#and one of my work friends overheard her telling another coworker in the break room one day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaila · 4 years

Text

sweet sweet relief

spencer reid x reader

request: do a Reidxreader where the reader is hotch’s younger sibling? They’d be new to the bau and hotch is over protective and reluctant to let them do anything. Due to their young age they get super close to Reid, maybe fluffy or angsty? Thank you!

Warning: angsty (kinda), BAU stuff...

The first time Y/N had met the team they could barely tell the two of them were related.

They were nothing alike.

It wasn't even just outside appearances, they were different, in character, in shape, in every form possible.

Aaron Hotchner was calm and quiet, he was known to be stern and sophisticated, he worked actively to stay in control. He was cautious and careful. He was the epitome of undisturbed.

Y/N Hotchner was not.

She was feisty and stubborn, and she would rather argue with someone than submit to them, and she was lively and sarcastic and known to be impatient.

There were barely any similarities between the two.

But they were both smart, and they both had a mindset for justice, both believe that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, that everyone had a right to feel safe in their world. They both believed that by removing just a little bit of the darkness within the world, just a little bit, it would make everything brighter.

But besides that, they were two completely different people.

It was a surprise to everyone that they were related.

That two people so completely different could share the same DNA.

So when Y/N walked into the conference room, a little later than Hotch had requested, all of his team members shared confused glances at the smirk Hotch had on his face, at the almost-hug he had given this girl.

She looked far too young to be his girlfriend.

Hotch turned around to 6 pairs of confused eyes, 6 people with questions, 6 people who looked very very intimidating to Y/N.

She’d heard all about Aaron's team, she’d heard about the lovely technical analysis, the eldest profiler who had a kick for jokes, she’d heard about Derek, the strongest member of the team, she’d heard about Emily and her history in crime, JJ who’d been the top in her class, and the genius who was only 3 years older than her.

She’d heard about all of them.

That didn't mean she was any less nervous to meet them.

And with the way they were looking at her like they already wished she was gone, her nerves shot through her body.

She couldn't help but turn to her brother, her eyes cast downward, and hope that he knew she needed help. Hoped that he knew her just enough to know when she was nervous.

“This is Agent Y/N Hotch. Strauss assigned her as a new addition to our team.”

There was more collective confusion around the room.

“Hotch?” Morgan asked, Y/N looked up at him, to see him frowning at her, she wondered why he cared that much, wondered why he was bothered by her, why he looked like he could tell exactly what she was thinking.

“Yes.” she answered back quickly, and sternly, like she was telling him as a favor, “Aaron is my brother.”

There was a gasp from across the room.

A blonde woman, with bizarre earrings and questionable clothes, walked over to Y/N, a wide smile on her face as she looked at Hotch with hopeful eyes.

“Sister?” she asked, almost like she was being given a gift Y/N thought.

Hotch only nodded.

Her smile got wider.

She embraced Y/N, pulling her into a quick hug like they’d known each other forever. Y/N felt some nerves escape her at the hug, at least one person didn't hate her already.

“Hotch didn't tell me he had a sister, it makes sense though, you’re so pretty.” She pulled back to smile at Y/N, she had bright energy, one that reminded Y/N of a friend back home, her smile was contagious.

“Y/N, this is Penelope Garica, the technical analyst I told you about.”

“It's lovely to meet you.” Y/N said laughing, as Penelope pulled her into another hug, she already had a special place in her heart for the blonde.

“You have a sister?” Derek asked, and Y/N looked over Penelope’s shoulder to see his face much more relaxed, less threatening, she immediately placed him as the man Aaron had told her about, the strong one.

“Yes, I do. I never told anyone for security reasons, and there's never been a need to bring it up.” Hotch looked at his little sister with pride, he was glad she was there, glad he was going to get to spend some more time with her, glad she had made it so far so early in her career.

“Plus, he didn't want to brag.” Y/N teased, making eye contact with Derek as a way to say she didn't mean any harm, as a way to let him know she wasn't going to be a problem.

He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“I’m Derek Morgan.”

After that, three other people came up to her, with warm smiles, all introducing themselves, JJ who seemed warm and paternal. Emily, who looked to Y/N like a rebel at heart, she smiled a little extra at that. And Rossi, who immediately told her she was a part of the family, “Any family member of Aaron’s is a family member of ours.”

It felt strange to be accepted by all of them so quickly, strange to feel so comfortable so quickly.

And then she was introduced to Spencer.

It took her heart a moment to force her to move.

She’d heard about Spencer, the man who was closest to her age, the smartest man Aaron had said he’d ever met, the Doctor with three PhDs.

He was utterly attractive.

Nerves shot up and down her body, reminding her of the fear she had prepared herself for, though this time it was a different type of fear.

She had not prepared for soft brown eyes and messy hair.

She had not prepared for him to be anything like he was.

Fuck.

He was exactly her type.

She shyly smiled at him, and he waved, just waved, unlike the handshakes she had gotten from everyone else, something in her mind was telling her not to question it.

With a blush on her cheeks she looked away, she looked away and reminded herself that she was there to work, that her boss was her brother, that even if she did immediately want to know everything about the doctor only ten feet away from her, that this was work.

She stayed silent for a couple of moments.

Her brother announced it was time to get started on the case.

***

It had taken a couple of weeks to get used to the job.

Aaron had warned her as much.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he’d asked as soon as she’d announced she was moving out to Virginia, moving to work with the FBI. Y/N had taken it as judgment, she thought he didn't think she could do the job, didn't think she was strong enough, didn't think she was mature enough to handle the BAU.

She’d immediately run to her own defense, “I’ve been sure for almost 3 years Aaron.”

“No, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's just… this job takes a toll on a person. Are you sure you want to do it?”

There hadn't been a doubt in her mind, had not been a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering if she was really strong enough, if she really dared to do what her brother did every day, there was never a question of if she thought she could do it.

It hadn't even taken her a moment to answer yes.

But, this time, Aaron had been right.

Seeing dead bodies, learning about different methods of insanity, diving into the mind of people who were sadistic, not saving everyone. It was all heartbreaking.

And exhausting.

Y/N was starting to understand what her brother had meant, what he was thinking of when he said it took a toll on people, she was starting to wonder how he dealt with it, how he went every day being the boss and not breaking down while dealing with what they dealt with.

She was starting to wonder how they all dealt with it.

Most days, none of them seemed bothered, none of them seemed to mind any of it. She tried to remind herself that they had all been doing it a lot longer than she had, that they had seen everything a million times, that they had gone through the worst things she could imagine. It didn't help her feel any better.

She wasn't going to quit though, she could feel it in her blood, in her heart, that she was doing the right thing. That this is what she was meant to do, that no matter how many people died, no matter how many terrible people there were, she was saving someone's life.

And she was good at it.

She kept her head held high and tried not to show any hesitancy.

The night right after the case, one that had been particularly different from the others she’d seen, she felt practically dead on her feet. She wondered if she’d have to get used to the constant sleep deprivation.

It was late that night when she overheard Spencer talking to JJ, who looked about five seconds away from becoming the next unsub.

Y/N laughed behind them and wondered what he was talking about.

In the 6 weeks she’d been there she’d gotten close to most of them, she’d learned about their lives, about the way they worked best, she learned how smart they all were, how amazed she was by them. But she hadn't gotten the chance to speak that might to Spencer.

Maybe she didn't want to.

Maybe she didn't want to feel herself slip under the coworker crush that she was familiar with, maybe she didn't want to learn about him, things about him that she would think about constantly, maybe she didn't want to get close to him in fear that someone might notice how taken back she was by him, maybe she didn't want her brother- and her boss -to find out about the crush she had on him.

Maybe.

Maybe all she wished for was some relief from the overwhelming feelings she felt for him.

She was thinking about him, thinking about ways to accidentally eavesdrop on the two of them without looking suspicious, when JJ noticed her.

“Oh hey, Y/N” JJ looked exactly how Y/N felt. Her eyes were practically closed.

Y/N pretended not to notice the way Spencer looked away from her.

“Hey,” she said quietly, giving a little wave as she walked to the elevator doors. Home. That's where she wanted to be.

“Spencer was just inviting me to a movie he recorded at his apartment that he was going to watch-” JJ said, as Spencer tried to interrupt her, she just gave him a stern look when he tried. “-but I need to get home to Henry, so maybe you could go with him instead?”

There was a gleam in her eyes and a smirk on her mouth, if Spencer and Y/N both weren't so obvious they would’ve known what she was doing.

The team had been trying to set them up for a month.

Y/N just stared confused, nerves running up and down her spine reminding her to breathe. She suddenly felt wide awake.

Spencer just looked conflicted.

‘Um- yeah” he cleared his throat, running his hands over his hair and down to his neck “yeah- you could come... Yeah.” he said, moving to glare at JJ for a moment, JJ who was smiling wide, knowing that Spencer would never take back the invitation- especially not for a pretty girl.

“Oh.” Y/N jumped in surprise, her heart was beating faster at the prospect of going with Spencer, and while she knew that he had not technically invited her, she still felt her body practically shout with excitement. “Yeah, of course, I’d love to.” she stopped for a moment trying to collect herself, trying not to look as surprised as she felt, “if it's alright with you.”

They all stood there in the elevator, listening to the quiet hum of the machinery, two of them looking awkwardly at the ground, both of them full of nerves, one of them smiling between the two of them.

As the elevator finally came to a stop Spencer spoke up again.

“Yeah, if you want I could- you could just- follow me… if you want.”

Y/N nodded quickly, not used to Spencer talking to her directly.

JJ smiled just a little bit wider, just a little, and waved them both goodbye, turning around before saying “I’ll let you both deal with that.”.

She couldn't wait to tell Penelope.

And then there were two.

Two, very socially inept, nervous, people.

***

Spencer's apartment was just as Y/N had expected it to be, it was small and warm, and there were a million lamps all around the space. It was filled to the brim with bookshelves, at least 5 of them all around the room making it look smaller than it was. In the corner of the room there was a small couch and a tv, Y/N could see books spread all over the coffee table, and multiple mugs sitting around the room.

It felt like his home.

Y/N adored it.

Though Spencer looked around nervously, his eyes uncomfortably noticing all of the things he’d forgotten to pick up, all the books he’d left out.

“So um- this is it.”

Y/N giggled a little at that.

Her car ride over there had been filled with doubts and insecurities, she had noticed how distant Spencer had been with her, how little effort he had made to get to know her. Out of all of her new friends he was the least welcoming.

She still felt drawn to him. She still felt like she needed to get to know him.

It was the craziest feeling.

On her way over she had decided she would get to know him, just so she could count herself as a friend, just so she could start looking past him, start looking at everyone else instead of constantly being focused on him.

“Okay. Do you have popcorn?” Y/N said breaking the silence they had been surrounded in.

It earned Y/N her first smile.

She was amazed.

She wanted to keep making him smile.

Spencer gestured for her to follow him to the kitchen while he put a bag of something- which she assumed was popcorn as she had asked -in the microwave. It felt just a little bit more comfortable now, almost like they weren't going to have the worst time together.

“So uh- how are you um-” Spencer cleared his throat, clearly out of his bounds. “How are you enjoying the BAU? I knew that- um- when I first started I was really nervous.”

Y/N felt a bit darker at his words. Did she tell him how she really felt, about the doubts she’d been having? Or did she lie through her teeth? Lie to the man who had given her his first smile, lie to the man who had invited her over?

Turns out she didn't have to answer that question, as Spencer answered it for her like he did most questions.

“Oh no. Did I- um… Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry I didn't mean-”

“What?” she said quickly “No you didn't say anything wrong…”

Spencer stared at her, waiting for her to continue, he felt like she had more to say.

“It's just I… I don't know I’m just not-” she threw her hands up and sighed, surprised by her own reaction, she didn't want to throw all of her problems at Spencer, especially when it was their first time even having a full conversation out of work.

“Is there something wrong?” he said quietly, trying to read her body language to gauge her reaction.

“I just-” she sighed again and put her head in her hands. “I can't explain.”

Spencer nodded. He just stared at her a little bit longer, he had read somewhere that if you leave silence between conversations, most of the time the question would be answered all on its own.

After a couple of seconds waiting he could clearly see this wasn't the case with Y/N.

“Okay. What if I ask questions… and you answer?”

Y/N looked up, “like an interrogation?”

Spencer smiled a little bit and nodded, he was glad she seemed open to the idea.

“Okay.”.

They spent the night like that, Spencer had learned all about Y/N just through asking questions.

The movie was forgotten.

Y/N had come clean about her worries, about her hesitations with their job, Spencer had practically pulled the truth out of her after seeing past all the empty answers she gave his questions.

It was infuriating how much he could read her.

Eventually, they had switched, and Y/N had asked the questions for a little while.

She had learned about Spencer's mom, had learned about his love for all things sweet, had learned about his favorite books, and had learned a lot more about practically everything than she ever had in school.

It was almost addicting.

They switched back and forth for hours, eventually moving to the couch, asking each other questions and laughing.

It was almost two in the morning.

Earlier Y/N had felt like she was going to fall asleep standing.

Now she felt wide awake.

She thought about how the morning would turn out, how much they both needed sleep, and eventually said, “I should probably go.”

The smile Spencer was wearing fell just a fraction of an inch, and Y/N immediately felt terrible.

“I think we both need some sleep.,” she said, trying to communicate that she didn't actually want to go, but she definitely didn't want to fall asleep at her desk the next day.

Spencer walked to the door and smiled.

He smiled.

She wondered how hard it was going to be to stay away from him now.

***

“Aaron she was going to die!”

“Y/N, you can't throw yourself into situations like that.”

A year later she had no doubts about her job.

No hesitations.

Nothing but the need to save as many victims as possible.

Cases in Virginia were always the most stressful, with Strauss breathing down their necks, the media wanting to know everything about the FBI that was located in the state.

They all hated it.

They much preferred to go out of state, somewhere with none of their families, none of their problems constantly chasing them down. It was always so much calmer when they weren't home.

Always so much easier.

And maybe running directly into danger wasn't the best way to relieve stress.

Y/N knew that.

But she also knew how scared that girl must have felt, she knew how deadly the gun in the unsubs hand was, and she knew that it was her job, not just as an FBI agent, but also as a person, to do something. To do anything to save a little girl's life.

She wasn't going to stop to think about her own life in a moment like that.

She had rushed into the house, rushed into the place where so many other little girls had died, rushed into the place with a man almost three times her size, a man who was holding a gun. She wasn't going to risk that little girl's life.

And she was fine, and that little girl was alive.

To her, that was worth more than a million praises from anyone.

It wasn't enough for Hotch though.

The minute they had gotten back to the office, the second Y/N had tried to sit down at her desk, the minute she had tried to say anything to Spencer, that was the minute Hotch pulled her away, furious, into his office.

She already knew she was in trouble.

He had sat her down, he had repeated exactly what he had said when she arrived at the unsubs house, alone, he repeated his exact orders to her, repeated the orders that she had deliberately disobeyed.

“Aaron. She needed my help!”

“Y/N you can't risk your life! And you definitely can't ignore a direct order.”

Both of them had scowls on their faces, and at that moment they looked exactly like siblings, looked so similar it was hard to tell them apart.

The rest of the team was sitting in their desks, listening to them fight, pretending to be filling out late reports, but mostly listening to the two siblings fighting.

Garcia was standing outside the door, waiting for something to happen. She didn't want anything bad to happen to her best friend. She didn't want them to fight at all.

Spencer nervously looked from the door to his desk over and over, waiting for one of them to walk out, waiting for the yelling to continue. He knew that his girlfriend was probably freaking out internally, trying to control her anger as she had to do many times with her brother. He knew that what she needed right now wasn't a reprimand, what she needed was reassurance. He had no idea how he could get that to her.

“Aaron. I am good at my job. I got her out of there. Safely.” Y/N said sternly, refusing to back down, even for a moment, refusing to admit that what she did was reckless, refusing to admit her life meant anything more than that little girl.

“But at what cost Y/N? What if you had gotten hurt-”

“I didn't.”

“Or died? What would that mean for us?” He asked, looking at her, his eyes hard and unmoving.

Their stubbornness was always something they had shared.

“Aaron. I knew what I was doing. I had to save her.”

“It was reckless Y/N.”

“Maybe it was. Maybe, it was. But I’m fine, she's fine, we’re all fine.” she reassured him by gesturing to the door, why didn't he understand that she couldn't not go in there?

“I can't have you acting like that. I can't have you not listening to my orders.”

“Is that what this is about? Me disobeying you?” Y/N asked in shock, shock because it almost felt like he was trying to control her, trying to show her that he was still older than her. “Because news flash Aaron, I’m not some little kid you’re in charge of anymore.”

“I’m your boss.”

“I had to do it!” she said finally.

“It was stupid. It was stupid and reckless, and I have no idea what you were thinking.” His words were final and stern. His face was angry, and he was clenching his fists. It looked like he wanted to say more but Y/N wasn't going to let him. She wasn't going to let him call her names, and treat her like she wasn't an adult.

Y/N was done, she was done trying to be calm, done trying to keep all her feelings hidden deep in her chest, done trying to pretend she didn't want to throw something at him, she was done.

“I’m not a little girl Aaron!” she yelled at him, walking away. “I can take care of myself, and I know what I’m doing. Maybe that's not good enough for you, but it's good enough for me.”

And she threw open the door, too angry to care about Penelope who was standing shocked in front of her. She rushed to her desk and started throwing things in her bag, mumbling under her breath.

“Y/N?” Someone said from behind her.

She sighed.

“What Spence?” she said quietly, feeling like giving up.

“Are you alright?” he asked, grabbing her arm and trying to get her to look at him. If she looked at him he would know how she was actually feeling, without having to guess.

She looked up and studied his eyes.

“He's being ridiculous!” she whisper-yelled looking back down at her desk. “I did the right thing and I’m fine. He's just mad because I didn't listen.”

Spencer watched her for a few moments.

“Maybe he's right,” he said quietly, his eyes looking worried and surprised, surprised because he hadn't meant to say the words out loud.

Y/N’s head snapped up. Her eyes looked deadly.

“What?” she said quietly, more quietly than she had been in the past 10 minutes.

“Y/N I just think that-”

She cut him off. “No Spencer. You’re supposed to take my side. You’re supposed to have my back. Jesus-” she said sadly grabbing her bag from her desk and throwing it over her shoulder. “You’re my boyfriend and you’re supposed to support me.”

“Y/N I do I just-”

He couldn't get anything else out.

“You’re supposed to support me,” she said desperately, giving him one last look, one filled with anger and doubt and sadness, and all the feelings she had no idea how to express, she gave him one last look and

She walked out the door.

***

Driving was a helpful coping mechanism.

Driving helped Y/N ease her mind. Helped her think things through.

She knew she shouldn't have yelled at Aaron and Spencer like that, she knew she had overreacted. And she knew that to some degree they were right.

She hated how protective both of them were.

She loved how protective both of them were.

It was a difficult car ride, she was doubting herself, doubting her instincts, doubting her efficiency as an agent, doubting if her brother and boyfriend believed in her.

She knew she overreacted.

But Aarons words had hurt, he had insulted her, and even if he’d had reason to, it still hurt her feelings.

Spencer was a different story. She’d automatically assumed he would agree with her, would agree that the little girl's life was worth more than any risk, would agree that Hotch was being harsh.

She’d forgotten how angry he could get when she ran right into danger.

She was driving and her palms were sweaty, and her stomach was being attacked by anxiety, and she had no idea how to talk to either of them.

All she knew was that she had to.

She had to get over her feelings, she had to think about them.

So she drove back. Slowly. As slow as she could go, but she drove back.

When she parked her car she felt like turning around, she felt like a little kid again about to go tattle on her brother to her mom, felt like she was the victim and the abuser all at once, and felt an overwhelming amount of emotions fill her to the core.

She walked inside. It took her a moment to remember how to get back to her desk.

It was irresponsible for her to leave in the first place.

When she walked through the doors of the BAU you noticed Spencer's absent desk, she noticed her other coworkers staring at her, their eyes a bit hopeful. She looked at them confused.

“Reid went to the bathroom. Don't worry pretty girl, he didn't leave.” Morgan said, reading the question in her eyes, watching her exhale in relief.

She smiled at him and walked towards Hotch's office.

She had been gone almost 2 hours, and technically she knew that everyone could have leftover half an hour ago, but she also knew all of them, and she knew how late they’d stay.

She knocked on her brother's door, regret pooling at her stomach, air filling her head.

There was a quiet “come in” from the other side.

She peeked inside his office, saw him scribbling on a piece of paper, and as soon as he looked up Y/N felt a million times smaller. She always felt smaller when she was in trouble. Though when she looked at her brother's eyes all she could see was relief.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, looking back down at his papers, clearing his throat, clearly a sign that she could come in.

So she did.

She walked over to his desk and sat in one of his empty chairs. She watched him write for a minute, thinking of something to say, thinking about all the times she’d had to apologize to him in the past.

“Aaron.”

“Hmm?” he said looking up at her again.

“I’m-” she paused, paused, and took a deep breath. He deserved an apology. “I’m sorry.”

She saw his jaw twitch, saw a flicker in his eyes, saw a drastic change in posture.

“I know,” he said.

She sighed in relief. She knew he wasn't mad anymore.

“I know I overreacted. I know it was stupid what I did. I won't do it again, I just- I just had to do something. That's all.” She hoped that was a good enough explanation, hoped it would make him forgive her, hoped her mistake could cost her in the future. She looked down at her hands, not wanting to see his reaction. She hated apologizing.

“It wasn't stupid,” Hotch said, putting his pen down. She looked up at him slowly.

“What?”

“It wasn't stupid. I’m sorry I said that. I understand what you had to do.”

More relief, making its way up her feet, and into her stomach, relief filling her chest with cool air, seizing the fire of anxiety in her chest. Sweet, sweet relief.

“But that doesn't mean you can ignore my orders” He added, and Y/N felt herself smile. He was teasing her, she saw a glimpse of the brother she used to- still -idolized.

“Sir, yes sir,” she whispered, moving to stand up. She had another person to apologize to. As she walked away her brother spoke again,

“Y/N?” she nodded, looking back at him. “Don't be too hard on him,” he said gesturing outside, where Spencer was back at his desk, staring at the bag on top of Y/N’s.

She smiled at him and looked over at her brother. “I won't.”

She almost walked away again “Aaron, you should go home.” he looked back up at her “go say hi to my nephew for me. “

And with that, she walked out the door, walked away too fast to see him smile at her.

The relief was invading her brain, making her next decisions for her.

She would have to thank it later.

She walked out the door and over to Spencer's desk, Spencer who looked surprised she was actually there.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

“Hey-”

She kept pulling him, moving both of them into an empty storage room, while the rest of the team laughed at her antics.

As soon as she made it into the small space with him, as soon as he looked down into her eyes, his face entirely a question, her nerves entirely seized.

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer frowned at her. He frowned and opened his mouth in a silent question.

“I’m sorry for overreacting. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you. It was unfair.” She said, searching his eyes for forgiveness.

They didn't fight often, barely fought at all, but every time they had she had always found the answer to her problem in his eyes. His eyes seemed to know everything.

She wondered if they knew how much she loved him.

“No, Y/N I should’ ve-”

She pulled him into a kiss, resting her hands in his hair as he moved his to her cheeks, as she held her apart as she kissed him, her lips an entirely different apology of their own.

Sweet sweet relief.

When she pulled back, just enough to see his face, she watched him sigh in bliss, watched the tiny smile on his face, watched his eyes open with amazement.

She wondered when she had last kissed him like that.

It seemed like too long.

She pulled him back in, giving him small pecks on his lips, and then his cheek, and then his neck. Smiling at the way he giggled when she tickled him with her hair.

“Y/N?” he said after a moment, his voice warm.

She looked back up at him to smile, to smile and peck his lips once more as an answer.

“I think I’d like you to take out your anger on me just a little bit-”

She cut him off with a kiss.

Sweet sweet relief.

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb

2K notes · View notes

cyllaeth · 3 years

Text

getaway green

find it on ao3

“Yeah, yeah… Love ya too, man.”

Eddie abruptly stops before he enters the changing room. Heʼd recognise that voice everywhere because itʼs Buckʼs. But the words he overheard make him uneasy. Love ya too? To whom Buck might have said it? The most likely answer is to Eddie but he’s right here and he’s definitely not talking with his best friend. It’s not Chim either because Eddie saw him already in the station. So… Who else? Albert? No, that’s just ridiculous. Albert and Buck are friends—not as good as him and Buck, obviously—but why would they talk via phone when they probably saw each other this morning in Buck’s apartament? It doesn’t make sense. So… Who is it then?

Eddie feels like someone just twisted his guts. Has Buck met someone new? No, he would’ve told him about his new relationship, he’s sure of it. His best friend has told him about reconnecting with Taylor and doing the whole “friendship without benefits” thing, for god’s sake. He would at least mention that he met someone worth dating.

It’s not very helpful or reassuring, though. Eddie knows it sounds bad but he doesn’t want Buck to find someone to date. Unless it’s him Buck would be dating. He can’t stand the idea of Buck spending his free time with someone else, kissing someone else, loving someone else.

Eddie’s very much in love with his best friend. He’s tried to get over with him by dating Ana. And it was a fucking disaster because everytime he kissed her, he wished it was Buck instead. So… It’s safe to say he got it bad. And he has to keep it under control because he doesn’t want to blow up the best friendship he’s ever had. Telling Buck he’s in love with him is not even an option.

He tries to suppress his jealousy and finally goes to the changing room. Buck’s already in his work clothes and he’s scrolling through his instagram; there’s a wide smile on his face. When he hears Eddie coming in, he looks at him and his grin gets even bigger.

“You’re almost late, Diaz.” He teases and Eddie can’t help himself but smile too.

“Almost late makes a big difference.” Eddie emphasises, quickly changing his clothes. Buck only rolls his eyes. When they’re both ready, they go upstairs and greet their coworkers. The blonde goes to the coffeemaker and he pours two cups of coffee—one for him and one for Eddie—and he hands it over to his friend. They sit on the couch as usual; their arms and thighs pressed together as if there’s any free space left.

“Uh, I’ve got news.” Buck says and waits until everyone pays attention to him. “TK’s coming to LA this weekend.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Do you mean the TK with whom you stole the fire truck and who you were flirting with?” Chim asks curiously.

Eddie nearly chokes on his coffee.

Was Buck really flirting with that kid from Austin? Sure, he noticed that dumbass and dumbasser hit it off very quickly but it wasn’t something unusual—Buck was so sweet and easygoing, it was almost impossible to not like him.

“I wasn’t flirting with him! I just invited him to LA! And besides, he has a boyfriend. Who is coming with him, by the way.” Buck explains; he’s slightly embarrassed, Eddie can tell, because his cheeks are more pink than usual. Again, why would he feel embarrassed if he wasn’t flirting with TK?

Maybe he was flirting but he just doesn’t want to admit that? Whispers a very annoying voice in Eddie’s mind. He tries to silence it.

“That’s amazing! Is that captain Strand’s son? You should come by the station with them, I want to meet them.”

Bobby’s voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

“Sure, I was actually thinking… Maybe we can have a night out together? As a team?” Buck suggests. “TK says he can’t wait to meet all of you guys.”

“Fantastic idea. I’ll ask him if youʼre bluffing.” Chim quips. Eddie has a strong urge to strangle him.

And then it hits him. Buck was talking with TK earlier, in the changing room. It was definitely TK.

The jealousy is eating him alive. Sure, Strand may have a boyfriend but is it really that big obstacle? Women were flirting with him when he was still married to Shannon; they’ve pretended not to see his wedding ring and ask him out anyway.

Oh, shit. What if he will be the witness of Buck flirting with TK? He’s not sure he can handle that. How will he react? What if he will finally blow up and say something he’s not meant to? He shouldn’t tempt fate and just stay at home instead of going out with the 118 and TK. He decides to gently decline the offer and thinks about a good excuse—he could easily use Christopher as a reason to not go with the team—and Buck would totally understand it.

When he finally opens his mouth to say something, the bell rings. Of course.

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

The whole friendship thing between Buck and TK is bothering him so much, he can’t even fully focus on the job. He’s so distracted that Bobby asks him if he’s okay. He shrugs his shoulders and lies that he’s completely fine. What would he say anyway? That he’s in love with his best friend who doesn’t love him back and he’s probably into another, very cute firefighter? No, this is already pathetic as it is. No need to embarrass himself more. When they’re back at the station, he’s almost on the edge. He needs to find out more, even if it causes him more pain.

He quietly follows Buck to the kitchen and when they crash on the couch, he musters up courage to ask him about his relationship with TK.

“I didn’t know you and TK were such close friends.” He says, trying to sound playful, teasing.

Buck sighs heavily.

“Oh, come on, man, you too?” He groans and shoots Eddie kind of an annoyed look. “Yes, we’re close and it’s nice to have a friend outside of the 118. And we’re just friends. No flirting, no hook ups. Besides, I’ve mentioned he has a boyfriend who will be there with us.”

Eddie believes him; he hears honesty in his voice and it makes him a little bit calmer. He feels like he can finally breathe again and—

“I wouldn’t flirt with him anyway even if he was single because I think I might be in love with someone else.”

Eddie swears he can hear his heart shattering on a million pieces. He wasnʼt prepared to hear this, he wasnʼt expected to have a breakdown in the middle of a shift. Buckʼs in love and he didnʼt know about this. How? Who is it?

“What?” Is the only thing he manages to whisper.

“I’m in love with someone.” Buck repeats. It’s very quiet, unsure, almost fragile. Like he’s afraid of Eddie’s reaction, afraid of being open and vulnerable. Afraid of being in love.

It breaks Eddie’s heart even more because the only thing that’s worse than his broken heart, it’s Evan Buckley’s broken heart.

“Oh. Are you... Does this person know about it?” He asks gently, moving a little closer to his best friend. He feels like heʼs been hit by a truck but right now he wants to at least reassure Buck itʼs okay, make him feel better. Thatʼs what friends do anyway. He can have a full breakdown in his own house when heʼll be alone. He starts to pat his back lightly and after a while, he can feel Buck relaxes a bit.

“No... It’s… Complicated. It’s probably best if I don’t say anything. At least nothing will be destroyed. I canʼt destroy it.” He hears Buck’s muttering. He understands him perfectly; sometimes not telling the truth is just the best option.

Eddie still feels jealousy, he envies the nameless person who Buck loves. He’s trying to shove down his feelings and only focus on his friend to cheer him up.

“You wanna come home with me after the shift? We could make pizza together and watch some movies with Chris.” He proposes. He realizes he said coming home—like it was their home. Not only his and Chris’ but Buck’s too. And it is his home; Buck belongs to the Diaz family anyway.

His invitation instantly lightens up Buck’s mood because he finally looks at him and there’s a small smile dancing on his lips.

“Deal. But only if you stay away from the kitchen, we don’t wanna call 911 to the firefighter’s house. You can wash the dishes.”

“Fine. Whatever you wish.”

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

The rest of the week passes fairly peacefully. They don’t talk again about Buck’s feelings and Eddie successfully pretends he’s not jealous. They joke and bicker as always so it’s fine, it seems like everythingʼs perfect.

It’s Friday—and it means TK and Carlos are coming. Buck has a day off and he’s picking them up from the airport and giving them a quick LA tour. Eddie’s working and so are Hen, Chim and Bobby. It’s a busy shift so they’re definitely not bored; Buck keeps them entertained between the calls—he’s blowing up Eddie’s phone with texts and photos.

Eddieʼs happy that his friend is enjoying his day off, he really is. Of all people in the world, Buckʼs the one who deserves it the most. He wishes heʼd be there with him.

» from Buck: dude, we totally need to take Chris to this museum of space, heʼll be thrilled«

Eddie opens another photo from his friend—this time itʼs Buckʼs selfie whoʼs standing in front of the museum and smiling. It melts Eddieʼs heart because Buck always thinks about Christopher, always includes him in his plans. Despite what Hen says, heʼs aware that theyʼre basically co-parenting Chris; he canʼt pinpoint the exact moment when Buck has become a second dad, it just... Happened.

» to Buck: iʼm in. so museum and sleepover at my house next saturday? i think i need to get my revenge after last time«

Buckʼs response is immediate.

»from Buck: you can keep dreaming, Diaz«

Eddie stifles a laugh when he reads the message. At least, heʼs the one Buck chooses to share even small things with. And at this moment, everything is alright.

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

They finally meet at the 118ʼs favourite pub. Eddie went home after the shift to drop Chris at Abuela and change into something nicer. He tried once to say heʼs not going out with them but he quickly changed his mind when he saw the disappointment in Buckʼs eyes. Heʼs quite nervous, though. Despite what his friend said about flirting with TK, the doubt, the uncertainty is still there. He hopes he wonʼt do something stupid. Heʼs the last one to arrive and Buck spots him the second he crosses the threshold. When he reaches the booth theyʼre sitting at, Buck almost jumps out to pull him into a hug.

“Thanks for coming.” He whispers into his ear and Eddie shivers involuntarily.

Then, heʼs crushed by another hug—this time itʼs TK which is a little surprising but Eddie returns the hug. Carlos sticks to the traditional handshake.

“Nice to finally meet the famous Eddie Diaz.” He says fondly. “Weʼve heard about you quite a lot.”

Itʼs quite dark here but Eddie notices Buck blushing anyway. Itʼs cute, he thinks.

“I hope Buck hasnʼt told any embarrassing stories.” He quips.

“Your embarrassing stories are safe with me.” Buck says very seriously, placing his hand on his chest.

“Trusting Buckley with your secrets? Youʼre either brave or stupid. Or both.” Chim laughs, sipping his drink.

“Iʼm telling Maddie. She will kick you off the couch for at least a few nights.” Buck warns him. It piques Carlosʼ interest because he asks a question, looking at the other man.

“Wait, so Chimʼs with your sister? Wow, you guys are really close.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

The conversations go as smoothly as the drinks they keep ordering. Eddie feels buzzed and content. Heʼs talking with Carlos about their childhood in Texas. He discovers that they have much in common; itʼs a very pleasant surprise and he feels like they will be very good friends. Bobby already called the night off, saying he needs to go back to his wife—because you canʼt say no to Athena —but Hen and Chim are still there and theyʼre singing karaoke alongside Buck and TK.

Eddie keeps an eye on these two; there was a reason why Judd called them dumbass and dumbasser. Buckʼs also slightly more drunk than him so someone really should check out what heʼs doing. And that is Eddieʼs responsibility. There is definitely no hidden meaning, no other reason to glance from time to time (fine, very often) at the scene.

Itʼs their turn to sing—itʼs Ed Sheeranʼs Give Me Love —and Eddieʼs confident it was Buckʼs choice. He notices how synchronised they are, how they keep sharing casual touches, how they laugh at each other, how they look at each other during the song—

And the jealousy almost throttles him. Because this is something Buck had only with him. Heʼs never been so touchy with Chim or Albert; sure, they have hugged many times but itʼs different with Eddie. Their closeness, lack of personal space was there from the first Eddieʼs day at 118 even when theyʼve been showing off to each other. Itʼs never felt awkward or inappropriate. It was easy, natural, kind of like breathing—something that people do without even thinking about it because itʼs just part of life. Because it was Buck.

Heʼs spiraling. He needs to go outside, somewhere where he wonʼt see Buck and TK together. It doesnʼt even help him that TKʼs boyfriend is right there next to him and he doesnʼt feel annoyed, threatened. He watches them with amusement in his eyes.

“I... I need to go to the bathroom.” Eddie says quietly and he rushes out of the booth before Carlos can say something. In the middle of the road to the bathroom, he changes his mind and goes out of the pub. He needs to take a deep breath, calm down and donʼt let jealousy take over him. Itʼs not like Buckʼs his boyfriend; heʼs allowed to be close with anyone he wants to. He knows that this possessive feelings and fear of being replaced, hurt is probably irrational but it still gets to his head very easily.

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

He goes back inside after a while. He orders a beer and sits in the empty booth because apparently Carlos decided to join the rest on the stage. Eddieʼs grateful for that because he doesnʼt have to explain himself, he just can sip his beer in peace.

He doesnʼt notice TK coming to the booth, heʼs too lost in thoughts.

“What are you doing here all alone? Playing a dark, brooding hero?” He hears a very amused voice when TK sits across from him.

Eddie glares at him.

“Iʼm not brooding.” He scoffs. Heʼs definitely not brooding, heʼs just... Thinking. Trying to behave as usual. It would be rude of him to just go home without saying goodbye, right? And Buck would definitely call him to check if everythingʼs alright. Itʼs better to wait a little even if heʼs sitting alone.

“If you say so.” TK shrugs but then, he continues. “You know, thereʼs no need to look at me like you want to rip my head off.”

Eddie opens mouth to say something, to deny it because heʼs sure he didnʼt look at Strand like that but TK doesnʼt let him.

“Dude, donʼt. If looks could kill, I would be already dead when we met in Texas. Well, maybe it wasnʼt that intense back then but tonight you look like you want to strangle me. Thereʼs no reason. I like Buck but heʼs my friend. Just a friend.”

Eddie looks at him like a deer caught in the spotlight. Is he really that easy to read? He feels the blush creeping up in his cheeks; heʼs a little embarrassed because he really didnʼt expect TK to be so perceptive.

“I... How did you know?” He asks, his voice filled with uncertainty. He doesnʼt try to deny it anymore, TK wouldnʼt buy this bullshit anyway.

“Besides that I-wanna-kill-you look? ” TK laughs and then, he takes the water left on the table. “You look at him like the sun shines out of his ass. You were so focused on him that you barely noticed everyone else tonight. If I asked Hen or Chim about it, Iʼm sure they would say this is your normal behaviour. And you kept touching him like...” He trails off for a while, biting his lip. “You know... When I saw you and Buck for the first time, I was sure you two were together.”

Eddieʼs speechless; he’s mindlessly tapping his leg, looking at TK but not really seeing him. He’s silent for a few moments, but TK’s patient, he doesn’t rush him to talk.

“It’s… Complicated.” Eddie sighs heavily. He hasn’t told anyone about it but he doesn’t know if he can keep all of these emotions bottled up any longer. Maybe the fact he’s not entirely sober helps. And the fact it’s TK he’s talking to. “We’re friends. Best friends even. I… You know, he’s been there for me and he’s got my back since the day I arrived at the station. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had and I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with him. I don’t know how and when it happened but it just… Did? The thing is… I was panicking at first, I even tried to get over him by dating Ana. She’s—she was Christopher’s teacher. She was nice and sweet but I’ve kept thinking about Buck even when I was on a date with her. Even when I was kissing her, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It’s embarrassing, I know.”

He’s thankful that TK’s not interrupting him, that he actually pays attention to him. He notices the resemblance between him and Buck. Both of them have a personality of a golden retriever and they tend to do sometimes very stupid and reckless things. But after all, they’re so easygoing and sweet, it’s very easy to love them. Eventually, he goes on with his confession. “You know, I was jealous when I saw you two because you’re awfully… Handsy. You can understand each other without even talking. I know you have Carlos and that you two are serious but… I can’t help it, it’s stronger than me. And I can’t tell him I’m in love, I can’t destroy our relationship. I can’t do it because Chris would lose him too and he’s already lost one parent. Besides, Buck’s in love with someone anyway.”

He ends his monologue and hides his face in his hands. He definitely feels better after saying it out loud but it’s still a little bit awkward.

“And here I’ve thought Judd calls you Hollywood because of the looks but now I’m sure it’s because of how dumb you are.” TK says boldly.

Eddie raises his head to gaze upon his friend. There’s a very amused grin on his face and he looks like he’s refraining himself from laughing out loud.

“You really have no clue, don’t you?” TK asks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh at you but it’s so funny how oblivious and blind two people can be.”

Eddie scowls.

“Are you gonna keep mocking me or you’re gonna tell me what you mean?”

“Fine.” TK chuckles. “Have you ever considered that Buck might be in love with you? I know that he told you, not directly, but he told you about it. I guess you didn’t figure it out.”

“He didn’t—” Eddie protests without hesitation but he stops when recalls their conversation after Buck told the team about TK and Carlos coming to LA. He mentioned being in love with someone and not wanting to tell the person about his feelings but Eddie didn’t even think that he could be talking about him. “You sure… He was talking about me?”

He looks at TK with hope; he desperately wants it to be true.

“I’m sure.” The younger man reassures. “He’s in love with you as much as you are. Oh, speaking of the devil.” He mutters, seeing Buck going in their direction.

Eddie rapidly turns his head only to see his best friend settling down next to him. His face is slightly flushed, hair disheveled and there’s a wide smile on his lips.

“Dude, I know you’re into Texans but I think one of them is enough, don’t you think?” He asks TK playfully.

“Don’t worry, Eddie’s all yours.” TK replies, smiling mischievously and he winks at Eddie. “I’m sure Eddie’s more into cute, blue-eyed blondes anyway.”

And then, he flees out of the booth, leaving them both alone. Buck raises one eyebrow, looking suspiciously at his best friend.

“Blue-eyed blondes, huh?” He asks very intelligently. Eddie’s sure his cheeks and neck are red by now and it’s very noticeable.

“Y-Yeah. He’s right.”

“Interesting. Neither Shannon nor Ana were blondes.” Buck points out, his voice very teasing.

“But you are.”

It makes Buck blushing furiously and Eddie thinks it’s the cutest thing he saw this evening. Suddenly, he notices how close they are, how their bodies are pressed together, how blue Buck’s eyes are and how soft his lips are.

“So… You’re into blondes now?” Buck whispers, not tearing his gaze away from him, even for a second.

“Been into for a while now.”

“It’d make everything easier if I knew about this, I’d definitely do this sooner.”

Buck makes the first move and he closes the space between them. He gently brushes his lips like he doesn’t want to overwhelm him. But Eddie doesn’t want to back off. He’s the one who deepens the kiss, he’s the one who slides his tongue into his mouth, causing him to quietly moan.

“Do you think we could sneak off and go to my house maybe?” Eddie asks when they break apart, panting heavily.

“Dude, TK and Carlos are staying at my apartment, I can’t just sneak off.” Buck laughs. “I need to at least give them the keys if I’m not supposed to go back to my place tonight.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Just give them the keys and we can go.” Eddie pouts and he sounds so needy, it makes Buck giggle.

At some point, they get up and approach their friends who’re standing by the bar and ordering new drinks.

“Look who decided to join us!” Hen chuckles and she wants to say something else but she’s cut off by the Chim’s laughing loudly.

“I’m not sure if they are joining or leaving us.” TK smirks and Carlos nudges him softly to not to meddle.

“Actually, we were thinking about leaving if you don’t mind. I can give you the keys to my apartment.” Buck offers sheepishly.

“Just give us the keys, we’ll manage. You can go with your Texan.” TK says but then he adds, pointing a finger in Eddie’s direction. “But I need to meet Christopher before I go back to Austin.”

“I think we can arrange something. Tomorrow afternoon maybe?” Eddie suggests.

“Then we’re all set. Now, stop talking and get a room already!”

When Buck finally gives TK his keys, they say their goodbyes and order an Uber to Eddie’s house.

The ride is quick but quiet. They don’t really talk but the silence between them is not uncomfortable—it’s the opposite of it. They have to talk about their feelings eventually but they know they’ll have the time to do it. They enter the house and the second Buck closes the door, he’s slammed against the nearest wall. Suddenly, they’re kissing again; Eddie pushes his hips forward and it causes Buck to spread out his legs a little bit.

Eddie’s so glad Chris is at Abuela’s house because it means they have the whole night only for themselves—and they can do whatever they want to.

“Bed.” Buck growls when Eddie bites his lip and starts to unbuckle his belt.

“Someone’s impatient.” The older man teases.

“Said the guy who dragged me out of the meeting with our friends to have sex with me.” The blonde replies wryly.

“Just shut up, Buck.”

“Make me.”

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

Eddie slowly wakes up when the sun peeks through the curtains and shines on his face. His head hurts a little—well, heʼs not in his twenties anymore and he wasnʼt counting his beers last night—and he feels the weight on his chest. He needs a second to register that itʼs Buck; he sleeps very peacefully, completely nestled to Eddie. His headʼs on the place where Eddieʼs heart is, one arm around his waist; thereʼs a gingerish stubble on his cheeks and his blonde curls are perfectly messy. Itʼs a wonderful sight—and he wants to wake up like this every morning... Maybe minus a hangover.

He doesnʼt even notice how long heʼs staring at Buck like that but he doesnʼt really care. Eventually, Buck wakes up too and he raises his head a little. He seems a little confused but the expression disappears when he notices heʼs on top of Eddie and the manʼs grinning.

“Hello, sunshine.” Eddie says and he shifts a little to be able to pull his friend closer to properly kiss him. Itʼs kinda gross because they smell like yesterdayʼs beers and they havenʼt brushed their teeth but neither of them care.

“I assume you do remember last night... No regrets?” Buck asks. His tone is cheery, playful as always but Eddie can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

“Only one. That I was a coward for so long because we could have had it all much sooner.” He answers very seriously, looking directly into Buckʼs eyes. He wants him to believe in every word he says. “I know we hadnʼt exactly talked last night... But I donʼt want this to be a one night stand. Not with you. I want... More. Everything. I mean weʼve already been a couple for quite some time. You practically live in my house, youʼre Chrisʼ second dad and youʼve been my rock since the day weʼve met. We just... Havenʼt done the sexy part of the relationship.”

“Until last night.” Buck points out.

“Yeah... Point taken. So if you want to take it slow, we can take it slow. We can date like people usually do or you can already move in and take my closet, my bed and everything because youʼve already taken my heart.”

“If you think that your offer to move in is getting you out of asking me on a date then you’re terribly wrong, Diaz.” Buck teases and winks at his friend. “You need to romance me a little.”

“God, youʼre such a dork.” Eddie says fondly. He feels so damn happy and content because he can really have everything he wanted.

“You love it.”

“I do. Now, get your ass up. We need to pick up Chris from Abuela at some point. We have dinner with TK and Carlos later.” Eddie sighs because heʼd rather stay all day in bed with Buck—and maybe tell him some of the fantasies he had in his head—but the reality calls anyway.

“Are you sure you want me to pick up Chris with you? I mean, we donʼt have to do it together, I can go to my apartment and—”

“Buck. Iʼm sure. Itʼs not like we havenʼt done this before. I want to tell him about us too. I donʼt want to lie to him because I did it when I dated Ana and it didnʼt end well. Besides, heʼll be thrilled to see us together. Hell, he wants us together. He literally told me last week that I need to buy glasses if I canʼt see that you love me too.”

Buck looks at him with amusement and he laughs heartily.

“Heʼs a smart kid. And he definitely didnʼt get it from his father.”

Eddie scoffs.

“Youʼre really lucky that I love you that much because otherwise you wouldnʼt get away with saying stuff like this.”

Buckʼs smile is almost blinding.

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

They get up, eventually. They go to the shower together to “save the time and water” but it turns into another long making out session. They eat breakfast (made by Buck) and they finally go to Abuela to get Christopher.

“Edmundo, youʼre late.” They hear in the second Abuela opens the door. Sheʼs a little surprised to see not only his grandson but also his best friend.

She notices the big ass hickey on Buckʼs collarbone thatʼs exposed because heʼs wearing Eddieʼs Henley and raises her eyebrow.

“Now I understand why youʼre late.” She smirks which causes them to blush. “Anyway, itʼs nice to see you again, Evanito. I hope I get to see you more often.” She adds and then embraces both of them in a hug.

“You will, Abuela, I promise.” Eddie says honestly. He wants to add something but he hears an excited voice from the hallway.

“Dad!” Christopher shouts as he goes to the door to greet Eddie. “Bucky?” He asks when he notices the other man standing next to his dad.

“Hey, Superman!” Buck says, kneeling down to hug the kid.

“I didnʼt know youʼll be there. Are you coming home with us?”

“Yeah, buddy, Iʼm coming with you.”

Christopherʼs smile only gets bigger.

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

“Chris? What would you say if Buck were living with us?” Eddie asks when theyʼre at home. Buckʼs making Abuelaʼs famous enchiladas with Christopher (none of the Diaz siblings have gotten the recipe despite asking for it a countless times; Buck asked once and Abuela happily gave it to him) and Eddieʼs only an observer. He loves watching those two interacting, spending time together. He loves how easily Buck has stepped into a co-parent role, how fast and hard he has fallen in love with Chris, how good he is with kids in general. Heʼs amazed by it almost every time he sees them together. He wouldnʼt have found someone better to be with.

“Buckyʼs moving with us? Iʼve thought it wouldnʼt happen!” Chris replies. The corners of his lips are curling into a smile but before it breaks into a full grin, he asks. “But does that mean you are dating and we wonʼt see miss Flores or someone else anymore?”

Buck looks at Eddie with a mischievous smile and mouths told you, heʼs a smart kid.

“Yeah, kiddo, no more miss Flores or any other women. Itʼs gonna be only the three of us.”

It seems to be a very satisfying answer for Christopher—he just nods and goes back to adding all ingredients to the enchilada sauce.

When everything’s almost ready, Christopher goes to his room to change his shirt because he spilled the sauce on it and they are left alone. Eddie doesnʼt waste any time and comes closer to be able to kiss Buck. He thinks it may be a problem to keep his hands off his best friend but they will figure it out too. Eventually.

“I think I can get used to this.” Buck says when they stop to take a breath.

“To what? Cooking with Chris?” Eddie teases.

Buck only huffs but then he smiles anyway because cooking with Christopher is definitely on top of his favourite things to do. “Yep, definitely. He is my favourite Diaz after all.”

“Then Iʼm in second place I guess?”

“You wish. Thereʼs also Abuela and Tia Pepa... Maybe even your sisters.” Buck grins. “You have very strong competition.”

“I think I may have some tricks up my sleeve to change your mind then.” Eddie states and heʼs ready to show them to Buck but the doorbell rings. He sighs heavily. “Guess you just have to wait to see them then.”

“Canʼt wait.”

“Hi Buck. Fancy seeing you here.” TK says with a very wide smile on his lips. “Iʼm guessing last night went well then.”

“Well... Yeah? Thanks to someone who was meddling just a little bit.”

Carlos rolls his eyes but he doesnʼt look even slightly irritated.

“Please, donʼt boost his already big ego, he was talking last night about changing his career to be a matchmaker.”

“Matchmaker?” Buck raises his brow. “Sounds interesting.”

“Carlos, we should really keep our boyfriends apart, itʼs dangerous to let them use their brain cells together. If they even have them.” They hear Eddieʼs amused voice and he appears right behind Buck. The blonde blushes at the word boyfriends. “But come on in, weʼre all ready.”

“We brought a six pack and a gift for Christopher.” Carlos adds, lifting up the beers.

“Oh, Chris will be thrilled. Heʼs already so excited to meet you two.”

“Weʼre excited to meet him too, Buck has told us so many things about Christopher, I feel like I already know him.” TK explains when they go inside.

“Bucky was talking about me?” Christopher peeks in the kitchen shyly. He sounds quite surprised.

“Yes, he did. And itʼs very nice to finally meet you. Buck couldnʼt stop talking about you. He didnʼt even talk so much about your dad I think.”

“Because my dad is very boring sometimes and heʼs all grumpy.” Christopher shrugs, looking apologetically at his dad. “Sorry dad but thatʼs the truth.”

“When did you become so sassy, huh? But I guess youʼre right. But... This is TK and this is Carlos.” Eddie introduces his friend to his son.

“And we know youʼre very interested in space so we got you a little gift.” Carlos adds, handing Chris over a package.

“Thank you.” Christopher says simply and puts it on the floor to unpack. “Whatʼs this?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, let me help you unpack it but maybe not here? We don't want to make a mess now.” Carlos proposes and Chris immediately agrees.

They go to the living room together and Buck sees with how much fondness TK looks at them.

“Carlos seems pretty good with kids.”

“He is. Heʼs fantastic. Maybe one day weʼll think about it.” TK replies thoughtfully.

“Oh, really? You two would be amazing dads.” Eddie says honestly, putting up the plates on the table. TK looks a little stunned.

“Never really thought about it too much earlier. But, anyway, howʼs my favourite couple? Because you two are a couple now, right?” TK eyes both of them carefully.

“Buckʼs moving in. Donʼt know when yet but Iʼm planning to make it as soon as we can.” Eddie announces proudly.

“Wow you really donʼt waste your time. So should we expect an invitation for the wedding next year?” TK laughs.

“... Maybe?” They both reply in sync.

“Well, weʼre doing it backwards. We started by raising Christopher together instead of just simply dating each other. So maybe we should marry each other soon. Iʼd marry him even now.” Buck states and winks at his boyfriend.

“Something tells me that the 118 would be mad at us for weeks. If they wouldnʼt kill us first for not inviting them to the wedding.” Eddie points out.

“I hate that youʼre right. They would totally kill us. But dinnerʼs ready and boys are probably starving so letʼs feed them first.”

The dinner is excellent, the conversation goes smoothly and Chris talks about his gift—an International Space Station Lego set—with so much excitement, they donʼt even dare to interrupt him. Buck and TK even offer to help him build it later. They eat a dessert and then, Eddie and Carlos settle on the couch, beers in hands and Buck and TK sit on the floor alongside Christopher and they discuss how to build the space station. Eddie canʼt tear away his gaze from Buck who looks so happy and excited to play with his—their —son and agrees to everything Christopher says.

“You two really fit together.” Carlos says quietly because he doesnʼt want to distract boys from work. “And Iʼm glad you were able to finally talk about your feelings. I must admit, I was pretty invested in your story when TK was talking about it. I really hoped you two would figure it out somehow.”

“Can you believe I was really jealous yesterday? I was sure Buck and TK were flirting and.. God, I was so mad at you for a second why you donʼt even react, why are you so cool about it. And... Yeah, I was stupid because I was sure he was into TK.” Eddie sighs because heʼs still embarrassed about it, he still canʼt believe he was so anxious that Buck might be in love with someone else.

“Oh, you probably havenʼt seen the way he looks at you. Itʼs really something. And TK was really invested in—and I quote—bringing these two lovesick idiots together. They were never flirting. Not seriously at least.”

“Yeah, I know... I... I really hope heʼll be happy with me. But Iʼve heard your relationship is getting more serious.”

“Yeah, well... We live together now so itʼs a pretty big step for both of us. We havenʼt killed each other so Iʼm taking it as a good sign. I donʼt know whatʼs next. Maybe a wedding but I need to be sure TK will say yes and wonʼt freak out about it.” Carlos sighs, knowing that TK may be still cautious about the whole wedding thing but he definitely wants to try it anyway.

“He mentioned earlier something about you two having a kid so I think heʼs taking it very seriously too.” Eddie reassures him.

They both look at his boyfriends who are completely focused on building a space station with Christopher and itʼs very heart-warming sight. “I donʼt think he would say something like that if he didnʼt mean it. Besides, heʼs a lot like Buck and I bet he loves kids as much as him. And I need to add that Christopher is not really a kid who trusts easily but he clearly has so much fun with TK. I wouldnʼt worry too much if I were you. You two really fit together too.”

“Yeah, we do. TK was annoyingly stubborn at first and he didnʼt want to admit that itʼs more than just a hookup. Now weʼre living together.” Carlos laughs, looking softly at TK who sticked out the tip of his tongue and visibly tries to concentrate. “I must say, this is a really nice trip. Glad I could meet TKʼs friends and just... Let myself relax a little bit. Something tells me ifʼs not our last visit in LA, though.”

“I bet.” Eddie hums in agreement. “You can visit LA as many times as you want to. We will probably visit you in Texas too. I have to properly introduce Buck to my family one day so we can definitely do a quick trip to Austin then.”

“Weʼll be happy to see you. Captain S—Owen—will be thrilled to see you. He was disappointed he couldnʼt go with us, he wanted to see Hen again and meet your captain.”

“Yeah, he was whining all the time since we told him weʼre going to LA.” TK adds suddenly. Heʼs still focused on building the space station but Carlos and Eddie stopped talking quietly and now he hears what theyʼre saying. “Mateo was disappointed too, he wanted to visit his cousin. Marvin? Or something like that.”

“We can organise something bigger so everyone can be there.” Buck agrees. “Eds, we should definitely tell Bobby about it. I donʼt care if itʼs here or in Austin, I can definitely organise it.”

“I have no doubts.” Eddie says fondly and then looks at their guests. “You shouldʼve seen him when he organised a Christmas party for us all with help from Athena. We were all working and our kids were so disappointed by it but Buck basically rescued everything. That was really amazing.”

“Really? You didnʼt even mention that!” TK scoffs. “But nice to know, maybe Iʼll hire you to organise my wedding with Carlos since youʼre so good at this stuff.”

“Oh, I donʼt know. Maybe Iʼd work with Carlos because heʼs so sweet and nice but you? I bet youʼll be a bridezilla.”

TK only throws at Buck a piece of Lego in response, followed by the laugh of both Eddie and Carlos.

━━━━━━━━━━ × ━━━━━━━━━━

Itʼs almost 10pm when TK and Carlos decide to go back to Buckʼs apartment. Christopher already fell asleep but he managed to build the space station with Buck and TK and he was really proud of it, just like both of his helpers.

“Dude, your kid is really amazing. I mean, I donʼt remember the last time when I had so much fun—sorry, babe—and Iʼm really gonna miss him.” TK admits and thereʼs so much honesty in his voice, nobody even questions it.

“Heʼs gonna miss you too, if it helps.” Eddie tells him, grinning softly. “Both of you. But youʼre gonna see him soon. At least I think so.”

“I take your word for it.” TK warns him.

“Well, you can always face time with us.”

TKʼs face instantly lights up and he hugs Eddie.

“I will miss you too, Hollywood.”

Eddie only rolls his eyes.

“Hey, you two big saps, you will see each other tomorrow because weʼre gonna drive you to the airport before our shift.” Buck announces.

“Fineeee.” TK sighs dramatically. “But I think our Uberʼs here so weʼre gonna leave you alone. It was really nice to spend more time with you.”

“Likewise.”

They say their goodbyes eventually and when TK and Carlos are already in the car, Buck takes Eddieʼs hand and smiles widely.

“It was really an eventful 24 hours.” He says.

“It was. Now we only have to prepare ourselves for tomorrowʼs shift. I bet Hen and Chim will be insufferable.”

Buck groans.

“Ugh, they will be. Maybe we should be insufferable too?”

“Buckley, do you have something particular in mind?” Eddie asks, watching his boyfriend carefully. Maybe other people wouldnʼt notice it but heʼs Eddie and he knows Buck too well. He notices that mischievous look in his eyes and heʼs sure Buckʼs up to something.

“I have a few ideas, Diaz.”

“Care to share them with me?”

“Always.”

143 notes · View notes

mint-yooxgi · 3 years

Text

Rumours - Yandere!Fuckboi!Lucas X Reader

Yandere AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Masturbation, this one is pretty sexual)

Pairing: Lucas X Reader

Words: 14,505

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Heyyo! After months of nothing I present... something!!! I know it’s not exactly the ficmas I promised, but here’s one of the fics I had planned for it! I’m pretty happy with the way this one turned out, he’s definitely not as intense as some of my other yanderes on my blog, but I like it. This one definitely turned out longer than I expected, so I really hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

There are always three rules he tells them before they fuck.

Number one: no leaving marks on his skin. He hates having to try and cover them up in front of you, or try and explain that they don’t mean anything to him. You never believe him, and the last thing he wants to do is to push you away any further than you already seem. Besides, the only one that he wants to mark his skin like that is you.

Number two: never say his name. It sounds wrong coming off of anyone else’s lips that aren’t yours in these situations. He usually pictures you the whole time anyways, and their voice just takes the fun out of everything. Besides, it only manages to pull him back to the reality that it’s not you with him. Yet.

Number three: do not fake anything. He doesn’t need them to pretend to be enjoying things in order to stroke his ego. No. He wants to know that he’s actually good at what he’s doing. That way he can do, and be, his best when he’s finally able to be with you. Knowing how to properly please someone and recognize their reactions is the first step, otherwise it would become annoying with how many times people would attempt to exaggerate their noises and reactions. He needs to know that when he finally gets to be with you after all of these others, that it will leave you breathless, desperate, and craving his touch.

Currently, he finds himself in one of these situations. One hand tangled in the hair of some girl who’s name he can’t remember as he fucks her from behind. He can feel her meeting his every thrust, and he can hear the whimpers she lets out into the pillow that her face is pressed into. He can tell she’ll never forget this, as he’s been the best fuck she’s had, she told him so herself.

For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to close his eyes. Picturing the same thing he does every time he finds himself in these situations. He envisions that you’re with him right now, and not some random girl he picked up at a party that night. He almost lets a groan slip passed his lips, but he bites them in order to contain it.

He always makes sure to keep as quiet as he can during these times, as he believes that you’re the only one deserving of hearing his sounds. Occasionally, a few do slip past his lips if he allows himself to fantasize about you for too long, but he’s gotten better at containing them around others for the time being.

With a loud cry of his name, he can feel her coming around him.

Immediately, he’s ripped out of his fantasy with you, stopping any and all of his movements. It’s deadly quiet in the room now, the only sounds coming from their deep breaths.

“What did I tell you?” His is voice low, full of frustration as he gets denied right before his own release.

“Fuck-“ she pants, “I’m sorry, I don’t know wh-“

He cuts her off, “get out.”

“What-“ her eyes widen as she pushes herself up onto her hands, feeling him pull out of her from behind.

“I said, get out!” His brows are furrowed in distaste as his voice echoes around the room.

Hurriedly, she scrambles off of the bed and grabs her clothes. She can tell he’s fuming as he stands there watching her flee after throwing her clothes on, dick still painfully hard and throbbing for release.

Hearing the click of his front door falling shut, he lets out a sigh. Running his fingers through his hair, Lucas tilts his head back and lets out a frustrated ‘fuck’. He was this close to finishing, and she had to go and break one of his rules, and while he was thinking of you, no less.

Stomping through his apartment, he quickly locks the front door, ensuring he has complete privacy, while also making sure that she can’t come storming back in. Not that she would, but he’d rather be safe. He’s had a few others do that even after they’ve broken his rules and he’s kicked them out, and he doesn’t want a repeat of those times.

Making it back to his room, he walks immediately into his adjacent bathroom to have a shower. He wants to wash this girl’s touch off of him, and besides, he does still want to finish.

Turning the water on, he waits for it to heat up slightly, and grabs a small bottle from underneath his sink. Stepping into the shower once the water is a decent temperature, he places the bottle he’s grabbed to the side, letting out another sigh as he allows the water to fall over his back. Running his fingers through his now wet hair, he lets out another sigh.

The first thing he does is grab the bottle he’s brought into the shower with him, opening it and allowing its familiar floral scent to fill his nostrils. It’s the same soap that you use, and he knows it’ll be able to comfort him right now.

He got lucky. One day in class he overheard you talking to your friend, Jordan, about this new soap you got from the store. Ever since, he’s noticed that that’s the scent you use, or at least, that’s what it smells like each time he manages to get close enough to you that he can faintly breath it in. Thus, the next time he went out, he made sure to grab a bottle. This way, he could use the soap for times like these, when he wants to be wrapped in your scent and feel a comfort only you can provide for him. It isn’t much, but it’s something.

How he wishes it could be you instead. You, who managed to captivate him the moment he first laid eyes upon you in first year. He managed to trip over his own two feet, making a fool of himself in front of you. However, instead of laughing like everyone else did, you came over to make sure he was okay. Granted, you did let out a few chuckles when he clumsily introduced himself, but he heard you call him cute, which only caused his ears to turn a vibrant shade of red in embarrassment.

If only Eunji hadn’t chosen that moment to come up to him and ask him about the night they shared over the weekend, and if anything was going to come out of it. He’s pretty sure he looked like a deer in headlights as she stood there looking expectantly at him, you shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly the whole while.

Unfortunately, your friend soon came running up to you to steer you clear of him. Jordan knew all too well about his building reputation around campus, having had another friend who had experienced it themselves. He had to sit through class overhearing Jordan tell you how bad he is, and how he’ll just fuck you and leave you hanging, because that’s what he does. Little did any of you know that he’d come to realize that he’d never do that to you. No, never you.

Since that day, he's tried to get closer to you to ask you out on a proper date, but circumstances never worked out in his favour. You would either be dragged away by Jordan, or whichever friend you’re with, or he would be interrupted again by someone else wanting to be more than just a one night stand to him. The worst few times were when he finally did manage to talk to you without interruption, only for you to point out the hickies that had been left on his neck. That caused him to start the no marking rule shortly after that incident.

Clenching his jaw, he lets the water wash the soap from his skin. This was supposed to be relaxing, but instead, thinking about all of his failed attempts at asking you out is only serving to make him more tense. He needs to distract himself, and fast.

Now, instead of focussing on the negative memories he has with you, he focusses on the positives. Like how just the other day, you met his gaze, only for your eyes to widen with the cutest expression on your face. Or how he overheard your laughter in the food court yesterday, your expression screaming nothing but pure joy. At that, he manages to crack a small smile, his heart warming in his chest at the thought of him being able to make you laugh and smile like that for him someday.

Fuck, how he just wants to kiss you. So badly he wishes you were here with him now, so he could press you up against the wall and make you see stars. He wants to know what your skin feels like beneath his fingertips, what your hands feel like gripping his hair, but especially, he wants to know what his name sounds like as you scream it for all to hear in ecstasy, letting everyone know that you’re his, and that only he can make you feel this good.

His thoughts, along with the smell of you that’s surrounding him during this time is enough to send him over the edge. He comes with a low moan of your name, eyes closed in bliss as he allows himself to indulge in his fantasies. At least he manages to come with a smile on his face, though he would have preferred opening his eyes to see you, instead of the grimy tiles of his shower once more.

Cleaning himself up quickly, he turns off the water. Grabbing a towel, he dries himself off before wrapping it around his waist and heading back out to his room. Checking his phone, he notices that it’s just past three in the morning.

Letting out another sigh as he pulls on some loose sweats, he hops back into bed. He’ll worry about changing the sheets tomorrow. After all, he does have work later, and he’s already been late the past two times in a row.

Later that day, he groggily makes his way into work. He just manages to make it on time so as not to get reamed out by his manager again, greeting his coworkers with a small wave. Although it isn’t much working at the coffee place on campus, he enjoys it, especially when he gets to work with his best friend, Jongin.

“Late night?” Jongin quirks a knowing eyebrow at Lucas as they both tie their aprons around their waists.

“You know it,” Lucas jokes, smirk evident on his face.

“Damn, another one?” Jongin teases.

“Had to kick her out,” Lucas shrugs.

“You really are heartless, man,” Jongin shakes his head, grin still on his lips as he moves over to take orders.

Lucas says nothing as he moves over to start making drinks for the customers. He notices a few regulars sitting in their usual places inside, and soon he’s busy preparing himself for the rush they usually get just after classes get let out in a few minutes. A few people come in just to see him, and everyone at the café knows it. He has this unique charisma with the clientele, especially the ladies, whom he enjoys casually flirting with. He guesses that’s also what adds on to his reputation, but he just thinks of it as practice for when he gets to finally make you shy from his flirtations towards you. To him, they all mean nothing when compared to you.

Occasionally, during rush, Lucas will loose himself in his work, humming along lowly to whatever song is playing as he calls out name after name. There have been a few times where people will purposely graze his hand as he hands them their drink, but he’s gotten used to it by now that he pays no mind. Again, it means nothing to him, though he wishes people would stop, and notice that he’s not interested.

He’s just finished making two iced caramel macchiatos when he finally takes notice of the name on the cups. Sure enough, looking up, he meets gazes with Jordan, though you’re nowhere in immediate sight. He notices their eyes narrow at him as he hands them the two drinks, thanking him curtly. Normally wherever Jordan is, you’re not far behind.

Eyes follow Jordan out of the café, Lucas now distracted as he attempts to find you. Sure enough, you’re standing just outside the door, waiting for Jordan as they approach you with your drinks. The smile he sees you wear after grabbing your drink makes his heart warm, for there’s a part of him that knows that you smiled because of him.

A small cry of pain escapes his lips as he drops the cup he’s holding. He clutches his now scalding hand in his free one, gritting his teeth as he moves to pick up the dropped cup. In his dazed state, he managed to pour steamed milk onto his hand, too distracted by watching you just through the window.

“Woah, Lucas, you okay, man?” His one coworker asks him, helping him clean up the mess.

“I’m good,” he gets out, tossing the now ruined drink into the garbage.

His coworker only shoots him another concerned glance before they get back to work, nothing but the faint sting of the burn on his hand serving as a reminder that you were smiling because of him only minutes ago. If only he could see you again, but you’re gone as soon as he looks back over to the spot which you were standing in before he spilt the drink.

The rest of his shift passes by slowly, the fatigue from the previous night catching up to him the more he has to deal with each rush that comes in. All he wants is to see you again, and spend more time with you, but he can’t.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Jordan probably told you to wait outside for them while they got your drinks. Jordan is purposely making you avoid him, so he wouldn’t put it past them to do something like that. If only he would be so lucky as to serve you himself.

His eyes widen slightly as realization crosses his features. He now knows a drink order that you like. In all his months working at the café, you’ve rarely come in while he’s been working, so he’s never been able to flirt with you while making you a drink. Now that he knows you like iced caramel macchiatos, he can bring you some during class. Maybe that will show you how serious he is about you. Either way, he knows that the next time the two of you have class together, he’s bringing you a drink. Maybe he’ll even slip you his number if he gets a chance. Perhaps he’ll even write it on the cup.

A small grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he continues working. This plan is perfect. It most definitely can’t go wrong! He’ll show you, even in the most subtle a way as this, that he can take care of you. He can, and will, always provide for you anything you may ever want or need.

That evening once he gets home, he sets to cleaning his apartment. He’s decided that before anything else, he’s going to make his apartment look and smell nice. Who knows what might happen in the coming weeks, and if by chance you happen upon his home while it’s a mess, he’s be so embarrassed. All he wants to do is impress you, even in the most basic of ways.

He falls asleep that night to fresh sheets on his bad, clutching his pillow tightly to his chest and picturing that it’s you that he’s holding. He indulges in his fantasies as he tends to do with you, and imagines running his fingers through your hair as you fall asleep in his arms. In every sense, he wants you: to love, to cherish, to hold. Nothing could ever change that. He only wishes you were actually here.

Two days later, he prepares himself for what he’s about to do. Taking a deep breath, he clutches the cool drink tighter in his hand, allowing the feeling to ground him as he walks up to where you’re currently sitting before class starts with Jordan beside you.

“Hey, (Y/n),” he greets with a lopsided grin, “how’d you make out with the document analysis that was due yesterday?”

“Not too bad, I think,” you smile politely back at him as Jordan squeezes your thigh lightly underneath the table. “How’d you find it?”

He knows you’re probably just being polite at this point, since a few people have turned to stare, wanting to know if you’re going to fall for his ‘game’ or not. He nearly rolls his eyes at the thought. With you, it’s never a game, and it never would be. Jordan, on the other hand, might beg to differ.

“Glad I just got it done on time,” he shrugs casually.

Truth be told, he’s actually a fairly decent student, and this is his favourite class for two reasons. One, you’re in it, and he can sit close by to you for two hours every week. Two, he actually likes the material of the course. In fact, it’s one of his highest grades right now.

“Is there something we can help you with, Wong?” Jordan’s voice cuts in before he can get in another word.

“Actually, yeah,” Lucas smirks, eyes shining as he notices Jordan’s eyes shift suspiciously to the drink he’s been holding in his hand. Looking directly into your eyes, his expression softens into a smile, “I got this for you.”

Your own eyes widen as he places the coffee on the table beside your notes. Your heart warms at the gesture, but your words seem stuck in your throat for the time being. However, the longer you go just looking at Lucas with those wide eyes, the less confident he becomes.

Did he do the right thing? What if you don’t actually like this drink? Why do you keep staring at him with those eyes? Fuck, if his heart wasn’t racing before, it sure is hammering away in his chest now.

The whole time, questions race through your head as well. Jordan has told you countless times that he doesn’t care for anyone but himself, refusing to do anything for anyone. Jordan has you convinced that Lucas isn’t the kind of guy to just do something out of the goodness of his heart, for they’re sure he doesn’t have one. However, now, you’re not so sure if everything that Jordan has told you about him is true. Maybe he’s not so bad of a guy after all. Maybe he’s just misunderstood.

“I mean, uh-“ he stammers before your voice pulls him back to earth.

“Thanks, Lucas, that’s really sweet of you,” you smile at him, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt.

His heart skips a beat as he sees that genuine look of happiness on your face, finally directed at him. He feels as if his whole world has stopped, and it’s just the two of you now in the classroom. Nothing could pull him out of this feeling right now, and he can feel a small heat rising up his neck.

“It was nothing,” he tries to play it off cooly, and he just manages not to stutter over his words.

You’re about to say something else, until Jordan beats you to it, and he feels his momentary bliss shattering around him.

“Nice try, dickwad, but it’s not going to work,” they spit, and you watch his expression fall briefly before turning into one of annoyance. “She can’t be bought.”

Before Lucas can retaliate, the professor is walking into the classroom, preparing to begin the lecture. Instead, he ops to shoot a glare at Jordan, letting out an annoyed sigh as he moves to take his seat two rows behind the two of you. He can faintly hear the two of you arguing about him now, and he chooses to tune into that instead of whatever the professor is going to be drawling on about today.

“Jordan, I can’t believe you would say that, he’s just trying to be nice,” you scold, reaching for the drink before they smack your hand away.

“He just wants to get in your pants, (Y/n), and he’ll do whatever he can to seduce you in order to succeed,” they retort.

“I don’t know, this seemed pretty genuine to me,” you mumble as Jordan reaches for the drink instead.

“Think about it, hun,” they continue. “It’s a little creepy how not even two days ago I got us this exact drink at the school café, of which he was working at, and now he shows up to our only shared class with the same drink. Is that not suspicious to you?”

“Why can’t you just give him the benefit of the doubt,” you sigh. “Maybe he’s just trying to impress me?”

He smirks at this. You couldn’t have been more accurate if you tried.

“Well, if so, then do you think he remembered to use lactose free milk?” They counter. “If he cares that much, he should have remembered that one of the drinks was made with lactose free milk, considering he made them. It would have been a fifty-fifty chance on who would have needed that, so to be safe, if he was observant, he should have gotten it for you with that in mind.”

His expression falls. He didn’t even think of that. He was so out of it that day that he doesn’t even remember which milk he used for each. Lucas was too caught up in the thought of seeing you, and then actually catching you smiling, that he forgot all about that. Clenching his jaw, he curses himself.

“If he didn’t, it’s an honest mistake,” you say.

“I don’t know why you’re so intent on defending him, he’s not a good guy, (Y/n),” Jordan shakes their head as you frown slightly.

“I still feel bad,” you whisper. “He did get me a drink, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Just as you’re about to reach for it again, they smack your hand once more, “oh, no you don’t. You’ll literally die if you drink that.”

“Well, I don’t want it to go to waste,” you reiterate, frown more prominent now.

“Fine,” they sigh. “I’ll drink it then.”

“Okay,” you nod slowly, a small frown on your face as you watch as Jordan slides the cup closer to themselves.

The whole time, Lucas is fuming. Not only is he mad at himself for not remembering something as significant as making your drink properly, but he’s furious that your drink is now being consumed by Jordan. Though, he’s more upset around the circumstances that led to this, than you not actually drinking the coffee. The last thing he wants to do is be the reason for your discomfort in any situation.

He’s also upset about the fact that Jordan only seems to be pushing you away from him. From the sounds of things, you do want to give him a chance, and fuck, if the way you looked at him earlier was any indication how you felt towards him, he’d be right there to sweep you off of your feet in an instance. Maybe him and all his subtleties towards you are actually working. No matter, the next time he’ll just have to make sure to get your drink right, and make sure Jordan isn’t around to ruin things for him.

Except, he’s not expecting the rumour that arises within the next week, and once he hears Jongin telling him about it at work one day, he nearly drops his phone in the break room.

“What?” His voice comes out rushed, eyes wide as his lips part slightly in shock.

“Yeah! Apparently what’s been going around campus is that you’re trying to get in Jordan’s pants,” Jongin reiterates.

“How the fuck?” He trails off.

“I don’t know man, but rumour has it you bought them coffee last week,” Jongin shrugs.

“I didn’t buy them coffee,” he mutters, only causing Jongin to quirk a brow.

“Word on campus is that Jordan came in to the café last week, you stared at them the whole time while they left, longingly, apparently,” Jongin goes on to say, “and then showed up to your class two days later with that same drink they ordered for themselves.”

“Fuck me,” Lucas sighs. “The drink wasn’t meant for them, it was for (Y/n).”

Jongin frowns slightly until realization flashes in his eyes, “you mean that girl you’ve had a thing for since first year?”

A small nod is all the confirmation he gives.

“Welp,” Jongin stands up, clapping Lucas on the shoulder as he passes, “good luck, dude.”

Another sigh escapes Lucas’ lips as Jongin exits the break room. He’s not sure how exactly this rumour could have started, or who started it for this matter. However, it’s only going to serve as another obstacle for him to be with you. Hopefully, it doesn’t put too much of a damper on his plans.

Easier said than done.

The next two weeks is spent being conscious of his every move. He notices the way some people have been watching him around campus, especially when Jordan is around. It’s usually old flings of his, jealous that they mean nothing more to him than a one night stand. They’ll never mean anything more than a one night stand, either. During those times, he makes sure to never look their way. Only when you’re around does he dare a glance in their direction, but even then, he doesn’t hide the fact that it’s you that he’s looking at.

Part of him hopes a new rumour will spread that it’s actually you he’s interested in. At least then there’d be some truth to it, and he would be able to use it to his advantage. He can’t count the number of times he’s pictured you confronting him about his feelings in some secluded space, only for him to confess and the two of you end up kissing in the heat of the moment. His mind always wanders further, imagining pressing you up against the wall and taking you right then and there. He wants you, badly, and he’d be more than happily claim you as his own whenever, or wherever you wanted him to.

Resting his head in his hand, he zones out to the lecture. His gaze remains transfixed on your back as his mind plays one of these scenarios in his head. Oh, how you’d grip his hair and call out his name as he thrusts into you, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. How he’d claim your lips, over and over again, amongst other, more intimate parts of your body.

He licks his lips, getting lost in his haze of desire for you, and what could be. So much so, that when he shifts slightly in his seat, he can feel his semi-erect cock pressing against the material of his jeans. Letting out a low breath, he attempts to calm himself down. Thank goodness the break is starting now, so he can focus on fixing his problem, and not sit through the rest of class with a hard-on. The last thing he needs, or wants for that matter, is for someone to notice.

Rubbing at his face with his hands, he lets out a deep sigh. Shifting in his seat, he angles himself in a way that no one would be able to see what’s happening to him. Thank fuck he decided to sit beside the wall today. Not to mention he’s got the perfect angle of you, two rows down, as usual.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears you let out a small squeal, successfully drawing the attention of those around you as well.

“Oh my god, Jordan, look,” you grin, smacking their arm lightly repeatedly.

“What is it? Geez,” they rub at the side of their head, “you’re gonna blow my brains out.”

“Sorry,” you reply sheepishly, before the grin is back on your face, “but look! Ten has silver hair this comeback!”

“Yeah, so?” They yawn, clearly disinterested in your rambling.

“So?” You scoff. “You know I have a thing for silver hair, it just looks so sexy. Especially on him.”

Jordan just chuckles in amusement, “I know, boo, I was just teasing you. I know you love light coloured hairstyles.”

“I do indeed,” you nod once, and that’s all the confirmation Lucas needs to start looking at hairdressers in the area to get his hair dyed.

He’s never given much thought to the colour of his hair before, always sticking with his natural hue over anything he might deem too risqué. However, he’d more than willingly make an exception just for you. If this means you seeing him in a more desirable light, he’ll do it in a heart beat. Besides, a change might do him some good.

Now, to look up this ‘Ten’ guy who has you practically drooling at your computer screen.

A quick search of this guy’s name pulls up quite a few pictures that have a frown pulling at Lucas’ features. What does this guy have that he doesn’t? Well, except for the fact that he’s an idol, and apparently has silver hair now.

The rest of class is spent with Lucas pouting slightly while looking up facts about this Ten guy that you apparently like so much. Maybe he can alter himself to be more desirable to you through some of this guy’s behaviours. First things first, he’ll start with his hair and see how it goes from there.

He can hardly believe he’s getting jealous over some idol whom you don’t even know. Lucas knows he has more of a chance with you than this Ten guy, but he can’t help but worry. What if his plan doesn’t work, and the two of you don’t actually end up together.

Immediately, he shakes his head to clear his thought. No. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of you not ending up with him. He can’t see himself being happier with anyone else other than you, and he knows he can make you so happy, if you’d just let him. He’d do anything for you. Absolutely anything.

All too soon, class in ending, and he’s watching as you pack up your things before heading out of the classroom with Jordan in tow, the two of you still talking about this upcoming comeback. He makes sure to keep his distance while trailing behind the two of you, making sure he looks inconspicuous as he heads to his next class. He wants to hear as much as he can before leaving you for today, wanting to get a better gage on your interest in this Ten guy.

A sour expression resides on his face for the rest of the day. He doesn’t like the fact that this idol is getting all of you attention, and not him. Why can’t you ever focus on him?

Oh, that’s right. Jordan.

If it weren’t for that friend of yours, the two of you could have already been in a happy relationship. He huffs, now heading to the parking lot to head home after sitting through his last class of the day. Once he makes it to his car, he hops in and starts the engine, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. In a few day’s time, he has his hair appointment, and hopefully by then, he’ll have thought of a way to get Jordan out of your life so that he can finally have you all to himself.

The rest of the week passes by fairly normally for him, and he’s happy with the way his hair has turned out. He got it cut, too, and it feels even softer to the touch. At least, that’s what his fling from last night told him.

The stress of the week caught up to him, and he had to relieve it somehow, so he felt it best to take out his frustrations on someone else. Needless to say, he was the best they’ve ever had, and they didn’t break any of his rules. He doesn’t think he’s ever went as hard as he did last night, picturing you the whole time. He couldn’t help himself, letting the events of the week affect him more than he wanted.

Again, he ended up kicking the girl out of his apartment before she could stay the night. Usually, he won’t let them, since he doesn’t want to deal with them when he wakes up. This gives him more time to think about you, and picture you wrapped in his arms instead of someone else who might want to talk about their feelings for him or some other shit like that. That’s a huge no for him. Again, unless it was actually you.

Making it into work the next day, he sighs. Saturdays on campus can usually be pretty slow, so he’s not looking forward to working all that much. In fact, the day ends up being so slow that a few people get sent home early, but unfortunately for him, he’s stuck here until close. Even Jongin heads out early, leaving Lucas to work with two of his other coworkers he doesn’t really talk to. At least he can hang out in the break room if it gets too slow.

About an hour before close, he’s stuck behind the counter by himself for a bit while his one coworker takes out the trash and the other is on their break. He knows he can call them out if he needs them, but he doubts they’ll get a rush this late in the evening.

A small sigh escapes his lips as he hears the door to the café swing open. His back is turned to the register as he finishes grabbing down a bag of coffee beans to refill the pot for the morning. As soon as he’s closed the cupboard and turned back around, he nearly drops the bag of coffee beans in his hands.

There you stand, in one of your oversized hoodies, with a friendly smile on your face. Most importantly, you’re alone.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, him blinking a few times in disbelief and managing to get out a measly little ‘hey’. Of which, he curses himself immediately afterwards. Is that really all he can get out when he’s finally alone in front of you?

“Hey there,” you giggle, and he swears it’s the cutest damn sound he’s ever heard, “you’ve changed your hair.”

“Uh, yeah,” he swallows, nervous all of a sudden about what you think about it.

“I like it,” you smile softly. “Looks nice.”

He freezes for a moment, nearly forgetting how to breathe as he stares at you. Changing his hair was a success after all, and he loves knowing that you like what he did for you.

“Thanks,” he smiles back, before clearing his throat, and putting the bag down on the counter. “What can I get for you?”

You start telling him your order, but he’s already started punching it in. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by you, especially since he undercharges you for the change in milk. Again, no matter how subtle, he wants you to know that he’s always looking out for you, and will provide for you whenever and wherever he can.

After you pay, you move over to the end counter where you wait for your drink to be made. He takes this opportunity to talk to you, considering it’s just you and him right now, and he doesn’t know when he’ll ever get another opportunity like this again.

“So, how’ve you been?” He asks casually as he starts preparing your drink.

“Not too bad, midterms are kicking my ass, though,” you reply, tucking your phone into your pocket. “I’m definitely way too stressed for anything right now.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “I feel like we’ve just started and we’re already halfway through the semester.”

“Right?” You voice, incredulously. “I feel like I hardly have time to relax anymore, and with our midterm that’s worth forty percent on Tuesday, I’m kinda freaking out.”

“I feel you,” he nods in agreement, now just waiting for the shot to brew to add to your drink. He has to stop himself from biting his lip. He knows a few ways to help you relax, but he doubts you’d let him try anything. Yet. “I’m sure you’ll do fine though, you’re really smart.”

You laugh slightly, “my intelligence is an illusion that hangs by a thin string attached to late night study session, and fuelled by coffee.”

He laughs at this, pouring the freshly brewed shot into the cup, “I take it that’s why you’re here so late on campus on a Saturday night?”

“Guilty,” you joke, reaching out to grab your now finished drink. “What about you? I didn’t take you for one to be working on a Saturday, let alone in the evening.”

Ever so slowly, he watches your fingers gently brush over the skin of his own, and he swears it’s like a jolt of electricity goes through him. Your touch is addictive, and now that he’s had a taste, he’s not sure if he could ever get enough.

He chuckles, “to be honest I enjoy spending most evenings in rather than going out.”

“I see,” you nod slightly with a small hum.

Sure that may have been a little white lie, but you don’t need to know. Besides, if he’s going to counter that image of him you have because of Jordan, he’ll do anything he has to to make you believe he’s actually good for you like he knows he is.

“Well, don’t wear yourself out,” he shoots you a smile, doing his best to contain the bliss filled look that wants to spread itself across his features at this interaction you’ve have together.

“Same goes for you,” you lift your drink in a mock ‘cheers’ motion. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t,” he promises, smiling at the way you swirl your drink slightly to mix it before taking a sip. “You like it?”

“This is amazing,” you hum, “just what I needed.”

“Glad to be of service,” he grins, giving you a small salute with two of his fingers, causing you to giggle again. God, he could never grow tired of that sound. “So, do you have any plans for the evening?”

By now, he’s leaning against the counter, for you have yet to move and he wants to be as close as possible to you for as long as he possibly can, without being obvious of course. Besides, he’s enjoying talking with you, and he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

“Well, that chair over there,” you motion to a chair in the corner of the café, “is calling my name for the next,” you hum, checking your phone for the time, “forty minutes or so until you guys close, so…”

A small smile rests on his lips as he nods in understanding, “if you need anything, just call me over. I’d be happy to make you another one.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you tell him, smile back on your lips as you move over to the aforementioned chair.

Lucas watches as you place your drink onto the small table that rests in front of the chair, taking off your hoodie before sitting down and pulling out a book to read. He smiles to himself as he moves back over to the forgotten bag of coffee beans to continue where he left off.

Knowing you’re mere feet away from him makes him so unbelievably happy. He has to keep glancing up to check if you’re still there, and not some figment of his imagination. Even his coworkers have noticed a slight shift in his attitude when they both get back onto the floor, noting he looks more awake than before. He certainly seems happier, that’s for sure.

All too soon, it’s closing time, and he’s just finishing up wiping down the counters when his one coworker goes to let you know. Lucas bites his lip, noting that you appear to be dozing off in the chair anyways. His heart races in his chest, and holy fuck, could you get any cuter? He only wishes he could have been the one to walk you out of the café.

Some part of his brain wishes and hopes that by some miracle, you decided to wait for him to finish closing so he can walk with you to the bus stop. If he’s lucky, he could even offer to drive you home, one hand resting teasingly on your thigh while the other grips the steering wheel.

“Oh, it looks like she left her sweater here,” the voice of his coworker pulls him out of his thoughts.

He watches as his coworker quickly pops their head out of the door, seeing if they can spot you in the distance, but it looks like you’ve already left.

“Damn, that sucks,” they say, turning to look at Lucas. “You know her, right? Why don’t you give her back her hoodie the next time you see her in class or something?”

Without waiting for a response, his coworker throws him your hoodie, and fuck, does it ever smell like you. Clutching it to his chest, he nods slowly, the words finally registering in his brain.

His eyes widen slightly at what this means. He knows for a fact that he shouldn’t give you back your hoodie while in class, there’s way too many watchful eyes around. People might get the wrong idea. On the other hand, he has seen you wear this hoodie around a lot, meaning it’s probably important to you, so if he shows up with it, you might think of him as your Prince Charming coming to your rescues. On the other other hand, he now has a piece of you with him, no matter how insignificant it may be. One that he can keep all to himself.

No, he shouldn’t be thinking like this. If he wants to make you see him in a good light, the right thing to do would be give you back your hoodie as soon as possible. Setting his mind, he determines that he’ll give it back to you when he sees you on Tuesday for class. The sooner the better, and hey, maybe Jordan might stop insisting he’s a horrible person if he does this.

Soon enough, he finishes closing up shop with his coworkers for the evening and heads back home. Stepping through his door, he lets out a sigh. After clicking the locks into place, he’s kicking off his shoes and heading straight to his bedroom. He tosses your hoodie on his bed, figuring he’ll put it aside once he’s had a quick shower for the evening.

Once again, he finds himself using the same soap you use. Considering the evening he’s had, he thinks it fitting that he smell like you. He wishes nothing more than for you to be waiting for him in his bedroom in nothing but that hoodie when he comes out of the shower, but he knows that’s a fantasy too far away to even hope for at the moment. Still, his mind cannot help but wander to that vivid image as he dries himself off.

Shaking his head, he slips on some sweats, entering back into his room to see your hoodie exactly where he left it on his bed. He licks his lips, imagining your bare legs peaking out from beneath the hem, spread out on his bed and just begging for him to be between them.

This time, he blinks to clear the vision of you from his mind. Grabbing your hoodie, he tosses it to the side of his room where his desk chair sits, hearing it make contact and seeing it hanging off the edge in the next second. Turning off the lights, he hops into bed.

Turning on his phone, he decides to scroll through instagram to see if there’s been anything important he’s missed. His heart nearly skips a beat when he comes across a newly posted photo of yours, showing off your drink from that evening along with the book you were reading. The caption reads, ‘howdy stranger’ with a little heart attached at the end, and he can’t help but read more into this than you probably intended.

To anyone else, that caption might be referring to the book, of which you may not have read in a while, or even the drink. However, to him, it’s reminiscent of your conversation, and how the two of you might still be considered strangers to some. It’s a flirtatious callback to how you two know each other, but rarely talk. Tonight was that exception, where the two of you actually had a somewhat decent conversation without anyone interrupting or pulling you away from him. The fact that you included the drink he made for you in the photo only confirms that this post was about him, and him alone.

He bites his lip, immediately liking the photo to let you know that he’s seen it; he’s gotten your message and he’s more than willing to let you know that if you only say the word, the two of you wouldn’t have to be strangers for much longer. Briefly, his eyes dart to your sweater, of which he can fairly make out the outline of hanging off of his chair where he tossed it.

Lucas decides to scroll through the rest of your instagram, just lurking on your page so he can see you in every and any photo you have of yourself. He makes the executive decision to turn on your post notifications in that moment, not wanting to miss any more of your posts, especially when they’re about him.

He freezes. Maybe he should do this for all of your social media accounts he follows. The last thing he wants to do is miss a post that could be an indicator of your true feelings towards him. What if all this time you’ve been in love with him, too, and your only way of communicating this to him is through your posts?

Grabbing his one pillow, he shifts so that it’s now clutched in his arms, him squeezing it as a rush travels through his body. What if that’s it? Maybe, there’s a small chance that you feel the same, and all of his past things never meant anything to you, and you just act the way you do cause Jordan is always with you, watching your every move around him. Of course, you’d want him, how could you not?

Smiling to himself at this new revelation, his eyes flick over to your hoodie once more. He can practically hear it calling his name, for him to hold as if it were your own body. Without waiting another moment, he gets up, snatching the item of clothing from his chair before laying back down, arms now wrapped securely around the hoodie instead of his pillow.

Burying his nose into the fabric, he takes a deep breath. Fuck, it smells so good. You smell so good, that his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head from this alone. The added scent from the soap he’s used just makes this all the more intense, and he really feels like you could be there with him.

Except, something’s still missing. Even as he continues to cradle your hoodie in his arms, it doesn’t seem quite right. That is, until his cheeks are flaring at the solution he comes up with.

Without thinking too much of it, or before he can change his mind, he’s sitting up quickly, and grabbing his previously discarded pillow. Moving the hoodie slightly, he puts it on the pillow, having it act as your torso for the time being. There, at least now there’s something more substantial to hold onto.

A smile tugs at his features as he clutches the pillow, which is now wearing your hoodie, to his chest. He can feel his naked torso burning wherever his skin makes contact with the fabric, imagining it’s really your touch there. He’s even gone so far as to toss the one sleeve over his side to act as your arm, as if you were really there holding him just as he is holding you.

Burying his face into the side of the shoulder, he takes another deep breath, grip tightening around your ‘torso’ as he lets out a low groan. His fingers fist the back of your hoodie, whole body curling around the pillow as he clings to it for dear life. Why can’t you just be here with him, right here, right now?

Would you run your fingers through his hair just like how he so badly wants to do to you? Would you teasingly litter kisses along his bare chest and neck, only to pull away and giggle at the reactions he gives you? Would you pull him closer as he cups your face and kisses you with all the passion he can muster, letting you know how much he loves and cherishes you? He bets his name would sound even sweeter than he could ever imagine falling from your lips, especially as he trails kisses down your own torso, leaving marks all the way so everyone can know that you’re his.

He bites his lip as he feels his cock throb in his pants, pure desire for you coursing through his veins as he lets his imagination run wild, and now that he has your sweater to hold onto, it’s like you’re really there with him.

Before he knows it, he finds himself grinding into the pillow, imagining it’s you, and that you’re grinding right back, desperate for his touch. Fuck, the way you would mewl with his hands all over your body, head thrown back as he gives you uninterrupted pleasure in every way he knows how.

Thoughts continue running through his head as he brings his one hand down to stroke himself over his sweats. Are you actually more on the quiet side? Are you more shy when you’re in bed? Would he be able to fluster you like he knows you could fluster him? Would you be loud for him if he asked?

A small huff of air escapes him as he turns on his back, finally sticking his hand down his pants to grasp his firm cock, stroking lightly all the while picturing it’s you doing this to him. No matter, he’d make you loud for him. He’d make sure you’ll scream from the pleasure he’s giving you. After all, his job wouldn’t be done until the only thing you remember is his name.

Licking his lips, he gently teases the head of his cock, spreading his precome with his thumb as his hand continues to stroke the rest of him, alternating his grip all the while. Throwing his head back, he lets out a low moan, followed by a curse. Your name sounds like heaven falling from his lips, and he only wishes you were around to hear just how good the mere thought of you is making him feel.

Closing his eyes, he lets images of you sucking him off fill his head. The way your lips would wrap around his cock, taking all of him into your mouth as he encourages you and holds your hair in his hand, ever so subtly guiding your movements. Fuck, the way you would hum around him, wanting to make him feel as good as he makes you feel.

He builds himself up slowly, wanting to take his time tonight and just live in his fantasies. Being able to hold your sweater in his hands is just the icing on top, letting him feel like it’s actually you there with him. After edging himself three times, he decides it’s finally time for him to come, and he knows exactly how he wants to do so.

Kicking off his pants, he shifts his body so that his pillow with your sweater on it is beneath his chest. He licks his lips, inhaling deeply with his eyes closed, allowing your image and your scent to fill his mind. One arm is wrapped around the torso of the sweater while he begins to fuck his opposite hand, starting slowly, just like how he would with you once he’s finally inside you.

For your first time together, he’d take it slow, making love to your gorgeous body all night long. He wants you to know that you’re more than just a fuck, and that he would never even think about doing something as intimate as this with another. Only you get this type of intimacy. Only you get the whispers of ‘I love you’ and the breathless moans of your name from his lips. Only you get all of him: mind, body, and soul.

Holding the pillow tighter, he begins to pick up his pace, rolling his hips into his hand as he pictures your legs wrapped around his waist. Every second that passes brings him closer to the edge, and he can feel his hips stuttering as his orgasm approaches.

Sitting back on his knees, he releases the pillow, stroking himself intensely all the while. With a low moan, he’s coming, your name falling from his lips like a mantra as he releases all over your sweater, claiming it as his own, just as he so badly wants to claim you.

For a whole minute, he just kneels there, eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy. He bites his lip, bringing his free hand up to brush his hair out of his face. Opening his eyes, he looks down to see the mess he’s made of your sweater.

Cursing lowly to himself, his eyes go wide. Well, now there’s no way he’s going to give you back your sweater with it looking like this. He’ll have to wash it before giving it back, if he even decides to do that. Now that he knows what he can do with it, it’s like having his very own body pillow of you, and he doesn’t want to give that up so easily.

Moving off his bed, he cleans up quickly before sliding on a fresh pair of sweats. Once he’s finished, he slides back into bed, scrolling through his phone with his arm around the sweater, the pillow tucked to his chest. He has to find a way to be with you soon, and maybe next time, he’ll make this dream of his a reality.

That night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face, head filled with images of you and what he dreams your future relationship to be like once you’re together. He cannot wait for the day he can finally call you his in front of the whole world, and hopefully it’s soon; he just wants you so badly.

Midterms come and go in the blink of an eye, and before anyone knows it, the professor is assigning the final project. Lucas lets out a small sigh as the prof drawls on about the details during class, gaze zoned in on you once more until a certain phrase catches his ear.

“You’ll be working in partners-“ a chatter breaks out around the lecture hall before the prof grabs everyone’s attention once more. “As I was saying, you’ll be working in partners for the final assignment, but no you will not be working with a partner you choose. You will be receiving an email by the end of the day with your partner’s details for the upcoming project. I expect everyone to work diligently and thoroughly. Class dismissed.”

With that there’s an explosion of chatter and movement throughout as people begin to gather their things to leave the room. Lucas’ heart pounds in his chest the whole while, and he knows he won’t be so lucky as to get you, but he can only hope that’s the case. He just hopes that whoever he gets stuck with isn’t one of his past flings. That would be awkward as hell.

Again, he sticks close by you as you exit the hall with Jordan, discussing the possibilities of the project. He busies himself with checking his phone to make himself look occupied and not like he’s eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Who do you hope you get to work with?” Jordan asks you.

“I’m not sure, I know I probably won’t be as lucky as to get to work with you, but I hope there’s still a chance!” You reply, lip tugging upwards. “If not, the only other person I really know in the class is Lucas, so I guess he wouldn’t be so bad.”

His heart nearly stops when he hears you say those words. Maybe there’s a possibility that you really want to work with him, too.

“Ew, why do you want to work with that fuckwad?” Jordan scrunches their face in disgust.

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” you frown slightly. “Besides, I think he does well in this class, whenever I see him he’s always intently looking at his computer, taking notes.”

You’ve looked for him while in class before? His heart skips a beat. How has he never noticed?

“(Y/n), how many times have I told you to stay away from him? He’s bad news,” Jordan sighs.

“I know, Jor, I know,” you echo their sigh. “I just, don’t see what you mean. He’s only ever been nothing but decent to me.”

“Have you ever thought that there was a reason for that?” They quirk a brow.

Yeah, he’s in love with you, and he’d shout it from the rooftops if he ever got the opportunity.

“Well, regardless, he hasn’t given me a reason to be suspicious of him,” you retort.

“(Y/n), he literally has, or well, had, a Hitlist for this school. Almost every girl, and some guys have slept with him,” they tell you.

“Who he sleeps with, or has slept with is none of my business,” you glance at them out of the corner of your eyes. “I don’t care, and neither should you.”

“Listen, I really don’t care for him, or how many people he sleeps with,” they begin, “it’s the way he goes about it and treats them afterwards that has me peeved.”

“Again, that’s his business,” you say, and in the next moment a teasing smirk crosses your features. “Besides, sounds to me that someone is a bit jealous that they’re not one of his ‘hits’ as you’ve so put it.”

At this, they splutter, “what! That’s insane, I do not even like him!”

“Well, rumour has it that he likes you,” you continue with your teasing, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at them.

“Rumours are just rumours,” they counter with a grumble, and you hum.

“Fair enough-“

That’s all he can hear until the two of you are too far away from him to comprehend what you’re saying. Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he leans against the wall. The biggest thing he takes away from this conversation is that you would, in fact, enjoy being his partner for this project, and he’ll make that happen no matter what. It’s a good thing your professor has office hours immediately after class, and it’s a good thing that Lucas just so happens to be his favourite student in that class.

Four hours later and he’s pacing in his room, just waiting for his phone to ping with the email notification. It’s already ten minutes passed when the professor told him that he’d have all the emails sent out by in order to contact the project members. What if the prof went back on his word?

A ping is what pulls Lucas out of his thoughts, him literally jumping onto his bed to grab his phone as he sees the email notification pop up with the subject discussing the partners for the project. His heart pounds as he opens the email, seeing that the prof came through and indeed put the two of you together like he asked. Who knew pleading his case to really support his ‘friend’ would have worked as well as it did.

All he’s gotten is your school email address, and he wants to send you an email to discuss the project right away, but he also doesn’t want to seem too eager. Should he wait for you to respond first? Maybe he should just take the initiative and send you his number so you two can start talking right away. However, before he can even open up a new draft, his inbox pings once more with a new email.

From: (Y/n)

Subject: Project

Hey Lucas!

I’m so glad to be partnered with you, it’s nice to be able to work with someone I know. Anyways, here’s my number, text me anytime and we can discuss the project in detail, I’m more active through text than email. I look forward to working with you!

(Xxx)-xxx-xxxx

(Y/n) :)

His head is reeling, and he has to read over your email several times to make sure that it’s real. You’re glad to be his partner. He can’t help his heart from racing the way it does as he saves your contact information, opening a new message thread and preparing to text you.

Staring at the blinking cursor in the message bar, he freezes. What should he say? Probably something simple, he doesn’t want to make himself sound too eager. Plus, he wants you to think he’s cool, but also smart, but also available, but not desperate. God, what should he say?

After contemplating for a good five minutes, he settles on, “Hey (Y/n), it’s Lucas. I look forward to working with you, too :)”.

Surprisingly, you get back to him pretty quickly, and the two of you start talking about the project and some ideas you’ve had so far. Before you know it, the two of you are having a pretty decent conversation about your likes and dislikes, things along those lines.

Lucas could not be happier than he is in this moment. He’s even brought your sweater back out for this occasion, holding it close to his chest as he reads over your entire conversation. You went to sleep a little while ago since it did end up getting quite late, but he can’t believe this has happened. Everything is falling into place, and soon, he’ll be able to make his move.

The next day, he has the closing shift at work with one of his co-workers that he closed with on Saturday. Again, it’s about an hour before close, and quiet, so he sets to cleaning the machines.

“Did you manage to give your friend back her sweater?” The question catches him off guard, causing him to freeze slightly before continuing to wipe down the machines. Maybe this question is a blessing in disguise, for he can put his plan that he’s been thinking about into motion finally.

“No, actually,” he turns to meet his co-worker’s eyes. “I ran into her friend Jordan and gave it to them to give to her.”

“Ah, I see,” they nod, going over to grab more cups from the backroom. Once they come back out, they turn to Lucas once more, “do you mind taking out the trash?”

“Sure,” he nods. He’s got nothing better to do anyways.

It takes him about ten minutes to run the garbage, and an extra five to dismiss an old fling of his who had spotted him walking back to the café. By the time he gets back, he’s slightly tense from the whole ordeal, and he can’t wait to get home so he can ask you about your day. He’s made it his goal to at least message you one small thing per day that he thinks will make you smile. He wants to show you that he cares, and that he’ll always be there for you, whenever you need him.

“Oh, hey, you just missed your friend,” his co-worker tells him once he gets back behind the counter. “She came by asking about her sweater and also asked about you. I told her you gave it to that other friend of hers.”

“Oh,” his eyes widen ever so slightly, nodding in understanding.

Besides being upset at the fact that he missed you stopping by, the fact that you asked about him sets his heart soaring. This is good! This is indeed very good for him. This means you’re thinking about him, even when he’s not around, something he could have only hoped for.

That night, he sends you a text when he gets home, heart beating nervously as he waits for your response. Once he hears that familiar ping, he’s smiling to himself, happy at how quickly you respond to him. You don’t keep him waiting long, just as he would never intentionally do so to you.

Lucas: Hey, heard I just missed you at the café this evening.

You: Yeah! I just wanted to pop in and say hi, and also ask about my sweater. I seemed to have misplaced it, and when I went to check the lost and found on campus they said they hadn’t had anyone drop it off so I’ve been retracing my steps lol

Lucas: Damn, now I’m really sorry I missed you, I could have told you that I gave it to Jordan for safe keeping

You: Yeah, that’s what your coworker told me, but they haven’t given it back to me yet. Sucks cause it’s my favourite sweater

Lucas: Damn, yeah, that does suck. Hopefully they return it soon

He looks over to the hoodie resting on his bed, still wrapped around his pillow. He really should wash it soon, he got another stain on it recently.

His eyes widen as he thinks up a small safety measure just incase you’re over one day and find your sweater. Good thing it’s oversized.

Lucas: I have one that’s pretty similar, so if you aren’t able to get yours back you can always borrow mine lol

You: Lmaoo thanks, I’ll keep that in mind

Letting out a sigh, he shakes his head. He doesn’t particularly like the fact that he’s technically breaking your trust right now, and he has no clue what you’d do if you ever found out he lied to you, but he’s doing what he has to to ensure Jordan’s out of your life and that they can no longer keep you and him apart.

About two weeks pass by and Lucas notices that there seems to be a wedge driven between Jordan and you. The two of you no longer joke around as much as before when you’re together, and it’s as if there’s a sort of tension in the air whenever you’re around one another. For this, he couldn’t be more glad, his plan is working, though he’s surprised at how well it is. There must have been some other underlying factors causing this rift between the two of you other than the sweater incident, as you’ve now decided to call it.

On the other hand, you and Lucas have been getting even closer to one another. At least, over text messages. You do come to visit him every now and then during his night shifts, but it’s usually around closing time after you’ve finished working in the library. Even so, he’s grateful for every moment he gets to spend with you.

The due date to your assignment is getting closer every day, and the two of you have decided to finish it at his apartment this Saturday, which just so happens to be tomorrow evening. That means there’s less than a day left in the week before he’ll be able to make his final move, and make you his, once and for all.

He’s just at work refilling the coffee beans when he hears the bell chime above the door. Once again, he’s the only one on the floor, and he’s glad for it, for you walk in and manage to take his breath away like you always do. However, instead of wearing your usual calm expression, you seem more tense, and slightly frustrated.

“Hey,” he greets, putting the bag of coffee beans down so he can start your order, “the usual, I presume?”

“Yeah, please,” your reply is short as you go to reach for your wallet.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house,” he says. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Thanks,” comes your blunt response, forcing a smile that pains his heart.

“Is everything okay? I don’t mean to pry…” he trails off as he starts making your drink.

Anyone would be able to tell that you’re not your usual self and that something is bothering you. He only wants you to know that he’s here for you, no matter what. He will always listen to whatever you have to say and do his best to support you in whatever way he can.

You let out a sigh, chewing on your bottom lip slightly, nervously. Lucas can tell that you’re contemplating on whether or not you should tell him what’s bothering you. Luckily for him, it looks like you trust him enough now to share your worries with him, a fact that warms his heart.

“It’s just Jordan,” you say, causing him to quirks a brow at you in response, waiting for you to continue. “They keep telling me that they don’t have my sweater and that you never gave it to them. This isn’t the first time they’ve kept something of mine and not given it back after saying they never had it in the first place.”

You pause momentarily, and he has to stop the surprised look that wants to spread across his features from breaking out onto his face. This plan of his is working out even better than he could have ever imagined. So, he decides it’s time to put his high school drama classes to use.

“That’s strange, considering I did give it to them,” he frowns. “Though, now that I think about it, they were acting kind of strange when I gave it to them.”

“What do you mean?” You question, brow furrowed as you watch his hands as they pour the shot into your drink.

“Well, they kind of snatched the hoodie from my hands and flung it over their arm like it was bothering them. It almost seemed like they were annoyed that I asked them to do this. Though I mean, I’ve heard they don’t like me very much,” he chuckles slightly, handing you your now finished drink, fingers brushing ever so slightly. “Though I found it strange that they wanted to talk with me in private.”

“They did?” You ask. “That is strange.”

“Yeah,” he nods subtly.

“What did they want to talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?” There’s curiosity in your eyes, but also, suspicion. Towards him or Jordan, he cannot be too sure, but he hopes he’ll be in the clear after this.

“Uh, well, I was quite shocked but they confronted me about supposedly,” he adds air quotes to his next words for emphasis, “playing with their feelings and leading them on.”

“What?” Your jaw drops.

“I swear, I was just as surprised as you are,” he goes on to say. “They told me that my little ‘game’ I was playing with them wasn’t funny any more and that I should just ‘be honest’ with my feelings for them and stop trying to make them ‘jealous’.”

“That’s ridiculous, oh my god,” you shake your head. “I don’t want to believe they would do something like that, let alone say it. From what I know, and - no offence - Jordan hates your guts.”

“That’s what I thought, too!” He replies, almost incredulously. “But I also know they like spreading rumours about people.”

You scoff, “you could say that again.”

“I mean, I don’t mean to stir anything even more, but wasn’t there also a rumour going around that I was supposedly trying to get with them or something?” Lucas leans one hand on the counter, the other resting at his side.

“Yeah, there was,” you nod. “It was cause of that coffee you brought me that one day in class, people thought it was for them cause-“ you pause, looking slightly embarrassed, “cause they were the one who drank it.”

“Oh,” he feigns a slight pout at learning this. “Did they- did they think I forgot to use lactose free milk or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you meet his gaze, suspicion lingering in your eyes.

“I did, in case you’re wondering, just to be on the safe side,” he adds. “I knew one of them was and I didn’t want to take a chance if the one who needed it was you. Now I know I made the right call.”

“That’s actually really considerate of you,” you flash him a small smile before shaking your head. “Anyways, that’s not the point.”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “What if they were the one who started this rumour and used that as the catalyst.”

“They were pretty adamant about me not drinking it,” you recall, one hand coming to rest on your chin in thought, eyes widening as you realize something. “Holy fuck, maybe that’s why they’ve been-“ you inhale sharply, effectively cutting yourself off, “sorry to run off like this, but I’ve got to go. Thanks again for the drink, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Without another word, you storm out of the café, a fire now burning behind your eyes. Lucas is left there, stunned, heart racing as he can’t believe that this has actually worked. His plan is almost complete, and depending on how your talk goes with Jordan, of which he’s assuming is going to happen soon based on how you cut yourself off and stormed out of here, his plan might be complete by tomorrow evening.

A large smile breaks out across his face as he finishes wiping down all of the tables for the evening, his coworker finally coming out of the back to help him close the café. His whole body warms at the fact that tomorrow, he’ll finally be able to have you in his apartment, alone. Not to mention the fact that Jordan might finally be out of your life for good, eliminating that obstacle to your relationship before it can continue to sabotage him further than they already have. All he has to do now, is wait.

The whole afternoon the next day is spent cleaning his apartment and making sure it’s spotless for you. He makes sure he has food, drinks, anything you could possibly want for when you come over. Nothing is too much when it comes to you, and he wants to make sure he has everything he may need to make sure you’re happy and comfortable with him. This is his chance to impress you, and destroy any last remnants of him being a fuckboy from your mind. He’ll treat you right, forever and always.

Sure enough, seven o’clock rolls around and he hears a faint knock on his door. His heart nearly skips a beat in his chest, palms sweaty, as he walks over to open the door for you.

Greeting you with a small smile, he notices you seem extremely tense. As soon as you enter his apartment, you’re kicking off your shoes with a sigh as he shuts his door once more.

“Hey, let’s finish this project, yeah?” You turn to him, and he can tell that you’re drained, both physically and emotionally.

“Sure,” he nods, motioning to his living room for you to lead the way. “Uh, can I get you anything?”

“Water, please,” your response is short as you move to sit on the couch, pulling out your laptop to work on the project.

He walks back into the room a minute later with two glasses of water to see you just sitting there on his couch staring blankly at your computer screen. Placing the glass on the table in front of you, he gently takes a seat beside you, ”is everything alright?”

“Honestly?” You sigh once more, shutting your laptop and turning to look at him. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow furrowed in concern.

“Remember our conversation yesterday?” He nods, waiting for you to continue. “Well, I decided to confront Jordan about everything, cause everything was just a little too convenient for them, if you know what I’m saying.” Again, he nods. “We ended up getting into a huge fight, and now we’re not talking to each other. I just can’t believe they would lie to me like this.”

“What happened?” Escapes him before he can stop himself, wanting to know exactly what they told you incase he needs to cover his own ass. He’s gotten this far, and he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, there’s no way he’s slipping up now.

“Well, I told them everything we talked about, and they basically called me stupid for believing you and not them, and then said that they can’t believe I think that they stole my sweater, or that they started that rumour,” you tell him, and he listens intently to every word you have to say, reacting appropriately each time. “They kept bashing you, and honestly, that made me really upset cause you’ve been nothing but kind to me. They just keep lying, and it only looks bad on their end cause they can’t explain themselves to me properly, which I told them, then they called me stupid again, and said that I’m too gullible for my own good. Basically, they were treating me like a kid, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Like fuck, they always have something to say about everything I do, and they’re so fucking controlling, I just blew up. Then they said some things and it just spiralled out of control. I don’t need that negativity in my life.”

His eyes are wide in shock. His plan worked. It actually worked!

“I’m so sorry that this has happened to you, and that someone whom you thought was your friend would treat you like that,” he places a gentle hand on your knee for comfort and you glance down at it before looking up at him, concern written all over his features. “You don’t deserve that, and I apologize if I was the one who got you into this mess. I feel like if I wasn’t involved things wouldn’t have ended like this. I should have just given the sweater back to you.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” you shake your head, rubbing at your eyes lightly to clear your vision. “Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m just sorry you had to get involved like this.” You let out a frustrated grunt. “I feel like there’s just too much going on right now, and now we have to work on that fucking project cause it’s due at midnight.”

“Well, I have some news that may cheer you up,” he squeezes your knee slightly, causing you to look at his face once more in question. “I already finished our project last night. Well, it was like, three in the morning, but I figured you could use a relaxing evening given the conversation we had yesterday”

“You did?” You look at him with eyes shining with gratitude and wonder, and fuck does he ever just want to lean in and kiss you.

“I did,” he confirms with a small smile.

“Lucas, I can’t thank you enough,” he can visibly see you relax, as if a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders just from this one act alone.

“I can order us a pizza or something and we can just relax tonight and watch movies if you want,” he’s hoping you say yes and don’t just decide to leave after learning you don’t need to finish your assignment.

“Sounds good to me,” you agree. “I could use some relaxation time, if you know what I mean.”

The wink you send him has his body tensing slightly, heart skipping a beat in his chest. Are you hinting at something else? Something more? Whatever it is, he’ll be happy to oblige.

“Oh, I hear you,” he smirks.

“Anyways, what movie would you like to watch?” You ask, putting your laptop down and leaning further into the couch, getting comfortable.

You spend the next twenty minutes deciding on what movie to watch, the two of you laughing and cracking jokes the whole time. He’s noticed you’ve relaxed even more now the more time that passed, and for that, he couldn’t be more grateful. If he allows himself to indulge in his fantasies, he envisions this as your first date night of many.

By the time the second movie starts, he’s ordered the both of you a pizza, of which now rests on the table in front of you. About halfway through the movie, he notices you shiver slightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “just a bit cold.”

Fuck, the only blanket he has is on his bed and it’s the one thing he didn’t wash today.

“You can borrow one of my sweaters if you’d like,” he offers, eyes flashing with something you don’t quite catch.

“Damn, at least ask me on a date first before letting me borrow your clothes,” you joke, giggling as you move to stand up.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach, a feeling he’s only rarely felt before, but a feeling he wants to feel again, with you.

“Fine then,” he notices you tense slightly at his words as he leans forwards slightly to stare at you intently, “would you like to go out with me sometime?”

You chuckle nervously, your own heart skipping a beat in your chest. You won’t deny, you’ve always thought Lucas was attractive, you just never thought you were his type. As far as you know, he doesn’t ask anyone out, so why you? Why now?

“I was kidding,” you try and brush his question off, not thinking he’s being serious.

“I’m not,” comes his immediate reply, and you notice how intently he’s staring at you, making your breath hitch in your throat.

Fuck it, “sure, why not?”

The smile you send him sends him over the moon. His plan actually worked! He nearly has to pinch himself, for this is like a dream come true, and soon, you’ll be all his, and his alone.

“So, uh, which room is it?” Your question has a million thoughts running through his head, causing him to nearly lose his composure until he realizes you’re just asking where you can find his sweaters.

“Down the hall on the right, in the closet,” he replies, willing his heart rate to calm down. “Take your pick.”

“Sweet, thanks,” you smile, heading off in the direction he’s told you.

Once you’ve arrived at his room, you slowly open the door, noting how clean and tidy his room is. The faint scent of jasmine lingers in the air as you walk towards his closet, opening the door and looking over the array of hoodies he has. As you’re riffling through them, a familiar looking one catches your eye. Immediately, you’re tearing it off the hanger, confusion written all over your face.

In your hands, you hold your missing sweater, or at least, you think it’s your hoodie. Same size, shape, make, everything. You’re about to question it further when you remember Lucas telling you that he had a similar hoodie to the one you lost. This must be the one he’s talking about.

Immediately, your shoulders relax, breathing out a sigh of relief. There’s no way he would have lied to you about everything, now, would he? You trust him enough not to linger on these thoughts for too long, instead, slipping the hoodie over your body and smiling at the familiar warmth it brings you. You only wish you could get your own back soon.

Walking back into the living room, Lucas swears he stops breathing as soon as he sees you. Luckily for him, you miss the brief panic that flashes through his eyes.

“You know, when you said you had a similar hoodie, I didn’t think you meant you had the exact same one,” you joke, sitting back down beside him on the couch. “How come I’ve never seen you wear it.”

He laughs, “I only use it for special occasions.”

“I see,” you nod.

“It looks good on you,” he says, and he’s thanking every star he decided to wash it today.

“Thanks,” you giggle, and just like every time, it’s like music to his ears.

A silence settles back over the two of you as you continue to watch the second movie. He’s already made a promise to himself not to let you leave tonight; he finally has you, and he’s not letting you go so easily. However, with the way that your head lulls onto his shoulder near the end of the movie, he doesn’t think he’ll need to work too hard to make you stay.

He looks down at your sleeping form, hand coming up to carefully stroke the side of your cheek. Shifting slightly so that you’ll be more comfortable, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer into him and hearing you hum in content. This time, it’s your turn to shift, and he freezes, thinking he’s woken you up. Instead, you bury your head deeper into his side, one hand coming to rest on his chest while your one leg tangles with his own, your thigh dangerously close to his hips.

Exhaling shakily, he wills himself to calm down, not wanting to ruin this moment, and revelling in it while it lasts. All he knows, is that he’s in for one long night.

#yandere kpop #yandere au #yandere nct #yandere wayv #yandere lucas #yandere yukhei #yandere #yandere nct u #nct scenario #nct u scenario #wayv scenario #super m scenario #yandere super m #Lucas scenario #kpop #Kpop au #kpop scenario #au

640 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Note

What if Andy was obsessed with a coworker and overheard her talking about a date she’s going on after work

Cooler Talk

Warning: obsession, unwanted touching.

“So, you finally found your human side,” Canavan remarked as the cream clouded around the swirl of your spoon and melded into the dark brew. “Tell me about him.”

“He like baseball, um, he’s a counsellor, and he has the worst profile picture I’ve ever seen on a dating profile,” you chuckled, “But he talked me into it. Any one smooth enough to argue a lawyer into a night out... figure it might be worth it.”

“Not just any lawyer.” Canavan takes the pot and empties it into the same metal travel mug she’s carried around for years. The one she plunks on your desk when she’s about to have an important chat with you. A coffee-filled gavel that brings order quicker than any judge. “Where are you going?”

“Well, I managed to angle him away from a baseball stadium but he settled on the convention they’re having tonight at the arena. The one where all the washed up batters sign cards hidden for years in sock drawers.”

“That sounds like more than a compromise to me.” Canavan said. “Do you know anything about baseball?”

“I know he’s going to buy me as many drinks as I need to get through this thing... and if they’re not serving, he’s buying me the biggest bottle of top shelf cabernet we can find.” You turned and leaned on the counter as you brought your mug to your lips.

“If you think of flaking, tell him my night’s free,” Andy smirked as tucked his hands in his pockets. You hadn’t even heard him enter. He glanced at the empty pot and sighed. “It’s always you two and no coffee.”

“Strike while the iron, or rather, pot, is hot, eh, Barber,” Canavan checked the clock on the wall and grabbed her big metal cup. “You tell me about the date on Monday... and pray I make it through this hearing.”

You shook your head and sat at one of the round tables in the break room. Andy brushed by your chair and went about loading the machine. Just outside, the sound of fingertips on keyboards, the metallic swivel of chairs, and the chatter of your co-workers filled the office.

You looked over at Andy between scrolling through your e-mails on your phone. He tapped his fingers on the counter as he waited. He turned suddenly, as if sensing your divided attention.

“So, is it excitement or anxiety?” He crossed his arms.

“Bit of both.” You shrugged.

“And you think you can get past this guys baseball obsession for more than one date?”

“What is it Andy? You jealous I bagged a good guy? I mean, he is more your type, isn’t he?”

“Sounds like actually,” he scoffed and turned to grab his faded Red Sox mug from the cupboard and filled it to the brim. “If it works out,” he turned back and neared the table. “Maybe you can bring him to me and Laurie’s next barbeque.”

“Maybe,” you smiled, “You know the date thing was always an excuse. I just hate those suburban moms and their judgy eyes.”

“Judgy eyes...” he mused as he sat, “I think I know what you mean.”

You laughed and the room went silent as you sipped. You had a few case files to get through before the end of your day, then the drive home, a frantic search through your closet for an outfit, the struggle to do your make-up without looking overdone...

You looked up as you felt a warmth in your face. Andy was watching you, the same way he did a perp in the interrogation room. His brows were lowered and the wrinkle in his forehead was deep.

“What?” You asked dumbly as you set down your cup.

“Just... thinking,” he exhaled, “You know, it’s been years since I went on a first date. Obviously. And it was so long ago.”

“You’re not crazy enough to miss it, are you?”

“Dating? No. Just that feeling. Of something new, someone new. The thrill of finding out more, of waiting for more. The possibility of what could happen. That maybe that person is that one person who fills in all the holes in your life.” He said.

“Wow, Laurie’s a lucky girl to have a guy as sappy as you,” you grinned.

He was quiet again. He looked down at his black coffee. His cheek twitched derisively.

“This guy, whoever he is, he’s the lucky one,” Andy said quietly and lifted his gaze to you. “If I’d known you had the stomach for baseball... if Laurie and I...”

You frowned, confused. He stared at you and grazed his beard with his fingertips.

“I always missed you at our barbeques. I just end up thinking about you the whole time, pretending she’s you as she makes her rounds with the guests. It’s easier in the dark, when it’s me and her to close my eyes and think of your skin instead of hers. To hear your voice in my ear...”

“Andy--” you hit your mug with your arm and the coffee spilled down your front as you stood. “Shit!” You stomped over to the sink and pumped out the paper towel. “You can’t--” you turned back as he stood, “You can’t talk like that. What are you even--”

“How else am I supposed to feel. I spend most of my day here. You’re here. Then I go home and she’s not there. She’s working, drinks with a friend, shopping, taking Jacob to one thing or another.”

He neared as you tried to dry your front. Your blouse clung to your skin, brown and transparent. He reached past you and ripped away some more paper towel. He pushed aside your hand as he tugged the tails of your shirt loose. You tried to shove him away and he grabbed your hips and forced you back against the counter.

“You get me through the day,” he said as he dabbed at your stomach, “I know it’s just dreams but they help. And when you’re really there, smiling at me, all my problems just go away.” His hand slipped down to the front of your skirt. “But when this man disappoints you like all the others, I’ll still be here...” He pressed his hand to your vee and you winced. “And maybe you’ll realise that I can do for you everything they can’t.”

187 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 5 years

Text

Coworker tried to get me fired over breast implants, so I pulled a reverse uno card.

4 years ago now, when I was 24, my mum died of breast cancer, and as both my grandmothers had also died of it I saw a specialist for a screening. I found out I had some cells in one of my breasts that could have turned cancerous at any given moment.

I was told I had a few options:

I could have regular screenings every 3 or 4 months until it does develop into cancer (I was told the risk of the cells becoming cancerous was very high due to family history) but it could also potentially never could turn so I'd just be getting these screenings for no reason

I could get a single mastectomy on the breast with the bad cells, but they'd need to keep an eye on the other one, so I'd still need regular checkups for the other breast

I could get a bilateral mastectomy and remove all of my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for the bilateral mastectomy. It was admittedly the most drastic option but after seeing what cancer did to my mum and grandmothers I didn't want to risk it.

I was warned about scarring but told it should be fairly minor. It wasn't and I was left with 2 huge, pink, jagged scars on either side of my chest, each about an inch long and half an inch wide, and it caused me to go into a severe depression, where it got to the stage of me not even leaving my flat because I didn't want people to see me, throwing out my mirrors, and getting physically sick looking at myself.

I went to a therapist, who suggested a plastic surgeon. The therapist said they'd never normally do that but it was clearly something I was struggling with and I might never get over it, and the therapist could see why I struggle with it. Although I'll admit the therapist did send me to ask about scar reduction. The plastic surgeon suggested a cream, a laser or implants. The cream didn't work, and the laser was both expensive and risky, so I went with the implants. My natural boobs were an F cup so I went with a slightly smaller DD. Since then my mental health has improved and I feel a lot better about the way I look. My confidence has gone up, as has my self esteem. I know I shouldn't put so much into my appearance but I wasn't exaggerating about these scars. Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, just really awful to look at and I hated seeing myself, and they are now nicely hidden away and you can barely feel them.

In the present day, I'm 28 years old and working in an office. I'm doing a lot better than I was. My coworker, Jill, found out I'd had a boob job (but not about the cancer thing), when myself and my friend from years before the mastectomy were planning a holiday and she made a joke about me going on a plane with my implants, and Jill overheard. By the end of the day, the entire office knew I'd had a boob job, but not why, and half a dozen people confirmed Jill had told them.

Over the next few months Jill made many "jokes" and comments about my chest to coworkers when I was in earshot, at one point saying I had "more plastic than Barbie" and calling me "fake in two ways". I didn't hear this one myself but a friend in the office told me that Jill had at one point referred to me as a "sack of silicone".

IDK what her problem was exactly but at one point she mentioned the NHS so I assume Jill thought that I'd got my tits done for free on taxpayer money (I'd gotten the mastectomy on NHS but gone private for therapy and implants).

I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately the places I'd talked to her were places like the lift and the women's bathroom, where there weren't any cameras, and Jill just kept making comments no matter how often I asked her not to. I wouldn't say it was every single day, but I heard at least 3 comments per week for 3 months.

I hit my breaking point when me, Jill and a few other coworkers were having lunch, I referred to something as being shallow and Jill said "you'd know all about being shallow" while gesturing to my chest. I snapped.

I said "do you know why I have these? A few years ago the doctors found potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue, I was advised to get a mastectomy and was left with huge ugly scars on my chest. I went to see a therapist who sent me to a cosmetic surgeon, who advised me to get implants to hide the scars, and I did just so I could look at myself in the mirror without crying. So maybe next time you want to judge someone for having cosmetic surgery, you should ask them why they had it first". And feeling like that was a mic drop moment I picked up my food and left.

For the rest of the day I had about 1/3 of my office come up to me and offer support, and the rest tell me that Jill was just joking around and I was being a bitch. I replied that Jill was being a bitch long before I was.

I then got an email from HR saying they wanted to talk to me the following day, and when I called for clarification they mentioned a "hostile work environment" (note: this is apparently an American term and holds little weight in England but it's what was said over the phone). I knew the person who signed off the email and I'd spoken to. Her name was Debbie, and she was Jill's friend in HR so I was fairly confident on who had reported me.

I realised that if this was already being sent to HR, I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I went about collecting my information.

As Debbie had dealt with me so far, it was safe to assume she would be the person reviewing the complaint with me, and if that was true I was fucked. However, I vaguely remembered a section on complaints that was in my contract when I first signed with the company. I flicked through the contract and there was a part in complaints section that said I was contractually allowed to request a change of reviewer if I felt my allocated reviewer was biased. It was called an "impartial overseer". I photocopied the page and highlighted that part.

Then I messaged the people who had offered their support over facebook, and said basically "HR have asked to see me. Do any of you remember Jill insulting me to your face and are you willing to write and sign something saying what you heard and when?". Not everyone was willing to help as Jill is somewhat feared in the office due to her befriending HR and management but about 20 people were willing to help me.

I guessed roughly when I'd asked Jill to stop previously (the 4 asks over the last few months, some timings were easy to guess as they'd happened on my break or when I'd first arrived at work) and I wrote them all down, along with a rough time of when the lunchroom confrontation happened and a list of names of who was there for the lunchroom confrontation.

I got to work slightly early the next morning. I went round everyone who had messaged me and most of them managed to give me a printed and signed letter (some didn't manage to write one but nbd). This isn't exact words as there's 16 letters to sum up here but the gist was:

"My name is [their name]. I work with Jill Lastname and OP. On [date] at [time] (approx), I spoke with Jill Lastname, during which she referred to OP as [quoted insult]. I felt this was inappropriate as it directly related to OP's appearance and am willing to go on record further to establish that Jill Lastname has been discussing OP in the workplace in the same manner for 3 months now, causing me discomfort and creating what I feel is a hostile work environment. Signed [their name]"

I wound up with about 16 letters, all from different people, and one of them was in the lunchroom for my conversation with Jill. Some even had bulletpointed lists of everything Jill had said to them about me or other people, as it turns out Jill has issues with a lot of people's appearances. She apparently made comments about one coworker's weight, and something antisemitic about a different coworker's nose, all of which were put in these letters. There are about 45 people in the office so while 16 wasn't a majority, it's still a decent amount. The letters weren't hugely long, most were only a paragraph, but they had all the necessary information.

I was asked to come to HR at 10am. I took the letters from coworkers, the photocopy of the page in my contract, and my dates and times in a little folder with me.

I got there and Debbie was the one overseeing the interview. She got up from her desk, ready to lead me into another room.

I immediately turned to the other HR worker that was currently there and said "so is my meeting with you, then?"

Debbie said "no, you're with me."

I replied that this wouldn't sit well with me, as "my contract states I have a right to an impartial overseer" and as I said this I took the contract page out of my folder. Debbie read it (I wouldn't let her take the paper when there was a shredder so close by) and said she could be impartial. I replied that I really didn't mean to be a pain, but I had it on good authority that the person on the other end of this complaint is her friend, and my contract does say I'm allowed an impartial overseer.

Debbie stomped off to get Supervisor. Supervisor asks how I know she can't be impartial and I tell him that I have it on good authority that the Jill, who was on the other end of this complaint, is a close friend of Debbie. He asked Debbie if this was true, to which she only replied "I can be impartial".

Supervisor took a deep breath, asked the other HR rep to come with him, and the four of us all went to review the complaint. I thanked them for being so accommodating (I was worried I'd annoyed them), Debbie took out the complaint and all 3 of them went through it with me. Debbie looked homicidal the whole time the interview was happening, as she had clearly anticipated firing me (or at least recommending me being fired).

The interview went something like this. It took like over half an hour and they kept asking me the same questions but phrased different ways so this is a really drastically condensed version.

Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. Why is this?

A: Jill has had an issue with me for about 3 months now

Q: Why didn't you come to us when you realised Jill had an issue?

A: I had no issue with her

Q: What issue does Jill have with you?

A: Four years ago a specialist identified potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby removing the cells and the risk. After the surgery I was left with large scars on my chest. I went to a therapist for low self esteem and depression. The therapist suggested a plastic surgeon who suggested breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history which you have a copy of in my file and my full permission to review. Jill found out about my breast implants but didn't know about the cancer. Jill had a problem with my breast implants, and decided to communicate this problem to our coworkers.

Q: Why do you feel this is true?

A: Here's 16 signed statements all from different coworkers, all testifying that Jill told the entire office I'd had breast implants on the day she found out and has since made comments about these implants frequently. They have quotes of what Jill said to them about it and rough dates and times.

Q: Rough dates and times?

A: No one knew this would be escalated to such an extent so no one really took notes as and when it happened.

Q: What event or events do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment?

A: For me harassment began when Jill told everyone about my breast implants without my consent, but as to the complaint placed against me, it would probably be what happened at about [time] yesterday in the lunch room. Jill made a comment about me being shallow while gesturing to my breasts and I replied by giving her an abridged version of my relevant medical history and ending with a comment about the importance of getting the full story. There are cameras in the lunch room, so I'm sure you'll be able to find that conversation. I'll admit I could have handled the situation better, but after 3 months I felt I had to put my foot down. Here's a list of names of people who were also present. There were 6 people at the table, including myself and Jill. One of these people is also in those letters, and has written their account of the conversation and signed it.

Q: Had you had a conversation with Jill prior to this regarding her comments about you?

A: Several, spaced out over the last 3 months. Each time I communicated to her that I felt uncomfortable and upset with these comments she was making and would appreciate it if she were to stop.

Q: To your knowledge, was Jill made aware of your former cancer at any point in this time?

A: No. It wasn't mentioned in the conversation with my friend she overheard and I didn't tell her because frankly it's none of her business and I did not feel the need to detail my medical history to a coworker in order to avoid further sexual harassment.

Supervisor stands up and says "well I think we're done here". He shakes my hand and sends me back to my desk saying that I'd hear from them after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history and anything they had already) and made a decision on the case.

I got back to my desk, pulled up my CV, and prepared to start the job search again.

About an hour goes by, then the person who wrote the letter and was there for the lunchroom conversation gets called for a meeting with HR. They come back 10ish minutes later.

The other people who were also there for the lunchroom conversation get called one by one, except Jill. All of them are gone for about 10 minutes then come back, find a coworker, and say that HR wants to see them.

Then the people who wrote letters but weren't there yesterday are also called one by one and are each gone for about 10 minutes each, some longer, some shorter. By about 3:30 it looks like everyone who wrote a letter or was there in the lunch room has been interviewed.

Then, finally, Jill gets called in. She's gone for about 30 minutes and comes back fuming. She glares at me while I work, but I ignore her.

4:30ish, Jill gets called into HR again. 5 pm rolls around, everyone is either leaving or getting ready to leave, when Jill storms back into the office. She glares at me the whole time she packs up her desk. She then starts telling anyone who will listen that I got her fired before shoving her way onto the lift.

An email comes in from HR. My case is closed.

(source) story by (/u/3240278189)

#prorevenge #by /u/3240278189 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

4K notes · View notes

the-swedes-knees · 4 years

Text

Human Resources - The Swedes x Reader

Did I make a tumblr just to post a birthday present for @jossambird? Yes, yes I did.

Rating: Everyone

Pairing: Reader/Swede(pick your favorite)

It had started like any other work day at the Temps Commission. The case management room was silent aside from the rapid clicking of typewriter keys and the rustling of papers as employees cross checked their historical references. You were just another cog in the machine, expected to work efficiently and follow every rule in the handbook down to the letter.

Which is why it was a surprise when your supervisor placed the summons to HR on your desk.

"Cheryl." You greeted the HR representative coldly as you entered the meeting room. She glared at you as you went to take a seat, not even bothering to say your name. There wasn't a clear reason why she had been gunning for you the past few months but you suspected that it had something to do with the last company Christmas party. Or rather the point in the Christmas party when she had become dangerously intoxicated and you had walked her back to her living quarters instead of letting her fulfill her desires of making thinly veiled sexual innuendos to coworkers.

One might assume that kind of story would lead to a friendship, or at least a funny story to laugh about together...

"Do you know why you're here?" But apparently Cheryl didn't think so. When you crossed your arms and shook your head no she let out a catty hiss of disapproval. "Well this shouldn't be a shock, but I've opened up a sexual harassment investigation against you."

Your face hardened and your eyes shot to the folder that was placed in front of you, identical to the one infront of her and three more like it on the opposite side of the table.

"That can't be right... who - " The end of your question died on your lips as the three temporal assassins entered the room and sat down at the table across from you. Almost in perfect unison the three tall Swedish men regarded your presence before turning their attention to the woman at the head of the table.

Axel, Otto, and Oscar. More commonly referred to as simply The Swedes. You had handled a fair number of their cases in your career, and they were certainly some of the best the Commission had to offer. They were all handsome in their own right. Strong, stoic, and silent... but you had only admired them from afar, just sparing glances in passing through the massive building complex.

You weren't sure what drew you to them, like a moth to a flame. But just those sparing glances had ruined any other romantic prospects for you.

"Thank you for coming. I'm aware how busy the three of you are, but this matter simply demands to be addressed." She said smugly before turning back to you and opening the manila envelope that was placed perfectly perpendicular to her.

"In recent case number A-96353 you wrote an extra message to the Swedes that was not approved by your supervisor. Is this correct?" Cheryl asked your pointedly.

"Yes." You admitted, squaring your shoulders a little bit more as the reality of the current situation began to dawn on you.

"For the record, can you please recount what that message was?" She asked. You took a deep breath and kept your eyes focused on her. There was an evident threat of heat creeping up to your cheeks, but if this was some sort of weird power play, you didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

"I believe I wrote 'good luck boys' on the bottom of their assignment." You admitted in an even tone.

"Is that all?"

"I may have also drawn a small heart." You said through slightly gritted teeth. "I've already received infractions for that offense. It won't happen again."

You turned your body to face the three men, and bowed your head slightly in shame. Even though you had gone through getting slapped on the wrist and mandatory behavioral classes for not following protocol, it wasn't their fault that your attraction to them had led to your immature urge to flirt on the job. Even if the flirt was hardly a flirt, and it was sent via tube with a kill order.

"I apologize, for my unprofessionalism." You said sincerely, beginning to rise from your seat to leave this waste of everyone's time.

"Well there is also the case of these little locker room comments."

"I-I don't know what you're referring to." You froze as she sifted through her folder, placing her pen on the page as she began to read a section of notes verbatim.

"He could punch me in the face and I would thank him for it." She read with as much enthusiasm as a young fast food worker making minimum wage. Your heart throbbed in your chest wildly as you stared at Cheryl in disbelief. "Does that sound familiar?"

"Yes..." You croaked out softly, all moisture seeming to have left your mouth. Your eyes darted to look down at your lap, your fingernails suddenly much more interesting than the three assassins that were openly staring at your from across the table. The sound of rustling papers caught your ears as the men began to read through the reports for themselves, but suddenly you couldn't seen to move a muscle.

There was no telling who had overheard that particular comment from the water cooler, but it was just one comment... If you could shake off this terrible sense of dread and embarrassment you could chalk it up to a simple misunderstanding -

"Time and date 0923845753: I would pay him to crush my pelvis." She continued to read from the file in front of her in a monotone voice. In potentially the dumbest reaction possible your eyes darted across the table and made direct eye contact with Axel as the comment was read. His face was unreadable, but those blue eyes pierced into you so deeply you may has well have died right on the spot.

"Time and date 0202493192: God must be a woman to make men that fine." You decided that there was no God, if there was then he or she or whatever omnipotent being they were would have pity on your soul and allow your body to combust into flames instead of sitting there.

"Time and date 0221527010: He can break all two-hundred and seven of my bones." There was no blood left in your face, you were sure of it. It pulsed rapidly and loudly through your thudding heart and directly into your ears. Your brain couldn't pick between being embarrassed or downright mortified, a violent chill settling into your bones as the startling realization settled over you... this was the end... your life was over... just because you found the three men a few feet away from you devilishly handsome and you couldn't keep your damn horny mouth shut.

"Time and date 0940251637: I would let him step on my throat."

"Oh that one was actually-" You held up a finger to correct that that particular comment was made by your friend in payroll whom which you shared a similar horny braincell, but quickly decided against it. "You know what, I'll take responsibility for all of them... there's really no need to keep reading."

"For the case of this investigations, were all of these inappropriate comments directed at an individual or a collective?"

"It was, it was um... all. All of them."

"Any one of these comments could be classified as a serious offense, and you are in clear violation of several company policies." Her words barely registered in the haze that set in around you. This was it, your life was ruined... you were dead, and this was hell, it had to be... "And if they agree to follow through, I can have you fired by-"

The sound of metal screeching as Axel stood up from his seat silenced the HR representative. All three brothers shared a quick look before Otto and Oscar stood as well, tossing the files that had been placed before them back onto the table sloppily. Otto's eyes were glued to yours as Axel slightly shook his head at the woman at the end of the table.

"Byråkratisk skitsnack." He sneered before walking past you to leave the room. You had no idea what it meant, but from the offended gasping noise Cheryl made, you were sure she did. The other two men followed their brother shortly after, Oscar making teasing kissing faces at you as he exited through the door.

What just happened?

Both you and HR sat in a moment of stunned silence, obviously this meeting hadn't gone the way either of you expected. With the Swedes gone, you found the courage and sense of self determination to look at the woman again. You raised an eyebrow and looked behind you at the doorway, silently asking if this meant you could leave.

"One more slip up and I'll file for your termination, clear?" As much as you wanted to think of a snappy comeback to the woman who had just lost all the power she wrongly thought she had, your flight or fight response was still in full gear and you suddenly forgot all that was the English language. All you did was bite your bottom lip and nod before slowly rising from the chair and returning back to work.

Curious coworkers asked throughout the day if you were alright, the sense of dread still clawing at your heart at the utter humiliation that you had received... but there was no one to blame but yourself, you probably got what you deserved for making such comments in a professional environment. You briefly considered taking a vow of silence, never to speak again in penance for your sins.

The vow ended rather quickly after Dot offered you treats from her candy stash in an attempt to lighten your mood.

Everything will go back to normal, just don't think about them... ever again... You obsessively chanted to yourself while staring blankly at the copier and munching on your third candy bar. The mechanical machine whirred loudly as it spit out page after page of references that were needed for your current case. It was so loud, in fact, that you weren't aware that another person had entered the room until you felt a sharp pinch on your ass.

You suppressed the urge to scream as you jumped back, mind now alert as you whipped around to see the culprit.

Now standing a few feet away was one of the very same men with platinum blond hair that you were trying so actively to purge out of your mind. You had never admitted it to anyone else out loud, but secretly you did favor one brother more than the others... the slight mannerisms and the way that he held himself causing many obsessive dreams on lonely nights.

And here he was... alone... the closest he has ever been.

"Hi." You greeted dumbly, not even confident enough to say his name. Your eyes flickered from the ground back to his face before holding out your chocolate. "Kit-kat?"

His face remained neutral as he reached out and broke off a section from the bar, eyeing you up and down more properly than before.

"You know my name." He remarked before biting the chocolate wafer in half and slightly gestured his chin towards you. "Yours?"

You told him, a bit surprised that he didn't seem to know it after that disaster of a confrontation. Had he not read through the accusations? Or if you were such an unnoteworthy person to him, why was he here... talking to you?

He's going to kill you, you pervert.

"Do you eat?" Just as you were preparing to plea pathetically for your life, you were instead caught completely offguard. Confusion overtook you as your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand the question.

"Eat? You mean like... eat food?" You asked slowly, mind going completely blank as you watched him pop the rest of the wafer in his mouth and chew slowly. Even with something so small, your knees were going weak at the close proximity. You shook your head gently to refocus, dangerous thoughts like these were what got you into trouble in the first place. "Um, I guess? Yes?"

"Good. Six o'clock, pervers." He declared firmly with a stony expression before turning to walk away. Unintelligent noises of sputtering and half words left your mouth as you moved to walk with him, keeping a bit of a distance as you held your copies tightly against your chest.

"Six o'clock what?"

"You eat dinner, with me. Or I step on your neck, your choice." He said casually, eyes keeping straight ahead as he spoke... almost ignoring that you were even there.

"What? Where? Why?" Even though you were trying to whisper as you paced through the hall, your voice was rising in octaves as each question left your lips with little filter. He stopped his long stride abruptly, inadvertently causing you to flinch as he turned back to look at you. The slightest ghost of a smile toyed at his lips as he stared you down like a hunter with eyes on its game. You remained as still as humanly possible as he leaned down to speak in your ear.

"I will find you."

You watched him turn around once again and strut down the hallway like a man on a mission while you stood there, mouth gaping like a goldfish. He was coming for you, that much was certain... There was no where or time that you could possibly hide from the not-so-secret item of your affection.

Should you be horny or terrified?

Both. You decided. Both sounded good.

#the swedes #the swedes x reader #tua the swedes #ikea mafia #hbd jossambird #the umbrella academy x reader #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader

103 notes · View notes

mikauzoran · 3 years

Text

Lila Fake-Dating/Emotional Blackmail Adrienette: Betting Against the House: Chapter One

Read it on AO3: Betting Against the House: Chapter One: The New Deal

Adrien was changing back into his street clothes after an excruciatingly long photoshoot with his least favourite coworker when the door to his dressing room swung open without warning.

He jumped, quickly zipping up his pants with one hand and throwing his opposite arm across his torso to provide some modicum of cover.

“Lila, I’m getting dressed!” he protested as she closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, taking him in with roving eyes and a self-satisfied smirk.

“I know. I like to watch,” she laughed in that bell-like way that everyone thought was so charming as she leered at him, rubbing the side of her thumb back and forth over her bottom lip as her eyes traced every line and curve of him up and down.

He couldn’t contain a shudder of discomfort.

“It’s so cute how shy you are,” she chuckled. “We literally just spent hours hanging all over each other in skimpy clothing for that summer wear shoot, and now you’re embarrassed for me to see you bare-chested?”

She pushed herself off of the door and sauntered over to run her fingers along his shoulders.

He stepped back, shrinking away from her touch. “Sorry. Could you not? I don’t really like being touched.”

This small act of rebellion clearly displeased Lila. Her olive eyes narrowed into a glare, and she strode forward, placing her palm flat on his chest like she owned it.

“You’d better get used to it, then,” she warned, all levity gone from her voice, “because I’ve been thinking. The media has been speculating about our relationship status for several years now, and I’ve decided that it’s time for us to officially start dating publicly.”

Adrien recoiled, pulling away until his back was pressed up against the mirror. “Sorry, but I don’t think so.”

“Too bad you don’t get a say in the matter,” she informed him with authority. “We’re dating now, and you can either do as I say or watch as I spread rumors about Marinette until everyone thinks she’s trash and no one wants to talk to her.”

“Lila,” Adrien hissed low in warning.

She clasped her hands in front of her chest and assumed the higher-pitched, innocent voice she often used when soliciting sympathy or agreement from others. “Because, you know, I’m so worried about Marinette lately. I overheard some of the basketball team members talking about seeing her out late in a skimpy little dress at this bar with a much older man.”

“Lila,” Adrien repeated through gritted teeth, his fingers clenching into fists.

“You don’t think her family is having money trouble, do you?” Lila continued, batting her eyes and playing dumb as she feigned concern. “Has she said anything to anyone? It’s so easy for desperate young women to get into trouble, and I want to make sure we’re doing everything we can to help, if she needs it. That’s what friends are for, am I right?”

“Lila, this is crossing a line,” he growled, standing his ground. “I’m not dating you. In fact, I think it’s time I told my father about your increasingly inappropriate behavior.”

“Try it, and I’ll go to the media about how you’ve been taking advantage of me for years,” she retorted coolly with a shrug of the shoulder, always master of the situation. “I’ll tell them I didn’t say anything sooner because I wanted so badly to succeed in modeling, and if that was the price of success…”

He rolled his eyes. “You can’t touch me, Lila. I am the Gabriel brand. Try it, and my father will bury you. You’ll never work anywhere again. Trust me. My father is a very petty, vengeful man.”

She held up her hands in surrender, conceding the point.

“Fair,” she agreed. “Maybe I can’t slander you personally, but there’s no one to protect poor Marinette. I can and will burn her to the ground,” she promised. “Your father may like her now, but just wait until he hears about how Marinette’s been using you, making you fall in love with her so that she can get a leg up in the world.”

Adrien stiffened, a rush of fear streaming in.

He didn’t think his father would turn on Marinette so easily, but…Adrien had seen Lila in action before, and the young woman was very persuasive.

“You couldn’t protect her,” Lila snickered, crossing her arms with a venomous smirk. “If you tried to refute my claims, your father would just see how in love with her you are, and you’d only confirm her guilt in his mind, and Gabriel Agreste is a very powerful enemy, Adrien. As you say, he could keep her from working anywhere if he wanted to.”

Adrien’s chest tightened, making it harder to breath as he tried to come up with a rebuttal to her logic.

“You may be untouchable, but Marinette isn’t,” she sang, seeing from the distressed look on his face that she had won. “Only you can protect her, Adrien…so what will it be? You can give in now or watch me ruin her only for you to end up giving in later. Which do you prefer?”

His shoulders slumped, and he looked away, muttering, “Fine. Just don’t push your luck on the PDA because I really don’t like being touched, and someone’s bound to notice that it looks like I’m under duress,” he warned in what he knew deep down to be a futile attempt to set boundaries.

“Noted,” she hummed generously, watching as he retrieved his shirt and pulled it on. “So long as you know that no one would believe you if you told them. Everyone knows that any seventeen-year-old boy would kill for the attentions of a beautiful, Italian model like me. No one would believe that you were the victim here.”

He kept his gaze down as he re-rolled the sleeves of his overshirt into cuffs. “…Why do you even want to date me anyway?” he wondered sulkily. “It’s not like we’re really friends. I mean, we’ve never actually gotten to know one another because everything out of your mouth is a lie, and it’s not like we’ve ever had scintillating conversations for you to observe my quick wit or charming personality. I honestly don’t get what you see in me.”

She snorted at his naiveite, going back to leaning and crossing her arms as she watched him get dressed. “You’re a fool if you think anyone will ever be interested in you for your mind or your personality.”

Adrien flinched, wounded by the way that she laughed at his romantic idealism.

“People are only ever going to want you for your money, your body, or your influence,” she informed matter-of-factly.

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but…he’d been one hundred percent himself around Ladybug and Marinette, and neither of them seemed interested in him romantically. Meanwhile, hordes of fangirls were just lining up for him to autograph their bosoms because they idolized the public image he projected as the face of the Gabriel brand.

“My particular aim is to use your influence to get a leg up in the world,” she confessed, and he found it ironic that she was the one guilty of something she was all too ready and willing to accuse Marinette of.

“You’re useful for getting my name out there and opening metaphorical doors to future opportunities,” she continued to talk about him like he was an object without feelings, meant only to be used until he was used up.

It reminded him of the way his father talked about him, and that added an extra sting because it made him think that if he were to go to his father about what was happening, Gabriel would only scoff and blame Adrien for getting himself into such a mess in the first place.

He could easily conjure his father’s voice saying that Adrien deserved what he was going through because Adrien hadn’t been smart or strong or clever enough. He could imagine his father berating him for being weak and letting his feelings for someone trap him.

Gabriel might believe Adrien, but he wouldn’t do anything to save him.

“It also doesn’t hurt that you’re a nice piece of eye candy,” Lila laughed, clearly enjoying herself and luxuriating in her victory. “Plus, it’ll make some of my rivals jealous, and I just feed off of their envy,” she chortled.

Adrien looked up at her with a frown, utterly baffled by her behavior, not for the first time. “Why are you like this? Why can’t you ever just…I don’t know. Tell the truth? Be nice to people? Try to work your way up in the world through effort and perseverance?”

Lila’s laughter stopped as her brow creased and her eyes narrowed. “What? You mean like Marinette?” she scoffed, giving her hair an indignant toss. “Adrien, you live in such a fantasy world. I would have thought your father had taught you better.”

Adrien tried not to let her see how her words cut him. He didn’t want her to think she had any kind of power over him when it was really only that she sounded so much like his father that it almost felt like Gabriel himself delivering the admonishment.

“I am the way I am because that’s how people actually succeed. The goody-goody path doesn’t work,” she asserted, and he wanted to ask her if she had ever tried it.

“Soft-hearted people like you might not like it, but you’ll see when you grow up and open your eyes that I’m right. I know what I want, and I’m willing to do whatever I need to do to get it. Maybe you think that makes me a bad person,” she allowed, “but I’m not. I’m just living in the real world. Soon you’ll realize that this is what life is really like. You’ll see that I’m right. I am the way I am because people like me are the only ones who win.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” he whispered at the end of her diatribe.

She gave her hair another flip and turned on her heel. “Keep dreaming, then. In the meantime, let’s get a move on. You’re giving me a ride to school. If we leave now, we can make it back by the end of the lunch break, and that will be the perfect time to announce to everyone that we’re officially dating.”

Adrien shuddered but didn’t protest as he followed her out of the dressing room.

#Adrinette #Adrienette #Marichat #Lady Noir #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Lila Rossi #Lila Gets Exposed #Happy Ending #Fake Dating #Emotional Blackmail #Harassment #Bullying #Protective Adrien #Mikau's Writings #Betting Against the House

9 notes · View notes

refinedbuffoonery · 4 years

Text

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (6)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3.

*****

Mac fidgeted with the T.V. remote. Riley hadn’t returned yet. Bozer and Matty busied themselves with digging up intel on Petrov, and Desi sprawled across the couch.

Which left Mac with nothing to do but think.

Riley would be back any minute now, and Mac had no idea what to say to her. They needed to talk about the kiss. Dropping a “you’re my best friend and favorite coworker, but surprise, I’m in love with you” bomb on her in the middle of a mission seemed like a stupid idea, but ignoring what happened would make it even more awkward than it already was. Fuck.

Mac snapped his head toward the door as the lock clicked. Riley slipped inside, opening the door just wide enough to squeeze through. Her hair was a windswept, tangled mess, but other than that, she appeared to be fine. Tension eased in his chest that Mac hadn’t realized was there before.

She still wore his jacket.

Riley went right to his side, although she remained a respectful distance away instead of standing shoulder-to-shoulder like usual. She looked almost...shy. Mac could see the hesitation in her eyes. He really fucked up. Now she wouldn’t even come near him.

“Miss much?” she asked.

“Nobody’s planning on killing us, yet.”

“First time this week,” she retorted. Mac chuckled, earning a glare from Desi.

Slowly, Mac closed the space between himself and Riley, so they could talk without being overheard. He gave her the opportunity to back away, but, to his surprise, she didn’t. “We need to talk,” he whispered. Riley paled. Shit, that was not the reaction he wanted. Not even close.

“Mac, I...I understand.” Her eyes said it all. She looked disappointed. Embarrassed. Hurt. No no no no no no. Whatever she thought she understood, it was a far cry from what he was about to say. Did she really not know how he felt? He wanted to touch her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and show her all the things she didn’t understand. He wanted to tell her that his heart belonged to her, and he was committed to her for the long haul, although that may not be as long as they’d like since they both had a penchant for getting shot at. And then, after all that, he wanted to back her into a wall and tell her how sexy she looked in his jacket and learn exactly how to elicit those little noises again.

He needed to stop thinking those things about her. Riley could read him like a book.

Yet, she’d utterly failed to see what was right in front of her face. Maybe...maybe she misunderstood because he’d hid it so well. Too well, if the brokenness in her eyes was any indication.

“Riles, no--”

She shook her head. “Don’t ‘Riles’ me right now.”

“Got him,” Bozer announced, leaving Mac with his jaw hung open. His unsaid words evaporated off his tongue.

“Viktor Petrov,” Bozer read off the screen, “thirty four year old Bulgarian mob boss and rare art connoisseur.”

Riley moved to stand behind Bozer, reading over his shoulder. Mac studied her--feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back. He liked to think of it as her war-room stance. The woman could save the world while standing like that. “He’s on several intelligence agencies’ watch lists,” Riley said. “Looks like he’s never been arrested, but Petrov is a power player in the Eastern European black market.”

Raising his eyebrows, Mac slid his gaze to Desi. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em.”

“Don’t forget, I picked you too,” she shot back. Ouch. He probably deserved that. Bozer suddenly found the computer screen extra fascinating.

“In her defense,” Riley said, “he is really hot.” The two women shared a conspiratorial glance. If they ever really became friends, all hell would break loose.

Matty broke the ensuing awkward tension. “Get this. He’s part of a collective of shady powerful individuals that uses black market items, real or fake, to keep tabs on all the major power players of the world--major corporations, terrorist cells, and--wait for it--intelligence agencies.”

“Like the CIA,” Riley muttered.

“Exactly. Someone in the group puts an item on the market just to see who comes running,” Matty explained.

“So he thought he was pulling a fast one on a wealthy American, but…” Bozer trailed off.

Mac delivered the final blow. “We were made the moment he saw Desi.”

*****

This mission seemed to be one cursed piece of bad news after the next, Bozer thought.

Petrov was going to out them as spies to the whole European criminal underworld, thus preventing them from ever doing field work again on the whole continent. They’d never be safe with Petrov’s bounty on their heads.

If that wasn’t enough trouble, there was something weird going on with Mac and Riley. Post-Codex, Mac almost exclusively called her “Riles.” But, ever since their weird little whisper session, Mac abandoned the nickname. Bozer had no idea why.

As if it were trying to spite him, the computer made an error noise. Bozer sarcastically imitated the sound. He didn’t feel any better.

*****

Desi hated playing bait. She’d much rather be the one waiting in the shadows, swooping in just in the nick of time to save whoever got stuck as bait. But, noooooooo. Here she was, leaning against a wall, trying to look bored and sexy at the same time.

It had been Bozer’s idea to have her wear the last of Riley’s dresses. This one was a skimpy, silver-sequined dress that latched onto her body like a leech. The neckline plunged below her breasts, and if it was any shorter, it’d be a shirt. It fit her well enough, except for the top. Riley’s boobs were bigger than hers, and it had taken some creative safety-pinning on Riley’s part to make the dress fit.

To top it all off, there wasn’t a chance in hell she could hide a gun under that thing.

“Sitting around waiting to get kidnapped, again. Best. Day. Ever.” Desi didn’t shy from making quips over comms while she waited. No one indulged her.

Petrov’s steady, confident footsteps were her only warning before he rounded the corner. He spotted her instantly, eyes glimmering like he was starving and she was a cheeseburger on a sparkling silver platter.

“I should’ve known better than to leave you unsupervised.” His voice was a promise of a thousand mistakes to be made. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”

“I did until you drugged me and tied me up.”

“I seem to recall you like being tied up.”

She smiled but laced her words with venom. “Not that kind. Besides, I’d much rather tie you up instead.” Desi practically heard the words behind his smirk. Whatever you say, darling.

She fought back memories bubbling to the surface as he dragged his gaze up and down her body. “That is quite the dress.” She snorted. He knew her well enough to know she would never wear a dress this ridiculous of her own free will. “I see you’ve gotten more tattoos since we last...met,” he said, innuendo dripping off the last word. His eyes traced the new designs on her arms and thighs before turning inquisitive, as if imagining what new tattoos there were in places he couldn’t see. She thought about making a snarky comment but decided against it.

Viktor finally met her eyes again, and Desi remembered what drew her to him in the first place. His striking blue eyes were nothing like Mac’s. While Mac’s were bright and curious, Viktor’s were dark, intense, and captivating. In another time and place, she could’ve lost herself counting the green flecks in them.

“Who are you waiting for?” he asked, likely knowing the answer already. “I assume you didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.”

“You, actually.”

“Is that so?” He definitely knew.

“Yes. I’m waiting for you to give me an apology.”

He stepped closer. “The verbal kind? Or the other kind?”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Desi asked dryly. She had no intention of ever getting in bed with him again, but damn he was distracting.

“Why? Are you seducible?” Viktor grazed his fingers up her arms, sending a shiver down her spine. He growled, “What kind of apology do you want, Desiree?”

Desi put on a show of thinking through her options. “Both.”

“Greedy. Your room or mine?”

“Mine.” She had him now. Desi pushed off the wall and looped her pinky finger around his. He dutifully walked behind her, like a dog called to heel. She led him to the elevator and the trap waiting above. Okay, Riley, she thought. Your turn.

Desi stopped at the room next door to the suite the team was using as home base and made sure Viktor was paying close attention as she slid the room key from her bra. His eyes glazed a bit, still a sucker for little things like that. Desi opened the door and waved him through. “After you.” She gave him a wicked smile, the first genuine one of their encounter.

Not suspecting a thing--What an idiot, Desi thought--Viktor Petrov strolled into the room and found himself face to face with a scarily cold and calculating Riley, who, as far as he knew, was American businesswoman and heiress Danika Jackson. He quickly hid his surprise beneath a mask of neutrality. Lounging in a chair, Riley looked infinitely, gloriously bored.

“I see you’ve met my bodyguard,” Riley said cooly.

Viktor didn’t miss a beat. “Bodyguard, you say? Seems like a boring job for someone of your--” he glanced at Desi “--background.” Desi kept her face blank. He was Riley’s problem now.

Riley began, “Mr. Petrov, as a successful businessman, I’m sure you already know that eventually, people like us outgrow the people around us. So, we must continually surround ourselves with the very best.” Riley looked him dead in the eye, cold and unfeeling. “There’s no point in carrying dead weight to the top.” She gestured to Desi. “She is far from dead weight. Besides, the private sector pays better.” Viktor didn’t notice, but Desi saw how Riley pressed her heels firmer into the floor, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. The little movement was the only sign of the Riley she knew beneath the icy exterior.

Viktor looked a little uneasy, but he definitely wasn’t scared of the woman before him. But, by the time Riley was done with him, he would be. Riley’s eyes ignited, recognizing the challenge.

“Now, about your little locket chip scam.”

*****

Mac and Bozer didn’t know where this cold, calculating, and slightly insane Riley came from. They rarely got glimpses of the business side to Artemis37, but here she was, in the flesh. Mac watched the scene unfold on the computer screen, equally in awe and terrified of her.

A woman to be feared.

She made Matty the Hun look like a kitten. If she could see this, Matty would be proud of her.

There was no sign of their Riley behind that cold stare. Her fingers drummed the arm of her chair. To his credit, Petrov didn’t cower. In fact, he was starting to look a little too comfortable, which was about to be a problem.

Perhaps he needed a...demonstration. Something to make him squirm a little.

Mac’s idea was a terrible one, and Riley would probably shoot him for it later, but it was still an idea, and Mac was pretty sure it would work. Even if he damned himself in the process.

He just hoped she’d sincerely meant it when she said the surprise closet kiss was okay.

“Stay here,” he said, walking to the door.

Bozer made a face. “Okay?” Mac didn’t say anything else as the door clicked behind him.

If Petrov was half as smart as Desi made him out to be, then he’d be monitoring footsteps in the hallway. He’d immediately know it was a set-up if Mac walked straight next door to the room Riley and Desi had Petrov cornered in. Mac forced himself to walk past the room--past Riley--to the stairwell on the opposite end of the hall, taking his time descending to three floors below. He could hear Riley’s half of the conversation over comms, but Petrov wasn’t close enough to either woman for their comms to pick up his voice.

Mac fixated on the cold arrogance in Riley’s tone as he strode for the elevator. There wasn’t a shred of the woman he’d come to know and love in it, like she’d turned her emotions off as easily as flicking a light switch. He shivered.

The elevator took its sweet time arriving, and in the meantime, Riley had some choice words about Pierre. The doors opened, revealing a middle-aged couple already inside. They scowled when they noticed he pressed the button for just three floors above. Mac flashed them an innocent smile.

Mac stepped out of the elevator onto his floor, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He took heavier steps than normal, ensuring Petrov wouldn’t recognize the same pattern from before. Riley confided, once, that as a kid she would learn the pattern of people’s footsteps so she was never caught unaware. By footsteps alone, she knew who was walking down the hall--her mom, Elwood, even Jack. The variations in their gaits, she’d said, said a lot about their current state. For example, her dad’s steps normally were unhurried, but when Elwood’s walk turned heavy and prowling, it was her first warning to find somewhere to hide. And cover her ears.

Mac’s heart snapped when Riley confessed she still did it, mostly out of habit. He swore right then and there that his kids--and hers, for that matter--would never need to learn that skill, for any reason.

Mac swiped his key card and walked right in, ignoring Desi standing by the door in her disco ball dress. Petrov stood in the middle of the room, a healthy distance away from both women, with his hands in his pockets. He had the casual posture of a man who was used to being the most powerful person in a room. The man exuded wealth, from his perfectly tailored suit to his immaculate leather shoes.

And then Mac saw Riley.

The video feed he’d been watching didn’t do her justice. She lounged in an antique chair like it was her throne, the hotel suite her court. Her navy blue gown pooled at her feet, and her black acrylic nails gave the illusion of claws or talons drumming the armrests, not human fingers.

Mac dragged his gaze higher.

Her hair tumbled down her bare shoulders, no longer wild and windswept. No, this Riley was a far cry from the woman who’d cackled while speeding down foreign streets in a stolen Lamborghini convertible. This Riley was polished, cold, and looked like she was debating skinning Petrov alive.

Her dark eyes, usually so full of laughter and compassion, held the vast, black emptiness of the space between stars. They were black holes, consuming everything in their path.

She was otherworldly, predatory, and very, very sexy.

Mac started to banish the thought from his brain, but he reconsidered. He was here to play the role of scandalous boyfriend, after all.

He let every more-than-friendly thought he’d ever had about Riley turn his expression ravenous. Musings and memories of her flashed in his mind. The way her laugh warmed him from the inside out. The way she sat too close and furrowed her brow while she thoroughly beat him at any and every video game. The way her ass looked in one of the bazillion pairs of skin-tight jeans she owned.

He didn’t care if she saw the truth in his eyes. Didn’t care if she read his feelings like a book.

Some part of him wanted her to see the truth of it all, glimmering just underneath the fake-boyfriend façade.

Mac wanted her to see how he never wanted to be with anyone else when shit hit the fan. How their middle-of-the-night fridge meetings were the only thing holding him together sometimes. How he was brimming with pride every time she improvised, whether in the field or at home. How one of her smiles made all coherent thoughts vanish from his head. How he’d wanted to ravish her the moment she dragged him into that damn closet. How--

Petrov cleared his throat.

Mac blinked slowly and slid his gaze to the mob boss, feigning surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had company. My apologies.” Riley’s eyes glittered like she knew just how not-sorry Mac was.

He changed his mind. They weren’t just pools of darkness between stars. Those eyes contained the whole fucking universe. Black holes, galaxies, supernovas, and everything in between.

He stalked toward her, trying to convey his plan with just his eyes. For a brief second, understanding flashed in her eyes before a cruel smile curled her lips--practically the first time all night they were on the same page. Mac revealed his relief for only a split second. He mouthed, Can I kiss you? Riley tilted her jaw, baring her neck to him. She didn’t need to utter a single word for him to understand. Make Petrov squirm, but don’t ruin my lipstick this time.

It killed Mac to do this to her twice, but he didn’t have a better plan. He hadn’t touched her at all since the closet, as if that would ever make up for what he did. Now here he was, silently begging her to re-enact the closet scene. He didn’t know what that made him. A douchebag, most likely.

Playing like this was like dangling their real feelings over a blazing inferno, hoping they didn’t do any irreversible damage. At least this time, Mac had Riley’s consent. If she said no, he would’ve found some other way to get under Petrov’s skin.

Bracing his hands on Riley’s forearms, Mac pressed featherlight kisses to her neck. His thumb brushed a thin scar he didn’t know she had. Lingering traces of her perfume filled his nose, his lungs. He trailed his lips across her skin, searching for her pulse. Upon finding it, he pressed his lips firmly against her neck, reveling in the sensation of her blood roaring beneath his mouth.

His blood roared alongside hers. This is just a game, he reminded himself. A power play to disarm Petrov. He nipped her skin, then soothed the small hurt with his tongue. Her breath hitched. Mac’s self-control hung by a thread. Riley was intoxicating, and getting drunk on her and losing his head would only land them in even more trouble.

He pulled back. “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to join me when you’re done here.” Mac winked.

“If you want me against a wall, Damon, I’d much rather it be somewhere you can fuck me hard enough to make the paintings fall off.”

Riley wore a mask of quiet, glittering amusement, but it was all Mac could do not to combust on the spot. He couldn’t believe she said that. He’d started this little game, and she always played to win, but...shit.

This woman was going to bring him to his fucking knees.

With as much bravado as he could muster, he replied, “We can do both.” Mac pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand before walking into the bathroom, closing the door, and taking the coldest shower of his life.

*****

Petrov squirmed like a worm on a hook while he was forced to watch her and Mac’s little show. The way Mac had practically fucked her with his eyes made Riley want to squirm too. But, like, good squirming. Maybe even the kind that ended with her head thrown back and sheets clenched between her fingers.

But, Danika Jackson didn’t squirm. Her heart didn’t feel like it was about to explode. She didn’t have to memorize every press of her man’s lips against her neck, because for her, this moment was real and would happen again. She needed to be Danika, who was calm and cunning, not Riley, whose heart was breaking, because this was just a game, and Mac meant none of it.

That quick kiss on her hand nearly undid her. Petrov, thankfully, had been too busy staring at the floor to catch the cracks in her façade. She focused back on Petrov, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding and her brain wasn’t short circuiting.

Riley stared at him, putting on a show of contemplating throwing him out right then and there so she could join Mac in the shower. It wasn’t hard. She was definitely thinking about it.

Finally, she got back to the matter at hand. “As I was saying, I don’t appreciate you kidnapping my employee or trying to pull a fast one on someone clearly smarter than you.” She paused. “Why.” It was a command, not a question.

Petrov glanced at Desi. “What has she told you about me?” He almost sounded nervous. A bit of Riley’s terror eased, but only a bit. You’ve got this, she reminded herself.

“Everything. I know about the career that makes you happy, the career that pays the bills, and I know about your little black market spy collective, although I was surprised to learn your products aren’t as high quality as advertised.” Riley sneered. This was a gamble, she knew, showing her hand like this. She really hoped it paid off.

Petrov snapped his head to Desi, looking vaguely horrified. “You knew about that?” Desi gave him a not-so-innocent shrug.

Before he could say anything else, Riley continued. “Why is your collective watching me and my company, Mr. Petrov?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, clearly debating something in his head. “I wasn’t actually watching you at all,” he conceded. “I believe there is a mole in my operation, a spy.”

Riley arched an eyebrow. “Interesting.” Behind him, Desi narrowed her eyes.

“I made sure knowledge of the sale fell on select ears and waited to see which agency made an appearance. And sure enough, none other than my favorite spy shows up.” He smirked at Desi.

“Ex-spy,” Riley corrected. “Although, I have been known to use her skills when I need information, or something done under the radar, if you catch my drift.” She knew what he was doing. Petrov made a calculated risk in revealing his potential mole problem. One slip-up on her part and he could easily connect the dots between his CIA mole and them. The best she could do now was convince him that she--and Desi--were just as shady and well-connected as him. “I assume you are responsible for the building being on lockdown?”

“Can’t have my customers running away without paying, now can I?” She’d caught him off guard before, but he was back on his game now. Dammit.

“Here’s the deal. You will call off your dogs and let us and everyone else leave the hotel, and in exchange I will return your locket and won’t expose you as a fraud.” He scoffed. “I am a woman of my word, Mr. Petrov.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

Her response was out of her mouth before Riley even knew what she was saying. “Then I will use my recording of this conversation to clone your voice and command your men to stand down myself before throwing your useless body out the window and taking bets on which direction your blood will spray when you splatter on the pavement.” Riley stared him down, swallowing her horror at her gruesome threat. She was pretty sure she was going to puke the second he was out of the room.

“Very well,” he agreed, taken aback. Petrov cast a nervous glance in Desi’s direction. There was no pity in her smoldering eyes. None.

Riley pulled the locket out of her bra and dangled it from her hand, waiting. Petrov took the hint and quickly made a phone call. “I have the locket. Stand down.” Satisfied, Riley handed him the locket in dismissal.

She wasn’t going to say anything more, but the entitled way he raked his gaze up Desi’s body on his way out the door had Riley opening her mouth one more time, just to piss him off. “Good luck with your mole problem, Viktor.”

The door shut, and seconds later a nod from Desi confirmed he’d walked down the hall and was out of earshot.

Walking in on Mac be damned, Riley sprinted into the bathroom and hurled her guts into the toilet.

#beth writes #riley+sunglasses+undercover #macgyver #macriley #mac x riley #angus macgyver #riley davis #macgyver fanfiction

47 notes · View notes

barrysjumpsuit · 4 years

Text

the dark side - jj maybank x shoupe’s daughter (ch. 3)

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of other illicit activity, typos probably, but this is mostly just jj fluff

summary: catherine shoupe has the perfect life. when she gets hired by heyward to run groceries, she has a new coworker - jj maybank. as the deputy’s daughter, she can’t help but hate him. but when jj decides to bring her to the dark side and woo her over, cat not only has to hide her activities from her father, but learn who her father really is.

a/n: i’ve been super busy and lacking inspo, so i knocked this out in about an hour and a half (and tbh i’m kinda proud of it). this is definitely based on that time last week i drank 8 beers while swimming and was so drunk i fell off the dock then cried while making a pizza bc i started thinking about drew starkey

side note, the tags weren’t working on the last two chapters, so if you could reblog this that would mean the world to me :)

get caught up on other chapters here! or check out my masterlist!

----

JJ’s words ate at Cat as she drove home. Leave it to JJ to put that foul taste in her mouth - was he trying to turn her against her own father? Or wanting her to come to the dark side with him? Of course JJ didn’t like her dad. He was a troublemaker, flirting with all the punishments that were associated with breaking the law.

Cat got home ten minutes later. Her dad was waiting up for her - it was later than she realized, and she was too caught up with JJ - and then flustered - to text him. “How’d it go?” he asked, seeing her face and pulling her into a hug.

“It was okay. I’m just tired,” she said quietly, her head pressed against her dad’s shoulder.

“You want any dinner?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Okay. Good night, sweetie.”

That night and all of the next day, she couldn’t stop thinking about what JJ had said to her.

Cat spent her day off with her best friend. They shopped before dropping their bags off at Cat’s, changing and going to the beach.

“Tell me about your new job,” Kya insisted, laying beside her. Her eyes were hidden by large, pink sunglasses, a smile plastered on her face.

“Well… it’s different, that’s for sure. I like spending most of my day on the water.” Cat threw an arm up to shield the sun so she could see her friend better. “The guys I work with keep it… interesting.”

“Heyward’s kid? What’s his name?”

“Pope. Yeah, I like him a lot. I usually work with either him or JJ.”

“Maybank?” Kya asked, pushing herself up slightly, and Cat nodded. “Woah, seriously? You haven’t killed each other yet?”

“Actually… we made up for everything last night. Got dinner and everything. He wanted to air everything out, and we had a good night.”

“You got dinner with JJ Maybank?”

Cat sighed as her friend took off her sunglasses to look at her, her eyes wide. “Yes, Kya, why is that such a big deal?”

“You know he’s a total pothead, right? And his dad’s into all sorts of drugs.”

“Well, that’s a good thing I only work with him, then,” Cat responded cooly. “I just want to be friendly enough to make work not insufferable. I don’t care what he does in his free time.”

“Does your dad know?” Kya asked, and sat upright when Cat shook her head. “You’re kidding me, Cat.”

“He doesn’t need to know, he’d just worry.” Cat tried to ignore how worked up all of this made Kya. “Beside, I’ve made it clear to him I don’t want to get involved in anything he or his friends do.”

Kya sighed, laying back down beside her. “You better not. You’re the only friend I have that hasn’t gone all party mode.”

“That’s not gonna happen any time soon.” Cat tried to reassure her, but remembered JJ’s words. I’ll get you out of your bubble, he had said, a charming grin lighting up his face. Everything about JJ’s existence seemed effortless - he didn’t worry about what people thought about him, and didn’t particularly care for impressing people or following every single rule.

All throughout high school, like Kya had said, they lost friends until their once tight-knit friend group shrank to just the two of them. Everyone discovered alcohol, which was easily available at keggers and parties that seemed to happen almost every night. Some started smoking weed, others started doing harder stuff. People changed, and Cat knew that, but she didn’t like that type of change. Even if she did still want to be friends with those people, she knew it wouldn’t fly with her father, much less with Kya’s mother.

Kya Peterkin was the one person who had Cat’s back while they were growing up. Whenever their classmates adopted the we-hate-cops attitude, they were shunned together. They obeyed the same sets of rules, and since their parents worked so closely together, they were bound to become best friends as well.

Sometimes, though, Cat wanted to break the rules. She was tired of being under the watchful, critical eye of her parents. Maybe JJ was what she needed - someone to be that person to get her out there. There was something about the way he spoke to her the other day, like he knew something she didn’t. About her, and about her dad.

The next day, she worked with Pope.

The day after, she worked with JJ.

It was the first time she actually enjoyed working with JJ. The talk they had eased the tension - JJ sat on the bow of the boat, his vape pinched between his lips, swinging his feet in the air while Cat slowed the boat as they approached the no wake zone. As she eased up to the dock to complete the last delivery of the day, JJ hopped off and tied the boat while Cat started readying the groceries.

Cat wanted to ask him, so, what are you doing tonight?, but she had been taught to never invite herself to things. Luckily, JJ seemed to read her mind, a cocky smile tugging on his lips as they loaded bags into the carts they would haul down the sandy paths to the McEvers’ house.

“You busy tonight?” he asked casually, passing groceries from the boat down to her.

“Not at all,” she replied.

“Wanna go for a boat ride?”

“With who?”

“Me and my friends,” he replied, jumping down from the boat to be next to her. He had a red work shirt on, matching his backwards red hat.

“What will be happening on said boat ride?” she asked, partly because she was curious and wanted confirmation, partly to annoy him.

“What, you turning into a cop?” JJ asked. “Your dad knows what we do, everyone on the island knows and everyone on the island does exactly what we do.”

“And what do you do?”

JJ raised his eyebrows before taking a hold of the handle of the cart. “Just a little booze cruise is all. Don’t worry, Pope’s the DD.”

“And you’re not worried I’ll rat you all out?” she asked, taking her own cart and starting to haul it down the path after him.

“No, because you would never let your father know you’re hanging out with me.”

JJ’s words and tone were cocky. Cat smiled, trying to wipe her expression blank as JJ turned to look at her, but failed. “Sure. I’ll come tonight.”

“You got a swimsuit on you?”

“I’ll have to run home and pick one up, just let me know where to meet you.”

JJ flashed her a thumbs up, and before long, they had completed their delivery. The rest of the shift was uneventful; they boated back to Heyward’s, ran through the closing procedures, and JJ told her how to get to John B’s house.

“Just come out back to the dock when you get there, we’ll be waiting on the boat,” he had told her. Cat quickly drove home, telling her dad she was going to treat herself to a night out at the movies, changing before driving south to the Cut.

Two cars were parked in front of John B’s house. Following JJ’s instructions, she walked around the side of the house, seeing the dock lit up with deck lights, hearing voices from a boat tied to the end.

The voices became hushed as she walked down the dock, and she saw someone shove JJ, while another threw a hat at him. As soon as she grew close enough to see JJ’s crew, Cat instantly regretted her decision of coming.

“Shoupe’s kid? Really, JJ?” she heard Kiara hiss, before plastering a big smile on her face. “Hey, Cat.”

She stopped hesitantly on the end of the dock. Just go back home, a voice inside her brain told her, and she was about to start back towards her car when JJ stood, grabbing her hand, pulling her onto the boat.

“Be nice, please,” he said in a sing-songy voice, knowing that Cat had overheard them.

“Dude - really?” John B asked bluntly. He had dropped the hand holding a beer down in a subtle attempt to hide it.

“My lips are sealed.” Cat caught Kiara’s eye roll out of the corner of her vision, and Pope sighed, obviously disliking the conflict.

“Well, let’s go then,” John B said, tension still apparent in his voice. JJ nodded towards the back of the boat, and Pope moved to make room for her to sit.

“Want a drink, kitty Cat?” JJ asked, but before she could answer, Kiara was making a gagging sound and John B looked at him with wide eyes.

“The fuck you call her?” John B asked, and JJ grinned.

“Kitty Cat.”

“I thought I told you to never call me that ever again,” Cat said, leaning forward to look into the cooler. It was full of Pabst and White Claws. She started reaching for one of the latter, but hesitated.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Pope said quietly, but Cat could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

She looked up to JJ, who shrugged. “The black cherry is my favorite,” he said.

“You admitted it! You like them!” Pope burst suddenly, pointing accusingly at JJ, who just shrugged before speaking.

“There ain’t no laws when you’re drinking Claws,” he claimed, pausing as Cat grabbed one of the black cherries. “Atta girl, Cat.”

She popped the top and took a sip. It was okay, the sharp taste and the carbonation causing her to make a face. The second drink was easier.

As John B pushed the throttle, the conversation died down as they made their way across the water. Cat sat against the back right side of the boat with Pope, while Kiara sat on the back left side, JJ going off to stand next to John B.

“You don’t have to let him pressure you into doing this, you know.”

Pope’s words were sudden, almost lost in the wind. Cat pressed her lips together into a small smile before looking at him and responding. “It’s been a long time coming.”

He smiled back at her, and Cat reverted her gaze to JJ. He still wore his work shirt and that backwards red hat, but had changed into a pair of tropical patterned board shorts and flip flops. Leaning over John B, one hand on the dash of the boat and one on the back of the seat, he was talking with a serious look on his face, and John B was sitting, his jaw set.

After twenty minutes, they reached what Pope informed her was their favorite place to swim and watch the sunset. She had finished her drink, a slight warmness filling her body.

A lime White Claw was next up. It sat on the edge of the boat, half-drank, as they all jumped into the water, the setting sun coloring the water orange, as if it were on fire. Swimming up to the boat, she finished it, tossing the can back into the cooler.

“Atta girl,” JJ praised from out in the water, just his head and beer visible. She burped in response, giggling a little. “Help yourself to another, kitty Cat, you’re off tomorrow.”

She grabbed a lemon before swimming back out to the group. Pope, Kiara, and John B were deep into a discussion about the skunk ape of Florida, and if there was a North Carolina equivalent. As the evening progressed, they seemed to relax slightly at Cat’s presence.

“You feeling okay?” JJ asked as she swam up to him, cradling a life jacket in one arm while she held her drink with the other. She nodded and he took a sip of his beer.

“Can I try it?” she asked.

“You never tasted a beer?” She shook her head, and JJ handed it towards her. “Don’t judge it off this one, JB has shitty taste.”

“Hey!” there was a protest from John B’s direction, and Cat made a face at the taste of the slightly warm beer.

“Why would you want to drink that?” she asked, handing it back to JJ. He shrugged and took another swig, tilting the bottom towards the sky before crushing it in his fist and throwing it back towards the boat, where it met the other cans with a clink.

Before long, it was dark, and the group swam back to the boat. “You feeling okay?” JJ asked as Kiara heaved herself up, Cat putting her empty can with all the other ones and nodded.

“I feel… fine.” Cat was kind of disappointed; she felt warm, a little fuzzy in her head, but other than that, not how she expected to feel.

“Wait until you’re in the boat,” John B said, watching as JJ heaved himself up. “Better yet, until we get to shore.” JJ yelped as John B pushed him up with a hand to his ass, and John B pushed himself in easily.

Cat tried to haul herself in, but couldn’t. John B chuckled, and he and JJ each took a hand, pulling her up, and as soon as she was sitting on the floor of the boat, she understood what John B had meant.

“Come on kitty Cat, to the bow,” JJ was saying, his hands in her armpits. He helped her to the front of the boat, which was open and flat.

“Can you get my towel?” she asked, the evening breeze cold on her wet skin. She knew it would just get worse as they started the ride to shore. JJ left her on the bow as he went to the back of the boat for her towel, and she felt him lay it on her shoulders as he returned.

He sat down beside her, and they were silent as Pope pulled up the anchor and John B started up the boat. As they started moving, Cat was unsteady, and JJ chuckled as she had to plant her hands on the ground to keep herself from falling over into him.

“How many you have? Three?”

“Four,” she said, holding up four fingers in his face. “One of each flavor.”

“And it’s your first time? You’re seasoned already. If only your dad could see you now.”

“Don’ talk about him,” Cat said, putting a finger to his lips, telling him to hush. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

JJ laughed again. “Okay, then, we won’t.” He put his hand on hers, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

If Cat wasn’t drunk she probably would have noticed the way John B raised his eyebrows, the way Kiara rolled her eyes, and the way that Pope smiled softly. She would have noticed the way he caught her as she swayed unsteadily when they hit a wake, how he brought her towel back up on her shoulder when it blew off.

She probably would have noticed the way JJ looked at her, his eyes devouring every inch of her, his body relaxed for the first time in who knows how long.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks @shawnssongs @queenk00k @broken-jj @danielle-yeah @wicked-laugh @obxhoe @talksoprettyjjx @kt219567 @abrunettefangirlnerd @apoguecalledjj @rollinsstuff

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #victor shoupe #deputy shoupe #daddy shoupe #obx fic

45 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Never thought twice

A/N: hey guys it’s been awhile. College is killing me lmao. Anyways I hope you enjoy! if anyone has any requests feel free to send them in!

summary; after Eddie overhears a comment from his coworker, he starts to doubt that he shows his affection for Richie enough.

Eddie had never really given much thought to the way he acted around Richie. They had met so early on in life, that dealing with Richie was just like breathing. He loved all his interactions with Richie, though he could sometimes be a bit much. Back before they started dating, when they were just friends, no- best friends, all they ever did was bicker.

Eddie quite liked the way were around each other, and so even when they changed their relationship to more than friends, it didn’t have an impact on their conversations, and the way they talked to each other.

He never thought twice about how Richie would feel about that. At least he didn’t, until Eddie overheard his coworker jokingly saying to one of her friends that it didn’t seem like him and Richie were a couple. In fact, she had compared their relationship to a train wreck just waiting to happen. She went in great detail about how Eddie never seemed to be affectionate around Richie, and it seemed like he was repulsed by his touch.

Logically, Eddie knew that his coworker was just a gossiper. But that didn’t stop his mind from repeating the words over and over again in his head like a broken record, just like the words of his mom stuck to the edges of his brain, refusing to disappear.

Eddie realized that he wasn’t very touchy feeling with Richie. It just wasn’t his personality. It was Richie’s personality though, and he showed it plenty.

He showed it by constantly touching Eddie in any shape way or form. It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t love it when Richie reached out and grabbed his hands, or when he would randomly stop in the middle of his sentences to reach down and kiss Eddie. It was just that Eddie never initiated these things. He waited until Richie did something, always following his lead when it came to intimacy. it was strange because in every other aspect Eddie had no problem taking matters into his own hands. Richie had helped with that. He felt safe with Richie, and he knew Richie would never ever intentionally or not hurt him. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about intimacy or his problem with initiating it.

Sofie, the coworker he overheard, knew nothing about Richie and his relationship. Richie loved him, just as much as Eddie loved him. There was no question, not even an inkling of doubt in Eddie’s mind that both of them were smitten for each other. But, as Beverly had once told him after a night of going to town with alcohol bought in the cheap liquor store when they were teenagers, Richie would do and drop everything in a heartbeat for Eddie.

If Eddie said that Richie had to eat stuff of the floor, he wouldn’t even pause. Which just- Eddie shuddered even having to think about doing that. He knew Richie was infuriated with him, and he was afraid, especially after hearing the gossip Sofie had so lovingly spread, that he loved Eddie too much.

He would die for Richie, he had thought about that for a long time and sometimes it scared him. How confidently he could say that, without thinking twice. Despite that, he didn’t think he could ever kiss more than just a peck in public, or would be able to go to fan events with Richie. Which, in all honesty, made him feel like a horrible boyfriend.

Richie was famous, but Eddie couldn’t go with him to his Emmy nomination. He tried, desperately, but he had a panic attack in the car and Richie had almost missed the ceremony because of it. He didn’t try and go again.

Richie, of course, didn’t care about any of this. Or he at the very least didn’t show it. Eddie came to the frightening realization that, though Richie had never voiced his complains about how Eddie behaved around him, he never actually told Eddie he liked whatever they had going.

It had been a week since Eddie had heard that comment, and it was still in the front of his mind. He was acting weird around Richie now, unable to hide anything from the man he had loved since he first understood what the concept of real love was like. When he was a little kid, the manipulation his mom put him through was enough to made him think that love equaled rough touches, doctor checkups and taking someone to the doctor for a paper cut.

So needless to say that it took a while for Eddie to comprehend that he loved Richie. Richie was getting concerned, his nervous ticks showing up again. He stuffed his hands in his pockets if he was getting anxious, and he would spend an overwhelming amount of time trying to brush out the knots in his hair. It was Eddie’s favorite thing to do for his boyfriend, and it hurt him to see Richie being so violent with his hair. It didn’t hurt as much as it gutted Eddie to see Richie getting more and more swallowed up by his anxiety. He knew a conversation was going to come up eventually.

He just didn’t think he was ready for it. Eddie had always been a coward, and even more so now. He loved him so much, and he knew that Richie deserved better, but he was also selfish. If Richie wanted to break up with him, than Eddie was going to drag it out as long as possible. When Eddie finally made it home from his job the following day with a long sigh, Richie was waiting for him in the living room. Thanks to his job, Richie was home almost constantly, and though some people might find that annoying, Eddie loved it. Instantly, Eddie’s already relaxing body tensed up again. The look Richie shot him was one of worry, and Eddie panicked internally.

He tried to smile, but it clearly didn’t meet his eyes, as Richie just raised an eyebrow in return. Shrugging his jacket of his shoulders, Eddie turned with his back towards Richie, taking deep breaths while hanging up his coat.

‘Eds’, Richie started, and even though tilt had only been a few hours, Eddie had missed his voice so much. He surely didn’t tell him as much as he should.

‘Hey baby, how was your day?’ Eddie responded, trying to keep his voice light. He almost winced. He never really used a nickname on Richie, except for Rich and trashmouth. He felt dread settle in. It wouldn’t surprise him if Richie wanted out of their relationship, Eddie had been nothing but selfish.

When he turned around, he saw Richie’s scrunched up face. He looked like he was trying to figure something out, and he was trying to stay serious, but it wasn’t long before he bursted out laughing. Eddie deflated a bit, his first attempt wasn’t going great so what? ‘Shut up asshole’, Eddie said, instantly wanting to knock himself over the head. He was such an idiot. Richie only laughed harder, whipping literal tears away. ‘Baby’, he repeated, still chuckling. Eddie couldn’t help but grin back at him, unable to stop himself when he saw Richie’s face light up.

After Richie had finally finished laughing, Eddie reached forward to give him a kiss, which is what he usually did right after getting home. Richie turned serious again, reaching for Eddie’s hand when he went to pull away. ‘Hey Eds’, he started. Eddie opened his mouth, his lips already forming the words to his standardized sentence like a reflex, before slamming it shut with an audible click. He really needed to practice being nicer to Richie. He never meant anything with cruel intentions, when he called Richie trashmouth he meant it in a loving sort of way. He had assumed Richie knew that, but lately he wasn’t so sure.

Richie looked taken aback when Eddie didn’t correct him on ‘Eds’, but chose to ignore that in spite of the feeling of fear forming a ball in his stomach. ‘Are you okay?’ Richie finished, his eyes question, pushing the glasses further on his face. Eddie nodded, smiling a lot him a little wider than he usually would. ‘Yeah babe, everything was fine. You know normal boring stuff at work. The kind you don’t want hear about. How was your day?’

Richie had a questioning look featured in his face, yet he seemed to come to the conclusion that Eddie wasn’t going to tell him what was up.

‘It was good, I worked some more on jokes for my next segment, do you wanna hear them?’

Eddie nodded enthusiastically, and this time it wasn’t forced or anything he had to think about. Though he would often pretend to be disgusted by the words coming out of the comedians mouth about their relationship, in reality he found it hilarious.

He often made fun of Richie’s jokes though, taunting him whatever line he came up with. Richie always laughed when Eddie roasted him, including those roast during his performances as well. Eddie didn’t feel like roasting his boyfriend now though.

Richie turned excitedly towards his laptop. He had slammed it shut when Eddie came in, and was now opening it again. As he did he absentmindedly scooched closer to where Eddie was sitting, causing their bodies to touch as much as possible.

Eddie’s heart soared, he loved this man so much. He never thought he’d have the courage to admit it, but after almost dying, thankfully pulling through at the last minute, he wasn’t going to spend another second on running away from the things he wanted.

‘I was wondering if we could order take out’, Richie commented offhandedly, still trying to open the document he had been working on. Eddie glanced at the calendar, hanging next to the giant clock they had in their living room, and saw that it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were usually reserved for Eddie to cook.

On Tuesday, Friday and Sunday Eddie prepared meals, the other days of the week Richie takes care of whatever meal he had in mind. Eddie had been fine with scrambling a meal together every night, but he often tried doing making something healthy to balance the junk they ate when it was Richie’s turn. In other words, on Tuesday, Friday and Sunday they ate stuff Richie would never in his life had considered eating before Eddie.

He never complained about the meals he had to eat, probably because Eddie would throw a fit if he didn’t have vegetables at least twice a week. But that didn’t mean that he actually liked them. Eddie must have waited too long, because Richie looked up from his screen to follow his gaze.

‘oh shit sorry Spaghetti, I thought we were Wednesday today, what do you plan on making?’

Richie had said it casually, and he probably didn’t mean anything more than he said, but Eddie wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t overthink everything. He laughed, though it sounded like he was starting to go crazy.

‘No it’s fine, what would you like? Do you want Chinese? Or do you want some pizza? Hold on I’ll call them’, Eddie rushed out, jumping up to get his phone from his pocket.

Richie watched him go, explaining that he didn’t need to order food and that he was just as happy eating whatever Eddie chose to make, but Eddie was to busy rushing to the phone to pay attention to what Richie was saying. As the night went on and Eddie not once roasted Richie, even on stuff that Richie had set up to be roasted, he got even more worried.

Over the next week, things got strained between the two lovers. Richie had no idea how to feel or think about the change in Eddie’s behavior. It was a vicious cycle they had fallen under. Eddie would be way more touching then he usually watch, Richie would find it weird and hold back on his part, touching him less and less, which caused Eddie to panic and made him hang off Richie even more.

Finally, Richie had had enough. Richie had asked Eddie to go to a restaurant with him, so he had no choice but to listen to whatever Richie had to say. Eddie had tried avoiding having an actual conversation with Richie, he knew that he was being weird towards his boyfriend, but he loved Richie too much to lose him.

He didn’t really have a choice though, he had missed having actual conversation with Richie. He really missed bickering with Richie too if he was being honest with himself, it’s what made their relationship interesting, and it was how it had always been between the two of them.

When Eddie and Richie got to the restaurant, a small Italian place where they had their first date, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Eddie had tried, during their ride, to start up a conversation, but a tense gaze from Richie told him that a pet name, was not going to make the conversation better at all.

They ordered their standard meals, dividing wine between them and stole glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking The silence was finally broken when a woman came up to Richie and asked for a picture, her hands lingering a little too long on one of Richie’s shoulder.

Eddie felt his face flush. When he was still married to Myra, he had never been a jealous person. He couldn’t care less about who had eyes for her, and if a guy had showed up and asked Myra to date him, Eddie was sure he wouldn’t have even stopped him.

Since starting to date Richie though, he couldn’t help but feel at all the attention Richie constantly received. Being famous meant that a lot of people knew who Richie was, so he never had When she finally left, after telling Richie how amazing he was and how he was so perfect Eddie felt like he was about to explode. He took his wine glass in hand, grumbling under his breath.

Richie, who knew damn well that the lady had been flirting with him but didn’t care because he only has eyes for Eddie, turned to him with a smirk. ‘Why can she do that so easily but I can’t’, Eddie mumbled under his breath, not intending for Richie to hear him, but he did.

Richie’s smirk fell of his face. He reached his hand across the table, clasping Eddie’s hand in his. ‘You alright there Spaghetti-O’?

When Eddie did nothing but nod, Richie squeezed his hand. He waited until Eddie locked eyes with him, before trying again.

‘Are you finally ready to tell me what’s going on? Why you’ve been acting so weird?’ Richie had been wondering for days if he did something to upset Eddie. If he did something wrong and Eddie was ghosting him in some way, though he knew Eddie would never do that. If eddie was mad, he’d respond to that right away, not just dropping hints, but going straight for the throat.

Embarrassingly to Eddie, his eyes started welling up with tears. He did his best to try and coil them away, but it didn’t help much, especially not when Richie’s own eyes welled up with tears. Richie had always been a sympathetic crier.

‘Eds’, Richie tried, but he was interrupted by Eddie. All the weeks frustration and annoyance was finally coming out.

‘I just don’t understand why it’s so easy for other people to be so affectionate. I tried so hard but I can’t help that you’re a dumbass sometimes and I like to make fun of you. I hate that my stupid colleague is making me doubt everything about us. Tell me Rich are you unhappy?’

Before Richie has the chance to answer, Eddie is already raging trough.

‘I know you love to touch and I love that you do that. I love you, but I just don’t think that’s me. I tried so hard, and all it got us was awkward silence. I love how we bicker, I love how that’s perfectly us, but I hate that I’m making it seem like I don’t like you. I’ve always liked, ever since we were kids And you love me so perfectly, you’re able to do all these affectionate things and I don’t even have a nickname for you or anything. I’m sorry okay. I’m sorry. I’m trying my best to change all that but I can’t make it better in just a week so please, please give me another chance.’ Eddie didn’t dare to look up at Richie, scared of what he’s reaction might be.

Richie started giggling, actually giggling. ‘Are you fucking giggling right now asshole?’ Eddie asked, his voice tinged with a sharp edge.

Richie smiled at him, tightening their finger together. ‘I missed you calling me an asshole Eds.’ Richie said, shaking his head fondly.

‘You think I love you perfectly? I think you love me just fine, Eddie spaghetti. You’re absolutely right, I touch you way more than you do to me, I know exactly what you like because your mother loved all those things too.’ Eddie snorted, trying to cover it up by coughing.

‘But that doesn’t mean I love you more than you love me. You show me you love me just as much, just in different ways. You make sure I eat healthy by cooking three times a week even after all the hard work you did during the day. You listen to my jokes and give me honest opinions about what I should keep and what I should change. I wouldn’t change anything about the way you insult me, because I know you love me. I know you don’t do it to hurt me, so I’m not hurt at all.’

‘You’re amazing Eds, I can’t believe you don’t know that. Should I tell you more often, baby?’ He spoke, teasing Eddie about him calling Richie ‘baby’ all week.

Eddie snorted once more, he hated that sound, but Richie absolutely adored it. Still, he was nothing but sincere when he said ‘thank you’, to Richie.

‘So does that mean I can finally start being mean to you again? Because seriously who picked that outfit? It looks like someone set it on fire.’

Richie’s loud uninhibited laugh rang through the entire restaurant, but Eddie didn’t care one bit.

‘Sure thing Eds.’

‘Don’t fucking call me that.’

#reddie #fluff #my writing #damn it's been a while #idk how else to tag it #reddie fluff #reddie imagine #eddie kaspbrack #richie tozier imagine #Richie x Eddie

213 notes · View notes

3rachabffs · 4 years

Text

not a date (maybe a date) ➺ zhang yixing

◦ pairings: yixing x reader

◦ word count: 2.6k

◦ prompt: parent!au + meet messy, exes + “you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”

◦ description: when sehun tells you that he convinced his friend to babysit your daughter for you, you can't say that you're thrilled. most of sehun’s friends are exactly like him—partiers, irresponsible, so on and so forth. but meeting said friend puts all your worries to rest.

◦ a/n: cross-posted on ao3

“I can babysit.”

“Sehun, you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”

You say that lovingly, of course. Sehun is your best friend and has been since you two were snot-nosed toddlers fighting over who gets to go down the slide first. The only thing that has ever changed in your relationship is that now the two of you fight over who gets to write what editorials for the magazine you work at.

However, you loving him doesn’t change the fact that he’s a semi-irresponsible partier who drinks from dusk until dawn and has no problem with speaking whatever is on his mind, even if it means hurting people’s feelings. As an adult, you can appreciate those traits (to an extent), but imagining him taking care of a child, especially your child… Well, there would be lots of crying and screaming. And that’s only taking Sehun’s reaction into consideration.

“You know,” he replies, “I would take great offense to that if you weren’t one hundred percent correct.”

Sehun spins around in his desk chair and takes a sip of coffee (it’s only 10 AM and he’s already on his third cup, trying to fight the hangover) before promptly turning back around and wiggling his perfectly sculpted eyebrows at you. “I have an idea.”

“Should I be scared?”

“No, no. Of course not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what? I’m not giving you a look.”

“Yes, you definitely are. You’re giving me your “Sehun is stupid and I’m not gonna go along with anything he says” look.”

“This is just my face!”

“No, your eyes are deader than usual.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Just trust me, will you?” And with that Sehun gets up from his chair, smooths out the wrinkles from his suit, and begins to head towards the elevators.

You slowly spin in your own chair to follow his path as he walks, arms crossed disapprovingly across your chest. “And where are you going?”

“To talk to a friend of mine in Art Media. I’ll be right back, babe.”

You can't help but roll your eyes at his antics. You thought he would stop with the pet names after the HR violation but once the higher-ups found out that the two of you weren't dating and Sehun was very much gay, everyone seemed to stop caring about it (including whoever reported the situation in the first place).

Turning back to your desk, you continue typing up the editorial you were working on prior to the whole "need-a-babysitter" fiasco. You're still not quite sure what you're going to do—maybe you should just cancel the cooking class—but that's an issue you can focus on during your lunch break.

Sehun doesn't come back until you're already printing what you wrote so that you can run it upstairs to your editor. You raise an eyebrow at the mischievous smirk on his face.

“What did you do?”

"I got a babysitter for you."

Alarm bells begin to go off in your head immediately. Sehun said the person he was going to talk to was a friend and all the friends you've ever met of his have been exactly like him—partiers, irresponsible, so on and so forth.

Getting out of your chair, you grab Sehun's hand and pull him towards the break room. He follows quietly, but only until the two of you are a safe distance away from the rest of your coworkers. Once you're behind closed doors, however, he pulls his hand away and gives you one of his signature looks, the—

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I appreciate you trying so hard to get a babysitter for me but, Sehun, come on! I've never even met this guy, how am I supposed to trust him with my child?"

"Well, he—"

"Is he one of your clubbing friends? One of the ones you stay out with until 4 am? Oh my god, he's not the friend who drove you home drunk one night, right? Look, I'll find my own sitter, okay? Thanks for trying but you can tell your friend no thanks."

"Or you can."

You practically jump out of your skin at the new voice that interrupts your (one-sided) conversation with Sehun. Leaning against the doorframe is one of the most attractive men you've ever seen, what with his dark, slicked-back hair and proportions that could rival those of a male model.

"I-I'm sorry?" you stutter. "What did you say?"

Sehun claps, looking all too happy for the situation at hand. "Y/N, I'd like to introduce you to Yixing, the friend I was talking about. I brought him with me because I know you would want to meet him."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that in the next two seconds you'll magically be teleported anywhere other than here. But alas, you are not Dorothy with her magic red heels. So, you decide to be a responsible adult and apologize.

"Yixing, I am so, so sorry for anything you might have overheard. It's just... when it comes to Naeun, I'm so protective."

Yixing, bless his heart, smiles at you and alleviates all of your worries. "Hey, it's alright. I'm the same with my kid, too." The surprise must be written all over your face because he continues, "I'm guessing you didn't expect Sehun to have friends—other than you—that have kids."

"Honestly? I didn't. He's kinda stuck with me since we grew up together, after all."

"Well, let me shock you some more. Another friend of ours, Jongdae, also has a kid."

Turning to Sehun, you cross your arms. "You never thought to introduce me to these friends of yours? People that I could relate to?"

Sehun just shrugs. "Not really."

You roll your eyes. "And that's why I never expect anything from you."

"I like not being held to expectations."

Yixing laughs, amused by your bickering. "Not to interrupt but, Y/N, now that you know I'm not one of his quote-unquote clubbing friends, do you trust me to take care of Naeun? I figured it would be nice for her and my daughter to hang out with one another since they're around the same age."

You take a moment to think but, honestly, it's just for show. In the few minutes you've spent with him, you can tell that he's trustworthy enough to take care of your daughter. "That sounds lovely. What time's your lunch? Maybe we can meet and discuss this further."

"I usually take lunch at 2, but I can fit my schedule with yours. I'm the Art Director so I don't think anyone will fight me on it."

Your jaw drops. "Oh my god, you're the Art Director? I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"It's fine, I don't expect people who aren't in the same department as me to know who I am."

"Right, of course not, I was just surprised.” You give Sehun a look, signaling to him that you want to discuss how he’s friends with the Art Director at a later point. Then, you continue, “Anyways, my lunch is at 1:30, so if that's good for you we can meet then."

"Perfect, I'll meet you in the cafe." With that, he claps Sehun on the shoulder and takes his leave.

Now alone, Sehun focuses all of his attention on you. "Oh, a lunch date, hm? Spicy."

"Sp... Spicy?" You fumble over the word, flabbergasted. "No, no, no, no. Not spicy. It's basically a business meeting. I'm just gonna learn a bit about him, tell him what he needs to know in order to babysit, and let him know what time I'll drop Naeun at his house. That's all."

"I don't know, it kinda sounds like a date to me," Sehun teases.

"In what world does that sound like a date?" Huffing, you push past him and head back to your desk. "Whatever, I need to get my editorial to Minseok. Bug off."

"Y/N and Yixing sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—"

You hit Sehun on the head using your printed editorial, shushing him. "We're not in kindergarten anymore, Sehun! That's enough, I'm leaving."

"Alright, you minx. Go."

Getting into the elevator, you yell, "I'm not a minx!"

You're instantly swarmed with feelings of regret at your outburst when all of your coworkers turn to look at you and couldn't be more thankful when the elevator doors close.

"So, Naeun is four, right?" Yixing asks.

You take a moment to swallow the bit of sandwich you were chewing before responding. "That's right. And your daughter, Hana, is the same age?

"That's right." Yixing digs into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and takes out his wallet. It only takes him a second for him to locate her picture and hand it to you. "That's her, on her birthday this year."

The girl looks exactly like him, dimples and all. Her hair is a bit lighter though, which you assume is a trait she acquired from her mother.

"If you don't mind me asking, is Hana's mother still in the picture?"

Yixing sighs as he gingerly puts the picture back into his wallet. "No, she's not. She decided that being a mom wasn't her calling and decided to chase her passions in Rome or something like that."

"Oh, wow. I'm sorry. That's... wow."

Yixing chuckles, running a hand through his hair and messing it up just enough that a few strands fall perfectly against his forehead. "It's alright. Based on how she acted during the pregnancy, I was expecting the worst. Plus I wouldn't really want her in Hana's life anyway."

"It doesn't sound like you really liked her that much, if I’m being candid."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

The conversation dies down for a few moments as you both take some time to actually eat your lunch. The silence is a comfortable one, which you appreciate. It’s not common for you to feel so at ease with a person you’ve just met.

Yixing starts talking again abruptly. "I think I did love Chengxiao when I was with her. Or at least I believed I did."

You look at him with your cheeks puffed out, mid-bite. You had thought it was a sensitive topic and didn't expect him to continue. Yixing takes one look at you and smiles, handing you a napkin. You take it despite the embarrassed blush on your cheeks. The way he looked at you... It was almost fond. You quickly cast that thought aside, however. Surely you're reading too deeply into things because you’re attracted to him.

"When I met Chengxiao, I was young. 22. I was just starting out at the company and I was so overwhelmed. I was looking for someone to distract me, and she was that person. We dated on and off for months and things got more serious when she got pregnant.

“My parents suggested I marry her, but she didn't want that and honestly, I wasn't sure I did either. I loved her for what she did for me, though. And even more so now that, because of her, I have Hana.

“But she was a wildcard, always looking for her next adventure. It's why I didn't expect her to stay after the pregnancy, but I'm not upset that she left. I don't think she would have loved our daughter the way she deserves to be loved."

Yixing stops, giving you a bashful look. "I'm sorry, you didn't ask for my life story."

You shake your head vehemently, not wanting him to feel like he overstepped by sharing so much with you. "No, no, it's perfectly alright! I'm glad you were comfortable enough to share something like that with me. It really speaks towards your character."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh? And what does it say about me?"

"Well..." You pause, wondering where to begin. "It says that you're an incredible father. You care so much about your daughter and obviously put so much thought and care into anything that involves her. It also says that you're kind, almost to a fault. This woman, Chengxiao, she left you. Yet, you're still thankful to her and hold no animosity towards her. I find that to be very admirable."

By the time you're done, you're sure that your face is as red as an apple. Yixing has been paying you rapt attention, staring at you the entire time you spoke. It’s as if everything you had to say was of great importance to him.

Breaking out into a beautiful, dimpled smile, he thanks you. "I'm honored you seem to think of me so highly already. I hope I don't blow it on our next date."

"Our next date...?" Your heart soars.

He nods. "I'd really like to see you again. And not just when you drop Naeun off later."

"I'd really love that."

"What would you think about getting dinner on Friday night? You, me, and the kids."

The fact that he was willing to include Naeun and Hana on your first real date has you beaming. "That sounds perfect. More than perfect."

"I'm so glad."

On that note, Yixing gets up, smoothing out any wrinkles from his suit before throwing out his trash in a nearby garbage. You follow suit and he waits for you inside the elevator, foot holding the door. He presses the buttons for your floors—8 and 11, respectively. A few seconds pass—floor 1, floor 2—when suddenly he turns to you, grabbing you by the waist.

"Can I kiss you?"

You let your body answer for you, capturing his lips with your own. His touch is electric, sending a tingle down your spine. You get so lost in his touch that you don't notice another person getting on the elevator until they clear their throat.

You and Yixing pull away from each other immediately. Flushed and breathing heavily, you share a guilty look, akin to two teenagers who were caught making out underneath the bleachers. The woman who entered the elevator just laughs and shakes her head, before exiting on floor 6.

Soon enough, you arrive to your floor and bid Yixing goodbye.

"See you tonight at 8."

"See you then. I can't wait to meet Naeun."

The doors close, taking Yixing away. You have a strong urge to act like the dramatic lead in a teen romance movie and lean against them so you can slide to the ground in a lovesick daze. But you're not in a movie, you are an adult in your workplace. So, you smooth down your skirt and march over to your desk confidently, ready to tackle the rest of the work you have for the day. No matter how cute Yixing is, you won't let him hinder your performance.

Sehun eyes you as you approach and pounces the second you take a seat. "Tell me everything. I know something happened, you're practically glowing."

You keep your lips shut tight, not wanting to play into his antics. He gasps, taking your silence as an answer in itself. "You two didn't hook up in a storage room or something, did you? That'd be amazing."

Glaring at him, you respond, "No, we didn't." You turn back to your computer, ready to continue your work, but you can feel his stare boring into your side. With a sigh, you concede. "We did kiss in the elevator, though."

"Oh my god, yes! I should become a matchmaker or something, I swear."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Get back to work, slacker."

"Just say thank you."

There are a few colorful words you’d like to say that certainly aren’t even close to being thank you, but you bite your tongue. "Alright. Thank you."

"I better be your best man at the wedding."

"Oh, Sehun, shut up!"

#yixing #zhang yixing #exo smut #yixing smut #exo scenarios #yixing scenarios #exo lay #exo x reader #yixing drabble #yixing one shot #oh sehun #sehun scenarios #sehun smut #sehun one shot #sehun #mine #kpop scenarios

165 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

47 for OT4, SFW or NSFW I love your writing! :))

Thank you! I went SFW for this one.

47: you overhear me complaining to my coworker about your ridiculous daily coffee order, whoops

“Oh christ, here he comes.” Duck mutters to Indrid as he pumps hazelnut syrup into a cup, “the one I was tellin you about.”

Indrid, stationed at the counter, tilts his head as he watches the windows, “would he be the one that looks like a lumberjack or the one who looks like a secret agent?”

“The second one. I dunno what it is, but his order drives me fuckin nuts. It’s super specific; dark roast, single origin only, heavy cream until it turns about that color” he points to the wall, “with a half pump of caramel and a half pump of vanilla. You’re gonna be that specific, just make it at home.” He’s busy putting a lid on the drink and therefore misses Indrid’s hand waving.

“I do, and it’s not that hard.” A deep voice makes him turn; the lumberjack, looking more amused than annoyed.

“And since you know my order so well already” the other man, smile, tight lipped, at him before turning to Indrid, “one of those and one large, black coffee.”

Duck starts the drink, making it as fast as he can so he can slink off into the back room. Shit, if the guy rats on him he could get in trouble, he’s already on thin ice after throwing out some rich kid for harassing the staff.

Indrid takes the drinks, mouths, “go” and heads around the counter while Duck makes a bee-line for the supply closet.

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

Indrid sets the cups down in front of the two men, then slides a plate with a large, hot monster cookie on it between them.

“On the house, as they say.”

“This an apology cookie or a ‘don’t give us a bad review’ cookie?” The lumberjack smirks.

“Both.” Indrid says mildly, smiling and returning to his post.

As he walks away he hears the deep voice whisper, “wouldn’t kick that one outta bed for eating crackers.”

A soft laugh, “Agreed. Pity his friend is an ass.”

When Jake and Hollis arrive a few minutes later to take over for him and Duck, he finds his boyfriend clonking his head into the wall by the break room.

“Don’t worry, love, I smoothed things over.”

“Thanks. Just feel like a dipshit. Both for gettin overheard and complainin in the first place.”

“I assumed it was stress from waiting on interview results.”

“Yeah.” Duck pulls on his jacket, “still feel shitty though.”

“Come, let’s go home. I have some ideas for relaxation.” He purrs, kissing Duck’s cheek.

“How may of ‘em are fuckin’-based?”

“Half.”

“Good, gives us some variety just in case.”

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

“We’ve paired you with another duo, if that’s okay?”

“Sure” Duck smiles at the Escape Room employee, takes Indrid’s hand as they follow him down the hall, “Aubrey says these are more fun in a group.”

“I look forward to--oh dear.”

Duck turns to see the pair from the coffee shop last week. The lumberjack looks about the same, but the secret agent is dressed more casually than usual. His black hair is loose rather than slicked back, and he’s in jeans and shirt that reads, “Champ” with a dark outline of sea monster on the front. He almost looks cute.

“You’ve been trapped in the lair of hostile, highly intelligent space aliens. You have an hour to escape. Good luck” The employee shuts the door, leaving the pairs to stare at each other.

“Uh, hi. Again.” Duck waves awkwardly

“Hey.” The lumberjack waves back, “so, uh, this is hella awkward, right?”

“Yes.” The other three respond.

“Cool. Look, I dunno about you but I don’t wanna get dissected by aliens. So, bygones?”

The others nods and he smiles, “I’m Barclay, this is Joseph. My, uh, my boyfriend.” It’s distinctly odd watching such a large man blush like a schoolgirl. Joseph smiles, kisses his cheek, then looks around the room.

“Alright, we need to find the four symbol code to enter onto that pad. Spread out and look for places symbols might be hidden.”

They find the first one easily. Indrid’s eye for color and patterns helps them locate the second, and when a clue points to the third being high up, instead of having to construct a makeshift ladder or step-stool, Barclay simply reaches up and grabs it. It does not escape Duck’s notice that both Indrid and Joseph get appreciative looks on their faces when Barclay then moves a “cloning pod” out of the way all by himself.

“I suspect the last symbol is hidden one something that is in...that hole.” Joseph points to the newly revealed wall lined with several cubbies, one of which has danger signs written all around it.

“Not it. Too close to a garbage disposal, and I have nightmares about putting my hand down that at the wrong time.” Barclay shudders.

“I would also prefer not to be the one to reach in; such elements often have a loud noise gimmick and I do not enjoy that.”

Joseph glances at Duck, blue eyes glinting with a not-entirely-friendly challenge.

“Fuck it, I’ll do it.” Duck steps forward and cautiously slides his hand in. Indrid’s instinct was right, as the whole starts vibrating with a loud, grinding sound. Indrid yelps, grabbing the other two men, who in turn jump and scream in surprise. Duck grits his teeth, fights the urge to pull back, and finds a smooth tile waiting for him. When he removes his hand the noise stops, and he grins, triumphant, as he shows off the last symbol.

“WHOO!” Barclay cheers and high-fives Duck as Joseph punches in the symbols, stopping the timer on the wall, “shit, that was wild man, scared the living hell outta me and I wasn’t even the one doing it.”

“Mmmm, my brave hero.” Indrid drapes his arms over his shoulder, kissing him.

“Sap.” Duck teases, kissing him back.

“You know, we make a pretty good team.” Joseph brushes stray hair off his face.

“Yeah. Would, um, would you guys like to go grab coffee or something?” Barclay looks genuinely hopeful, which is why, ten minutes later, Duck is sitting across from Joseph in a dark-wood coffee shop. Indrid has excused himself to wash his hands and Barclay is outside taking a phone call from someone named Mama.

Duck sips his coffee (black) as he watches Joseph measure cream into his mug.

“That explains it; guys who drink black coffee are always weird about guys who don’t.”

“Don’t Barclay drink his black?”

“Only when we’re out, when we’re at home he’s always making fancy coffee. Trying out new recipes. It works well. Or, um, mostly well. There was a green tea cherry espresso that was not his finest.”

“Eech. Heh, that reminds me of the time ‘Drid was so groggy he poured strawberry syrup into his coffee instead of caramel. Didn’t phase him one bit, but I felt like I was kissin a berry patch the whole day. Swear the man’s half moth or some shit from how much sugar he drinks.”

Joseph snickers, “sorry, imagining Indrid as a mothman is a funny image.”

Duck pictures it and giggles, which makes Joseph laugh harder. When they recover, he scratches the back of his neck, “Look, I’m sorry I was a dick about your coffee order. Just havin one of those weeks where everythin got on my nerves.”

“It’s alright. I’m not all that bothered by it. Not intellectually, anyway. Being particular or precise is something people have been, um, less than kind to me about in the past.”

“Nothin wrong with knowin what you like.”

Joseph glances out the window at Barclay, “No, no there’s not.”

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

It becomes a weekly arrangement; the four of them meet for some kind of activity, then go to lunch or dinner. Duck learns many things over those weeks; that Barclay can figure out how to reverse engineer Indrid’s favorite cupcakes from a local bakery, that Joseph has a worryingly deep yet very endearing knowledge of bad horror movies. That while Joseph is terrifying during a trivia match, Duck can still wipe the floor with everyone when it comes to the science categories. He learns that Joseph is trans, like him, and that Barclay and Indrid actually went to the same high school but were two years apart and thus didn’t know each other.

Right now, he’s learning that he’s not as good at laser tag as he thought he was.

They went during the cheaper hours, mid-afternoon on a Sunday, and while all four of them are on the same team they’ve gotten separated in the neon-tinted darkness.

He can tell the enemy team has spotted him, and is moving as fast as he can out of range, when a hand reaches out of a darkened turret and pulls him in.

“GAHoh, phew, scared the hell outta me Joe.”

“Sorry, it was safer than calling out.” The space is small, built for kids rather than two twenty-six year olds, and so Joe is pressed right up against him as he watches the door. He might be the only guy Duck knows who wears honest to god cologne, clean and minty smelling, and the scent wraps around him when Joe pulls him back against his chest to hide them from passing opponents.

“Fuck, that was close.” He whispers.

“Don’t worry” Joe murmurs in his ear, voice huskier than normal, “you’ve got me to look out for you.” He breaks away as if nothing happened, pulls Duck’s body out into the glowing chaos, while his mind stays in the little room, wondering what the fuck that was.

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

“Can’t believe we got our asses handed to us by a bunch of eleven year olds.” Duck groans as they sit, licking their wounds along with soft-serve from a tiny shack that Barclay swears by.

“That one blonde girl is gonna grow up to be a sniper.” Barclay offers his cone (chocolate and sour cherry) to Joseph, who takes a prim bite.

“It may run in the family; I think her dad was the one with the ‘Go Army’ shirt.”

“Oh, were we not supposed to be going easy on them?” Indrid cocks his head. The others stare at him in mute shock.

“I’m kidding; I was utterly outmatched in there.” He grins before dragging his tongue up his cone (pineapple and marshmallow). When he reaches the tip he opens his mouth wider, taking it all in with a satisfied moan. He pulls off, stray ice cream dribbling down his chin until Joe hands him a napkin. Indrid thanks him, then proceeds to do the exact same thing, over and over, and Duck realizes neither of the other men have looked away from his boyfriend. Barclay’s legs are now crossed, and Joe’s cheeks are pink. Duck can’t really blame them--he knows exactly what Indrid can do with that mouth--but what’s stranger is he doesn’t feel jealous or annoyed. He knows Indrid sometimes struggles with looking, in his own words, “offputting.” It’s nice to see two other people catch on to just how hot he is.

Then again, he kind of wishes Joe would stop staring and eat his own cone; he wants to see what his tongue can do, too.

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

“Watcha drawin’?” Duck slides onto the couch next to Indrid.

“Just random images.”

“That us with Joe and Barclay?”

“I, ah, yes it is.”

“Like it a lot. Christ you’re talented, it’s like how much you like us is comin’ right off the page.”

“Is, ah, is that so? I hadn’t noticed, ah, oh dear, I just remembered I need to go call Jake about covering my shift.”

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

Duck: That new barcade is finally open, wanna come with us on Saturday?

Barclay: Wish we could, but we got a friends birthday that night.

Duck: No big, let us know if you want to catch a flick on Sunday

Barclay sets the phone down, not remembering it’s a group text until Joe pokes his head out of the bedroom.

“Shit, whose birthday is on Saturday? We need to get a gift.”

“Oh, uh, no, no one. Just, uh, didn’t feel like going out but didn’t want them to think I was, like, angry or something. Sorry, shoulda asked if you wanted to go without me, shit, that was rude.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind time that’s just for us.” He crosses the living room, fiddles with Barclays hair, “but let me know if you want to see a movie Sunday, I’m happy either way.”

“Uhuh, will do.” Barclay nods, not really paying attention, as he imagines silvery hair in the dark theater and holding slender, cool fingers in his own.

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

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t actually have that DVD to loan me?”

“I do” Duck shuts the apartment door behind Joe, “but we got some things to discuss first.” He waits until Joe is sitting next to Barclay (lured here by the promise of cookies) and across from Indrid (lives here, not that hard to lure).

“Look, I don’t think I really gotta point out how weird it is that we went from hangin out every week to not seein’ each other for near a month. But what I do gotta point out is why it’s happenin’.”

“We’ve all been busy?” Joe hazards.

“Yeah, but we all were busy before and we made time for each other. Now we, myself included, are cancelin shit.” He takes a deep breath, “Barclay, Joe, you both got a thing for ‘Drid, don’t you?”

Joe nods while Barclay blushes and mutters, “yeah.”

“And ‘Drid, you got a thing for both of them?”

His boyfriend shifts nervously in his seat, but nods all the same. Barclay looks genuinely surprised.

“Well, you three ain’t the only ones realizin’ you want more than you got. Joe, I, uh, I really like you. As in wanna date you. So, uh, that’s where we’re at.” He sits down next to Indrid, who instantly takes his hand.

“That’s...wait, don’t we all want the same thing?” Joe looks between them, puzzled.

“You’d really be okay with me dating Indrid?” Barclay asks softly.

“We’d both be dating him. And I’d be dating Duck as well as you two. Assuming that was alright with Indrid?”

“....You know, I think it is.” Indrid squeezes Duck’s hand, “I was afraid to admit how I felt; I didn’t want to come between you and Barclay, because you clearly love each other, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Duck. But I’ve also seen how happy he is around you, Joseph; there is no reason we could not all work things out to be happy as a, ah, polycule? Is that the term?”

“Think so.” Barclay relaxes, “fuck, I felt so bad thinking that wanting Indrid would fuck everything up, don’t know what to do with my self now that I’m not stressing about it.”

“I propose we order dinner and just...talk.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “I think that will help us sort out where to go from here.”

Duck orders takeout from the Chinese place down the block as Indrid and Joe arrange the living room into a place where they can all sit together comfortably and Barclay grab drinks. Soon they’re gathered on the floor, working out logistics and boundaries and hopes and fears between bites of fried rice and chow mein. Joe keeps notes, curling closer to Duck as the evening goes on.

There’s a part of him that wants to jump straight to sex, to pin Joe to floor and fuck him while his other boyfriends do what they want to him, to Duck, to each other. But this thing between them is a new leaf in spring, vulnerable and just beginning to grow.

So, after dinner, they cuddle up on the couch and floor to watch the midnight movie on local T.V, hands tentatively finding each other and bodies gradually resting closer together in new configurations.

He falls asleep on the floor, Indrid spooning him and Joe resting his head on his belly. Wakes up with Joe curled around him and Barclay cuddled up to Indrid, snoring softly.

Duck slips out of the configuration, pads into the kitchen to start coffee. When Joe sneaks up behind him he gasps, snickers as the taller man kisses him good morning. Then he grabs two mugs, smiling to himself at his luck as he opens the fridge. After all, he already knows just how his new boyfriend likes his coffee.

#meet ugly #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #agent stern/barclay #indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #sternclay #prompt fills #agent stern/duck newton

28 notes · View notes

animeniacss · 4 years

Text

A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 2 - Help Wanted

Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?

Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU

Length: approx. 5.1k words

Chapter 2 - Help Wanted

The loud ring of a bell echoed through the halls of the preschool, and you felt your shoulders slump. Finally, it was time for a break. It was time for the students to get their dose of physical education, giving you and Hoseok a much needed 45-minute break. You led the students down the hall, tiny Taehyun clutching your hand as he helped lead the line of rowdy children. You had to stop a few times, turning to the group to remind them of how they should behave when they pass the president’s office. Quickly, the scattered set of 17 kids sharpened up into a single-file line of silent mini soldiers, hands at their sides, and determination in their eyes to be the quietest one in the line. As you continued to pass, the door to the president’s office opened, and a handsome face poked out, smiling a grin as big as his face would allow.

“Hello, little ones~!” President Kim Seokjin said as he waved at the little ones, their eyes sparkling in awe. Seokjin was the president of the preschool, the one who was even the boss of their teachers, but they adored him anyway, all of them wanting his attention. “Wow, you guys are standing so lovely.” He said, looking in your direction. “Was this your doing?”

“Not at all, you know how good my kids are.” You said simply. Seokjin hummed, looking back at the kids. Some of them, specifically rowdier ones like Kai and Yuna, was attempting to stand so perfectly straight and stay so silent, that they were holding their breaths and shaking a little bit.

“I guess I’ll have to make sure there’s a little reward waiting back in your classroom then, huh?” he asked. The kids gasped in excitement. A surprise!? From President Kim!? Oh, this was the best day ever, nothing could beat this. A small smile formed on your face, glancing up at Hoseok, who stood in the back of the line, acting as the overseer from the end to make sure nobody wanders out of line. He always had a helper with him, and today, it was the ever responsible Yeji, who had been standing straight and silent since the group had left the classroom. Seokjin looked at you.

“I’ll be back in the classroom in 5.” You said, waving your hand. Seokjin nodded, a small smile on his face. With the kids now even more excited, you had them all say their goodbyes to the president, before continuing your journey down the long hallway. The entire preschool was decorated with different colorful wall art that would appease young children. Famous TV characters, such as Pororo, Anpanman, and a multitude of Disney characters, such as Mickey and Minnie, danced and played happily together on the walls of the preschool. You overheard Kai whisper something to Yeonjun in line, but with a quick turn of your head, the little boy went pin silent, covering his mouth as his friend snickered a bit.

Outside, the vast playground and field were open, just waiting for tiny footsteps to start charging carelessly all over them with reckless abandon. You and Hoseok watched, releasing the hands of the children in your care as you watched the swarm head towards their PE teacher: Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi was standing up against the wall, spinning a basketball flawlessly on his index finger. Every few seconds, his hand would rise, and he would give the ball a few more spins before dropping it again and just watching. He looked focused, as if the moment his eyes peeled away from that basketball, it would fall off of his finger and onto the dirt. However, his focus would quickly be peeled away as he heard the high-pitched screaming of his name from multiple different little mouths. The moment he looked over, the basketball did fall, much as he predicted. However, he was nowhere near upset. Instead, a full, gummy smile formed on his face.

“Hey, guys!” He said as the kids gathered around him. “Who’s ready to play?” The kids began jumping and cheering in excitement for the game that they would do today, wondering if it would be a fun and straightforward game, or a new and exciting one shown in the way only Mr. Min knew how to do. Yoongi told the kids to spread out to do some stretches, using this time to turn and look at you and Hoseok, still standing by the door. He waved a hand, assuring you that for the next 45-minutes, these kids would be in good hands, and you could head back to your classroom. Both of you headed back, and your cheerful personality quickly faded to that of exhaustion.

“I’m so tired today…” you sighed, slumping back in your chair. Hoseok walked over to the closet, opening it as he grabbed some cleaning supplies. Your head lolled over in his direction, watching him as he began to clean up the tables, covered in crayon and marker that the kids had accidentally scribbled onto them while coloring. “Tell me the day is almost over.”

“Almost.” Hoseok chuckled. “But instead of worrying about the end of the day, you should get started on setting up the kid’s craft.” He saw your eyes close, a pained expression on your face as you covered your face with your hands, a small groan of annoyance escaping your lips. “You know, I think you’re the only preschool teacher I’ve ever known who doesn’t like doing arts and crafts.”

“It’s not that I don’t like to do them.” You said, finally forcing yourself out of your chair. You dragged your feet towards the white closet, decorated in stickers that students had placed on the sides over the years, even long before you had gotten the job there. “I’m just not good at them. The ideas I come up with don’t seem to interest the kids.”

“There’s only so many times they can cut stuff out of construction paper and glue it together, you know. Why don’t you finally use the paint?”

“Paint? They’ll make a total mess, no way.” You scoffed. “That’s only for the end of the year. You want to spend three overnights scrubbing those tables clean, then be my guest.” Hoseok couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok said, squatting down towards one of the other tables. He carefully sprayed some bleach onto the areas most coated in marker and crayon debris, before vigorously scrubbing it all of with his napkins.

“See? Even the marker and crayon are too much.”

“It’s not,” Hoseok said, glancing up at you. “You should stop worrying about what’ll happen afterward and instead let the kids have a good time.” Hearing Hoseok says that made you purse your lips, as you laid your hands inside the closet where all of the supplies were stored.

“You think they’re not having a good time?” you asked curiously. Hoseok glanced up at you, setting down the cleaning supplies as he saw doubt etched on your soft, yet exhausted features.

“No, they are!” Hoseok quickly assured. “I just think sometimes you’re a bit too worried about the mess. You shouldn’t expect a bunch of preschoolers to be clean right away, you know.” You pulled out some colorful construction paper and a box of glue sticks, glancing down at the myriad of colors in your hands. “Aw, hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“I know.” You said, glancing over at him with a smile, though Hoseok could see how hard you forced yourself to do so. “But for now, I think the projects I have are okay. The kids seem to like them okay….” Hoseok nodded.

“That’s true.” He said.

“I’ll…look up some new stuff tonight.” You said. Hoseok nodded once again. Both of you were them interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Turning your heads, you saw Seokjin walk in, a bag of candies grasped tightly in his hand. He immediately looked over to you, seeing the construction paper and glue in your hands.

“…Another ladybug?” He teased, a grin forming on his face. You huffed, shoving the paper and glue back into the closet before slamming it shut. Seokjin had to laugh.

“No.” You said. “I was just doing some cleaning.” Again, Seokjin had to laugh at what you attempted to pass off as the truth.

“This is why I won’t fire you. You’re too funny.” He admitted.

“Sir…” Hoseok mumbled, pouting slightly. He watched Seokjin walk over to the center of the room, where a circular table along with a blue spinning stool sat. On the front of the table was a sign that read “Reserved for the Student of the Month.” Currently, it was home to Yeji, due to her responsible and well-behaved nature. Seokjin set the bag of candy down onto the table, before turning back to you as you approached. When you took the bag into your hands, you peered inside, checking if there were any snacks that you could swipe before the kids came back.

“Aaah, I’m only teasing. I’ll let you die before I fire you.” Seokjin assured, putting a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t respond, simply sticking your hand into the bag and pulling out a pink lollipop. “Aw, the silent treatment? I’m hurt. If I buy you a drink after work, will you forgive me?”

“You know I don’t drink on weekdays.” You said simply, returning the bag to the table. Seokjin pouted as he watched you unwrap the lollipop, sticking it into your mouth.

“Fine, then Hoseok will come with me.” He said simply, pointing to his coworker as he put away the cleaning supplies. Hoseok grinned his usual heart-shaped grin, nodding.

“Hel-.” He covered his mouth, grinning behind it as he started over. Despite there being no kids at the moment, he was still on the clock. “Heck yeah, I will~.”

“Excellent. I’ll buy you two beers, then: one for you, and one for her, so make sure you have a way to get home tonight.” Seokjin said. Finally, the president turned back to you, watching as you held the lollipop stick in between your two fingers, your other hand on your hip. “So, what’s the plan for the arts and crafts today, if not a cute little ladybug?” The lollipop slipped out of your mouth, and you looked over at him.

“I was thinking of skipping arts and crafts, today…”

“But the kids love arts and crafts.”

“Not mine…” You said simply. Hoseok let out a soft sigh, still feeling guilty for his comment. “Maybe my Teacher’s Assistant should do the craft today.” You glanced at Hoseok, a small smile creeping up onto your lips. “I think you come up with adorable ideas, Hoseok…”

“But I’m not the teacher, you are.” He said simply. “You come up with good ideas too.” Seokjin sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve been thinking about something for a while.” He began, making both of you look in his direction with full attention. “Since you’re not the strongest at arts and crafts as a side task, maybe I should let you focus more on the important stuff, like the curriculum and the work.” You lowered the lollipop from your lips, your mouth slightly opened in confusion, yet curiosity.

“I do crafts for some of the curricula, too, you know.”

“I know, but those are necessary, and most of the time, there are guidelines for you on how to make everything creative. You do a wonderful job. But I don’t want you stressing over a simple 30 to 45-minute a day activity that just fills time and gives the kids something fun to do.” Seokjin said simply. “So, I think I’m going to put out an application for a permanent art teacher here.” Without realizing it, the lollipop had fallen out of your hand, collapsing onto the floor and shattering into little pieces that scattered around your feet.

“But, President, I can do the arts and crafts.” You said quickly. “You hired me to be well-rounded in curriculum and projects; I can do that.” Seokjin offered you a kind smile.

“Don’t take this as any form of insult towards your teaching methods. As I said, you do a great job, and I’m very fortunate you chose to work here. But maybe the addition of an art teacher will allow the kids some new experiences, new ideas. That way, you can focus on the curriculum and the crafts that come with that. Okay?” You didn’t want to go through with this. President Kim hired you here three years ago to do the job of a preschool teacher, including everything except serving them lunch and teaching them physical education. Did the President not think you were capable anymore? You sighed, crossing your arms as you chewed on your bottom lip. Seokjin could tell that, while not his intention, the suggestion seemed to pinch a nerve in your pride as a teacher. “You can sit in at the interviews if you want.” He said softly. With a soft sigh, you nodded. “Alright.” A gentle hand laid on your shoulder, and you glanced up at your boss. Despite what he said, making you a bit upset, there was no use denying that one look at his smiling face made everything in your life feel just a little bit better. Nothing was fake with Kim Seokjin; what you saw was what you got. The calmness of this soothed you, while the brutal honesty tormented you. “I’ll take you out of drinks and dinner this weekend. We’ll talk more about it there, so you’re not allowed to say no, okay?”

“Yes, Sir…” you said softly, nodding your head. Seokjin smiled before waving Hoseok off. Hoseok nodded his head slightly as Seokjin headed out the door. “I hope the kids like my gift. I’ll stop by later, okay?” He waved you both off, before closing the colorful door behind him.

“You okay?” Hoseok asked as he walked over to you. You knelt, slowly picking up the pieces of the cracked lollipop, hoping to get all of them in one shot, so there was no risk of attracting any bugs inside. “You know that he meant well, right?” He asked.

“I spent all these years practicing and learning and studying the best ways to take care of children and teach them in all the best ways…and I just can’t think of any creative craft projects to do with the kids.” Hoseok knelt beside you, helping you pick up the pieces. You glanced at him. “Do I sound stupid?”

“I guess not.” He said. “You spend all your time making sure the lessons are fun and interesting, so all the creativity goes there instead of some little project. That’s not a bad thing; I think you’re too hard on yourself.” As you lifted onto your feet, you couldn’t help but still feel foolish. “…Besides, you’re right. Paint is messy, and I think I’ll faint having to clean it all up.” He grinned. Finally, a chuckle escaped your lips as Hoseok felt much better. “Don’t worry about it. Seokjin hired you to teach the kids, so teach them. Let the art teacher focus on all of the silly little projects.” You sighed, nodding as you tossed the pieces of shattered candy into the garbage.

But I like silly little projects. You thought to yourself. I just wish I was good at thinking of fun ones to do.

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

“Did you get my artwork back?” A deep voice echoed through the tiny apartment. Taehyung’s head of midnight black hair rolled back against the couch, watching as Jimin approached him in an upside-down view from the kitchen, two coffees in his hands. Taehyung could see the steam rising from them, swirling and bubbling above the coffee mugs like clouds flowing away from a storm they had just left behind.

“Yeah, it’s over there,” Jimin said, motioning his head to the few paintings. As he sat beside his friend, passing him the mug, Taehyung finally pulled his head forward, leaning with his elbows against his knees and his head in his hands as they cupped his cheeks. “Don’t look so down. I’ll find us some more shows to go to, and someone will find your art. They’ll think it’s amazing, and you’ll be a millionaire, and finally pay me back all the money you owe me for being the best friend anyone could ask for.” Jimin tease, glancing at Taehyung. His friend offered a small smile, but it seemed he was not in the mood for playful banter. “I think you should start looking for a job again, Taehyung. The art shows alone aren’t paying your bills.” Taehyung let out an annoyed groan at the thoughts. “I’m serious. Just until you start selling stuff again.”

“All the jobs I get straight-up suck. Retail jobs, waiter jobs, convenience store jobs. I don’t get inspired anywhere like that, plus the pay is worse than being unemployed. No, thanks.” Jimin sighed, reaching over and flicking his friend on the forehead. “OW!” Taehyung pouted, hands clasping over his throbbing forehead.

“You’re an idiot.” He said simply.

“And, you’re very perceptive.” Taehyung pouted. After a moment, he let out another annoyed groan, knowing his friend was right. “Fine, fine, fine! I’ll start looking again.”

“Good!” Jimin grinned. “I’ll keep an eye out too.” He said, sipping his coffee. After a moment, he looked over at Taehyung, who was still pouting and holding his forehead, a child who had just been scolded. Jimin leaned forward, removing Taehyung’s hands and seeing a slight red mark forming where he flicked. “Heh. Sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah….” He grumbled.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“No, I’m alright,” Taehyung said, lifting his cup and taking a sip of the hot coffee. He glanced down at the contents of his drink before setting it back down on the table. “You think I’ll be a millionaire one day?” he asked curiously. Jimin blinked.

“Of course, I do. A billionaire, even.” He grinned a bit. “Maybe even a trillionaire if you find the right investors.” Taehyung finally let out a happy chuckle.

“Come on now, don’t lie to me.” He begged. As the duo sat side by side, drinking their coffee, Taehyung checked the time on his phone. “When do you have to go to that meeting?” Jimin, also curious about the time, looked down at his phone screen as well. Lunch was most likely coming to a close for most people at the office, which meant that Jimin had to head back too.

“About now. I’m already going to get an earful from the boss for taking the morning off to get your pictures. I might as well go now so I can get that part over with.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung said, offering a sad and playful pout to his friend in hopes of forgiveness. Jimin smiled a bit, waving him off.

“I’ll see you around. Let me know if you find anything you’re interested in; I’ll work my magic.” Fixing the collar of his suit jacket, Taehyung let out an amused snort. He took another sip of his coffee as he watched Jimin head towards the door to the tiny apartment. Along the way, he grabbed his bag, slipped his wallet and keys back into his pockets, and slid on his shoes at the front door. Just as he was about to head out, he turned back to his friend, who had once again lolled his head back on the couch. “Oh yeah. What did you doodle on that napkin yesterday?” He asked curiously. Taehyung’s eyes fell towards his curious friend. Without a response, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled napkin with hints of dried ink poking around the outside.

“Nothing special. It was cooler in my drunken head.” Though Taehyung smiled, Jimin knew his friend well. It wasn’t the smile of a man fondly remembering a scrapped craft, but the smile of a man who was trying to hide the fact that something he thought was terrific was nothing more than scribbles on a ripped napkin. He tossed it towards Jimin, watching as the tiny paper napkin rolled towards his feet. Jimin knelt and scooped it up. “Can you throw it away for me, please?”

“Sure.” He said. “Bye, Taehyung.” He waved his friend off before finally exiting out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. Taehyung glanced down at the two coffee cups that were sitting on the coffee table, half-empty as the steam seemed less prevalent as it did when he was first given the beverage. Sighing, Taehyung lifted his cup, examining the white plastic. There were signs of cracks, glued back together hastily, and most likely very many times over the years that he had owned it. This was his favorite coffee mug, as it was white, and so accurately labeled ‘Coffee Mug.’ He lifted himself off the couch, walking towards his studio desk. His apartment was nowhere near spacious; he had to stick his “office” and a mountain of art supplies directly next to his couch in his shoebox living room. His pictures that had yet to be sold, yet were completed and waiting hopefully to be given a loving home one day, were hung all over his walls until that day finally came. As Taehyung sat down on the spinning chair, he hummed.

“I need to clean this.” He hummed to himself. His desk was scattered with papers, some blank while others were covered in scribbles, doodles, and scribbled out doodles. So many ideas have come and gone, some done to completion while others were left to die on a piece of paper. Taehyung always said he would go back and try to revive the passion he had when he started them, but only on rare occasions did he actually keep true to those promises. Paintbrushes were sitting beside a white mug, matching Taehyung’s favorite coffee mug, as it was white and so accurately labeled “Paint Water.” Jimin had gotten him the matching set as a joke when he sold his first art piece about four years ago.

A few different cases of watercolor were set, one slightly open, and were practically drained of their color from how many times Taehyung frantically absorbed their color into one of his paintbrushes. As he pulled out another piece of paper, he saw a simple doodle enter his vision. A black and white sketch of a dolphin hopping out of water in front of a sunset. Taehyung had labeled within the picture what color scheme was planning to go with once he put the image to a canvas. Blues, pinks, yellows, and oranges placed in their respected areas so that Taehyung knew what he wanted to do when he finally returned to this. The final version entered his mind, hung up on the beautiful wall of the art show, and he immediately spun his chair to the left. All of the paintings that Taehyung had brought to the art show were resting carefully against the wall, with the dolphin one right in the front. Getting up, he walked over to the painting and scooped it up into his hands, admiring it for a moment. It was simple, but he was proud of it. I belonged somewhere that its simplicity and beauty would be cherished forever by all those who admired it. “I know exactly where to put you for now.” He said, walking over to space right beside his TV stand. As he approached the wall, which was decorated with nails, he had pre-hung for whenever he decided to play a piece of work, he got onto his tiptoes and placed the canvas on display.

He lived alone, so he would be the one to see the picture most. But for now, that was good enough for him.

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

Seokjin had almost immediately begun to type up some Help Wanted ads on the preschool’s social media. He had a few ideas but was unsure what he was going to do to draw in talented artists. Leaning back in his chair, he pursed his lips together. All the information necessary was written on the document: the position, the pay, the hours, the job description, and the fact that the principal was incredibly handsome. Well, he wanted to add in that last part, but Hoseok told him not to in a fit of laughter when Seokjin rattled ideas off to him.

“Hmmmm…who can I call to help me?” He mumbled to himself as he spun around in his office chair. The day for the preschool was drawing to a close, and you were waiting for kids to be picked up by their parents with Hoseok before both of you returned to his office to bother him. He wanted to get these on the move before that because once you saw them, he knew your mood would decrease once again. “Hm. There’s always-.” A grin formed on his face as he pulled out his cellphone from his jacket pocket, opening it and quickly pulling up the keypad to dial a number. It rang for a few moments, and Seokjin popped out of his seat, his other hand slipping into the pocket of his suit pants. “C’mon, pick up your workaholic.” He mumbled playfully to himself. Finally, a deep voice rang through on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Ahhhh, Mr. Kim!” He grinned playfully. “I’m glad you called. I need you to do me a favor.”

“But...you called me-.”

“That’s beside the point, Mr. Kim! I need your help!” The man on the other end sighed.

“Hyung, how many times have I told you that you don’t need to call me Mr. Kim?”

“Awww, but it’s more fun that way. Would you rather me call you Namjoonie, as I did back in college?” He teased. He didn’t need to be in front of his college friend to know that he was most likely beat red right now.

“No. Well-.” Namjoon paused. “No. Now, what was it you needed?”

“I’m putting out some applications for an art teacher for the school. I have all the necessary information that I want inside, but I don’t know how to make sure the word gets out to lots of people. Since you’re head of marketing in your company, you think you could help me out?” Seokjin asked. He heard Namjoon let out a deep sigh. “Come on, Namjoonieeeee.”

“Hyung.” Namjoon groaned. “Well, I can’t do it. I’m already drowning in tons of work orders that are coming up on their due dates. Email me the file of the information, and I’ll have my best worker get right on it.”

“Ohhh, sounds fancy. Alright then, I’ll send it right now. I want to start interviewing as soon as possible, so please tell Mr. Jimin to hurry.” Namjoon only hummed in response, and the duo hung up. Seokjin wiggled his shoulders playfully, a grin on his face as he strode to the computer. “I’m so lucky~.” He cooed to himself as he sent the email out. It was only minutes now before you and Hoseok would come charging in. “Aaaaaand send.” He hummed, watching the ‘Sent’ confirmation flash on his computer. Just as it did, the door to his office opened with you and Hoseok stepping inside.

“Another day for the history books. I’m so tired.” Hoseok hummed, pouted as he stretched his arms high in the air. You were slipping on your jacket. “I need to go food shopping. Want to come?” Hoseok looked at you. “I’ll cook you some dinner.” You glanced at Hoseok’s, his eyes beaming in anticipation of your answer.

“No, thanks. I can’t tonight; I have the stuff to prepare for the rest of this week’s lessons.” You smiled at him. “Next time. Besides, you’re getting a drink with the President, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, aren’t you?” Seokjin asked, looked at the sad boy standing before him. Hoseok offered a smile to his boss, nodding, in agreement. “I can always meet you after your shop.” He said. Hoseok bowed, approaching his bosses’ desk as he began rattling off some good pubs that he knew of for them to go to. Seokjin listened, nodding at some of the ideas he was saying, but his eyes were focused on you. Once he saw you slip on your coat and sling your bag over your shoulder, you offered a simple bow.

“See you tomorrow.” You said. Hoseok looked at you.

“Bye~.” He cooed happily, waving you off as you excused yourself from the room. Seokjin leaned back in his seat, glancing down at the email on his screen as Hoseok went back to possible pub suggestions.

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

“Jimin,” Namjoon called out, walking down the aisle of his department. Jimin, who was politely chatting with two of his female coworkers about things that they didn’t understand, looked up from his seat as his boss approached.

“Ah.” Jimin stood up, he and the other two workers offering a polite bow to their superior.

“What do you need?” Jimin asked. “We were just finishing these reports, then heading out for the night.” Namjoon passed Jimin a folded-up piece of paper.

“A good friend of mine needs help marketing a job opening at his daycare for an art teacher.” Jimin’s eyes immediately shot up at his boss when the word “art” was uttered. “I told him I was too busy, but I would entrust it to my most trustworthy employee.” Namjoon smiled. “You think you can rattle off a few things for him to upload on his social media in the next few days? All the information is in there.”

“Yes, of course.” He said. “I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.” Namjoon grinned. “Since I took this morning off.” Jimin offered a little cheeky smile, which makes Namjoon chuckled in amusement at his worker’s attitude.

“Good. Well, have a good night and get some safely, you three.” Jimin nodded, bowing his head as he watched Namjoon exit. As he sat down, the two female coworkers immediately began to swoon at the attractiveness of their boss. Still, Jimin was already much to focused on the information hiding in his folded-up piece of paper. He opened it up and scanned the content.

“Bright Star Preschool in need of an art teacher, huh?” he mumbled to himself. A smile formed on Jimin’s face as he stuffed the paper into his briefcase, sealing it up and standing from his seat, startling the girls with his quick motions. “I’m headed home. Be safe.” He waved to the girls. They waved him back as they watched him leave, a quickness in his step. As he approached the elevator, he pulled out his phone and dialed Taehyung’s number, pressing it to his ear as he heard the ringing on the other side.

“Tae.” He said when he heard his friend grumble a tried ‘hello’ on the other end. “I have a golden opportunity for you!”

Return to Masterlist

Next / Previous

4 notes · View notes