the best man that there is. And you’re going to be the best father, too... Okay, maybe second best after Ryan Reynolds, but still pretty high up there.”

He scoffed.

Feeling her kick was another addition to his day. Lips and fingers brought you to orgasm before taking you to the shower where he carefully wrapped his arms around your shoulders and fucked you from behind. He would dry you off, lay you out on the bed, and cover you in lotion and pay a lot of attention to your feet. His hands all over your body never failed to make you want him, but he had to go to work. You both knew if you started, he was going to end up being late. After breakfast, he would say goodbye to you, then he would lean down and ask his little girl for any kind of movement. She’d began to indulge him at least twice a day, when he was leaving and when he would say goodnight.

He’d always let you sleep in on Saturdays and even stayed with you for a great deal of it. Mostly because he knew you could sense when he wasn’t in bed and that would wake you. But with time, you were becoming less tired. Not entirely, you still were out like the dead at 9 every night, but sometimes you woke up actually feeling rested.

Saturdays were what he intended them to be. This particular Saturday had him wrapped around you, hands flat to your stomach, chin atop your head. You had another fantastic dream, one where you weren’t pregnant.

You loved your baby and you loved that you were able to carry her but you missed how hard he fucked you sometimes. You just couldn’t wait until he could pull your hair, choke you, spank you, tie you up, all of the things he loved to do to you. More importantly, you couldn’t wait until he was on top of you, pinning you down and leaving bruises.

Those dreams were why you woke up wet more often than not. Why you never hesitated to take his hand and slide it lower but you didn’t need that today, you just needed him. For you, he’d adapted to sleeping without clothes. It was easier that way and he’d never complain about you doing the same. Besides, the heat was getting the best of you the bigger you got.

You reached back with your heel, tapping his shin several times. “Andy?”

He hummed.

“It’s Saturday. Wake up.”

He scoffed, eyes still closed. “Yeah, it’s Saturday. Sleep in.”

“Fuck me,” you whined.

“I wish I could say that wasn’t enough to get me hard.”

“You were already hard,” you assured. You could feel him against your hip.

He grabbed your thigh and draped it over him. “You know, my love, when you’re not carrying our baby, I am going to have a lot of fun making you wait for it. I am indulging you now simply because you are giving me the greatest gift anyone could. But when I can tie you up, when I can fuck you, that is what I’m looking forward to.”

You moaned as he unhurriedly slipped inside you. “I miss your hands around my neck, that’s what I’m looking forward to.”

“So, I suspect you’ll continue being a brat long past your due date.”

“Yes, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” you taunted.

“Not right now, just you wait. You’ve been bad ever since you told me you were pregnant. Laying on the couch, naked. I know you had been touching yourself. I’ve been keeping track and your ass is probably going to be getting spanked up until you’re pregnant again.”

You snorted, turning your head back slightly. “Oh, and is that going to be immediately after?”

He kissed along your jaw. “Up to you.”

“You want another girl?”

“Yeah,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

You scoffed.

“But I wouldn’t be let down by a boy,” he promised. He started delicately rolling his hips, one hand coming to your center to rub your clit.

Watching you fall apart like this was something else. Andy found you utterly beautiful, your cheeks would flush, your eyes would fill with such desperation for him that made him feel wanted. The moans that spilled from your mouth were sometimes animalistic, inspired only by how much you needed him to give you what only he could.

Now that you were pregnant, he could cover you in his cum. He always loved doing that, an interesting discovery he’d made very early in your relationship. After you decided you wanted to try for a baby, he would often come inside you and tell you to leave it there, which was pleasing as well. But this. This was simplistic, classic beauty.

He pulled out, fingers filling you instead. Your hips moved frantically, seeking the pressure of his palm against your clit. Angling your head back, his lips hungrily met yours. You reached down and took him in your hand, he turned his head slightly to hiss a curse.

Once he looked at you again, you pretended all you wanted was an innocent kiss. Something you kept up until he was just about to come, and then you bit down hard on his bottom lip. He had no idea how to retaliate and seeing the frustration play out on his face was almost as satisfying as your finish.

You laid next to him patiently as he came down, anticipating his reaction. It was always funnier when he had time to dwell on the situation. For several more weeks, you had complete permission to be as bratty as you wanted. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t been taking advantage of that more.

He turned his head to you and you smirked. “That’s going on top of the list. You will regret that.”

“The look on your face was so worth it.”

“Teasing is also going on the list,” he warned.

The day your water broke was just a normal day. Of course, not your due date. No, this baby had been torturing you since the very start, why stop now? You expected it was just something in the Barber blood. Strong-willed, complicated, and the tendency to be a complete pain in the ass.

Regardless, your husband was at work. If everything went well for him today, there was one last case that he was going to tie up, and then he was yours and hers until he was ready to go back. You figured that wouldn’t be for a long while and that was exciting.

You would think that this would have been too much by now. You guys didn’t really have your friends, or regular company that you kept. No one had been in your home, save for Lynn who you insisted he invite over so she could see the nursery in person.

She’d also given you a gift and you wanted to receive it from her in person. You knew there was a special friendship she had with Andy. A woman in a position of power, you figured she didn’t have time for many. And Andy wasn’t a typical friend, a low-maintenance guy who was kind and smart. They just went together well, and you wanted to encourage him to let her in at least a little.

He answered your call on the first ring because he’d been glued to his phone for these past three months every time that he had to leave the house. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Are you busy?” you worked to keep your voice level. No need to rile him up before he could get home.

“No, not really. I just stepped out of a meeting with Lynn. We were talking about the last case she thought of giving me. She’s wondering if three days is—”

“She should give it to someone else.” You had taken to rubbing your stomach, mentally pleading with your baby. Please, baby, just wait for your daddy. I’ll never hear the end of this if he doesn’t see it.

“Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m fine…but my water broke—”

“What?!” he yelled. You distantly heard him yelling then, “Lynn, I gotta go! My baby is on the way and she was a bit of a jerk at the start, wouldn’t kick for me. I think she’s missing all those times she killed my soul and I’m terrified she’s going to show up before I make it.”

You could only imagine the look on Lynn’s face. Or the look on his face. A cross between terrified and thrilled, he probably looked like a serial killer.

“Can you wait for me to get home?”

“Did you just call our daughter a jerk?”

He huffed. “Baby.”

“I think so. I haven’t started having any contra—nope! No, there it is.”

He talked you to through breathing until it subsided. “Okay, listen, this is very important. I’m across town right now and there’s going to be some traffic at this hour—”

“Please don’t drive crazy.”

“I won’t, I promise. But first, I need you to get the timer…where are you?”

“On the couch.”

“Great, get the timer under the table.”

“There isn’t a timer under the table.”

“There is, I taped it there.”

“For what?” you pressed.

“This, obviously.”

“But why would you tape it?”

“There are about twenty timers all over the house, hidden so you couldn’t find them and move then.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward slowly to search under the top of the table for the timer. Yup, he was being serious.

“Okay, just keep track of them. And now, the second thing, I need you to promise me something. The neighbors, if you need them to drive you, they will.”

“What?”

“I’ve been creating these backup plans ever since you told me you were pregnant.”

“Oh, come on,” you complained. “I thought you were being nice to them because you liked them.”

“I mean, it’s not as if anyone in our neighborhood would ever say no to taking you. I just had to make sure that they were good drivers.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You had hoped that having a child was making him see the importance of social ties. These people lived by you, they were all having kids, most of them would probably end up in the same school.

“Honey?”

“I thought you wanted them to be our married friends. She just had her baby 8 months ago—”

He snorted. “Yeah, in addition to that other one.”

“Are you talking about Charles?”

“I know he’s 5, but he’s evil—”

“Andy!”

“Baby, listen. I’m getting in the car now. If you need to get to the hospital before I make it there, go left first. If they are not home, then go to the right. Left then right. Left first, right is the second resort.”

“You dragged the Johnsons into this, too?”

“Dragged ‘em all in, baby. Gotta go, stay calm and don’t move unless you need to. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You hung up and laid back against the couch. It felt like all there was to do was wait for your next contraction, something you did not enjoy the first time. They were just going to get worse, you needed your husband here.

You heard Andy pull up a little over half an hour later. He charged into the house like a maniac, showing up at your side, hands immediately going to your stomach. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had a couple of contractions,” you reported. “They don’t last long and they’re pretty far apart.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He helped you off the couch, bringing the timer along with him. He let you control the pace to the car. You’d gotten bigger than you thought you would and walking three steps was nearly a minute-long ordeal.

Halfway there, you noticed the bag over his shoulder. “Don’t you have a bag in the car?”

“I packed the car bags sometime last week. Who knows what state of mind I was in? I can’t trust my competence.”

“Are you implying that there has been a moment during these 40 weeks that you haven’t been out of your mind?”

“I’m going to pay for this neighbors bit, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” you promised.

Labor wasn’t a long process. Painless as many women had told you it was? Fuck no. It hurt, a lot. But Andy was there and he was all you needed. He talked you through the breathing, he never stopped touching you, your arms, your face, your stomach. He liked to make plans when neither of those things worked. He reminded you about all the great things you guys would get to do with children, and it was enough to get you through it.

You thought you knew what love looked like, because you loved Andy so much. But when he saw your baby for the first time after she’d been set in his arms, he looked at her in such an intense, breath-taking way.

Any uncertainty you might have been playing with in your mind was gone in that second. You’d gotten a bit paranoid over time. Wondering if you guys were just going to have the same marriage as everyone else. Like, you started in love and ended with affairs and really hurtful words. But you knew then that this was not a normal family. This was true, unconditional love.

#andy barber x reader #still writing i swear #another coming up soon #my writing

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redevenir · 3 years

Text

rigil kentaurus (pt. i)

The brightest star of the Alpha Centauri solar system – our closest neighour. Its name is the latinisation of the arabic رِجْل القِنْطورُس‎ Rijl al-Qinṭūrus, meaning the Foot of the Centaur. It is slightly larger and more luminous than the Sun. W

seungkwan x reader

wc : ~ 4000

summary : you are only a spectator of your life until they take your hand and let you live it.

a/n : started it as a seungkwan piece, then turned it into a johnny one then coming back to seungkwan bc this is how i wan to keep writing it. it's like i can't keep writing it if it's not seungkwan i don't know.

« It’s the fourth one. » Chan’s voice is only a hushed whisper but you hear how bothered he is. You don’t answer.

I know…

No, It’s already the fourth one tonight, and it’s only eleven!

I know…

It’s like they’re not even trying! Seungkwan barely avoids the tea towel as Chan raises his arms out of exasperation. If they don’t what a cappuccino is, why do they order it anyway? It’s a coffee shop, just buy a coffee! You know you don’t need to answer that. You’ve been working here for months and complaining about customers seems to be a universal way of breaking the ice. You’ve heard this speech from your first week at the counter, and with time you’ve come to agree with whatever colleague you were with, on every single point. Not once have you considered quitting to find something else instead. It is, indeed, not the best place. At the entrance of the city, the beginning of the highway. It is neither cozy nor warm. The air conditioning is too strong half of the year, the radiator too hot during the six months of winter. You are either sweating or shivering. The playlist is sickening, and never in tune with the season. You ignore Maria Carey’s christmas’s vocals as you give a customer a refill. Night workers and truck drivers are your only customers during the night shifts. You have stopped judging them long ago.

For months on end, the only thing Chan could tell about his coworker was that you were not a model employee. It was hard to blame you for anything specific. But you felt off. You felt nothing. When Seungkwan asked him how his shifts went, he would just shrug. It felt like he spent many of his nights on his own rather than with you. Like you were not there with him. Every evening he would arrive, greet you and feel like it was the first time ever. And he would grumble about it.

Can you believe I know nothing about her ?

Well, she’s surely a very private person.

Yes, and that’s rude.

You make little to no effort to appeal to the customers. In fact, you barely engage at all with them. Although, and this is your secret, you do have your favorites. From the three maintenance workers of the power plant to the security guard who comes four times a week, before the end of your shift, after the end of his own, Chan has found out that, if he listens to you close enough he’ll learn their names. Because you know them. You often seem to be elsewhere, but when you wish them a nice evening, or good luck, you do say their name, quietly, without any fuss. A sign to him you weren’t completely indifferent but thoughtful in a different way from his. There is nothing likeable to the Dreamy Drivin Chan works at. First of all, it is not a drive-in, nor a drive-through, it is a mere coffee shop. Not a fancy one, not a chain one. The counter’s light green is ugly, the temperature’s always off, and the pay is honestly not much. This is how life is at the border of the city. You catch what you can get and you try to make it work. He assumes the reason you’ve landed there is the same as his and Seungkwan’s : dropped from school, without any proper qualification for a living. He assumes you are his age, that your face must look younger when you are not tired. Chan is nice. Well, Chan likes to tease his friends, but Chan is nice. He tries to reach you, one sentence at a time.

White noises. The purring of the coffee machine you’ve never seen off. They come in, white shirt, stained jeans, black coats. They order the same thing, the largest, darkest coffee you got. You serve them with a « good night », « good luck » if you feel in a kinder mood. Since Seungkwan’s smile is bright and big and loud, you’ve decided you didn’t need to fake one of your own. They pay for their order and leave for never ending roads you cannot quite picture in your mind. When you work long shifts, it seems to you the world is shrinking, that if you open the front door you will fall into a bottomless pit. That the joke of a coffee shop you work at is some sort of asteroid gas station where rocket drivers stop by on their way to the Andromeda galaxy. You tell yourself Earth is also a little rocking drifting among the stars. You welcome a new customer. You dream of outer space. It is known people turn to alcohol and other substances to forget their troubles, but you don’t need that. Numbness greets you every time the pointing machine does its trick, and you even lose sight of your daily life. Surely you have one, plants to grow, books to read, hiking to walk and messes to clean. People to see and a sun to meet. But here, behind your pale green counter, you consign it all to oblivion. Here, there is only the world in your head and the star who takes orders by your side that exist. Your hear Chan’s annoyed sigh. You serve another coffee. It feels like taming the crow that lives in the tree in front of his building. Like he could give you bread and even croissant crumbs every single night and you would still be distant. And one day, you initiate the conversation, and he knows he’s done well. He remembers it just fine now. It was probably a boring wednesday, late in the afternoon. It had been a cloud few hours since he had woken up. A dim midday sun dissolving into the thick gray air. He was already behind the counter, checking the clock, when you had busted in the room, panting. There was some pathetic charm about the whole scene. You don’t hide your surprise when you see Chan already there, and a smile had made its way – oh so joyful and unsettled. The smile on your face had remained unchanged when he had asked you. And why are you late ?

I am not ? You had answered. What the manager doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Ooh, so that’s how it is. Chan relates to that. He never complains about you again. Next time he talks about you, he tells Seungkwan you are his friend now. His quiet, merry friend who never works day shifts. Chan does. As it happens, Chan hates working the night shifts and only does it when Seungkwan can’t. Seungkwan is kind. Seungkwan is the most loveable being Chan has known in years. Seungkwan is grounded and warm, and steady. Moving in with him was like having finally his roots planted into rich, reliable earth, instead of the slippery mud he had been walking on for most of his life. Chan is heard, is seen. Chan sleeps well, and goes out of his way whenever Seungkwan asks him a favor, because it is easy to satisfy him. Easy, and right. He tells Seungkwan you’ve asked after him, and watches as the other chokes on his coffee.

Can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t notice.

When Seungkwan comes back to the night shifts, you don’t mention him ever leaving, but he notices the change in you immediately. When you greet him, he looks at your face and wonders what was so bad that your better rested face still looks worn out. You’re not as lively as he is, you’re not as lively as Chan is, hell, you’re not even as lively as Chan said you were with him – which wasn’t that much to begin with. But you are here. There is a relief in your presence. Seungkwan said nothing about his absence, and diligently drinks the cup of coffee you offer him around three. Seungkwan regrets the day shift but still. It could be worse. As he tries his best to maintain his customer service to its level – it is hard and how, how did he manage to do it before ? Is this the reason why you don’t ? Don’t set any standard, at all, so no one can be disappointed – and especially not you – when you don’t live up to them. Seungkwan wonders how hard you really are on yourself, and if he isn’t being dramatic. Maybe you’re all right. Maybe you look terrible because that’s how you look. Maybe you were born tired and he has no need to worry about you. Maybe you don’t need him to meddle in your privacy. Surely, if you wanted him to know about your life you’d tell him yourself.

The softest clunk ever heard by a human ear snaps him out of his thoughts. He meets your concerned look and the large cup of latte you’re handing to him.

Seungkwan, you should go home. Take it easy. Night shifts are hard.

He looks at you with wide eyes, opens his mouth, close it, opens it again and stutters.

But- no ! I mean- I can’t- I- I- you- I can’t let you do this alone- It- It- no, it’s not right! You shrug and gesture vaguely toward the empty diner hall.

It’s whatever, really. You try to elaborate as he doesn’t answer. No one’s here, you’re clearly not here, there’s only two hours left, just, you know. Go to sleep. I really don’t mind. You don’t have to fight me on this, by the way, it’s not like I’d tell anyone.

Seungkwan does as you say, doesn’t fight you on this. He can’t manage a proper thought, a proper thank you. He goes in the locker room, picks up his stuff, only to hesitate before the front door, until you repeat yourself, a sweet promise of rest. He spends the journey back home away from his body, replaying the scene over and over. He knows he’s screwed when he opens the door to his and Chan’s apartment. It’s ridiculous, and he would feel ashamed if he wasn’t so tired. How easy it is to let you take care of him. He crashes on his bed still in his work clothes and forgets his last thoughts.

Your shift passes without a fuss. It doesn’t feel like you’re there either.

You close your book when you realize you’re not reading anything. There is a light buzz in your brain, but it is quiet. Unthreatening. You close your eyes and your reaches for the cup of hot cocoa on your desk. It’s all nice and quiet here, and you wonder how you’ve managed to make your apartment such a peaceful nest when your mind is so often washed out by fierce tempests. You let your mind drift away, floating on a safe shore. Breaks from work are nice. Your sleep schedule is well set by now, and you can properly enjoy those forty-eight hours for yourself. You don’t spend every week night longing for them, because you never project yourself into the future, but you would if you did. Dawns are definitely your favorite moment of the day. Either they mean you can go home, or that you have an entire day to relish in the warmth of your place. It is a nest indeed. A kitchen and a bedroom, all stuffed into the maze of a much bigger building. The wooden floor is quite creaky and you do hear when the neighbor upstairs wears their heels. The walls are a very faded shade of orange, which you love – sun-like colors are for good luck. The furniture is definitely older than you are – older than your parents, probably – but it is nice. And the day you’ll leave it will remain exactly the same. More used but untouched. In a way, the atmosphere is not unlike the Dreamy. Homey and decay. Anonymous, but in a belonging way. Chan would hate it. His apartment – well, their apartment – is probably… You can’t picture it. You don’t know enough about home interiors to picture someone else’s home. Comfortable. Maybe furs as bed-covers? You have never touched one before, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of them on the passenger seat of a car. Your gaze never lingers though : you are not to look at a car owner in the eyes.

Seungkwan feels like he’d sleep nested in a bed of wool and furs. He’d probably like the soft but rough feeling of it against his skin. There’s something comforting about raw fabrics, isn’t there? A bubble of heat slowly builds in your chest and you close your eyes shut to chase the thoughts of Seungkwan’s bare skin in his bed.

Seungkwan is quiet, but not discreet. He is clumsy and always in his own world, parallel to yours, but you wonder how many light years are between you, and it is all to his credit. There is something you find commendable to his behavior. A reliable honesty. Not unlike a dog, you can tell from the look on his face whether he is content or anxious or annoyed. You do not have to imagine his hidden agenda – you are positive he has none. The easiness with which Seungkwan expresses himself still amazes you, even after a year or so of observing him a few nights a week. It seems to you his feelings have no hindrance to them : pure joy, pure irritation, pure panic whenever one of you breaks a cup – it happens more than you like to admit. When his voice rushes to tell you a quick joke between two customers, the joyful spontaneity of his tone carries you miles away from the counter, to bright afternoons on windy shores. He is quick-witted and never misses a chance to tell you whenever he notices something amusing. Simplicity is Seungkwan’s most beautiful quality, you have decided. When you are not drifting around other solar systems, when you come back home to your place, when you are lying in bed a few minutes more before getting dressed up, you try to imagine what he is doing at the same time. What does his apartment look like, what does he like to cook, does he have a dog and why is his smile so charming. Sometimes under the shower you wonder what he would think about you if he were to see you naked. You try to leave these thoughts in the shower where they belong but you cannot always control your mind and you find yourself embarrassed in front of him more often than you care to admit.

You collect information about him like a gold digger their gold nuggets. Every word he addresses you, you replay in your head again and again until you can hear him breathe them against your ear in the darkness of your bedroom. So when Seungkwan comes back, all quiet and cautious, pondering on his words and his welcoming attitude almost erased, you act on it as best as you can. You are not brave enough to properly ask him about it, so you do what you do best. You observe. How quieter he has become, and the slow but unstoppable growth of the bags under his eyes. Not that he seemed well-rested at all, which is also worrying. What did he go through that was even more tiring than working night shifts? Of course, it is none of your business. If Chan were there, maybe he’d spill the tea, but Chan made it very clear he didn’t want to work a night shift ever again. Will you ever talk to him again? The little one you’re so found of. Chan said Seungkwan was a neat roommate to have, and for him to give up the sunlight for months, you assumes he means it. The understatement is lovely. Chan would never spill Seungkwan’s secrets.

You light up the gas, put the little orange pan on it, pour the milk in it. With that you empty the milk carton, and throw it in the trash. Who knows when you’ll be able to afford milk again? You haven’t seen any in the store for weeks – and you restrain yourself from stealing the Drivin. It isn’t worth it. As you wait for the milk to heat up, you hear a gentle knock on your door. You lower the fire, apprehension growing in your chest. You’re not expecting anybody, so this can’t be good. On your tiptoes, breathing deep, you reach the front door and slowly open it. Wary, you let yourself look at whoever is standing outside.

Oh, miss, hello! Sorry to bother you! Someone just called after you, so I thought I’d let you know ! She lived here too. You don’t know her name, but she’s definitely older than you are. She lives upstairs, you’re not sure of the floor. She looks like a teacher, and her enunciation sounds like that too. She has a little polite smile on, aware of your discomfort, the stiffness of your body being obvious. As she sees your absence of reaction, she hands you a piece of paper, covered in smooth carbon writing. Definitely a teacher. One of your coworker, he said he was. I forgot yo ask for his number, but if he calls back, do you want me to tell him something specific ?

Huh, no! I mean- No, no, no, you don’t need- you don’t- you don’t need to do anything, miss. I’m- I’m sorry he took the liberty to call you, I don’t wish to bother you ! You mouth is so dry. Thank you! Thank you! Sorry again! I’ll leave you be then! Have a nice day! You shut the door without noticing the smile she has on again.

The ringing in your head takes over everything else. You try to reach for something to keep your balance and crumble against the wall, choking for air. You crumple the piece of paper in your fist, nails digging in the soft flesh of your palms, tearing little moon crescent that taint the words you haven’t even read. She knows now. What kind of person doesn’t have a telephone at home? Who, if not someone who is trying to remain unreachable? Untraceable. Your head is about to implode from the pain. Now she’ll know. Now, she knows you have something to hide. You lie on the floor, chasing after your breathe. Who will she tell? Does she live alone ? Is she a public teacher ? How long do you have until she tells on you? You cannot dare to think you might have to go now, tears burning your eyes as you hiccup desperately. The hawk claws on your chest only dig deeper and deeper until your forehead is against the floor, searching for cold, for a relief from the blades in your brain.

The crisis lasts for hours.

The room is dark when you emerge, and a faint, panicked thought about being late comes to you but you’re quick to remember you don’t have to work tonight. Smoke and the smell of burnt is all around you. Shit, the milk. Mouth dry, head numb, you slowly sit up, body hoarse. Feeling a light pain in your hands, you let your fingertips brush over the scab already formed. The piece of paper is still in your left hand, torn and bloody. Finally, you smooth it and read the few words on it. Coworker wants to know when next free day is. also have a good day. You stare at it without making any sense out of it. What coworker? Which one? Your planning is with everyone else’s at work. You feel nauseous. Muscles sore, you stand up and go to the kitchenette to turn the fire down. Without second thought you throw the now empty pan in the trash. Fuck all of this. Mindlessly, you reach the bathroom, undressing yourself as in a dream. After you’re done you let yourself fall on the bed. Quiet, in the back of your head, you start to make a list. Tomorrow, tomorrow you will pack. Just in case.

When you arrive at work the next night, you put an obviously packed bag under the counter. You don’t greet Seungkwan. You don’t look at him. The shift goes by without a word addressed to him. At dawn, a few minutes before you’re both free to go, Seungkwan clears his throat next to you.

I-… Hum. I, well, it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about it, but- Well, just- Just so you know. Chan says he’s sorry. He would never hav- You cut him off, stern, as you wipe the cloth over the counter to make it shine. So it was Chan.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. You hear him open and close his mouth. He seems to understand his place.

O- Ok. Have a good day rest then.You don’t bother to answer him before leaving, bag on your shoulder.

Time passes slowly.

You haven’t looked at Seungkwan in the eyes for so long now, Chan wonders if you still know what he looks like. Every afternoon when Seungkwan eats his breakfast and Chan comes back home to a most welcome snack, the night worker sighs heavy, burdened by your silence. It’s unbearable. It’s unbearable for him to go to work every night with someone who was once friendly and has turned into a wall, a wall for which he longs to love. It’s unbearable for Chan to see his roommate on the verge of tears because of the guilt. It’s unbearable to know their action has you ready to run away every minute of every day.

The thing with Seungkwan is that he is quite good at reading people. Even though he does enjoy some unnecessary drama as much - and maybe more - as others - he usually manages to get through his life without ruffling any feather. It makes it a lot harder to comfort him with empty words when he knows you’re avoiding him, because he has been looking at you. This is how one should talk to people, he has learned. Not everyone is comfortable doing so, he also learned. Sometimes, Seungkwan says nothing, for he is afraid to annoy you away. There is no pleasure whatsoever in taking the night shift. The place is already dull by day, but by night it reaches a new dimension of boredom. Sure, it pays a bit better, but it is not worth it. Since he is not asked anyway, and he does not get to choose his shifts, Seungkwan tries to prize the strays of light in this fog of ennui. First, the night regulars seem to like him better than the day ones. He likes to think they enjoy his enthusiasm and maybe it is one of the reasons they keep coming and ordering there. The other one is you. Although now you are not at all like a light ray and more of a far away storm, high at sea.

Seungkwan would’ve liked it better if had you unleashed hell upon him. Before you used to not talk to him, but it felt more like you were shy, or reserved. Or merely didn’t know what to say, which is a very understandable feeling when you’re still at work at two in the morning five days a week. It didn’t feel awkward. Well, it sometimes felt a bit awkward, but not in the bad way. Now… Now you’re very obviously pretending he is not there, and Seungkwan wants to cry. All of it is his fault. Chan only called to you because of his rambling. I would have called her anyway. I like her. She’s my weird work friend. It’s unbearable. He jumps when Chan drops his fork on his plate with a loud clunk.

I’ll make it up. I can fix this. The eldest doesn’t look up from his meal. Chan wants to rip his own eyes and scream. With her. Inquisitive and tired eyes shoot up. I’m gonna do something about it.

Wha- Wha- Chan, there’s no fixing it, what are you talking about ? She comes to work every day with a bag which I’m sure is full of necessary stuff. You know what that means. I know what that means. She obviously know what that means. There is no fiwing this.

I know, I know. I don’t mean- Deep breathe. I know I can’t fix everything, obviously. But I’m going to apologize to her, and she’ll talk to you. And, well. It’s going to work. Seungkwan shrugs. He says nothing more until he leaves for work.

Chan slumps into the sofa. He’s fucked up big this time. It sucks. He really is a fool. Living one day at a time, he’s lost perspective. He has even forgotten why his life is like that in the first place. How could he be so careless? He’s a fly. Well, all of you are flies. Clearly, you’ve managed to get out the web and he has brought you back into it. Chan’s a fool. He stands up in a sigh, put on his shoes and goes back to the Dreamy Drivin’.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt imagine #seungkwan #seungkwan imagine #bsk #my writings

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tomsrebeleyebrow · 5 years

Text

Finding Love by the Nile | pharaoh!th x fem!reader

Summary: New Pharaoh Tom is young and handsome. After succeeding to his father at a very young age, he is now respected and loved by everyone – but mostly desired by the all ladies of the Egypt Kingdom. As big as his harem can be, one particular creature catches his attention since long time ago and now, he is determined to make her his.

Pairing: Pharaoh!Tom x Commoner!Reader

Warnings: some cute cocky Tom moments but full fluff power

Word Count: 3485

A/N: I’m such a sucker for Egyptian mythology since forever so I decided to combine this passion with Tom, because I’ve never read something like that(?). And there is actually a Tutankhamun exhibition in Paris (and I wish so hard I could go tbh), that’s how this idea popped up into my brain 😗 So yeah, we’ll see how it goes!! Hope you like it ✨

⚠️ For the sake of the plot with the time period and ethnic details (Antic Egypt), the reader (Y/N) will have black/brunette hair, brown eyes and a little tanned skin. Tom will also be a bit more tanned. Thank you for your understanding!! ⚠️

masterlist

City of Giza, Egypt – c. 1539 BC

(Y/N) walks in the streets of the city center. It’s barely ten in the morning. People mill in the alleys and the merchants don’t hesitate to scream about their good deals in hope to tempt new customers. Children weave in and out the crowd playing tag, as their giggles full of life mix with the regular morning hubbub.

Always so much life, nothing changes.

This is the place where the young (Y/N) was born and grown up, in a kind family in a modest home but where it was good to live in. But nothing goes as we plan them to be. And (Y/N) still remembers that particular day where her destiny changed.

The old pharaoh left the world of the living to join the Other Side of god Osiris. All Egypt cried its deceased king who reigned for almost thirty years. And all Egypt got surprised to see a twelve-year old boy announced as his heir. His only child. When the boy was officially proclaimed as Pharaoh of the Egypt Kingdom, the population got to finally discover the face of its new ruler. So young but already with a disconcerting beauty. Wild brown hair due to ridiculous curls, but that seemed weirdly soft to touch. Big brown eyes so deep and sharp but warm at the same time. Him and (Y/N) were the same age at the time. She couldn’t stop but stare at him with marvel and astonishment. Both their worlds were different: the rich sovereign family on one side and the servant people on the other. But that didn’t stop the aforesaid people to cheer and honor their new king chosen by the Gods. And (Y/N) did the same.

Then time flew by and (Y/N) is now eighteen. Long and thick brunette hair cascades on her back, framing a luscious body as well as her gorgeous visage, with hazelnut eyes and soft lips. Stride across the streets of the city, on a market day, is one of her favorite hobbies. It is nearly impossible for her to miss this day, unless if her father needs some help for work.

‘(Y/N)!!’ As she hears her name, she turns her head toward the voice.

‘Oh, hi Nana! How are you?’ Asks (Y/N) with a warm smile.

It is “Nana”, as casually named, the old neighbor lady next to (Y/N)’s household. She is like a second grandmother to her and they truly are fond of each other. (Y/N) couldn’t miss an occasion to pay her a visit.

‘Good, my child, thank you. I bumped into you father while going out and he asked me to tell you, if I saw you, to join him in front of the bridge outside the city.’

Oh. (Y/N) knows more than well what that means.

‘Your father is making more and more return trips to the Royal Palace. It seems like the Pharaoh appreciates his fabrics a lot!’ Laughs Nana.

The Pharaoh. Just talking about it makes (Y/N) let out a big sigh. She is not the only one that grown up, the young Pharaoh from six years ago back then has also changed. Quite a lot.

(Y/N) observed his evolution during several visits to the Palace. Born in a modest family of linen farmers since decades, the young lady grown between fields and weavers and was determined to carry on the traditions. Everyone liked their textiles made of linen, including the royal family who put its trust in (Y/N)’s father. As soon as she was able to work (quite early), her father brought her with him to the Pharaoh’s Palace to deliver and propose new textiles. Of course she always stayed behind to let her father handle the family business, but she took advantage of it to observe the new “little king”, – as some people called him at first –, at any occasion. His mother and close advisers were always in sight to guide him at the beginning of his reign.

Still in power nowadays, he is now known as the young and handsome eighteen-year old Pharaoh idolized by all the country. Besides getting more self-confidence, he doesn’t stop and rush around like a madman to develop Egypt. And the people respect him for that matter. But what noticed (Y/N) over the years was, in addition to all that, that he became a true charmer. More like a lady-killer, in fact. He knew that. ‘The Pharaoh is so handsome!’, ‘He is more and more beautiful!’, ‘Did you see his muscles?’, ‘He must be blessed by Ra, God of the Sun!’ All the time. Any woman falls in love with him and, without anyone noticing well not really but anyway, the young Pharaoh created his own harem. Of course, like he would care. (Y/N) noticed with great regret even if she will never admit it out loud the number of young ladies increasing each time she visited the Royal Palace with her father. One even more beautiful than the other, wearing dresses too much fitted – probably created with the linen of her family – and some black kohl around the eyes, they were free to go around the Palace as they wish. But where (Y/N) could see them endlessly was next of him. All the damn time. This is what people call jealousy.

(Y/N) sighs again thinking about this all over again. She couldn’t stop, this feeling is stronger that she imagines. But it is time for her to accept her fated destiny…

‘Thanks Nana, I will go find him’ Replies finally (Y/N) while taking the granny in her arms for a hug, ‘And you, be careful at the market, okay? I’ll see you this evening!’ She then takes her leave and starts walking to the bridge, while waving to Nana on her way.

After a few minutes she catches sigh of her father who is rushing to reorganize some textiles in his barrow. (Y/N) speeds up to help him.

‘I’m here, father!’

‘Ah, there you are (Y/N)!’ exclaims her father, turning towards his daughter’s voice, smiling. ‘I was checking if I took all the textiles to show to the Pharaoh. There we go. Everything is ready, we can go.’

Both of them set off and cross the bridge heading to the Royal Palace. It is around twenty minutes walk on the other side of the river. This is the perfect time for father and daughter to chat together about anything. The Palace is located in the South of Giza by the Nile. The air is hot, as usual, but walking by the water creates a fresh breeze that lightens their steps.

‘I see you’re wearing the new dress you made yourself yesterday’ notices her father, a proud smile showing.

The dress worn by (Y/N) is her own creation. Her mother taught her at a young age how to weave textile to then sew it and create costumes, and (Y/N) took a great liking in it. Today she wears a straight mid-length dress in cream-colored linen she tinted, with the collar and straps sewed in big stripes of pearls. The bottom of it is embellished with some patterns of Isis’ feathers. Her feet are covered in strappy sandals in dark leather.

‘You really are talented, sweetheart. I am so proud of you’ continues her father. He adores his daughter more than anything in the world, and nothing could make him happier than seeing her walk on his steps. He is sure she will accomplish great things in the future.

‘Thank you, father’ smiles (Y/N), ‘Mother also helped me a lot with the pearls.’

‘You are both talented and beautiful women.’

A peaceful silent takes place in the discussion. Both of them were all smiles and little by little, the Royal Palace is appearing in the arid horizon. (Y/N)’s thoughts start to turn upside down again, her throat is dry, her hands sweaty and an uneasy feeling begins to grow in her stomach. For some time now, it was the same. A sort of odd stress that she felt as soon as she was near the Pharaoh’s Royal Palace. The Pharaoh.

‘Your mother and I combined two types of linen to create a new type of textile. I wonder if it will be to the Pharaoh’s liking.’

Everything goes blank around her and her father’s words wanders in the air. Could I appeal to the Pharaoh? That’s impossible… (Y/N) never spoke directly to the Pharaoh, or maybe if she had to present or give some information about a textile. She just assisted her father in his task so she couldn’t imagine getting herself noticed or, even worst, being seen as someone disrespectful to the royal family. And ruin all her father’s business.

But the Pharaoh has, in fact, an intriguing personality. (Y/N) could sometimes feel his eyes on her when she was displaying textiles, while her father kept explaining all the details and features. Or he would just call her and ask her to come closer to “see the textiles better”. Of course it was not the textiles he was looking at.

‘(Y/N), we are here.’

As waking up in the middle of a dream, (Y/N) gets a grip of herself and they in fact arrived. She can’t even remember passing near the guards at the entrance.

Come on, (Y/N). Breath in…. And out…

Her father put the barrow next to the entrance archway that leads to the throne room. He picks some textiles, keeps them under his arm and starts to walk inside the Palace.

‘Father, I err… I think I will stay outside a bit. I-I got a bit hot when walking so I will join you… A bit later…’ mumbles (Y/N) while playing with her thumbs.

‘Are you sure? Do you want me to ask some water to the Phara-‘

‘No! no no no, don’t worry, father… R-Really, I just need to rest a little’ insists (Y/N), showing him a begging look.

‘If you insist, sweetheart… Sit in a shade place and do not hesitate to ask if you need something. You can join me when you feel better’ finishes her father slightly worried, but still left a kiss on her forehead. Deciding not to insist on it, he enters the Palace before glancing one last time at (Y/N) who, to reassure him, smiles and waves at him to go.

Finally alone, (Y/N) moves the barrow and places it in the shade of a jasmine tree. She decides to sit down on the sandy ground, back against the open side of the barrow and head lying of some textiles that make great pillows. She closes her eyes and empties her mind. The jasmine above her leaves a delicate perfume in the air, big palm trees swing there leafs with the wind and some birds sing in the distance. So calm. The breeze of the Nile is still refreshing the air, to (Y/N)’s pleasure. This oasis is a true haven of peace and nobody here to disturb her.

‘At least I will not see him today…’

‘I hope you’re not talking about me?’

(Y/N) jumps and lets out a squeal. She then brutally stops in her tracks of standing up because she loses her balance and lands with a chaotic “BOOM” in the middle of textiles in the barrow. And she hears that same voice chuckling at her. Its seems kind of familiar… That’s weird… Wait- When she finds her way out the piles of textiles – careful not to damage something – and is ready to stand up, she can’t believe who is in front of her.

‘I didn’t think you would be that fearful, (Y/N).’

No, that’s not possible…

Well it is?! Right in front of her eyes is the Pharaoh himself. He stands there, towering her, his torso puffed out and hands on his hips. Clearly (Y/N) couldn’t help admiring that true masterpiece. His naked and defined torso displays a pectoral collar made of golden slab, beautify with many gemstones such as lapis lazuli, cornelian and turquoise. His wrists, biceps and ankles adorn very large bracelets that look heavy just by watching them. About his costume, he wears a classic shendyt around his waist, extending to above the knees and hold by embroiled gold and blue belt. His sandals are similar to (Y/N)’s but more sophisticated with gemstones. Finally rests on his head his shiny khepresh on which the uraeus stays in the middle of his forehead like a third eye. (Here is a link of Tom’s outfit -> https://goopics.net/i/WLDoV)

And it is after a few seconds of total blank but mostly of delicious contemplation that (Y/N) comes back to her senses (again) and becomes aware of what is happening. Panicked, she throws herself at the Pharaoh’s feet.

‘I BEG YOUR PARDON, OH MY PHARA-‘

‘Calm down, (Y/N), no need to act like this!’ Laughs heartily the young king while looking at the trembling woman, forehead pressed against the ground. ‘Stand up, please.’

(Y/N) consents to his demand and begins to raise only her head but after another approving look of the Pharaoh, she stands on her two legs shaking the sand off her dress. She doesn’t dare to look at him in the eyes and her heart beats so hard it could jump out of her chest at any moment.

‘You are an emotional woman, (Y/N). Wait. Don’t move and close your eyes.’

What?

The Pharaoh moves his hand closer to (Y/N)’s face so she instinctively shuts her eyes, before she feels fingers brushing the remaining sand off of her forehand. When they gently slide on her cheek and disappear, she then opens her eyes and flutters her long eyelashes a few times.

‘There you go, you are as gorgeous as before.’

‘I-I, my Pharaoh Tutankha-‘

The aforesaid Tutankhamun interrupts her by putting his index on her plump lips.

‘I already told you to call me “Tom” when we are alone.’ Another quirkiness of his. ‘And please forget about “my king”, “my Pharaoh” and other honorific titles, it makes me feel so much older than I look like…’ whines “Tom”.

He is still a child.

‘… As you wish, “Tom”’ answers (Y/N) with a simple but humble nod, smiling. Then she asks ‘My father is already inside the Palace to display our textiles, shouldn’t you be there?’

‘I told Mother to do the job today because I wanted to get some fresh air…’ He sigh before adding ‘… At least I got the opportunity to be in your company.’

And here is the smooth Pharaoh again.

‘I’m sure your concubines would appreciate your presence even more if you join them…’

‘Pff, they are not really useful to me besides-‘

‘With all due respect, Tom, these kind of details don’t concern me. At all’ suddenly interrupts (Y/N), looking away with displeasing eyes just by the thought of him being… Intimate with ALL these DIFFERENT women.

Stay calm (Y/N), don’t lose it.

There is a heavy silence between them and Tom doesn’t waste time to break it. ‘Excuse me, (Y/N)… It didn’t mean to broach this subject…’ He corrects himself while scratching the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and calling himself stupid in his head. And that is when (Y/N) could notice some strands of hair poking out his headgear. In fact she also notes that its way too forward on his forehead.

‘If you will allow me, Tom…’ She steps closer, stretching her arms out to finally grab his headgear between her head. ‘Your khepresh moved… I will arrange it.” And (Y/N) replaces it the right way. She decides not to mention about the adorable rebellious hair, choosing to gaze at them when he will not look.

Unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands leave Tom’s headgear to slide and slowly caress his face, ending their way on his jawline.

Her hands are soft for a weaver… So soft, thoughts Tom, lost in his countless dreams and fantasies.

‘Thank you, (Y/N).’

When (Y/N) is aware of her action, she hurries to take away her hands but the young Pharaoh is faster and catches them back, his grasp firm but at the same time gentle.

‘These hands can create many beautiful textiles… I wonder what other wonderful things they could do for me…’

He brings her hands up to leave kisses on them. (Y/N)’s cheeks turn as red as she got sunburned. His eyes oh my his eyesstare deep in her soul, full of such desire that (Y/N) couldn’t think of something to say. She is like hypnotized, captivated by this man’s handsome figure and unctuous words.

‘C-Come on, Tom… Don’t say-’

‘Yes (Y/N), I insist… You are much more precious to me than you can imagine…’

Hands intertwined, they never look away. They stare hungrily at each other, like they could devour a one in front of them with the eyes. The only sound heard is the ibis flying over the gigantic garden to go to the Nile. How could (Y/N) even think about THE Pharaoh of Egypt himself being so interested in her, daughter of traders-weavers? And yet, Tom couldn’t look away or even think about doing so.

Is this a sign from Hathor, Goddess of love?

‘Follow me (Y/N), let’s have a walk around the oasis’ proposes Tom and before waiting for any answer, he drags her with him and goes down the stairs that leads to the Palace gardens. (Y/N) doesn’t even protest, she already knows that nothing can stop the young Pharaoh when he has an idea in mind.

Once they arrive in the oasis – that is a private place only reserved to the Royal Family – and walk for a bit, they stop in front of a huge pond liven up with tones of aquatic plants, fishes and birds. Rows of acacia and jasmine trees surround it, as if to hide the pond from curious eyes, but some sunrays continue to reflect on the clear water coming from the Nile nearby.

Astonished, (Y/N) gets close to the pond, full of life, while slowly letting loose on Tom’s grasp. He lets her go without a word and admires her in a loving way. He wishes he could keep this delightful image engraved in his mind until he dies: this woman with a goddess’ aura, the sun warming her impeccable skin and her hair dancing like her dress in rhythm with the wind and the leafs.

I want to make her mine.

Then (Y/N) turns and calls out to the Pharaoh ‘Tom, come see how beautiful the fishes are!’

In a snap (don’t you dare laugh at that word), the young king joins her at the water’s edge. He perfectly knows all species in the oasis, fishes included, but every second is a chance to be with the one he secretly loves so much. Once next to (Y/N), Tom wraps an arm around her hips and embraces her. Both of them, one head laying on the other, admire the exotic fishes shaking and splashing everywhere in the pond.

But in reality Tom and (Y/N) look at their reflection in the water. Both reflections, standing together, bodies interlacing lovingly.

And in a whisper Tom takes his chance ‘(Y/N), please, be my Queen.’

(Y/N) bits the inside of her cheek because it is like her dreams comes true, little by little but still is.

And stopping herself from laughing she answers ‘First, you get rid of the tones of kohl around your eyes and then of all your harem.’

‘Isn’t it more important to start with the girls and then the kohl?’

And (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself anymore and lets out a heartily laugh. Her answer is silly, his answer is also silly. But this entire situation is even sillier that (Y/N) could imagine. And Tom of course joins her and laughs.

‘No, first the kohl because there is too much of it and because I like looking at your eyes all natural.’

‘You’re right. Actually this thing is such a pain that my eyes get irritated at the end of the day’ huffs Tom blinking exaggeratedly his eyes at (Y/N) while approaching his face of hers, looking like a crazy man. (Y/N) doesn’t stop to laugh at him. And she impresses herself and dares to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, which gets him by surprise.

‘And then I want those girls out of here, and after we can discuss about this Queen thing’ murmurs (Y/N) still close to his lips.

‘Don’t tempt me (Y/N), I might get a bit too excited and do all that just for you’ adds seductively Tom brushing his lips against hers, while smirking.

‘Aren’t you the Pharaoh?’

‘I sure am the Pharaoh of Egypt, love…’

And all of the sudden Tom lifts (Y/N), making her leave her a surprised squeal, and carries her bride style. Now he can’t hold anymore and kisses her straight on the lips and they both savor this moment.

‘… And I will show you now.’

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everythingoesnk · 5 years

Text

I love you, John

summary; in the fandom we say brian’s the 5th beatle. well now he’s the 6th bc in this you’re a member of the band. basically you’re in love with john but he’s dating yoko and............. it’s all a disaster

word count; 2 966

warnings; angst at its finest. i’m sorry if u find it trashy but i tried and that’s what counts

********

There was no way you could face this feeling. It damaged your mental health to the point of insufferable anxiety.

Nobody knew about those episodes.

Was it something that you enjoyed, seeing front row how your friendship shattered to useless fragments? Did you look like you didn’t care about how he distanced himself more each time without looking back? Like nothing or no one else mattered? Of course not.

He was alien to the fact he wasn’t the only one suffering.

At least this was the reason you found that made the most sense to his coldness and passively behaviour towards everyone. Or the justification you wanted to believe, refusing to accept that reality was that he didn’t mind everything falling apart.

The tortuous thought that John wanted to see it all reduced to ashes crossed your mind every once in a while.

Paul sighed loudly when he didn’t get any answer from you after calling multiple times. He randomly pounded several piano keys at once, creating a frightening awful sound, then dragged himself to his feet and anxiously left the room.

None of that made you tore your eyes away from John, though.

He was talking to Yoko, who was sitting on the floor beside him, nodding her head as she followed with her gaze what he was pointing at in the music sheet. Occasionally she’d interrupt him to opine. When that happened he would shut up and listen.

John was very polite when asking for thoughts, always open to new ideas and constantly seeking people's opinions on his work.

Ringo’s eyes were glued on you, George noticed, and he knew the drummer was thinking the same exact thing he was. Ringo nodded in his direction and left to find something to eat: you’d been rehearsing for three hours and he hadn't had breakfast in the morning.

"We're all getting used to it"

Outwardly speaking, George's nonchalant-wannabe words had no apparent reaction in you. On the inside, they crushed your soul deeper into misery.

You hummed an ‘approving’ sound to dodge the pressure of having to form a proper sentence.

Concentration back again on tuning the knobs of the guitar, George put his aside on the floor and watched you closely. Then sighed and pressed his lips together.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?”

"The ticking"

Pokerfaced, you stopped your actions to sneak a look at him.

"What ticking?” you asked grimly.

"Yours," he replied, pointing a finger at you. “You’re about to explode”

“We have a comedian in the building, how appropriate” you proclaimed nodding your head at him mockingly.

He grinned and dropped his gaze to the floor before speaking to you again.

“Come with me,” he said, getting up, “I’m craving a smoke”

“I’ll join in a moment. I want to finish writing down a couple of things first”

"Oh yeah?" George wasn’t convinced at all.

He removed a strand of hair from his face. In vain ‘cause it returned shortly to the same place where he’d shoved it away from.

“Yes"

George stared at you, hands on the hips.

Sunk in your seat, you glanced at him too without blinking.

"I’m inspired," you added, one last attempt to make him believe you.

You could try. You could try giving that song you’d been working on a new chance.

"Okay," he nodded, lowering the guard, and kissed your forehead, "you know where to find me"

"Sure, Geo"

You smiled and rapidly shot him a big grin, thumbs held up as well, when he turned around to take a good last look at you before closing the door behind his back.

As soon as he was nowhere around, your smile was found gone.

It was only you, John and Yoko now.

It must have been the tenth time that, desperately, you ran your hands through your hair.

Perhaps the problem was you. And you were just exaggerating everything.

But did she have to stick her nose in something that had nothing to do with her?

You didn’t mind her discussing the songs. But never in a million years could you believe she had the ovaries to criticize them. To criticize your work. Paul’s work, George’s and Richie’s work.

Never John’s, though. It must be said to add a little more context to you losing it.

You weren't nosy, but she didn't try to be inconspicuous either.

That bitch’d been talking shit about what she referred to as ‘Ringo’s lame thing’, claiming that Octopus’s Garden was kind of embarrassing and that it didn’t deserve to be on a Beatles record. She didn’t even bother asking about the meaning behind it, the ignorant cretin.

You bit your tongue until you just couldn't anymore.

"God," you exhaled.

Yoko heard your sigh but said nothing about it, bowing her head. She wished John’d do the same, but deep down she knew he’d have something to say.

And of course, he did.

"What's up?" he asked lifting an eyebrow, eyes jumping from you to Yoko and back.

"One gets tired of listening to bullshit" you warranted in a singsong voice, not looking up from the paper and without interrupting your writing.

It took a few seconds for you to get a response.

"Nothing she said was bullshit," John defended, hinting that her opinion was as valid as anyones.

You understood his words differently.

"Rich’s mad excited about it and it’s a great song,” you hurried to argue, this time meeting his stare, “the number of hours and dedication he's putting into it is inhuman. You should know that”

A little –huge— bit of your protective side towards Ringo was showing, but you didn’t care. Octopus’s Garden was beautiful and you’d die defending so if necessary.

"I didn't mean—"

“Are you sure?” you interrupted, turning your body in his direction, leaning in before spitting the poison out, “because lately she seems to speak for you. Whatever Yoko says, there you are giving your approval”

John stood still for at least a minute, momentarily speechless.

Yoko approached him to tell him to forget it and leave before things got uglier.

When you called the conversation off after he hadn’t spoken a word, trying to handle what you just so hostilely reprimanded, you went back to your thing, conscious that you were too unstable and broken to even pick the pencil up again.

Sure you didn’t want him to know you weren’t as strong as you wanted to appear to be, but you had to close your eyes for a moment and exhale after he moved to stand next to you.

He didn’t know the power he had on you. It’d take a snap of his fingers to ruin you for eternity.

“You’ve to fix your shit and get over it,” John grunted, fed up with the constant attacks that Yoko directly and indirectly received. It all got too much to handle.

You laughed in his face.

“Fix my shit? How, John, when the shit’s in the same room?”

John paused again, shocked.

His eyes languidly turned cold and hard.

Could you maybe have gone a step too far? There was no denying. Were you regretful? Not at all. Did your heart, constricted in your breast painfully hindering your catch of air, speed up its pace at the look John was giving you, scared about what he was going to say next? Absolutely.

"What the fuck’s wrong with you? I've had enough of the continuous offences to my wife! Now this?!” he snapped, yelling.

You avoided by all means raising your voice since it’s pretty much known that doing so does not make you any more right. The tone was something you could take control over, unfortunately, it was way more difficult to hide how it trembled.

“If I started to say what I was fed up with we’d never finish the album. And we have to, right, John? The sooner the better,” you challenged in a cold-blooded boost of courage, knowing you were entering a difficult and muddy territory.

The bomb timer George talked about earlier was at its limit.

That John asked Yoko afterwards to leave you two alone was just the appetizer of what was coming.

“(Y/N), you have attitude problems. The way you treat Yoko is horrible and unfair. She just wants to help” he tried to let you know where he was coming from, going back to a more suitable tone to appeal you.

“When we ask her for help, her presence will be welcomed”

“Enough now. Enough, (Y/N)” he shook his head and glanced at you fiercely. You swallowed. "Shit, what the hell’s going on with you and your twisted mind? You’re unbearable"

“Am I unbearable?” you gasped, blood heating your face, and immediately stood up. “You’re insufferable!! Twenty-four hours together like… like… like two fucking creeps!” you screamed, quickly forgetting about the ‘not raising your voice’ thing, gesturing an awful lot to express your irritation.

His expression of disbelief morphed onto one of monumental anger.

"And don't come at me with that ‘attitude problems’ crap. I’m not the only one who wants her out” you lectured in a bitter fit of temper, voice unwillingly shaky.

“If you have a problem with Yoko being around, the door is right there” he answered, pronounced tightness clear in his words.

Your heart sank to the very bottom of the Earth’s core, and the floor beneath your feet started trembling, just like you hallucinated once after dropping acid with Paul: the whole body in an uninterrupted burning perception that you could just blow up and die.

John was unpredictable, but you never expected him to show you the way out. He flushed your feelings down the toilet just like that.

“Damn right the door’s right there. I’m getting the fuck out” you stressed, turning around to leave so he wouldn’t see the sea of tears that started to overflow down your face.

From the very beginning of your friendship, you knew you had a massive soft spot reserved for him in your heart, but as years passed you were assured you were deeply and profoundly in love with every part of him. You adored and cared about John more than you did to yourself, which sounds and is scary, but you couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was the way that it was.

At this point you didn’t even care anymore that he didn’t return the same feelings, you just wanted him in your life one way or the other. His happiness was everything that mattered to you. It’d always remain that way no matter what happened.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed loudly.

“Don’t leave,” he said hopelessly, looking defeated, arms hanging on his sides, “I don’t want you to be mad at me”

“I’M NOT MAD AT YOU, IDIOT!” you exploded, whirling around to face him. “And I hate that! I hate it!”

Tears and tears kept streaming down your face. You knew you were being embarrassingly cringey and you’d punch yourself later for that.

There was no coming back now: the timer detonated and the pieces of your broken heart were all over the place, imaginarily staining the carpet as small volcanoes attached to them kept erupting and painting all red.

An anguish heaving pain in the pit of your stomach and throat was bit by bit killing you.

Nine years. Nine years in love with this man and he didn’t have the slimmest clue about how you felt.

He was about to find out.

John was surprised to meet your bloodshot eyes and quivering lips. He panicked when he saw that tears were also coming out of your nose down to your lips.

“I hate that you could hurt me over and over and that I’d always find ways to forgive you” you cried, and you wished you had a tissue to blow out your nose in it.

John was at a loss of words.

“Because I love you” you wailed, and rolled your eyes afterwards at that because it was so inconvenient and wrong to say it out loud.

In his consciousness, a voice snapped at him to take action and comfort you, but his feet seemed to be rooted to where he was standing. You were so vulnerable and fragile, full body shaking and shoulders tight, air constantly bursting in and out of your mouth, impossible to control your sobs. All because of him.

“I don’t… I don’t…” John struggled, heartbeat racing a million miles per second.

“I know you don’t!” you sputtered, an excruciating feeling that he’d never want to be with you choking you extremely. "Up until now I thought I could live with it, but you keep bringing her here! Why do you have to bring her?” you sobbed, covering your face.

John couldn’t quite tell whether it was your statement and confession what made his heart heavier with misery or the nicotine in the amount of tobacco smoke still hovering in the room, demanding it to work harder.

By the time he felt sorrowness suffocating him, he couldn’t deny it was the first option.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

As he watched you gulp for air, he couldn’t feel more incompetent and clueless.

You compressed your lips so he wouldn’t get to hear you sobbing; turning your back at him to hide your blotchy face, you heard footsteps approaching you.

John went to put a hand on your shoulder and hold you, but you winced and complained, stepping away from him, as if the contact burned your skin.

Staring at him in the eye, you shook your head.

“Do not touch me”

“(Y/N), we have to sit down and talk this through. I cannot—“

“I don’t want to keep talking about it. I said my part and I know what’s crossing your mind. ‘Poor (Y/N), I feel so bad for her, I hope she gets over it soon’. Nine years, John”

He swallowed.

“I’m sure there’s a way—“

“There isn’t! I love you and you don’t love me! What is there to discuss?”

Glancing across at him, you could perfectly see how he cared and how frightened and terrified he was about the situation. You were one of the most important people in his life, and to think that he thought he knew you, but missed what you were genuinely feeling towards him for almost a decade… He felt horrible.

Yoko was the love of his life, but he also loved you with all his heart.

He was sorry that it wasn’t enough.

“John”

George stepped into the room and walked further in to pull you towards him. He'd been watching for just a few seconds, because as soon as he saw what was going on, he intended to leave, at the end of the day it was none of his business, but he knew you needed him and therefore took the decision to end the scene.

Rubbing your back, he whispered in your hair if you wanted to leave. You just nodded.

“Wait, George. I need to talk to her”

“You heard her. She doesn’t want to”

John got mad at him.

“All I’m asking is a few minutes. Don’t expect me to drop it when she’s like that”

Maybe by ‘that’ he meant that you looked like a train just ran you over. Casually, that’s how you felt. If not worse.

You rested your head on George’s shoulder and murmured something about needing to go now because you couldn’t be in John’s presence no more.

“(Y/N), please” you heard John beg.

George and you walked to the door and he told you to wait outside, touching your cheek with a small smile on his lips, encouraging you to take it as an opportunity to calm down.

You obliged, but heard everything they were saying anyway.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” John cursed. “Why won’t you let me speak to her? This is serious, please”

John tried to get to the door but George barred the way.

“Are you gonna tell her you love her?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

John stared at his bandmate blankly, the expression of confusion on his face speaking for itself.

“Are you gonna tell her you’re leaving Yoko to spend your life with her?” George continued, making a point that he knew John would understand.

You bit your lip at that and wept silently.

John’s eyes were slowly piling up hot tears.

“That’s what I thought” George spoke in an undertone.

After that, George left him and found you sitting on the ground in the corridor. He took a seat next to you.

Spontaneous sobs and shiverings that you couldn’t hold back happened every now and then. You were grateful that George wouldn’t address them.

“I’m pathetic”

“No you’re not”

“Yes I am” you shook your head and sniffed, feeling lamentable. “I didn’t know I’d end up confessing one day. I assumed I’d carry it to the crave”

Two staff members from the cleaning crew walked by, and you stopped talking. When they were gone, George turned to look at you.

“I believe things happen for a reason and that fate is written. You and John not being a thing may be for the best. It’s gonna be hard, but you have to move on”

“Move on…”

He nodded.

You moved to face him and stared strongly into his eyes. That was it.

“Move on” you repeated out loud as a mantra, staring off into nowhere.

George furrowed an eyebrow.

“Yes…?”

You inhaled and exhaled at the same time that you closed and opened your eyes. Moving on would be the first step to a better stage within yourself.

“I’m leaving”

Puzzlement clouded George’s features.

“Leave… where?”

“The band, Geo. I’m quitting the band”

#john lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles #brian epstein #yoko ono #let it be #john lennon imagine #john lennon fanfic #john lennon fanfiction #let it be sessions #john lennon angst #tayloredstarr

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 6 years

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January 1, 2018: Soundcloud user kwonsongs uploaded a new audio: “New Year’s Day (cover)”

date: december 30, 2017

word count: 1,889 without lyrics

summary: really just me making up for never doing the cover festival para on ash combined with your run of the mill “new year, new me” para. it’s not super important character development but i wanted to establish kinda where he is as the year starts and he’s being emo again and this really might make more sense if i posted the other self-para with stuff that happens before this self-para but that would be too logical, right?

notes: i really wrote a self-para with taylor swift lyrics in it. f/anfi/ction.net is shaking. anyway this takes the place of that one para i wrote in october as my least favorite piece of writing even though it took a month and a half to write. just me.... constantly outdoing myself for the worse.

“Hold on to the memories; they will hold on to you.”

The night is darkest just before the dawn was a cliche Ash had repeated to himself (and had sung to him in slightly different words by Florence + the Machine through his headphones) numerous times in the past few years . He clung to the times it’d been proven right, but he’d seen how once the dawn had passed into the joyful brightness of mid-day, it could only go back downhill from there. He wanted to hope 2018 would be the dawn followed by a long summer day after the darkness of the past two years, but hope was hard to come by these days.

Time to sit down and record covers was rare lately, too. Two had been uploaded in December before his album dropped, but they’d been recorded in the two months before. Usually he’d play keyboard to accompany himself after picking the song and working out the legal licenses, but he just couldn’t do this one without a piano, so he’d gotten special permission to use one of the BC vocal lesson rooms to sit down at a real piano in a room with good acoustics. His hands ghosted over the black and white keys and he smiled to himself at the all too familiar press of his fingers on each one.

This was his home, more so than a music show stage or even a dance practice room. He’d never felt more comfortable than behind a piano. He’d been playing piano for longer than his memory went back. After eighteen years, it was the most natural thing for his body to do, more than breathing itself. There’d been a time he’d thought his destiny laid with the instrument in front of him. Becoming a world famous pianist wasn’t the most practical dream in this day and age, but when he was only a kid, it was what he’d wanted and he’d been too optimistic to doubt himself.

He couldn’t see that little kid in himself anymore.

Ash sat down at the bench and played the song’s first few notes to make sure the instrument was tuned. Recording his covers could often be an emotional ordeal sinc he rarely wasted his time with songs he couldn’t connect to. His soundcoud account was the closest thing to a diary he had other than his own songwriting notebooks. Millions of people could listen to them, but would they ever know who his love songs and songs of heartbreak went out to? Hansol. Daeun. Yoonah. His feelings for all three of them over the past two years had been documented on the public platform, but he’d never even told them they were about them, much like he didn’t tell them about most of the original songs he’d composed with them in mind. Music, whether it be written by others or written by himself, spoke volumes more than plain words ever could. It was more intimate and vulnerable than a simple exchange of words. Something so real was bound to frighten even the bravest of hearts, something Ash had never claimed to have.

Ash’s love of Taylor Swift songs had become so well-known that it was nearly a joke now, but he’d connected with the song he was going to play from the first time he’d heard it. For all of the dramatic and unrealistic notions he had of romance, the simple idea of an enduring love was one that appealed him to most now after so much self-inflicted heartbreak. On a deeper level than romance, he wanted to be a good person to everyone he loved in any sense. Not just his boyfriend, but also his friends and his parents. His nature had long led him to run from conflict, but he never wanted to be the type of person who hurt others because of his selfishness ever again.

It was a vast improbability that his wish would come to fruition. Ash had never wanted to hurt others, but he still did, so why should he think he could change? It was a flaw in the code of his nature that he was still struggling desperately to accept, but he didn’t have to accept it today. He just had to open up for the sake of music.

The song was easy to play, which was a godsend since he still felt weak from the night before. Life went on and this would help him, he hoped. Music was therapy when the universe didn’t allow him time for the real kind. But he could only rely on a substitute for so long before it ruined him.

The expensive audio recording set up had already been arranged, so he let a few moments of silence linger in the air after hitting record before he deftly began the one bar intro.

“There's glitter on the floor after the party. Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby. Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor. You and me from the night before but...”

The words flowed from his diaphragm as naturally as a nursery rhyme. The beginning was easy to get through, a visualization of the words taking over his mind. He hadn’t been to many parties, at least not the kinds of ragers at fraternities people his age were supposed to be going to. He’d been to plenty of stuffy industry events where there was no glitter and no Polaroids, only fake smiles and the bright flash of press cameras. Recently, he’d also been to plenty of clubs, with their strobe lights and deafening bass, but that was a hollow substitute. Parties with real laughter and a large group of close friends genuinely enjoying being in each other’s company were a distant dream to him. If he could stop pushing people away, would that help him live the idealistic image of his early twenties or was that another sacrifice he’d laid at the altar of BC Entertainment almost nine years ago with no hope of ever experiencing?

“Don’t read the last page. But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you’re turning away.”

The song began to hit home much earlier than he would have liked. How tempting it would be to be able to know how everything ended in advance. At the end of his life, would he be happy? Would he finally know what happiness was? Would he grow old with someone who could somehow love him despite his never-ending failures or would he continue to disappoint everyone? Would he still be remembered as nothing more than the list of labels that his scandals had branded him with? Attention-seeker. Womanizer. Playboy. Cradle robber. An embarrassment.

Would he continue to sabotage the relationships that meant the most to him? Would his friends admit they only kept him around because they had pitied him and finally leave him for good?

Would he end up truly as alone as he already felt on his worst nights, an isolated man with nothing to keep him going?

His fingers tensed as he played, but he continued, his eyes falling closed as he bit the inside of his bottom lip to center himself. He couldn’t let his thoughts go there. Not now. He needed to get this cover out.

“I want your midnights, But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day.”

Ash’s New Year’s Eve would be spent on a broadcast, but the idea of a trashed room wasn’t unfamiliar to him. After the adrenaline of brushing lips with someone who tasted as much of wine as he did when the clock hit twelve passed, so came the hangover. Hangovers were a normal side effect of life for Ash by now. During his album promotions, he’d pushed through a pounding head and dry throat to do an early show recording a few times. It wasn’t professional and it wasn’t pleasant, but he was beginning to feel he didn’t owe BC the former and the latter was a feeling too uncommon in his line of work to start with.

“You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi. I can tell that it's going to be a long road. I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe. Or if you strike out and you're crawling home.”

The lyrics hadn’t affected him so much when he was practicing, but now it felt like his chest was shaking from the weight of the words he was singing. Ash wished he wasn’t recording so that he could let himself cry, to obstruct the words before they left his lips, but he’d been crying too much lately that he didn’t know he had it in him anymore.

Being loved had always been Ash’s source of validation. He wasn’t unaware of that fact. He didn’t know where it came from; it wasn’t as if he’d been left wanting for love and affection in his childhood, and yet he so badly needed people to care about him. But when they did, he told himself they’d see the light sooner or later. Every time, he hoped it would happen before he could ruin it like he always did. In the moment he had love, it was nice, but it was a vicious cycle and the true satisfaction that he yearned for it never came.

Naked sincerity rang in his words still. He lived for love when there was so little else to live for, and he sang the verse with every last atom of his being meaning the words he recited, but his mind never let his heart be at peace. He didn’t deserve to sing those words. He’d abandoned so many people at different times, in different ways.

And he’d been abandoned in turn back when his scandal had broken. Friends and acquaintances had stopped contacting him because he was a star plummeting to the ground from a spot in the sky that had been so delicate to begin with. People he’d thought liked him for him revealed they were fair-weather friends only interested in his status as a member of BC’s current hot boy group. That’s all he was to many. All he’d ever be. To the public, status as a living, breathing human was the only thing with which being in Knight hadn’t gifted him. “Three strikes, you’re out turned into “one strike, you’re unforgivable”.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. And I will hold on to you.”

Blocking out everything he was feeling so that he could get through the song wasn’t going to happen. Sometimes Ash felt incomparably numb and sometimes he experienced so many emotions it felt like he’d burst, but those were the only two options lately and he had no control over when each decided to show up. He should be appreciating all of the gifts life had given him—a loving family, friends who cared about him (for now), a healthy body, a job that offered him a salary most twenty-two year olds and most idols alike could only dream of making, but none of that was ever enough for him to feel genuinely happy. He tried, he did, but his mind always dragged him back down and disappointment at his own ungratefulness only made it worse.

“Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere.”

As Ash played the final notes of the song, he thought about how being able to look back on the next year with fondness when he was old and graying was the most he could ever ask for. It would be another year under BC, another year doing music with Knight he rarely enjoyed performing, and another year of being too busy to spend enough time with anyone other than his manager, but if he put it out into the world that he wanted this year to be better (that he wanted himself to get better), there was the slightest chance the stars would hear his cry for help. He’d tried everything else in vain, so what harm was there in letting the exhaustion of trying finally take over him and letting the universe do the trying instead?

#&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para #&& kwonsongs | soundcloud #&& bring color to my skies | character development #i had to remake the soundcloud edit because this was supposed to be done by january 1 but nope #imagine the day i get to write ash in a healthy mental state

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