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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

She’s An Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k

***EDITED: 7/23/2021***

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!

Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!

***

He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.

It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.

Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.

Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.

Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.

So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?

He was a goner.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.

Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?

God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...

Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.

Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.

That wasn't what was different, though.

Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.

At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.

The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.

He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)

Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.

He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.

"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.

He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."

With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."

Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"

There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.

Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.

"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.

She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."

She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.

What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?

Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.

And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.

"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."

Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."

Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.

"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.

"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"

"Sometimes."

Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"

She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."

By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.

He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.

The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"

"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."

Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.

He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"

***

Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.

Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?

Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.

Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?

He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.

And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.

He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.

She was an angel.

An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.

And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.

Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?

"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.

He blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."

Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.

But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.

And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.

So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.

For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.

The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.

Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.

He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?

"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."

He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."

When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.

And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."

Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."

So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?

It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.

Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."

She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.

***

In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.

It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.

It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.

Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.

On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)

Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder.

His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.

With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.

As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.

Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.

If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.

Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.

And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.

Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?

He had to know what she was doing.

So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.

And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.

Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."

He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."

"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.

As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?

She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."

"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames.

By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."

Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."

But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."

He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.

"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"

His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.

"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor. From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."

He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...

So that's what he was going to do.

Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.

"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"

Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."

Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this?

Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.

As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.

He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin.

The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.

Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.

Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.

Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.

Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.

But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.

So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.

He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.

His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.

And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.

The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.

No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.

"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.

He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.

If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.

"I miss you already, Doctor..."

***

He missed her, too.

The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.

It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.

Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.

...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.

And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.

But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.

The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.

The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.

And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.

And there she was.

Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.

Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.

So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.

Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.

The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.

"Did you get my note, Doctor?"

Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.

She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.

"Y—Yeah, I got them."

"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."

They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."

Well, he tried to ask, anyway.

Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"

"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."

She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.

Angel.

As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."

Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.

Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.

As she undid his belt, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?

But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"

Oh...

His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."

That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.

Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.

The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.

So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.

And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.

"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.

Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.

He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.

***

No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.

Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.

How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.

Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.

"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.

He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."

"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.

"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.

She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."

"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."

He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.

So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."

He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"

With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."

She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"

"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."

Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.

But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.

Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.

Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.

"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"

***

She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.

It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.

Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.

Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.

He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.

It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.

"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."

"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.

"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."

Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.

He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.

And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.

The sound he made was inhuman.

She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.

But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."

He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"

"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.

Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."

"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.

He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.

"Always ready for you, angel..."

The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.

"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."

Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.

But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.

And, as always, she could tell.

Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"

All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.

"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"

"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.

"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."

Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.

She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...

If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.

He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.

"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"

It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.

"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."

With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.

And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.

***

Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.

A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.

A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.

A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.

A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.

And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.

It was her.

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slasherbaby · 3 years

Text

Call Me [read on ao3 or under the cut! ♡]

Pairing: Danny Johnson x Trans Masc reader (he/him pronouns)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, very mild breeding kink, knifeplay, cock/cunt used to describe the reader’s junk

Length: 4676 words

“Fuck,” Danny grunted into the phone, his voice low and forced. From sound alone, you can tell how he’s holding himself. It doesn’t take much imagination to envision the way his jaw strained, his eyebrows pulled down in the middle. “Wanna slide right into that cunt, fuck. Know you’d be so wet, such a fucking slut for me.”

Historically speaking, you’ve never been into dirty talk. It always sounded stiff, the guy talking to you usually too unsure of himself to sound even remotely sexy. But god, did it feel different with Danny. His deep voice, the rough edge around each syllable, and the naturally monotone way he spoke has always been enough to drive you crazy, ever since the first ‘hello.’

“Maybe I’d suck on that pretty fucking cock too, gotta make sure my baby’s nice and hard before I fuck him, right?”

It’s easy to picture how he’d look, looking up at you with his dark, dilated eyes. Holding your gaze as he worked your cock in his mouth. You bite down on your lower lip, stifling a groan at the sparks of pain that follow.

The laugh that comes through the receiver is rough and hoarse, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. “Don’t hide from me, angel. I already know how much of a whore you are,” Another laugh rasps through. “Everyone knows how you act at the bar after a few drinks, fucking brat. Drooling for attention, dancing around like you’re asking for it. Giving a show to everyone.”

“Yours,” You gasp, your voice just a touch away from sounding desperate. It’s the truth, afterall, but Danny already knows it. You both know that he’s the only one you’d let touch you, the only one you want to touch you. “Just yours.”

“And don’t fucking forget it.” Danny’s voice drops into a growl, making you whimper. “I’m the only one who gets you like this. You’re fucking mine, baby. Mine and mine alone.”

Another gasp falls from your lips, nodding your head even though you know he can’t see. Your cock is hard and aching, but you move your fingers away from where you’ve been circling it, going lower and lower until you reach your entrance.

“Danny…” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for him to keep talking, to keep bringing you closer to the edge.

“You’ve got no idea how crazy it makes me to see how people look at you. Makes me wanna put a collar on you, fucking let everyone know who you belong to.” There’s a grunt from the other side of the phone, slick noises punctuating every breath Danny takes. “Or maybe the next time you wanna act like a whore, I’ll make you wear that little red dress in your closet. You know the one, don’t you?”

You groan out a noise of confirmation, chest swelling up when he hums in approval.

“I’ll bring you out to Walleyes with me after work, and I’ll fuck you in the bathroom. I know how dirty sluts like you want it, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to fill you up real good before sending you off to dance. Without your panties, of course. Gotta see if you can keep my come in without it dripping out. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know I would. Letting everyone know how fucking good I breed my baby.”

Your hole clenches around nothing, desperately seeking out something to fill it as Danny spews filth into your ear. Pretending it’s Danny, you slowly push in a single digit. It’s not nearly enough to satisfy, but that’s nothing you aren’t used to.

Adding another finger gives you a bit of a stretch, but it pales in comparison to how Danny’s fingers would feel. His hand dwarfs yours, his fingers long and thick and perfect for curling up at just the right angle.

“S’not enough.” You groan as you thrust into yourself, but it’s hardly a groan of pleasure.

“What’s not enough?”

“My fingers, it’s-” Another groan comes from your lips, but this time it’s filled with frustration. You’ve been pent up all day, even though you just saw Danny the night before. And yet you still can’t satisfy yourself. Not by yourself, anyway.

You know you could come in a matter of minutes if you really wanted to. From your fingers pressed against your cock. It’s how you usually get off, rubbing one out quickly. Rarely do you try and fuck yourself, only dipping down to collect some of your wet and use it to make your cock nice and slick to finish yourself off.

But those orgasms are bland. Fun, of course, but not what you really want. You want the thigh shaking, eye rolling, screaming orgasm that you know can only come from being properly fucked.

Little tears of frustration well up in your eyes as you adjust your hips, trying and failing to find a better angle. “It’s just not enough.”

“Baby,” Danny coos mockingly, his deep voice vibrating through the phone. “You don’t have anything else to fill you up? No toys?”

Your first instinct is to snap back at him, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue instead. It’s embarrassing, how needy you feel. But your desire’s rolling off of you in waves of heat, and it’s a thirst you can’t quench on your own.

“Don’t make fun of me,” You mumble, pressing the side of your face into your pillow. “S’not my fault…”

“Are you pouting?” Danny’s voice is a shade away from being more condescending than you can bear, his tone unlawfully sweet. You can tell he’s talking through a grin. “Fucking yourself while pouting? Fuck, angel. You’re too much.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence, but it’s not from the way you're grinding your hips. The lump in your throat and the tears in your eyes don’t do anything but make you feel stupid, so fucking stupid that a part of you wants to hang up right then and there. As delicious as his voice is, you crave your boyfriend’s touch more than phone sex.

“Darling, are you crying?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. You’re too far gone, too lost in your head to realize he won’t be able to see you. After a moment, you hear Danny chuckle. It’s too much, your face is burning something fierce and you can’t handle anymore embarrassment. With a click, you hang up the phone, pulling your fingers out of yourself and cramming your face properly into the pillow.

A minute passes in silence, before you hear the sound of your phone trilling next to you. You pick it up before it can get to the second ring, fully ready to apologize for acting like such a baby. It was supposed to be a sexy thing, not something so dramatic.

“Danny?”

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You roll over, facing the ceiling with a pinched expression. “I-“

“I’ll be over in thirty.”

“Minutes?” You sit completely upright, clutching onto your phone like a vice.

“Be ready for me, Angel. ”

Your heart jolts in your chest when the line cuts out, and you immediately drop your phone back onto the receiver. You slap your hand over your face, covering up the grin that’s started to grow.

You didn’t expect Danny to be so… down? Especially so late at night, when he has work in the morning, nonetheless. Jumping off the bed, you rush to your dresser, grabbing the folded robe on top of it.

You slip your arms through the sleeves before turning to face the mirror, eyes darting across your body. It’s a simple little thing, something vintage and pretty that caught your eye when you were shopping for clothes a while back. It’s light blue, made from silky satin that hardly reaches your upper thighs and delicate white lace that kisses the hem of the fabric. You tie the robe shut at the small of your waist, looping the sash into a messy bow at the front.

There’s a knock at your door the second you finish looking yourself over, making you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise. You leave your bedroom in a rush, but as you pass by the living room to get to the front door, you pause. Licking your lips, you shoot a glance towards the grandfather clock. Hardly five minutes had passed since he called you.

There was no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place that fast. The excitement in your chest pops, deflating like a sad balloon as you approach the front door, leaning forward with your hands against the wood. When you look through the keyhole, you frown. There’s no one in sight.

“Probably just kids messing around…” You murmur, fiddling with sash at your waist.

But before you can turn away from the door, something leather slams over your mouth, and your cheek is being shoved up against the wood. You try to kick back at whoever grabbed you, but it’s no use. They have an iron grip, and all fighting back gets you is their front shoved against your back, holding you tight against the front door.

You can’t move your hands with the way they’ve been trapped between your body and the door, no matter how hard you struggle against it. They release your mouth, but you’re still too stunned to speak. It’s only then, when you feel the sharp end of a blade press against your thigh, that you realize how vulnerable you are.

“My boyfriend’s gonna be home any minute now.” You grit out as they put the tip of their knife against your sensitive inner thigh. They press hard, hard enough to break skin if you don’t open your legs wider, so you’re forced to move with it. “He’s big and tall and he’ll-“ You’re breath hitches as the person behind you trails the knife up, getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. “He’s a scary motherfucker and he’ll fucking kill you if you touch me!” Your voice breaks as you shout, and to your surprise, the person actually pulls the knife away.

The chuckle that comes next, low and familiar, surprises you as well.

“A ‘scary motherfucker’?” It’s Danny’s voice that greets you, his lips kissing the shell of your ear as he speaks. “Hmm. I guess I am.”

“Danny,” You breathe out, the fear leaving your body like a tidal wave. “What the fuck are you-“

One of his gloved hands cuts you off again before you can finish your sentence, pressing tight against your mouth. His other hand slides eagerly between your legs, slipping inside you without warning.

“You know I don’t like being hung up on.” His voice was far from what you were familiar with, low and grating in your ear. The laugh that follows it equally as foreign. “Ha… should’ve know that you’d get wet from that, fucking slut.”

Like you’re any better, you try to growl, but the leather trapping your mouth makes it impossible to speak, your words coming out in muffled irritation instead.

He laughs, kicking your legs further apart with one of his heavy boots. With a slick sound that makes you blush, he removes his fingers from your slit.

The zipper on his pants hardly makes a noise as he frees himself, but it’s enough to make you press back against him by instinct alone. He moves his hand away from your mouth, pressing his palm against your upper back instead, keeping you pinned to the wall.

You gasp out- something warm and hard pressing up against your entrance. He laughs as he slots his cock between your thighs, right up against your sex, dragging the head along your hardness.

“Danny,” You moan, arching your back and wiggling your hips, hoping to angle it just enough so that he slips inside of you. He’s never taken you like this before, even though you know he’s wanted to, and the rush of it nearly makes your head spin.

“Hmm?” He asks, voice terribly calm for the situation. “What is it? Do you wanna stop?” And just as easily as he started, he pulls back. Grunting a bit before the zipper on his pants is pulled back up. “C’mere.”

You want to cry all over again, so desperately close to getting what you need and yet so far all the same.

“I didn’t mean sto-“

You cut yourself off with a noise of surprise as he grabs you by the hair, pulling you around harshly and forcing you to face him. After he lets go, he takes a few steps back, leather boots thudding heavy against the wooden floor.

You open your mouth, but whatever words you want to say die on your tongue as he reaches out, touching your cheek. The back of his knuckles brush delicately against your cheekbone.

Your stomach does somersaults as he looks you over, taking your body in full. His hand moves down, tracing the outline of your waist through the robe. You can hardly feel his touch, but it makes you shiver all the same.

“I must be the luckiest guy,” Danny murmurs as he takes hold of the end of the bow tying your robe together, slowly pulling it until it comes undone. He lets your robe fall open, the night air cool on your front, and slips his hand inside the fabric to stroke your hip. “To have such a pretty baby.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the praise, but Danny doesn’t let it slide. He takes you by the chin, the pad of his gloved thumb stroking the skin under your lower lip.

“You know that, right?” He nods your head for you, gently tilting your head up and down. You open your eyes, brows slightly furrowed, only to meet his smile. “There we go, pretty thing. Always so ready for me… Always so good…”

You push up on your tiptoes, pressing yourself further into Danny’s touch. You don’t say a word as you slip your hands under his leather jacket, running along the fabric of his shirt before going under it as well. Your lips quirk up when you feel his abdomen tighten, straining with the muscle you already know is there. You trail one of your hands down, letting a stray finger hook into his belt loop.

“Rode all this way,” You murmur, ignoring the way your gut squirms with confusion. There’s no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place so fast, not even if he was speeding the whole way. “And you won’t even kiss me…”

Danny snorts, his hand turning tight on your hip, gripping you hard. “That’s all you want?” He leans down to press his lips against yours, so soft it makes your heart ache.

It’s the contrast with him. The push and pull. So hot and eager one minute, yet so cold and distant the next. But his lips are sweet and kind against yours, and you can’t bring yourself to pick at the scabs of question that litter your relationship with him.

When he pulls back, his voice is rough against your mouth, lips moving like butterfly kisses against yours. “Just one kiss?”

You unzip his jeans in response, nipping at his lower lip when he chuckles.

“Mmhm. That’s what I thought.”

In a quick motion, Danny wraps one arm under your thigh and the other tight around your waist, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. You nearly yelp at him, your hands slipping out from under his shirt. Before you have the chance to respond, he has your back pressed up against the door once again.

He kisses you with ferocity you’ve never felt from another. Licking into your open mouth, he waits for you to moan before biting down on your lower lip. You grab a fistful of his hair, yanking down when he sinks his teeth down into it again.

Danny works his way down from your lips, sucking dark bruises on your neck and jawline. You gasp and let go of his hair, grabbing onto the back of his neck instead.

“Danny,” You try to speak but the second you start, he’s biting down hard. Right under your jawline, where he knows you’re most sensitive, making you melt into a gasping mess.

He pulls back by a fraction, leaving his lips to rest against the mark he’s made. You can feel the smile on his lips when he speaks, low and so gravely that you swear you can feel it thrumming through your throat. “What was that?”

You laugh, something that starts out soft but turns breathless once he replaces his lips with his tongue. “Choke me,” You rush, as if you’re worried you might forget if he keeps going. The tongue on your neck disappears, and doubt flashes in your mind. “If you want.” You clarify, just as fast. “You can if you want, I mean. I… I don’t mind.”

“Is that right, baby? You don’t mind?”

You nod your head as he adjusts his hips, keeping you stable against the wall so he can pull away from your neck. The look on his face is diabolical, and if you weren’t being held up you’re sure it would be enough to send you to your knees.

“Wanna know what I think?”

You lick over your kiss-bitten lips and nod.

“I think my baby’s a fucking freak.” His hand goes around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure. You press into the touch, exhaling through your nose. Your cheeks are on fire, butterflies batting their wings in your stomach.

“I just... I-” Your stammer is cut off by the hand on your throat tightening, stopping the words before they can fall from your tongue.

Your eyes widen as Danny leans in, propping up his thigh to keep you up against the wall. His hand slides down then, squeezing the inner of your upper thigh. You know where he’s going, and let out a shaky exhale, wrapping your legs tighter around him in anticipation. When he touches you, you bite your lower lip.

“You’re still dripping,” Danny sing-songs, dragging two fingers through your folds. He avoids your cock, but just him touching you is enough for you to groan. “I’d say you’re even more wet now.”

Your eyes bulge as he flexes his arm muscles, the veins on his forearm straining from the pressure. The ease at which he can cut off your breath should scare you, but all you can process is the heavy, humid heat that’s filling up your mind. You don’t struggle for breath, you don’t need to yet, but you do open your mouth when he squeezes even tighter.

“It’s so hot,” He groans, pressing forward until his arm is trapped between both of your chests, and his mouth is panting against your ear. “Feeling how bad you need me,”

If his fist wasn’t wrapped around your throat, you would’ve whined. You can feel his heavy puffs of air on the side of your face, and how his chest moves with every ragged breath. You tilt your hips up, trying to get him to move his fingers down. You’ve been waiting so long, and all you want is to feel him inside you. But he just chuckles, presses closer, stilling your hips.

“Desperate,” Danny rasps. “Fucking slut, can’t come unless I’m inside you?”

Your cheeks burn, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You’re nearly spaced out, your head beginning to spin from the lack of oxygen.

“So fucking wet for it, so wet for me,” He inhales shakily, like he’s trying to pull himself together, before letting you breathe again.

You suck in a deep breath, head spinning from the sudden rush of oxygen. He keeps his hand on your throat, not tight enough to choke, but just enough to serve as a reminder of what he could do. Danny presses further up against you, crushing you into the door as he slips a digit inside your heat.

“Oh,” You groan as he adds another, curling them upwards as his thumb starts to massage your cock. “Danny,”

He doesn’t respond, too far gone to speak as he watches you. His eyes are dark and open wide, with an unfamiliar, wild glint in them. The way he works you feels the same, rough and fast, almost in time with his heavy pants.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He grunts, squeezing your neck. “Having you like this-” he cuts himself off with a deep inhale before pulling out completely.

Before you have the time to complain, he’s grabbing you by the hips again, walking a few feet over to the kitchen table, and slamming you down onto it. Your back thuds when it hits the old wood, your eyes wide with shock. He shoves your legs apart, grabbing you by the thighs so he can drag you closer to him.

The skillful way he unbuckles and unzips his pants could almost seem calm if it wasn’t betrayed by the near frantic look in his eyes. He only gets his jeans undone enough to pull his cock out before grabbing you again, pulling until your ass is almost hanging over the table, and thrusting into you.

You can’t be embarrassed by the noise he drags from your throat, something high and strangled and fuck, you know that if it wasn’t for him stretching you out before, he’s big enough that it would’ve hurt. He doesn’t speak as he thrusts, fucking you as you’ve never been fucked before. He’s like a man on the brink, his hands gripping you hard enough to leave bruises.

There’s a moan stuck in your throat, some words too. An assortment of garbled sentences, but each thrust punches them right out until you’re being pounded into a whining, half-crying mess. He’s hitting all the right places, angling his hips just right, and slamming into you until you see stars.

It’s only after you get close, your thighs shaking and straining with the effort, that Danny grabs your throat, squeezing hard as he slows down his thrusts. “If I had my way, I’d keep you like this all the time.”

You swallow back another moan, your eyes still wide when they meet his.

“So wet and open, like you were fucking made for me.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, hard and slow. His hand turns to a fist, cutting off your airflow. “Gonna give you what you need, gonna take good care of my baby,” Danny moves his hand from your thigh to your waist, ghosting over your stomach. “And if you’re good, I might even fuck one into you.”

Your back arches as you come, his words are all you need to go right over the edge. Black ebbs away at your vision as Danny fucks you through it, hard and fast, choking you as you writhe on his cock. He’s set the pace now, and keeps it steady even as you come back down into your body. It’s nearly too much, but you can’t find the strength to articulate your words.

His hand leaves your throat, but only to trail down your chest, moving to your navel. His fingers find your cock easily, and you yelp in some sort of mix between pain and pleasure. It’s too much, and you arch your back off the table, shimming your hips, doing anything to escape his touch. It’s fire, his touch. Blinding, painful, but so damn hot you can’t help but crave more.

It lasts for years, the constant mix between pain and pleasure. The digit on your cock only lets up once Danny’s breathing turns to pants, sweat beading on his forehead. His hips stutter, slowing down for a moment before gripping your hips with a sudden, newfound intensity. Your skin pales where he’s applied pressure, slamming you down hard onto his cock.

“Angel,” Danny groans, fucking into you once, twice, three times. He comes with a growl, his eyes never shutting as he rides out his pleasure.

There’s a whine in your throat, spilling from your lips just as he fills you up. You’ve never done this without a condom before, but now that you have, you don’t know how you could ever go back to wrapping it up. He leans back, still inside you, catching his breath. Sucking in greedy lungfuls as you watch, your chest heaving with the same intensity.

When he moves to pull out, you grab both of his wrists, not giving him the option of letting go of your hips.

“Wait,” You murmur, pulling him in closer. There’s no real strength behind it, but Danny humors you all the same. You bring one of his hands up to your cheek and nuzzle into it, peppering a few light kisses on his knuckles.

He leans forward, and you kiss him softly, both of you smiling into it. You free his hands, having gotten what you wanted, and he moves them to trail down your chest, caressing your sides. He leaves one to rest on your belly, the other one moving to the side of your neck.

“You really liked that, huh?” Danny asks quietly, his voice a low whisper against your skin.

“Shut up.”

He huffs, kissing the side of your head in what you can tell is exasperation.

A part of you wishes you could stay like this forever. It makes you feel safe, having Danny surrounding you so fully. It makes you feel loved. But the smarter part of you knows that he has to be up at six tomorrow morning, and you don’t know if he’ll stay once you fall asleep. If you’re already in the bedroom, clinging to him under the covers, he’ll stay the night. But if you doze off on the kitchen table, you know he’ll only tuck you into bed before leaving.

“Bed?” You ask, looking up at Danny with half lidded eyes. You can feel the fondness in his gaze as he stares down at you, waiting a few seconds before nodding.

“Yeah baby. C’mere.”

His hands are gentle as they slide over your body, and you have to stop him before he can try and carry you himself.

“I can walk, you know. I’m not gonna break.” You try to chastise, but a smile breaks through your facade. He grins back, lips spreading to reveal teeth, sharp and as deadly as ever. But his lips are soft, plush against your skin and gentle in a way that is too hard for your muddled mind to try and describe. “You know that first hand.”

Danny slips his arms around you once more, chuckling softly against your skin. “I sure do.” He leans up, taking you into his arms as he straightens out his body. “It’ll take a lot more to break you, darling. I know that first hand.”

He carries you to bed with your face tucked into the crook of his neck and your arms slung loosely around his shoulders, and he only needs one arm to pull back the sheets, keeping the other around your waist, before laying you down and tucking you in.

“Stay?” The space between your thighs is sore, and your voice is hoarse from his hand wrapped around your neck. But you amplify it just a bit, making your voice a bit more gravely than it ought to. You have to stay. you’re trying to convey. Look what you’ve done to me, you can’t just leave me like this.

He shucks off his jeans and jacket before slipping in beside you. Warming your bed like he has all the times before, with his arms around you and his face buried in your hair.

You shut your eyes to the sound of him murmuring, and even though you can’t quite hear what he’s saying, you repeat the words back on instinct.

“Love you too, Danny. Love you forever.”

598 notes · View notes

pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

Text

Karasuno boys when you wander away

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Dachi Sawamura, Asahi Azumane, & Kageyama Tobio, all with a Fem!Reader

Warnings: probably some swearing but nothing besides that :)

A/N: So this is somewhat based on my IRL relationship haha. I’m very bad with just walking away or getting distracted by something and always worry my partner xD thought it would make for some cute headcanons! Let me know if you’d like more!

Haikyuu Masterlist

Tsukishima had only looked away for a moment. He walked towards a fresh fruit stand, glancing at the peaches and wondering if you wanted one to snack on on the way home. He glanced back and his lips parted to ask you, but you were no where to be seen.

His lips turned into a frown, trying not to give into that small moment of panic as his eyes scanned the outside market. You were no where to be found nearby. His heart pulsed harder against his chest as his mind reminded him of that news story of girls going missing in public places. Tsukishima pushed through people, giving half-assed apologies as he thought about you being dragged away and no one noticing. How had he not noticed? How would he find you? What should he do now?

His heart raced as he continued to look for you, giving out a small yelp when he felt someone grab his hand.

“Tsukki?” You were suddenly next to him, smiling innocently up at him. “Are you okay?”

The rush of relief that came with seeing you next to him was followed with frustration. “Idiot! Where did you wander off to?” He scolded, his hand tightening on yours.

“There was a puppy,” you admitted with slight embarrassment, smiling shyly. “I just gave him a couple of pats - he looked so lonely. Everyone was ignoring him,” you explained, nodding towards an older man who was dozing off on a bench. He had a leash in his hand and a large dog sat next to his feet, eagerly watching people was if begging for someone to pet him.

Tsukishima shook his head in disbelief, “You scared me for a dog? Moron,” he grumbled, pulling you further into the market. He didn’t want to be in such a big crowd right now.

You giggled, trying not to note the redness in his ears, “Aw I’m sorry Tsukki, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You tugged on his arm gently, trying to give him an apologetic smile but he kept looking away from you.

“Whatever, get yourself lost for all I care,” he pouted slightly and you tried your best not to laugh at how such a tall boy could act like a 4 year old.

“I’ll stay with you, promise. Won’t ever leave your side!” you insisted, clutching his arm and beaming up at him.

Tsukishima glanced at your smile, noticing it looked... almost playful? “What?” He raised an eyebrow, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“You care about me,” you teased, reaching up to poke his nose playfully. “You were worried about me because you careeee about me.” You had expected him to pull his arm away, stomp off until you apologized for making fun of him.

But instead he just rolled his eyes, flicking your forehead gently, “Maybe just a bit.”

That surprised you just a little, your heart skipping a beat or two in response, “I am sorry, Tsukki, I didn’t think I went off that far. It just got really crowded,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand gently. “But lucky for me! You’re so tall so it’s easy to find you!”

Tsukishima scoffed some more but blushed anyways, feeling now like he had overreacted, “Whatever. You’re buying me a snack to make it up to me, idiot.”

“Mmkay!” You beamed, the two of you roaming the market together. Tsukishima pretended like he had completely forgotten the whole thing, but you noticed that he never let go of your hand that easily after that. And he always kept you close in crowded areas.

So yeah, maybe Tsukishima Kei really did care for you.

Daichi is a calm cool collected dude. Calm. Cool. Collected. It was as if he was chanting these words in his brain, eyes frantically trying to find you. CALM COOL COLLECTED, he desperately tried to remind himself. Everything is FINE.

But that still didn’t answer the question: where the hell could you have gone off to?

It was one of the first big matches that Daichi ever invited you too and the crowds were 10x bigger than anything you’ve been to. Daichi’s whole body trembled with the idea that you were completely lost and waiting for him to find you.

“I’m sure she’s alright, Daichi! Y/N’s probably just exploring,” Asahi clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder, though Daichi could tell he was nervous too.

“Stop being such worry-bums,” Suga insisted, smacking both of their arms. “Y/N can be as scary as the rest of us! No one would pick on her!”

You were fully capable of dealing with things yourself, Daichi knew this. But he felt a surge of protective energy anytime he felt you needed him. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled to his friends, his feet quickly running around the gyms to try and catch a glimpse of you.

“Daichi!” Your voice made his eyes widen, darting around to try to find you. Suddenly, he was attacked with a full on jump hug, staggering backwards to keep them upright.

“Y-Y/N! Where’ve you been?” Daichi asked with a laugh, holding you tightly and trying to avoid showing you how nervous he was.

“Coach Ukai told me Hinata left his shoes in the bus so I went to grab it before the game! Shimizu-san and Yachi were both busy so I wanted to help!” You explained, smiling up at him while holding the little bag up for him to see. Your eyes flickered over Daichi’s for a moment, noting the slight blush on his cheeks and the way he couldn’t fully meet your gaze. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, your lips turning into a little smirk, “Were you worried about me, Daichi?” You teased and laughed as his face turned even more red.

“Well I can’t win without my lucky charm on the stands,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair.

“Oh and I just thought you liked me,” Y/N shot back with a laugh. “Didn’t know it was just cause of your game.”

You turned on your heel, starting to walk back to the gym, Daichi following while stammering out a, “I-I do liked you!” He tried to laugh off his nerves, rubbing the back of his neck as he gave you a smile, “Don’t make me all nervous before a game, love!”

You two shared some more laughs as everyone warmed up, and just before you headed to the stands, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Daichi tried to play it off cool but he was wobbly the whole walk towards the team and the group of boys just laughed, all slapping his back in pride.

Unlike the Cap’n, Asahi is not calm, cool, or collected. I mean I think he’s cool but not in this sense LOL.

Asahi and you decided to have a picnic for lunch in a nearby park. But while he was setting up, you magically disappeared and Asahi felt all of his panic just intensify.

Did you? Leave him? To be on his own? Was this your way of breaking up with him?

No, Asahi tried to convince himself, you loved him. You guys had been together for almost a year now, that’s not how you’d end thins... is it?

Maybe you got lost? Did Asahi walk a little too fast to this spot? He knew sometimes you had a hard time keeping up with his long legs but he thought you had been holding his hand this whole time.

His eyes scanned the somewhat busy park. He couldn’t find you anywhere. His heart was starting to beat way too fast and his fingers were shaking while he tried to text the other third years to ask what the hell he should do.

Suga: LOL knowing Y/N she probably saw some cute chipmunk or something and stopped to take a photo of it

Daichi: don’t worry, Asahi, she’ll probably find you soon - you’re this gigantic dude in a park. I doubt she’d lose you

That didn’t help. Now Asahi was noticing how parents and kids were specifically avoiding him. His bottom lip pouted as he wondered just what he could do to seem less intimidating. Should he sit down? No, what if you were trying to see him? Sitting would only make it harder!

Just as he was considering climbing up the nearby tree to see the park from a higher distance, you popped out from some nearby bushes, holding a few wildflowers.

“Asahi?” You blinked in surprise, finding him trying to find a foothold on the tree. “Are we... eating in the tree?”

“Y/N!” The poor boy almost knocked his head on the tree when he turned around to see you, eyes widening. He immediately ran over to you and twirled you around in a hug, “God, you scared me!”

You quickly apologized profusely seeing how nervous he was, “I’m sorry, Asahi! I saw some pretty flowers over there and thought maybe it would be nice to decorate our tablecloth with!” You kiss his nose and cheeks over and over again trying to get him to calm down (but really that’s just making him more flustered).

The two of you share a gorgeous meal together, and you spend the rest of the day with his head in your lap and you braiding his hair, intertwining some of the flowers you found. The two of you talked about everything and anything and Asahi made sure from that day forward, he could always spot you. Any time you guys weren’t holding hands or standing next to each other, everyone noticed that Asahi’s eyes would dart over to you every now and then, whether consciously or unconsciously.

When he got home that night, he pressed the flowers you put in his hair in a book and kept them as a keepsake. And then gave them to you in a gift for your anniversary later.

Kageyama would start feeling panic and wouldn’t even know why. The game was starting soon and something just didn’t feel right. His muscles? No… he felt in tiptop shape. He stretched a little extra today too to make sure he wasn’t feeling stiff. His stomach? No, he made sure to have some food and milk a little earlier. And he wasn’t feeling nauseous so it couldn’t be that. His hands? No, they felt perfect in fact. He was so excited for this game earlier, he had felt the anticipation running to his fingers to just set the perfect ball. So why was he feeling so uncomfortable?

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think about what was making him feel different. His eyes scanned the crowd unconsciously before realizing what it was.

You weren’t standing up there with the rest of the Karasuno fans.

Where the hell were you?

His feet moved towards the gym doors before Ukai yelled at him, “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Kageyama? The game is staring soon!”

Kageyama’s eyes widened, noting the whole team watching him curiously. Why did Kageyama seem so nervous? He never seemed nervous.

“Don’t worry, Kageyama, with my spikes better than ever, we’re definitely going to win!” Hinata grinned, trying to lighten the tense air in the team.

“I’m not worried, just don’t be stupid on the court,” Kageyama replied, shrugging it off. But his eyes still scanned the stands. Where were you? You had said hello to the whole and wished Kageyama luck just a few minutes ago? So how come you weren’t standing up there with Coach’s friends and Yachi?

The whistle blew to indicate the game starting and Kageyama felt his stomach turn. Why was he feeling like this? You were probably fine so what did it matter?

You had been buying some milk from the nearby vending machines to make sure that Kageyama had some after his game. You knew that he had accidentally finished all the ones he had packed earlier and had been kinda crabby about it so you thought maybe it would cheer him up. You had stood in line for the vending machine for what felt like forever but it was all worth it knowing that you could throw the milk boxes into your lunch bag to keep them cool. Knowing Kageyama would be excited about it made you really happy.

As you walked back towards the gym, you could hear cheering. Your eyes widened as you realized that the game had already started and you ran towards the stands.

“Y/N! There you are!” Yachi’s smile looked oddly nervous. Not that she wasn’t normally nervous at these games, but this one seemed different. “I think something’s wrong with Kageyama.”

Your eyes shot down to the court, seeing how stiff Kageyama looked next to everyone else. They were patting him on the back, yelling “We’ll get the next one!” and Noya screaming, “BRING IT ON!”

“He was looking for you in the stands earlier I think,” Yachi told you with a small giggle, “He looked really nervous when he couldn’t see you.”

Your heart swelled slightly, wondering if Kageyama was off his game because he hadn’t been able to see you. “Kageyama!!” You yelled from the stands, cupping your hands around your mouth. The dark haired boy’s head shot up to look at you, a sense of relief growing on his face. “You can do it!!” You screamed some more, the people on the stands behind you yelling in support.

Even from far away, you could see his lips turn upward in a smile.

Alright, you both thought to yourself. Now we can get started.

2K notes · View notes

the-brohood-of-hotties · 3 years

Text

Forget me not

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman REBORN! Pairing: Hibari x Reader Wordcount: 2,210

Summary: Hibari is a weird man, famous for his rather aggressive aura. After he moves into your neighborhood, an oasis inside a big neon town, Hibari Kyouya brings with him the weirdest situations into your life, as he makes a startling entrance with an accident with his "co-worker", Yamamoto Takeshi.

This is an entry for #khrevents April Angst 2021/ Day 8/ Yearning, Longing/ Reincarnation AU/ "I don't want to forget you."

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30658199

The glass door from your coffee shop and gardening club swings open, you don’t really care to see who’s there because it’s almost the end of your shift and you’re really entertained with social media, though you did greet the person entering. “ Good evening. Welcome to the Daily Lily.”

“Good evening, I’m afraid we’ll have to check out your storage.”

“Are you the police?”

“...No.” The voice seemed hesitant, you notice.

“Then I can’t help with that, we have a promotion on cheesecake today though.” You smile and finally look up, afraid it might be a man trying to mess up with you. Well, it was two men, in fact. You’ve heard the rumors around the neighborhood, that Hibari Kyouya was a man with a weird aura that just moved in alone with some exotic pets, while he seemed delicate and handsome, he just had this introverted, aggressive aura and you’d never expect him to show up in your small business as the companion of another guy. Tall, tan skin, dark hair, buff, a scar on his chin in contrast with a bright gentle smile. He seemed to carry a baseball bat in his back, which made the combination of sports and their suits really off, they both seem to be either Japanese or Korean.

While Hibari, the grumpy one, seemed to not be so happy about being with the other guy. Like a puppy and an old cat. "We don’t wanna bother you, but-..." The baseball guy was cut off by a loud noise coming from the back of the store. Normally you would be worried that your co-worker got hurt or something, but today? You’ve been alone for the second half of your shift. It’s not supposed to be noisy there, you’re frozen in the spot.

Hibari immediately bursts into the staff-only area of your shop, and before you can protest, the other guy gently grabs your shoulder. “Everything will be fine, we’ll take care of this situation. I just need you to hide in the restroom.’’

“Excuse me?!” No time for excuses, you heard someone grunting and the loud noises start getting too repetitive. Your phone was given in your hands and you basically got pushed into the room by the taller guy. “Sorry, huuh I really need to go there… ” He said as the door slammed on your face. The restroom was cozy enough, you had it decorated as you wanted, and you were firmly holding your phone in case you needed to call someone...But then, who would you be calling? The police would probably make things worse, especially because they seemed to be armed, or worse, maybe these guys are the police in disguise. You fidget your fingers along the cold black surface as a way to calm down a little, it seemed pointless. The noise was too loud to just put on earbuds and ignore them, but you realize: And if this is all a scheme? Rushing to peek at the door, as your eyes meet the pastel walls of the store, you realize it seems like no one’s here at all. Until you hear the cranky storage door opening, and as soon as you see the Baseball guy again, you close the door. Don’t want him thinking you’ve been spying on whatever happened in the storage, with your heart racing, you hear a gentle knock on the wooden door, accompanied by his voice. “Everything is fine! You can come out. I’m sorry I didn’t say my name before, I’m Yamamoto Takeshi and my company here is Hibari Kyouya.”

Decide to close the shop soon as you could for the day, you come out of the restroom, greeted by the two men.

“I am not your partner, Yamamoto Takeshi.” He mutters, Hibari looks completely clean, you could still mistake him with a businessman. While Takeshi seems to have bruised his hand a little. You offer him your first-aid kit which he accepts, then you close the curtains so there’s no curiosity about that’s going on inside. “So, what happened in my storage?” You cross your arms, with a cotton stained with blood between your fingers, slightly annoyed by the whole situation. Making mental notes of what to tell your therapist later, then going back to cleaning the dry blood on Yamamoto's calloused hand.

“Two burglars, they were armed but easy to deal with.” Hibari finally says something directed to you, maybe it’s the first time he bothered to look in your eyes. Not that you’re annoyed by that, perhaps he’s just introverted. But at the same time, now that he looked at your face, it's like something inside him got frozen, awkward. It's such a weird feeling, especially since he doesn't really show it off, you just can tell. “Are you guys police officers?” You change the subject, brushing it off your mind, Hibari looks away, you can’t tell if he’s offended by being compared to a cop or something else. “Not at all! We just know how to handle them. We’ll send you a check to compensate for the damage and the working time you spent in the restroom as well.” Yamamoto finished his bandage and happily hands you paper and pen. “Just write down your shop’s address and info and the check will arrive in 3 to 5 days.”

You couldn’t really believe in such kindness, or at least knowing how to deal with the consequences of their vigilante work but since they already know the shop you write it down anyway. “ Are you all putting me in some pyramid scheme? You two seem like stage actors.” They do look like handsome actors, you think.

“We aren’t.” Hibari actually pulls out an unused bullet from his pocket to show they’re not lying, effective but scary. He just turns away and keeps browsing the plants you got for sale, examining the quality of an English Ivy’s vine. “Don’t scare them, c’mon. Isn’t this shop your neighbor now?” Yamamoto jokes around, Hibari sends him a deadly look and you decide you won’t touch the neighbor subject ever again.

“If you two excuse me, I have to close the shop and go home. It’s getting late and I don't plan to work more today.” You operate the register and turn off your computer for the day, swinging the keys in your index finger. Anxious to get home to your cat and a nice hot bath to relax. “Thank you again for your kindness, next time you visit the shop anything from the coffee and plants is on me. But don't do crazy stuff again.” You smile as everyone leaves the inside area with you. “By the way, who’s going to take these two burglars out? Did you guys called the police?”

“Kusakabe already took them, before you got out of the restroom.” Hibari says in a beat, interrupting Yamamoto before he could say something else. “Who’s that?” You raise an eyebrow, the Baseball guy blurts out, dismissing any curiosity you might have. “He’s a friend of ours who’s actually a cop!” That’s weird, you didn’t even see a vehicle, and usually, when cops stopped around they were always noisy and had the blue and red lights on. Off-duty cops, detectives, spies, what are these people doing around? Your curiosity around these two can only grow. It’s not like your hometown has anything important in the first place. Anyway, you say your goodbyes and already invited them to come once more. Perhaps it will be good to have these two around, at least against burglars.

Hibari turns to Yamamoto as soon as you disappeared in a street corner, with earbuds on, bursting your playlist for a nice walk and everything “That’s why we shouldn’t operate with any civilians nearby, we might be compromised now.”.

“It wasn’t that bad, I think they got to sympathize with us, it’ll be just a weird day on their life.” Takeshi stretches his arms, it’s quite complicated to deal with you and Hibari all at once. “But, still if we didn’t interfere these guys might take them hostage, steal the shop, or whatever their intentions were. We’re lucky you saw they had guns when passing by the street.”

“I am sure Kusakabe will find out their true intentions, but meanwhile we cannot afford to bring attention to us. No more.” Hibari walked down the street, ready to get to his new apartment. “And, Yamamoto.”

“What?”

“If you get back here in the shop, don’t do anything weak and stupid.” A threat, how much that suits him, it must be a serious matter, no wonder the Foundation decided to settle in that small town for a while. Once Hibari got home, greeted by Hibird’s singing, he lets out a long sigh. What happened today? Two Mafia men going out for a civilian’s small business as if it’s a serious matter for them. But especially, the Cloud Guardian feels like he just knows you from somewhere. Your voice and eyes seem oddly familiar, but if he was to put this feeling into words it’ would simply smell like bullshit. Herbivore bullshit. He takes a long shower, and gets to bed to read something before sleeping, but can’t concentrate on his book. It can’t be, he even loses sleep and feels exhausted, only falling asleep when his body couldn’t take it anymore.

He wakes up in a bad mood, feeds Hibird and Roll, and opens his fridge: nothing, just a bottle of water. Well, he has to remind Kusakabe to do his groceries, but for now, he’ll be ok with going to your shop for breakfast. He gets changed from his kimono to casual clothing, it’s 07:00 AM when he walks down the block and notices no one’s inside the shop beside you, as he opened the door a ring is heard, you turn your head to see who’s there, the shop seems clean and decorated with paper and fairy lights hanging on the wall, plus with the plants of all sorts, making the place lively, with soft lo-fi music in the background. “Hey, good morning Sir.” He murmurs a response and orders blueberry pancakes with a black coffee on the balcony. “Thanks for coming after yesterday, I came here earlier to clean but your partner Kusakabe was waiting at the door to help me out.”

“Good.” As you manage the register, he notices you have cupcakes with colorful glaze and cutesy decor right beside you, and a poster that he can’t read from that distance. You see he’s staring at something and offers him one of the cupcakes. “Today I’m throwing a small event here, the shop will celebrate 2 years of business, come by if you want to.”

“I’m not letting you give me everything in the shop for free.” He rejects and suits himself a table nearby the window. “I don’t like parties, or crowded places so I’ll stop by tomorrow.” This hurts your ego a little bit, but it would probably be embarrasing to have a stranger around, he’s quiet most of the time. You wonder if Yamamoto is more of a party person, then, your thoughts drift to the question: Is Yamamoto Takeshi single? He doesn’t have a wedding ring, and neither does Hibari.

You shake your head before you could turn red in front of him. “Well, I’ll save you a piece of cake my parents made then.” You say, as you get prepared to do everything for today’s menu ready.

“You don’t have to.” Ouch. You decide to not offer him more things, but this behaviour makes you wonder if he has a jealous partner.

Usually you let everything sort-of-ready so you just need to heat them in the oven on the back of the balcony. Cooking is time-consuming, but at least it’s pretty lucrative. “I think I’ll take around 30 minutes since you’re an early bird. You can use a laptop to work or shop for flowers if you like stuff like gardening.” You turn your head to talk to him, but to your surprise, he’s already looking at some pots and examining some other gardening products you have around, you didn't expect him to be this kind of person, gardening takes nurturing, care, and a lot of attention towards a living being who doesn't even communicate like animals. He does like gardening apparently, you expected him to pull off a MacBook and have an online meeting over his meal or something, maybe doing finances of whatever organization he's probably the leader at, at least that's what his expensive suit tells. When you get to serve his plate, the spare chair has a basket full of gardening materials, seeds for fruits and veggies, some pots, a small rake, and a trowel.

As the clients come in and you get busier, he didn’t want to be a burden, so he just sat there and tried to enjoy his breakfast, even though the place was a little more crowded than he would like to. But still, Hibari can manage that for a bit, and then he realizes how the situation just got weirder to him, how come he’s doing that for you? And why did you felt so familiar? Spending most of his life there, just occasionally traveling he never noticed a person that matched that specific scene in his head. Is this some Herbivore bullshit? Maybe. Hibari is still pondering over this subject but as long as no one from the Foundation or Vongola finds out, he just found out a place with good pancakes, open from Monday to Saturday, how convenient. The whole saved your business and life thing or the fact that you’re attractive is just a small detail. When he’s done, Hibari gets up from his table and your co-worker comes to clean his spot. He takes his basket to the balcony for payment, but not before adding a purple flower to his shop list. When he gets to pass all the products, which usually the clients would take one or two plants, but he got around seven, letting the purple flower for last.

A small vase blooming with forget-me-nots, as you pass it on the register, you read the silly little tag you put in some pots as decoration, each has a quirky phrase or pun with the names, that one reads:

“Don’t forget about me”.

#hibari kyoya #KHR Fandom #khr fanfic #fanfiction #reader #hibari x reader #yamamoto takeshi #forget me not #I kinda want to continue this fanfic hhhh

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blufox234isadumbname · 3 years

Note

dream (XD, maybe?) visits fundy in his dreams. it's the only thing making them bearable, and keeping him sane

Nobody [inspired by a mitski song]

Many make mistakes, Fundy was one of them. He just wanted to make sure Yoghurt was safe that night, what with more mobs emerging from the south. He just wanted to tuck his kid and make sure he slept better than him. With kiddish purrs becoming white noise, he should've stopped himself when he felt his lids flutter, when his bed dipped and he saw the house go black.

The fox-hybrid opened his eyes, already letting the horror sink in before opening the damn door. It was all over again, he thought he was getting better. No. He was a fool, still a foolish fox. Yoghurt was no longer by his side, and he already started to feel sweltering heat entering the home. Fundy's heart already ached, already sore. His breaths were heavy, weighted over him as he laid in the dreaded empty bed. Tears were beginning to form but he blinked and rubbed them harshly away. Just close your eyes, he thought. But he knew better, wishes could never be reality. He just wanted it to be over, so he had to do it himself. Fundy always had to do everything himself anyways, this was no different.

He got up and readjusted his black breton cap. Steady and stalwart, steps crept towards and stopped in front of the door. Twisting the knob, a final breath was heaved before the same scenery greeted the displeasured fox. He became familiar with the barren land, covered by only hot dry sand and tall cacti. The winds seemed to be strong that dream, dust clouds were choking the poor dreamer. He closed the door behind him, noticing his red tail hung low. First thing was first, he left the area of his house to find anything out of place. It was instinct to try and spot something that stuck out like a sore thumb, besides his little spruce wood cottage.

Fundy sank his naked feet into the sand, burning his padded paws. He trudged along in a random direction, which was wherever the barest clouds were drifting opposite from. That's all he did for a couple of minutes, maybe more than half an hour to him. Prime, he hated how the sun was bright, how the sunshine was a glaring spot above him. He hated to stare at the dull sky for any second longer. He hated winds dusting the sand into his eyes. All of it was n eyesore, metaphorically and litterally.

He just continued onward, awaiting any subtle and not-so-subtle ghostly remnants of his history coming back to haunt. To be reminded of why his life sucked, that was surely fun, right? He wanted a break, a detour from the disaster that was him. For not the first time, he wanted to be elsewhere. Not just in the dream but in reality. Yes, Las Nevadas was the haven he wanted it to be. But that came with the cost of having his dreadfully undead father closer to him. As if he wanted a chance to be mocked and haunted. Even more so, Tubbo and Ranboo causing a commotion with Quackity already had set him at unease. Threats towards a nation he called a home, a lovely return to the cycle. Like dirty water from the sea to acid rain in the clouds, it's become the same horrid cycle.

Speaking of clouds, the fox-hybrid looked up. The smallest gathering of clouds became a crowd of them all across a brighter baby blue canvas. The yucky yellow sand turned a grassier green. If he squinted, he could maybe see the blooms of other than cactus flowers. Finally, a reason for the feet under him to pick up their pace. Fundy kept running towards the green, faster and faster as he could taste them with his fingers. As soon as he was near enough, he dived right into the fresh field. A little mistake, per usual, as he began rolling down a knoll all of a sudden. Through the short wild grass into a taller field of lavender and peonies, the fox finally took a deep breath. A clean and relaxed breath-

"Hello, Fundy."

- before it hitched.

Fundy lifted his head up above the flowers to spot a cleared spot. In the patch of cornflowers and poppies, a naked area of just grass lay, with a figure. He knew it well, with the dirty blonde hair - though he never remembered it being at scruffy and shoulder length - and deadly smile-painted mask adorned. In a lime, white and black letterman jacket over a starkingly orange jumpsuit. He knew that man well, even by the soft humming. The blank eyes of the mask and the man behind to stared at the fox-hybrid. If it weren't a nightmare yet, Fundy figured it just started.

"How are you here?" The hoodied man asked

"Don't...don't even talk to me..." The overcoated fox snarled with teeth bared and tail puffed.

Dream huffed, toying with something in his hands.

"I just asked. The dreamscape is not normally so free reign. For you, you're the least I expected to be able to cross barriers of mind."

"What the fuck are you talking about. Why are you here? What, to haunt me? To mock me? To tell me I'm useless?"

"...To make flower crowns"

He held up said piece of rope strung with flower blooms. His was a cornflower and daisy crown.

"That...that's it?"

"Can you control your dreams?"

"That...it's none of your business, Dream."

"I'm assuming no. But you are willingly seeing me. So in that case, I suppose I can tell you. You know I was imprisoned, in that big ol' prison? Anyway, a being gave me a wish, or rather a gift. I could control my own dreams, I could lucid dream whenever I wanted to. So I could stay in prison while still feeling the grassy field. So I'm here."

"You don't...get nightmares? NOS Cary reminders of your past? Nothing scary?" *And while I do?*, Fundy doesn't add on. Dream pauses for a break. before he answers

"How could I? I control every aspect of my dream. Though you are certainly not part of it. I appreciate the company, kinda? But I'd rather not keep it. It's be nice if I just asked that dream being to remove you-"

"NO!"

"Excuse me?"

"P-Please...I-I don't wanna go back..."

He hated how his voice became frail at the drop of a hat, how his ears flattens and how shaky his hands became. Already begging to a tyrant, the same one who's destroyed everything in his life. What Fundy had begged was true, however, he didn't not want to go back to nightmares. This was the only time the dreams felt good. Albeit muddled by a lime menace, it was better than the frightening things ahead did him. The fox heard the man sigh.

"Sure, sure you can stay."

"Thank you..."

Fundy sat down in front of Dream, criss-cross legged. And the two were silent. The dreamer kept weaving in the flowers in the rope while the intruder simply watched. His clawed hands picked at the grass blades. Admittedly he enjoyed the scenery, if it weren't for the horror of a man in front of him. He noticed the excess rope tossed aside and something in Fundy urged him to use it too. He could tell eyes were on him again even from behind the unmoving mask.

"Yes, you can make flower crowns too. You know how to make one?"

"Y-yeah. Niki taught me how to make one with rope. I made hers with alliums. She gave me one made out to tulips" Fundy chuckled at the memory fondly.

Dream paid no mind just gave Fundy the extra rope and returned to his own project. After that, the quietness continued for much longer. But Fundy was never a fan of long silences.

"...Why a field? Out of flowers? I didn't know you were into this kind of stuff."

Dream paused for a minute, seemingly deliberating. He room a breath and spoke;

"It's just me wanting to relive old memories. Before settling in the SMP, me and George went to a flower field. We just spent half the say there doing jack all."

"It's always George is it?"

"... he's my friend. I'd do anything for him."

"Even terrorising a nation? Even threatening a kid? Even dethroning him?"

"..."

The silence spoke volumes. Fundy knew he overstepped, but it was hard for him to be sympathetic over it. He swore the surroundings looked dimmer for a second.

"I miss him. I'm no longer allowed visitors and even then, he never came by to visit."

"Who did?"

"Sapnap. Bad. Tommy, surely you know. Then Technoblade."

"Wait Techno visited you?"

"Less visit and more just made a new space in my jail cell. It's like a vacation to him. I'm not mad but...I like here better anyway."

"What's it like? In the jail cell."

"Tight. Closed. Hot. And I mean scorching. It's surrounded by lava. Barely much room to move around, not much there. I do have books to write in but so far I have started writing none."

"Someone hasn't been productive, I see?"

"I liked to write stuff. Just random things. But in a cramped space...I can't. I see why people are claustrophobic. It's feel like hell in there...for more than just the lava."

Fundy started to feel a twinge of a heat wave on his back as he stuck a flower into the rope. It died down shortly after.

"Since you're asking me questions. It should be fair I ask you."

"That's...yeah, that's fair."

"What were you doing, before you slept?"

"In bed. Just...alone in my cottage. Far away with no one else." Fundy lied, no matter the somewhat friendly tone, he wasn't ever going to risk Yoghurt.

"I thought you had Eret? Or Niki? I thought maybe you guys stay in at Least a neighbourhood."

"I...I haven't spoken to either in so long. I think they forgot about me. That's...fair"

"Hmm..."

Before I slept I was just building m stuff in Las Nevadas. It's...it's a thing Quackity built. I can't say more than that-"

A roar of something, not too loud but enough to be noticeable, came through. It spooked Fundy well enough.

"Dream what-"

"Let's...not talk about that."

"Well, what else is there to talk about me? I have nothing else. That...that palace is all I got going for me honestly."

"I thought you had more."

"No. After L'manburg, all of it gone, I don't have much else. By who, I wonder?I didn't care, that was fine by me until I did something different. I'm making sure I have a place, at least."

"Like a house?"

Fundy twisted the stalk gently, silently.

"Like a place of belonging. Where I can be remembered and people know where I am."

"I get that..."

"Of course you do, you tyrant. Your name is sure to be famous."

"Not the being remembered part. The belonging part."

The clouds seemed heavier at that moment.

"Find it hard to believe coming from the same guy that he cares for no one but a kid's discs."

"I know what I said, Fundy. But I don't care about the discs. I care about having control. Having everything in my hands. To take strings of the marionette and play them by my fingers. That's what I aim for, not just useless material discs."

"What does this have to do with belonging?"

The roar came back, a roar of thunder.

"The puppet master is not a puppet. He cannot be a puppet. When the puppets go free, he is left for dead..."

Dream's scarred hands clutch the half done green tulip crown. Down a drop goes from the petal. Then another, then another. Fundy looks up, to see the trickles. Down the drops of precipitation go to his face. Fundy's chest felt heavy, clebtched by something in a grip. He saw Dream looking up as well. From the angle he could partially see the bottom features under the mask. A pursed mouth with scars on his lips. Dottings of freckles across his cheeks. Streaks of not raindrops reaching down his chin. He heard the hiccups, the struggle to compose oneself. He knew that too well. Fundy found the part to care about as he stroked Dream's forearm carefully.

"I-I'm sorry, It's...I-I'm never like this. I'll just change-" the masked man's voice was breakable, cusp of falling apart.

"No. I like the rain."

Dream looked back to Fundy. It was true, the fox-hybrid liked rain. He used to play in the puddles as it drizzled even into adulthood, before more important things occupied his time. Like getting weapons for war or spying on a president. Fundy had on a solemn smile, a weak one in the likeable weather. His hair and fur became bristled whislt his tail wrapped unconsciously around him.

"I feel alone too. Everyone has left me

The people that I care about always hate me or leave. They leave me frightened in a place where everything so to survive. I'm barely staying alive as is. I don't have anyone."

"I don't have anyone either. I'm heartless, I pushed them away. Techno is with me, yeah. But what happens then? I'm too scared to find out. All I want is to just be free..."

Fundy laughed a bit. He tossed aside the half-effort flower crown and stood up. He opened his arms wide, further than his shoulders. He kept laughing, giggling, wheezing over. He raked a hand through ginger and snow white locks of his, knocking back his black breton cap.

"What's so funny?"

"Well, one, it's already crazy you're telling me all of this. This all feels like stuff you'd suppressed hard. Even in your dreams. And secondly...god, I wish we talked more sooner."

"What?"

"You and me, both alone in this world. We're unlovable. Reckless bastards we are. I'm not the worst like you but by Prime, I'm just as lonely as you. I can't excuse reving Wilbur and the 16th...but maybe we could've been friends."

He knew dream was smiling, not from the mask but from the small line of daylight peeking through the clouds.

"Fundy, I could never be friends with you. I'd push you away too."

"Then don't push me away now. I'm desperate, man."

"...I wouldn't."

Fundy smiled a glint of the sun right back at Dream. For once in a dream, he was at ease. The pouring rain slowed s little down to a drizzle, enough fro him to avoid smelling of dog water. The clouds journeyed away from the meadow, and let the sun's smile through. He loved the rays of sunshine gracing his face above him. He loved he could stare at the cloud-scattered sky for almost hours. He loved the winnow through the grass that made them dance. He loved it there.

"Sorry about the rain. In my dreams, I rarely can talk to anyone. And techno is not exactly the most relatable with what I have. Outside, I keep it in. But where I am, where we are, is inside me already."

"Fun to know this is the inner machinations of the terror Dream."

"Hehehah"

"...I probably won't remember this happend. When I wake I won't have a clear thought of events. Just so you'd know."

"It's fine. I knew you wouldn't anyway. That's why I let most of it out. That and because, I feel like I can trust you. I can't leave my cell but maybe someday I'll find you again. And maybe-"

A click from behind Dream's head could be heard. He moved his hand latched onto the mask and pulled it down. There he was, gentle scarred smile with even gentler eyes, covered by dirty blonde turning silver white to the tips. Irises coloured almost like emerald and aqua ender eyes looked back to the fox. Finally, his black tipped ears lifted and twitched, and his tail was wagging slightly.

"-we could be alone together again?"

Fundy's heart ached, sore already.

"I'd like to. For now, let's just depend on dreams."

"I can work with that."

Dream tossed his mask aside, uncaring and apathetic to the piece of porcelain disguise. He gently pushed Fundy by the tip of his finger, to which the former feign to be toppled. He fell in the middle of the tall peonies and lavenders and tulips. Dream joined a second after, right next to Fundy. Bliss, this is what he Fundy would call it. He felt less tensed, less mangled on fear. He had spent sleeping hours just shaken, because his fears conquered him alone. Taunting him because he was alone. Preyed on every part of him alone. But now he had a chance, to dwell int eh shrot grass, be crowned royalty in a field of flowers and feel less on his own. Fundy closed his eyes, as the smell of morning dew hit him.

And he woke up, lied curled up next to Yoghurt. And with a flower in his palm. A rose. He already wants to sleep, no matter the chance of being in the desert again. He wants to see the sunshine in the field of flowers more than anything.

#fundy #itsfundy #dreamwastaken #fundywastaken #dream SMP #dsmp #dsmp fic #i guess #request #my god i had this idea float aroudn in my head for so .logn and now it has rraurfaced in my mind #thank you????#iys a bit dialouge heavy #ita late and this was on my phoen jsnteas of on desktop #sjdnejdn so sorry ifnitis shit

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Hook Possum 1/4

Art by @monsdasarah for Harringrove Big Bang!

Steve had told the manager of Camp Butternut Springs every year of his life that the mildewed, papier-mache-masked, six-foot-tall opossum mascot was terrifying. The mask was chipped and patched, fixed with different colors of gray over the mangy glued-on fur. Its long, stained rat tail had drug through the red camp dirt for decades, and by the summer of 85, the dirty thing looked like it had been dyed with blood.

Hook Possum looked more like a zombie than a possum, with its mesh eyes staring in their ragged, uneven sockets, its lovingly molded teeth half broken off and stained with grime. Inexplicably—but later, retroactively, mythologized by a ton of camp folklore—it had a hook hand off a pirate costume, gleaming in the sun.

Every goddamn year the goddamn manager had the goddamn Hook Possum outfit on some poor camp counsellor, out greeting campers—the goddamn moron—and every fucking goddamn year one of the already-homesick and worried new campers burst into sobs at first sight of the horrifying thing. Steve wondered whether the manager was actually in the huge, blank-eyed Hook Possum costume this year, like a prick, because it was even bigger than usual—as tall as Steve, with its ripped ratty ears, and broad-shouldered in a way Steve suspected wasn’t padding.

The hook hand didn’t exactly help.

Steve grabbed the first wailing child he saw around the waist, then two more, and stomped over to the damn possum. “Here, look, Hook Possum’s not scary,” he said, and they all screamed, because it was so clearly a lie.

Hook Possum, somewhat to his credit, dropped to a crouch, his shoulders hunched, and Steve thought maybe it wasn’t the manager, just some poor camp counsellor that got roped in, because the manager probably would have roared like a lion—just for fun—and the kids would have wet themselves all over Steve’s lap.

“Hook Possum just lives here!” Steve told the screaming infants he was holding. “If you get scared at night,” Steve shouted over their desperate wailing and struggles, “—away from home? Hook Possum is here to keep you safe. Right?”

Whoever was playing Hook Possum flinched, and its creepy head jerked around to look at him.

“HELP!” shrieked the kid under his arm, his voice nasal, because he was holding his nose against Hook Possum’s fug of mildew and B.O.

“Nobody has ever yet been murdered by Hook Possum,” Steve gritted out. “Right?!” he prompted the moron in the mascot suit again, nudging a fur-suited leg with his shoe. “Hook Possum is like a...camp guardian! Right?”

Hook Possum stared at his face, which was chilling—after Steve’s first visit to Camp Butternut Springs, Hook Possum had featured in every one of Steve’s childhood nightmares, and the costume was even worse after nearly two decades of wear—but Steve was as tall as the thing now, and he set his jaw.

“Hook Possum is friendly, right,” he growled, and Hook Possum gave a jerky nod, making a weird choking noise, like maybe it had already eaten a couple of kids.

“Y-ye-ahssss,” the thing hissed, and Steve was tempted to push the whole mess, including the person inside, under a bus. “Safe as houses,” said the possum, just as strangled-sounding, but it was better than staring silently, so Steve grinned ruefully at the kids, who were quieting as they realized they weren’t murdered—not yet, anyway.

“You’ll get used to Hook Possum,” he said cheerfully. “We all do. Eventually.”

It had occurred to Steve one night when he was fourteen, and firmly over his terror of Hook Possum, that the perfect cover for an actual serial killer would be a terrifying full-body costume everyone was trying to ignore. He and Tommy had followed the costume around every time it had someone in it, looking for suspicious behavior. Years later, he’d donned it himself, and for the first time in his life didn’t fear getting murdered by Hook Possum. He only worried he might die of heatstroke in padded fur boots, gloves, and a bodysuit in July in Indiana, except for a few startling glimpses of himself in the mirror over the sinks.

His suggestion every week in the suggestion box was still ‘burn the Hook Possum costume and bury the ashes under a rock’, though, because he was a rational human being who understood what needed to be done.

When he’d talked Robin into applying with him at the camp instead of the video store, he’d snuck the costume on and leaned into her cabin. She’d screamed satisfyingly, and nearly killed him with an oar. She’d argued for burying the ashes of Hook Possum in seven different locations around the US, lest it rise again, and they’d put that in the suggestion box, to no response whatsoever.

It was pretty obvious the current Hook Possum wasn’t used to the cheerful voice necessary to offset its...everything, so Steve did his best. “Are you guys telling me you’re afraid of possums?” he teased, and the littlest kid, a girl, reached out and lightly batted its nose. The smell of cigarettes wafted up.

“I’m afraid,” said the boy, thickly, and Steve nodded slowly, feeling nothing but respect for a smart child.

“Hook Possum protects you guys,” he told them, sitting them on their feet. “From whatever, you know, else.”

“What could be out there,” the scared boy whispered, his eyes widening, “—that’s worse than—”

“...yeah,” said Hook Possum, in a weird squeaky voice like a Disney mouse. “Yeah, that’s what I’m here for, I’m here to protect you guys from...nightmares?” he suggested, glancing at Steve, who shrugged, nodding, because it was a pretty good idea.

“You’re soft,” said the littlest kid, grabbing one of the other snifflers by the wrist, and shoving it into Hook Possum’s fur.

“You stink,” said the boy, and Steve elbowed him.

“I’m a possum,” hissed Hook Possum, and the kid nodded.

“That makes sense.”

Steve muffled his laughter, but he was pretty sure the possum heard, because his crooked, whiskery mask jerked up, and his terrifying mesh eyes stared into Steve’s soul. He smelled like long winters in a damp shed, and cigarettes, and B.O.— because it was worn every year in the summer in Indiana—but the smallest kids were gathering around and asking questions about possums, and Steve had to call upon his knowledge from years past, and explain things like how possums were too awesome to get ticks.

Hook Possum listened intently—or maybe just glared at him, smoke drifting from its eye mesh—until Steve was a little annoyed, and mentioned that mother possums carried babies around on their backs. That was probably way too mean, because the whole horde of children grabbed hold of Hook Possum’s every appendage, and he flailed his hook only once before vanishing in the giggling pile.

“Here, here, no—” Steve yelped, unable to watch a human being consumed by piranha, and he reached into the laughing, yelping pile and hauled Hook Possum up by the arm, dusting him off. Two small children dangled from his other arm, and one had him around the neck. “You have to be nice to Hook Possum!” Steve told them. “Who’s he gonna stay up protecting, huh? The kids who’re nice to him, or the little, uh, cusses that knee him in the...shins?”

“...the nice ones,” came a small, grumbly voice from one of the criers, and “Probably the nice ones,” from a little girl who sighed heavily, and another kid just said, “Fine.” The dude in the possum suit just panted against Steve’s shoulder for a second, and Steve let him, familiar with getting dogpiled by small children with weaponized knees.

“...jesus,” came a faint whisper from in the possum suit, and Steve pinched him, even though he was grimacing with sympathy. He lifted the kids off Hook Possum—once the littlest ones had decided he was safe, they tried to drag him around and show everyone how brave they were—and the human in the suit tried to wipe his face, or something, and smacked his hook-hand into the head of his costume. He sighed, and Steve squeezed his shoulder, and patted his back, ushering the kids away.

“What are you doing here,” Hook Possum wheezed, as Steve pushed him back to sit on one of the picnic table benches. “What are you doing here,” he repeated, sounding bewildered.

“My dad owns the place,” Steve said in a low voice, as the littlest boy ran back to the buses, screaming about how he’d met Hook Possum, and Robin and Nancy looked over, resigned. “That’s why it pays so well. We went to him and told him he could have a staff that would work hard, or he could have three underpaid girls who want it on their resume for becoming teachers, and the second week they’d all have nervous breakdowns. Why, do...do I know you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the blank mesh eyes, and trying to place the weird squeaky voice.

Hook Possum nodded slowly, but Steve was pretty sure he was still staring. Maybe it was just the mesh eyes. “...oh,” he said quietly. “Your...dad. Owns...it.”

“Yep,” Steve said, shrugging. “I mean, he owns the company that owns a bunch of camps, you know, but—anyway, you’ve never been a counselor before, right? I can show you around, if you want. What’s your name? How d’you know me?”

Hook Possum stared at him some more, and then said, even higher, like Mickey Mouse, “He’s, like, the owner’s boss?” he asked weakly. “...name’s Hook Possum.”

“What the fuck,” Steve muttered, staring back into the mesh eyes, but then he saw Robin’s arm fly up as she was consumed in a wave of children, and he clapped Hook Possum on the shoulder and ran off.

He saw the guy later, too, still in the costume, even though it was July in Indiana. He was talking to Max Mayfield, so Steve wandered over. “You need some help getting out of that?” he offered, because nobody would stay in a horrible hot stinking furry sweat bag by choice.

“No,” said Hook Possum, too quickly, and Max groaned into her hands.

“Uh,” said Steve, who was starting to wonder if they’d found some possum-obsessed weirdo for a counselor. “You must...really like possums.”

Max burst into giggles, laughing harder than Steve had ever seen her, and Hook Possum’s long face swung to look at her, then at Steve, then back at her, and then he stomped away. Because the costume had big, dirty, saggy fur paw-booties, he had to lift his feet high, like a cartoon, and Steve started snickering too.

Hook Possum hunched his shoulders, and scuttled around the edge of one of the cabins, out of sight.

“Oh my god,” Max cackled. “He’s finally found his true identity! Trash rat.”

“Is...is that...Billy,” Steve asked, the thought of Billy Hargrove, camp counselor, hauling off and punching kids, or murdering them, suddenly much less funny. “What—isn’t he back in Hawkins?! How’d he get here?!”

“Uh, no! No, no,” Max said quickly, grimacing and waving her hands. “Definitely, um, not, no. It’s, ah, he lives on my street. He’s, um, saving money to move out.”

“Oh,” Steve said, relieved.

“The pay’s really good here,” Max explained, too fast. “—and, uh, mmmm...hiiiis dad’s kinda shitty, so he needs money to get out of his house.”

“Well, he should be able to,” Steve told her, giving her two thumbs-up so she’d make a face. “We’re practically all seniors, that’s what a lot of us are doing, that or paying for college.”

“...yeah,” Max sighed. “He can...move away. Finally.”

“Sounds like you’ll miss him,” Steve said, grinning at her, “—he the brother you never had?”

“...yeah, he um. He sort of is,” she said, swallowing, and Steve patted her shoulder gingerly.

“Uh,” he said cautiously, “Um, you...you know you can always give me a call, right?”

“Thought you had kind of a problem with my family,” she sighed, and he shook his head.

“I’ve got no problem with you.”

“...yeah, that’s what we thought,” Max muttered, maybe, and Steve frowned at her. “Go away,” she told him, sighing, “It’s fine.”

They got everybody sorted into cabins, and Steve saw Hook Possum ducking into a bunk in the counselor’s cabin. He stared for a long moment, watching the enormous possum negotiate its tail and its creepy, vacant-eyed mask and lie down on the lower bunk.

“It’s hot as Satan’s asshole in here,” he groaned.

“...what are you doing,” Steve hissed. “They cannot be paying you enough to stay in that thing. There is not enough money in the world to stay in that thing for more than a couple hours.”

“Ah, fuck,” said Hook Possum, sitting up and smacking his head on the upper bunk. “Shit fuck,” he groaned, “—I can’t see in this thing—”

“Then take it off,” Steve told him, sitting next to him on the bunk and reaching in to feel for the ties behind the guy’s neck, but Hook Possum grabbed Steve’s hand, scrambling back.

“No! No, uh,” he stopped, then tried again. “I need the money,” he said softly. “I need it—”

“Okay, okay, did you agree to some—some massive bonus bullshit to keep this damn costume on? Because you’re gonna die of heatstroke in there,” Steve told him. “I don’t care how much he offered you, you can’t wear that thing all summer—”

“No, I did, I agreed to—to bonus bullshit to keep the damn costume on,” Hook Possum whispered, the fingers in his paw-glove squeezing Steve’s arm, hard. “I can’t take it off. He’s—he’s giving me a huge bonus.”

“Fuck,” Steve breathed. “You’re gonna die in there, I’m not kidding. You can stay in the shade, or—and we can bring you ice, lots of ice, you could try an ice pack on your neck—”

“I need this job,” the guy said, and Steve nodded, letting him go.

“Okay, okay. We’ll figure this out, but if the manager comes out, I’m kneeing him in the balls, because—”

“No! I need the money,” Hook Possum hissed, the weird cartoony voice even odder in a serious conversation.

“Jesus,” Steve said, sighing. “Okay. I’m gonna check in with you, alright? If you start to keel over, I’m taking it off, we’ll figure out something to tell the manager.”

“Don’t take it off,” said Hook Possum, like he was the last soldier holding the line, and Steve got caught up in it, like a moron.

“I’m not leaving you in there,” he said, like the trenches were getting shelled. “I’m not letting anyone die in a possum costume,” he said, to remind himself they weren’t at D-Day. Hook Possum sighed, his shoulders slumping as he growled. “And you can’t sleep in that thing, jesus,” Steve said, “At least change at night.”

“You’d—somebody’d see me,” Hook Possum said, and Steve shook him, a little.

“We aren’t possum spies, nobody’s gonna tell.”

“How do I know you’re not possum spies,” Hook Possum hissed back, and Steve started snickering.

“Okay, okay, um, curtain? What about a curtain, we’ll just staple it up here and nobody’ll see your, uh, late night transformation.”

“Oh,” said Hook Possum, snickering a little, like he did realize how ridiculous it all was, and looking around. “That...might work.”

“Gonna transform out of your outfit like a shitty Cinderella,” Steve sighed, and Hook Possum laughed harder. “You’re gonna have to shower in the dead of night,” Steve told him. “I’ll let everybody know it’s just, y’know, just our resident possum. Creeping around.” He started laughing again, and Hook Possum elbowed him. “How are you gonna eat?”

“Shouldn’t be feeding the wildlife in the cafeteria anyway,” Hook Possum pointed out. “There are signs everywhere.”

“...you know you’re a human, right,” Steve told him, trying not to giggle.

Hook Possum shook with laughter against him. “I’ll just climb into a trash can and knock it over at three am. It’s the way of my people.”

“Oh my god,” Steve wheezed. “I’m gonna get in trouble for feeding the wildlife and letting a possum nest in here, aren’t I? I’ll sneak you burgers, I promise.”

“Why,” Hook Possum laughed, edging away. “It’s not your problem, Harrington—”

“Hey, Max likes you, you’re part of the weirdo family we got going on,” Steve said, clapping the guy’s shoulder, and the possum mask swung towards him again.

“...does she?” he asked, snorting softly.

“She does,” Steve confirmed. “She said.” Hook Possum stared like a creepy puppet, and Steve was unable to resist reaching up and patting the dusty, greasy fur between the costume ears. “You’re one of us, now.”

“...once you feed wildlife, it can create a dependency,” Hook Possum said, batting Steve’s hand away, but he was laughing audibly now. “I read that in a flyer.”

“I can’t believe they handed a possum a flyer about possums,” Steve said, and Hook Possum snorted.

“Right? Like who the fuck deals with wildlife by handing them flyers, what a moron.”

“I didn’t know possums could read,” Steve said, and Hook Possum kicked at him, completely missing. “What a smart possum you are.”

“Fuck you, if I could see in this thing—”

“Oooo, you gonna murder me with your little—your plastic pirate hook hand?” Steve asked, and Hook Possum laughed harder, letting himself fall sideways to curl up on the bunk.

“Fuck you,” he mumbled again, wheezing with laughter.

Steve wondered who he was—whether he’d defended Max from Billy, or just showed her some skateboard tricks. Whether he was younger, maybe—Steve didn’t know most of the freshmen—and what he’d look like in about ten minutes when he gave up on the incredibly stupid idea of living in a possum suit for the whole damn summer.

Steve got hauled into setting up the welcome dinner, sitting the tables out, and putting cleanish rocks on the stacks of napkins to keep them from blowing away. Hook Possum was useless at it—he nearly dropped the plates, and then bumped into a table because he couldn’t see, almost overturning it, and finally Steve put both hands on his furry possum shoulders and walked him over to a group of smaller kids who were milling around, bored by the orientation speech.

As he wandered by later, he heard Hook Possum telling them “Possum Facts.”

“Possums are gonna be the next police dogs,” he was saying, as Steve stared over. “They’re gonna yell ‘Fly, my pretties!’ and the perp will be overwhelmed by possums.”

“That’s good,” said one solemn little kid, softly. “I’m afraid of dogs.”

“Hook Possum is here to protect us,” said another one. “You can find him if you’re scared of dogs.”

The first kid nodded, wide-eyed, and Hook Possum stared at one, then the other. “...uh, yeeeah,” he said, slowly. “Sure.”

“He’ll fight the dogs, Robin said,” said the first kid, and Hook Possum’s mask jerked towards her.

“Wait, what?!” he hissed, and Steve ducked away, smothering snickers.

Dinner was uneventful, as usual, in that there was so much chaos Steve was deadened to it, automatically reaching in to stop Dustin from using his spoon to catapult peas at Erica Sinclair and starting WWIII.

He snuck off when he saw Hook Possum tiptoeing away like a stealthy cartoon. “D’you need me to feed the wildlife?” he asked, and Hook Possum yelped, spinning around, so his tail whipped Steve in the legs.

“Holy shit,” he panted, in his weird squeaky voice.

“Sorry, forgot you were a possum on the edge, man,” Steve told him, clapping a hand to his shoulder, and Hook Possum started laughing again, cigarette smoke trailing out of the eyeholes of his mask. Steve watched it. “...you have no idea how fucking creepy that looks,” he said. “It’s eerie.”

“Creepier than my big blank eyes?” Hook Possum asked, and Steve wished he could see the expression of the person in the suit—whether it was resigned, or entertained, or what.

“D’you want me to get you some food?�� Steve asked. “I can’t see you using the tongs, or like...seeing the buffet very well.”

“Also, I’m filthy,” Hook Possum said, raising a dusty paw.

“That too,” Steve agreed.

“...I can get something later,” Hook Possum said, laughing a little.

“You still have to eat, man,” Steve told him. “And drink some water, at least.”

“What’s going on back here,” came Max’s voice, and they both swiveled. She had a tray in her hands, and her eyes narrowed.

“Harrington was offering to feed the wildlife,” said Hook Possum, and she snorted.

“You’re a camp counselor, set a good example,” she hissed, waving Steve away. “Didn’t you see the flyers, Steve? You can’t feed possums.”

“Everyone saw the flyers, they even gave them to him,” Steve said, pointing. “Possums probably can’t even read.”

“I barely can, in this,” Hook Possum admitted. “I had to hold it up over my eyeholes.”

“Hrm,” said Max. “Okay, Steve, go away, Nancy said to tell you you’re on dishes.”

Steve sighed, and left them to it.

When he was done, he found an old tatty camp flag in the storage shed, half faded and ripped—he remembered somebody getting in trouble, in years past, for leaving it up all winter—and nailed it up over Hook Possum’s bunk with pruny fingers from the suds in the cooking tent. He put a hook where the grommet could lift it away, in case Hook Possum’s struggles with his mask caught on the fabric, and then stepped back to look at his handiwork just as Robin wandered in.

“That’s...really something,” she said, raising his eyebrows. “We all get one of those?”

“No, it’s for the possum guy,” Steve told her, hooking the flag’s bottom corner up to show that the bunk was slightly easier to climb into. “He’s like...contracted to wear the damn thing 24/7. He gets a bonus or something.”

“That’s bullshit. He’s gonna die of heatstroke,” Robin said, and Steve nodded, shrugging.

“That’s what I said. Anyway, I told him I’d hide the bunk so he didn’t have to, like, lie there in the costume all night.”

“Playing possum,” she snorted, and Steve grinned, imagining the dude in full possum array, sprawled on his back like roadkill.

“Sexy,” he snorted, and she waggled her eyebrows.

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

#harringrove big bang #harringrove #monsdasarah #!!!#Amazing arts!#Mistaken identity #Of sorts #Idiots in love

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interstellar-changkyun · 3 years

Text

being students together (ot7) :

shownu | son hyunwoo

he’s in your economics class and yeah you are super intimidated by him

he’s quiet and handsome and tall and he’s a music production major but he’s taking a high level economics class FOR FUN so he’s smart too

basically all the girls in the class love him and the guys look up to him

you haven’t talked to him all semester but then you’re paired together for the final project

“Hello I’m Shownu, you’re y/n right?” he came up to you after the pairs were announced you were surprised he knew who you were you just nodded and he asked for your number to talk about when to meet and you gave it to him without hesitation

Shownu was all business and you seriously doubted he even liked you

over time you had grown even more fond of him, he was kind and caring and definitely not the scary tough guy you thought he was

you were one year younger than him and he teased you about it pretty often but you didn’t mind especially since shownu insisted on paying for all the snacks you bought while working on the project

finally when you were done he said, “we’re finally done, let me treat you to meat kid” and you definitely liked being younger now

when you went to eat there was a group of drunk guys at a table nearby being rowdy

shownu, despite his big appetite, made sure to pace himself so you could eat properly

it only occurred to you when he literally stopped eating to watch you eat and maybe you were blushing

as you were about to get up to leave the group of men came up behind you, “hey beautiful why don’t you come with us instead.” you cringed at the slurred voice and turned around to glare only for the man to lean in towards your face, inches apart you could smell the alcohol on their breath

almost instantly shownu was standing up and walking over to your side of the table they cowered away as he moved to stand in front of you, you got up then getting ready to pull him back

“i would leave if i were you” shownu said sternly and it made you remember just how intimidating he was they scurried away after that and he turned towards you, his body still tense

“i- thank you shownu” you couldn’t express how happy you were he was here and how kind he was and he seemed confused by your expression, you looked ready to cry tears of gratitude

“don’t mention it, seriously i’d do it again any day”

you expected shownu to stop sitting next to you in class or meeting you between classes after your project ended but he didn’t, instead he became apart of your friend group, still quiet and talking only to you

then he introduced his other friends they were all music production majors but they were fun and shownu loved them like brothers they joined your group too

after a random guy from your class asked you out shownu realized just how much you meant to him and asked you out

wonho | shin hoseok

let’s be real he’s intimidating asf

but wonho’s the sweetest man alive

he would definitely sit next to you because you’re pretty and then be too shy to talk to you

he blushes when he sees you and when you smile he can’t help but stare

you never notice despite him being right there and stare at him too but he never catches you

your best friend, changkyun, who walks you to class every day notices him watching you as you enter and he’s sure wonho likes you so he tries to prove it

“what if i just ask you out one day?” you smack his shoulder and he yelps in pain

“he doesn’t like me so if you want to embarrass yourself then yeah go for it?”

“maybe i have a humiliation kink.” changkyun wiggles his eyebrows and you just roll your eyes but sure enough the fucker does it the next day waiting a couple seconds for you to take your seat before walking up to you

“y/n i was wondering if you want to get dinner with me i really like you?” changkyun was a good actor you had to give it to him, wonho couldn’t believe this kid but he really hoped you would say no

“i’m sorry i like someone else actually.” you couldn’t think of anything else to say and you immediately regretted it

“oh do you mind if i ask who?” you were gonna kill changkyun you glared at him but could feel wonho looking at you both so you regained your composure

“i-it’s personal” your gaze flitted to wonho and sure enough he was looking at you, you blushed instantly

“i understand no worries.” changkyun said and walked away knowing his work was done

“that was awkward huh? sorry you had to witness that.” you said to wonho without looking at him, trying to cool your cheeks

“it’s okay you deserve better anyways.” his voice was so soothing and you decided you had to be bold or you would regret it forever

“like you?” you looked at him now and he looked so shocked but he was blushing too

“yeah exactly like me.” he smiled a bright grin and you knew you were head first falling for him

kihyun

definitely the intimidating but annoyingly smart student that argues with everyone

you don’t mind being quiet and unassuming in class but today is discussion day and you actually liked the assigned reading

Kafka’s Metamorphosis made you excited about reading again so you decide today will be the day you wrack up on participation points

“Okay class lets start off with an open-ended question as we do: does anyone want to share what they thought about the reading?” The professor asked and there was a couple beats of silence before you raised your hand and she called on you

“Personally I really liked how the salesman describes the events of his metamorphosis so matter-of-factly and it gave insight into his general outlook on society.”

“I would argue the events of his transformation made him numb and traumatized him so much that he became nihilistic.” Kihyun was talking to you now, looking at you with his sharp eyes and you couldn’t deny your cheeks flushed under his stare

and then you two started arguing with each other across the lecture hall forgetting there were other people there until the professor cut in, “kihyun and y/n while your discussion is riveting let’s give others a chance to add in,” you huffed and looked away from kihyun not missing his smirk, did he think he won?

when class ended you decided you had to set the record straight, no way in hell were you backing down you stalked over to where he was packing up his laptop

“i hope you don’t think you won,” your were arms crossed and your cheeks were still flushed from the heat of the moment

“no you were right i just kept it going because you look cute when you’re angry,” you closed and opened your both in incredulity

“well then ask me to get coffee and we can argue some more,” you still feigned anger and his smirk turned into a grin and he did just that

you and kihyun’s first d(eb)ate was the same day you properly met and he couldn’t help but squeeze your red cheeks when you were done arguing and you let him walk you to your dorm and kissed him goodbye

minhyuk

class clown and kinda intimidating too

all the girls in your class are in love with him and you thought he was cute but you had always been in a relationship and you wouldn’t be swayed be anyone besides your partner

he’s funny, cute, smart, and sweet but definitely not interested in any of you nor does he notice the attention

but then you’re breaking up with your partner and you don’t let them see you cry, they had cheated on you after all they don’t deserve your emotions now

you run off to the library, sat down in the old reference book aisle that no one ever checks but you weren’t lucky it seems because lee minhyuk is walking through the aisle until he sees you on the ground and crying

he squats down in front of you, “do you wanna get something to eat?” he doesn’t ask if you’re okay because that’s a dumb question and it makes you giggle because you were hungry and dehydrated from all the crying so you just nod and let him lead you to an empty diner near campus

he orders you fries and a milkshake, strawberry, coincidentally your favorite flavor, and you feel better as you both eat in silence

minhyuk is funny and sweet making you forget about your day, for a while and then you’re telling him what happened and he’s sympathizing, “what’s his name i wanna beat this guy up?!” minhyuk is not intimidating you learn he’s actually just a softie and you make a great friend that day

minhyuk knows you’re not ready for a relationship but he’s always there for you after that day and months later when you get fries and a milkshake like that first day he tells you he wants to date you and you just kiss him square on the lips

hyungwon

quiet, smart, respectful boy but also sleepy

he always comes in with a 24 oz americano and your class wasn’t THAT early so you couldn’t help but notice the large drink

then you notice how adorable and handsome he is and maybe when you stare off into space during lecture your eyes always land on him, but alas you’re both too quiet to approach each other

one day he comes in without coffee and he falls asleep during lecture but you feel bad because the professor just announced details about the midterm and he definitely missed all of it

so after class you stand up and go to his still sleeping form and poke him a couple of times and he groggily says “wha-what’s happening?” and then he’s blinking and sitting up straight with wide eyes

“uhm you fell asleep and class ended but you just missed all the midterm details so i can email you the details or quickly tell you all of it?” you couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance and you desperately wanted to fix his messy hair

“oh uh- thank you do you mind just walking with me?” he was clearly still disoriented but you agreed since you didn’t have another class for a couple of hours

you and hyungwon walked to the nearest library on campus and you told him everything you could remember and he thanked you profusely

“i never sleep in class but today i didn’t have coffee and ugh i’m so grateful thank you,”

“i noticed,” you don’t know why you said that but hyungwon smiled a lazy and soft smile and you decided you wanted to get to know the caffeine addicted tall boy

the next lecture he brought you a cup of coffee too and sat next to you and as you became friends it wasn’t soon after he asked you out

jooheon

like minhyuk he’s the smart class clown but also intimidating

he jokes around with the professors like he knows the entire content of the course and he’s so smart he probably does

one day you’re late to lecture and the only seat left is next to him and he gives u a nod as u sit down

you’re struggling to stay awake and when your head falls out of your hand it’s resting in slightly jooheon is giggling next to you

“hey you can sleep i’ll take extra good notes for you,” and you could cry from gratefulness but instead you just give him a smile and rest on your arms and then he’s waking u up and giggling at your grogginess

it’s the first time you see his dimples and you feel like an arrow shot through your heart and you must be half conscious because you can’t seem to control your body as you outstretch a hand and poke one of his dimples

he’s shocked but just laughs and his dimples deepen impossibly and you’re apologizing and he just says, “you can poke my dimples any time,” and well you just tell yourself you’re still sleepy even though your entire body feels awake now as you do it again and his eyes vanish as he smiles

you’re definitely whipped and he is too and it’s only until one of his friends notices you two being annoyingly oblivious of your feelings for one another and says, “yah just ask them out already!” to jooheon do you two actually start to date

he takes you bowling and you’re grossly whipped for each other

I.M | im changkyun

the type of hot and intimidating you would never approach him but just stare at him from a distance

sits behind you in class and rarely talks but when he does you shiver just from how deep his voice is

you sit next to your friend and they constantly tease you about how reactive you are just to his voice alone

one day you’re running late and rushing through campus and when you finally make it to your lecture hall you’re almost late so you stumble on the steps to your chair and fall

a all too recognizable voice says, “are you alright?” and then he’s kneeling in front of you and giving you his hand to help you up and your hand is oh so cold but his is so warm and so are your cheeks now because he’s staring right at you

“yes thank you,” and you’re stumbling as you stand up so he naturally grabs your arms with both hands to steady you and you’re so sure your blush is out of this world and changkyun feels like he might have just fallen for you right then and there

after that he notices you more and more until he can’t stop seeing you everywhere what feels like all the time

when he sees you in his favorite cafe in what is his usual seat he just mumbles “fuck it,” and takes the seat right opposite from you and you’re sure you’re imagining it, maybe all the caffeine was battling the lack of sleep and you were losing it

“you know we haven’t properly met,” changkyun introduces himself and you give up on your homework as you begin talking to him, after a while you don’t find him intimidating any more and revel in just how easy he is to talk to

as you’re walking out of the cafe he walks you to your dorm and your hands are cold as you desperately try warming them up, even resorting to blowing on them, and he notices and takes both of them in one hand and puts them in warm pocket and you feel yourself falling headfirst for the seemingly edgy truly soft boy

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

Text

Hate to Date Ch.8 | Brittana

A/N - These next two chapters are probably some of the more difficult ones I've written so far for this story so be gentle LOL. Also, I've noticed readers saying in their reviews lately that these weekly updates are like waiting for a new episode of a fav tv show and I love that. One of the things I miss about Glee or whatever show I’m obsessed with is having something to look forward to each week so I'm really happy this story offers you all that kind of comfort! Hopefully I can keep it up 💙

Before you read on, consider treating your local fav fic writer with a coffee through Ko-Fi!

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

When Saturday rolls around, Santana putters around the apartment attempting to busy herself with meaningless tasks – anything that’ll keep her from anxiously watching the clock. She lounges in her sweatpants and a tank top all day, switching from vegging out on the couch to catching up on some coursework, but it gets harder for her to resist the urge to check the time the later it gets.

No matter what she does, no matter the many distractions she tries piling on – she can’t help but cave.

She can’t help but think about Brittany.

When Puck gets home a little later from hanging out with a couple guys from his team, he finds Santana close to falling asleep on the couch. He takes in the lazy clothes she wears, the messy hair, the sea of snacks that surrounds her and lifts a brow.

“What’s this?”

“What’s it look like?” Santana snarks.

“It looks like you’ve just gone through a rough break up.”

Santana shoots him a look, “I’m clearly having a lazy day.”

He glances from her to the tv screen and back to her again, “Is that what you call it?”

“Yeah,” Santana replies and averts her eyes as she tugs on her blanket. “You can either join or scram.”

Puck rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote. When the screen shuts off, Santana lets out a huff but Puck only crosses his arms.

“What the hell?” She snaps. “I was watching that!”

“So?” Puck challenges.

“So turn it back on.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick your ass.”

Puck barks out a laugh, “I’d like to see you try. Go ahead.”

Santana doesn’t move, “I don’t have the energy for this.”

“You’re so damn frustrating,” Puck shakes his head.

The comment makes Santana falter a little; it makes her think about Brittany again, it makes her think about how she let her down, it makes her think about how it made her feel to watch the blonde run away.

But Brittany isn’t here, it’s Puck and Santana knows he doesn’t scare off too easily.

“Just leave me alone,” Santana grumbles.

Of course, Puck doesn’t.

“Are you seriously not going tonight?”

Santana clenches her jaw as the anxious feeling returns. It didn’t take much but she’s wavering and she knows it. Puck probably knows it too or else he wouldn’t be here pressing her buttons still.

“I told you I can’t go,” She tells him defiantly. “I’d only ruin her night. She doesn’t need that, no one does. It’s better if I stay here.”

“Bullshit,” Puck disputes. “You don’t know that.”

Santana stays quiet, she can feel her foundation cracking.

“I do know that,” She says. “You saw how pissed she was when she left. I’d just make things worse if I go.”

Puck sighs tiredly, “Why do you always do that?”

“What?”

“That,” Puck tries to explain. “It’s just like high school – you’re taking yourself out of the game before you even play it.”

That strikes a nerve with Santana, “That’s not what happened and you know it. This is so much different.”

“You gave up then,” Puck tells her. “And you’re giving up now. Why? I don’t know. This should be way easier for you. There’s no scholarship on the line or this big scary secret you need to help hide. You’re not even in love with the girl this time but here you are sitting on the damn bench.”

Santana shrinks back. She doesn’t want to talk about the past, she doesn’t want it mixing in with her present so she deflects, “Can you stop with the ridiculous sports metaphors?”

“No. Now get your ass up,” Puck huffs as he pulls off the blanket Santana covers herself with.

“Goddamn it, Puckerman! Cut the shit!”

“You first, Lopez!”

This time, Santana rises to her feet. She faces Puck head on and glares. Her fists are tight and her chest aches with rage and something else, something she’s tried so many times to push away.

“You know what you have to do,” Puck says. “Stop with the excuses and just go do it already. Quit being a little punk about it.”

“I’m not being a punk,” Santana grumbles.

Puck laughs as he waves his hand at her mess, “All this because Britt finally called you out on your shit? Come on, you’re better than that.”

Santana tenses her jaw again but Puck only softens as he puts his heavy hands on her shoulders, going into total pep talk mode. Santana tries to squirm away, but Puck steadies her like always.

No one would ever expect that this guy, the one with a ratty mohawk, could be the voice of reason for Santana but he’s never failed her before. Just like her, he doesn’t back down. He sticks by her even when she’s being a stubborn dumbass and if anyone needs someone in their life like that it’s Santana.

“I know you,” He says solemnly. “Going to this thing tonight is a piece of cake, all you have to do is quit selling yourself short and go.”

Santana’s shoulders drop even further as Puck continues.

“Prove yourself wrong and kill it,” He says. “You owe it to yourself and you owe it to Brittany.”

There’s an uneasiness still but Santana can’t lie and say Puck’s words didn’t ignite something within her. It goes without saying that his words have had an impact. She bats off his hands and glances at the time, frowning when she sees how late it has gotten.

“I don’t think I can make it in time,” Santana says. “I can’t get ready in forty minutes. My hair alone takes at least an hour.”

“Well what’s that saying?” Puck questions. “Better late than never?”

Santana sighs through a small smile, “I mean, I do like to make an entrance.”

Puck smirks, “Then you better get going.”

Santana’s used to walking into parties like she owns the place, but she finds herself struggling as she approaches the entrance of the Brainiacs’ Ball. She stares up at the prominent steps flanked by solid columns and has never felt so small in all her life. She’s way out of her comfort zone, but she takes the first step anyway.

Slowly, she puts one foot in front of the other. She can feel the low thrum of the bass from the music inside before she can actually hear it. At least that’s something she’s a little more familiar with and with that in mind, she continues her journey.

Maybe Puck was right? This is a piece of cake!

When she reaches the top and looks back, she finds Puck still waiting at the bottom of the stairs watching on like a proud soccer mom. He catcalls at her loudly and it causes the last of the guests making their way inside to stare.

Santana scrunches her face and waves him away, not wanting to be embarrassed by how he sticks out like a sore thumb in his ripped jeans and jersey. He gets the message though and gives her one last round of thumbs up before heading off.

Though she tries to play it off like she can’t stand his dorkiness, she’s thankful for that little bit of extra support and finds enough courage to walk into the building with her head held high.

She might not feel like she owns the place right now, but that’ll change by the end of the night!

Santana knew it was a black tie affair, but she really didn’t expect such extravagance.

There’s a great crystal chandelier hanging from above casting iridescent shadows across the lobby, spotless marbled floors speckled with flecks of gold, the ruby red carpet leading the way into the grand hall where guests dressed to kill mingle with champagne flutes in their hands.

All that’s missing are the annoying paparazzi and the blinding flashes from their cameras and she’d feel like she was at some gaudy Hollywood party.

It’s like she just walked into one of the parties Maribel’s firm throws for holidays and she so wasn’t expecting that. Although she’s been to many of those, she still feels a little out of place as she makes her way through the double doors.

“Good evening,” The doorman greets politely before extending a gloved had to the party. “Welcome to the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

Santana smiles in return and heads in. She tries to keep an eye out for Brittany all while trying to wrap her head around the fact that all of this is in celebration of a handful of academic decathlon clubs.

Who the hell knew they got down like this? Even their DJ has great music playing! Santana’s so surprised, almost distractingly so but then she spots a familiar someone in the crowd.

Brittany

There’s a sudden sense of relief but it’s soon replaced with a frown as Santana finds that the girl isn’t alone. She’s with some tall guy; Santana can’t really see that far to tell who it is or if she knows him. All she knows is that Brittany is standing with him and she’s laughing.

He’s making her laugh.

Santana’s frown deepens before she squints her eyes, trying to get a better look at the guy. Like the others here, he’s dressed to the nines in a dashing suit with his black hair slicked back.

Okay, whatever – he can clean up well. Santana can too! But the important question is, what’s he doing with Brittany?

She ducks behind a vase of flowers, peering through the gaps in the leaves so Brittany doesn’t spot her. She only briefly thinks about how ridiculous she must look before other guests unknowingly happen to block her view.

Frustrated, she tries ducking and dodging them but even in her stilettos she’s just too short. She’ll need to get closer if she wants to see what this guy’s deal is, but as she makes her way over she can’t help but think: did Brittany really replace her?

Surely not, that would definitely raise suspicion. She wouldn’t do that.

Would she?

Suddenly, a waiter dressed formally in a suit and tie steps in Santana’s path. There’s a silver tray full of champagne flutes atop his hand and he looks to Santana expectantly.

“Champagne?”

Santana takes one last look at Brittany and that guy and goes for a glass.

“Yeah, sure.” She takes one and downs it in two gulps.

The waiter raises his brows in awe and quickly goes to turn away, but Santana stops him.

“Hold up,” She says and puts down her empty glass in favor of taking two more. She smiles sweetly at him in thanks before getting her game face on. She finds herself thinking about what Puck said before and starts to fill with confidence – no more sitting on the sidelines for her!

Santana saunters over to Brittany with determination in her eyes.

It’s go time.

“There you are!” Santana greets cheerfully as she reaches Brittany with a champagne flute in each hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Brittany stops mid-sentence, her face pale as if she’s just seen a ghost.

“You’re here.”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it,” Santana replies as she hands her the spare flute before pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. She looks up at pretty blue eyes and adds, “I know how important this night is for you.”

Brittany blinks, it’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Santana thinks she’s off to a good start so far – naturally – and sizes up the guy Brittany was talking to before she came over.

“And who are you?” She asks with a slight bite to her tone as she wraps her arm around Brittany’s waist.

He falters as he looks back and forth between her and Brittany, “I’m Mike.”

Santana lifts her brow challengingly, but Brittany steps in to add.

“He’s a friend of mine.”

Santana continues to stare at the guy, “Friend.”

“Yeah,” Brittany glances at her with slight confusion but it quickly disappears as she slips into character too. “I was just telling him you weren’t feeling too good and that you probably wouldn’t make it tonight.”

“Right,” Santana replies. Her smile turns devilish, “Well I appreciate the concern but I’m all better now, Mike.”

He looks a little nervous but nods, “That’s good to hear.”

“Mhmm,” Santana brings her glass to her lips. She maintains eye contact with him while she threads her fingers with Brittany’s and sips her champagne slowly.

“Well Britt, I’m gonna go,” He says hesitantly to Brittany before jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “I want to make sure we grab a good seat. I’ll see you over at the table.”

“Okay cool,” Brittany smiles. “See you there.”

“It was nice finally meeting you, Santana,” Mike says kindly to the brunette before disappearing into the crowd.

Santana watches him go as she takes another sip. This Mike character really changed up his tune once Santana was around – all nice and polite. He wasn’t fooling her though! Trying to steal her fake girlfriend, not today!

“He’s gone,” Brittany says gruffly. “You can let go of my hand now.”

“Oh sorry,” Santana pulls away and glances in the direction Mike went. “So he’s attractive…what’s he doing at a place like this?”

Brittany doesn’t even smile, “You know not everyone with a brain looks like Steve Urkel.”

Santana doesn’t notice Brittany’s dismissive tone as she looks around. She’s still mind blown by the atmosphere and the people and everything.

“Clearly,” She replies. “I mean, did you see that man’s jawline? I’m a lesbian, but I can still admire a good looking – “

“What are you doing here, Santana?”

Brittany’s curt tone pulls Santana right back to the other day where they sat together at her tiny dining table and she watched as Brittany grew more and more disappointed in her. There’s a hardness to her, an annoyance, that doesn’t go unnoticed. It makes Santana shrink back, that confidence before taking a big hit, but she stands her ground – even if Brittany makes her feel shaken.

“I’m here to be your arm candy,” Santana says in return – attempting to make this exchange lighthearted.

Brittany’s not having it though as she says bitterly, “I don’t need it.”

“Sure you do.”

“No,” Brittany admonishes. “I don’t so you can leave now.”

Santana slips up out of frustration, “Are you really going to make this difficult for me?”

That sets Brittany off once again, the bitterness intensifying.

“Seriously? You did not just ask me that. After everything you said the other night, after the way you just put your foot down and refused to budge? You want to talk to me about being difficult?” Brittany lets out a dry laugh, “You’ve got some nerve.”

Santana cringes as she takes a subtle look around to make sure no one notices them arguing, but no one pays them any mind. It’s a relief, but it doesn’t offer Santana much comfort with the way Brittany’s still glaring at her.

She was a little prepared for the backlash, she just wasn’t sure how bad Brittany’s words would sting. She isn’t used to the harshness in Brittany’s tone and she kind of hates that she’s the reason for it.

Still, she pushes forward. She’s determined to fix this, no matter how hard Brittany fights her.

“Okay,” Santana’s voice is meek. “So that was a poor choice of words... ”

“You think?” Brittany replies, her tone thick with sarcasm.

Santana’s instincts have her wanting to retreat. She has clearly messed up big time and everything in her is telling her to just listen to Brittany and leave – yet her feet don’t move.

Maybe she’s hardheaded, maybe she’s too damn stubborn for her own good; whatever it is, she continues to stand her ground.

“I’m here now,” Santana says earnestly. “That has to count for something?”

Brittany shakes her head, “It doesn’t.”

Santana lets out a laugh out of aggravation. Who knew the girl could be just as stubborn as her? Talk about grudges, no wonder no one ever gets on Brittany’s bad side! It’s damn near impossible to get off of it! But Santana’s made proving she can be there for Brittany her new mission so she’s not going anywhere just yet.

“What do you want me to do?” Santana asks dejectedly. “Get on my hands and knees? Beg for your forgiveness?”

“Save your breath,” Brittany replies briskly as she sets down her glass. “I don’t want to be here with someone that would rather be elsewhere and I’m tired of trying to force you to care.”

That one surprisingly hurts a little more than Santana expected, but it doesn’t top the feeling that quickly follows as she watches Brittany begin to turn her back on her.

“Brittany,” Santana finds herself calling out. When the blonde doesn’t stop, Santana calls out to her again. “Britt – “

“No,” Brittany pauses as she looks over her shoulder at Santana. “You were right. You’d just ruin my night. Go home, Santana.”

It’s another blow to the chest as the blonde turns to walk away again. Only this time, Santana kicks into gear. She’s got something to prove and she’s not leaving until she does! She quickly sets down her glass too and reaches out, catching Brittany by the wrist before she gets too far.

“Can you just wait?” Santana pleads.

“What?” Brittany snaps back.

Santana softens as she tucks her tail between her legs, “I’m sorry.”

Brittany looks a little taken aback by the relaxing of her tensed jaw, but it only last for a moment as she looks down at Santana’s hand still around her wrist.

“Okay, great,” Brittany says sarcastically. “Now let me go.”

Brittany doesn’t wait for Santana to loosen her grip and instead shakes Santana off of her. The brunette doesn’t try reaching for her again, but she does take a step closer.

“Hold on,” Santana urges again. “I’m not finished.”

Brittany pauses, taking a wary look back her. Santana can see that she’s wearing her down, but who knows how long it’ll last. There’s no reason for Brittany to give her another chance after having so many, so she has to make this count.

“I thought about what you said,” Santana tells her. “Like I really, really thought about it and I think you might be right.”

Brittany remains looking indifferent and that makes Santana nervous, but she continues on.

“You’re right about this being one sided. You’re right about you putting in most of the work and doing things that benefit me,” Santana says. “You’re right about it all – minus one thing.”

Brittany quirks her brow, “What’s that?”

“I’m not selfish.”

“No?” Brittany scoffs. “Then you must not know the meaning of the word because your past actions would say otherwise.”

Santana sighs, “Yeah, I know but I guess that’s why I’m here…to prove that you’re wrong.”

Brittany softens in the slightest as she listens.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Santana explains. “You always go above and beyond. I mean, you climbed through a window for me and you’re learning Spanish to get on Abuela’s good side! Like what the hell? Who does that?” Santana pauses when she realizes she’s veering from her point.

“I know I’m still not on your level when it comes to doing the most,” She continues. “But I figured it’s only fair that I do something that I normally wouldn’t just to show you that all you do isn’t for nothing. By coming here tonight, I’m trying to return the favor. This is my metaphorical window and I want to climb through it for you.”

Santana pauses when she realizes how lame she sounds, but maybe this huge fuck up calls for a little lameness. Maybe a lot; whatever works at this point!

Brittany watches Santana for a moment as if she’s trying to decide whether or not Santana’s words have any weight to them. It isn’t the first time she’s said she’d do better, so it’s no surprise Brittany isn’t as quick to accept her apology.

“I don’t really know if I believe you,” She finally says. Her tone has lost most of its bite but Santana knows she’s not in the clear just yet.

“That’s fine,” Santana replies. She stands a little taller, puffs out her chest and says, “I’ll just have to spend all night trying to convince you. You want a perfect fake girlfriend? Well Britt-Britt, you’ve got one.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile that graces Brittany’s lips and it makes the dimming beacon of hope in Santana begin to shine a little brighter.

“That is,” Santana adds. “If you want me to. I know this night is important for you. I can go if that’s what you really want.”

She bats her eyelashes for the extra touch – because if after all of that Brittany still makes her leave…well that would just be embarrassing. Surprisingly though, it makes Brittany’s smile grow. Santana can tell she’s fighting to keep it small, fighting to keep from giving in, and she takes that as a personal victory.

“You can stay,” Brittany says after making Santana wait a little longer.

Santana beams, “Okay gre – ”

“For now.”

“Okay,” Santana’s grin softens. “I can handle that.”

“I don’t want to fight with you here,” Brittany tells her firmly. “I only want to have a good time and if you try to mess that up then you’re out of here.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Santana replies.

Brittany holds out her pinky, “Promise?”

Santana eyes her skeptically, “Are you trying to make me pinky promise? What are we twelve?”

“It’s a yes or no question,” Brittany replies flatly – still holding out her pinky.

“Promise,” Santana sighs and curls her pinky around Brittany’s.

Satisfied, Brittany nods and pulls away. While Santana chuckles, she looks over to the direction Mike left.

“So I guess you can go ahead and tell Hot Stuff over there that he doesn’t need to be coming around here anymore too.”

That pulls a genuine laugh out of Brittany who can’t help but smirk at Santana’s comment.

“Shocking; you’re the jealous type.”

Santana lifts her brow, “I’m not. I’m just saying – his assistance as interim date is no longer required if I’m here.”

“I said you can stay for now. I can change my mind at any time.”

Santana’s shoulders droop as she’s once again put back in her place. Brittany notices and smirks.

“He has a date already,” Brittany continues. “His girlfriend. You know her. Tina?”

Santana’s jaw drops a little, “No shit, really?”

“Yeah, they’ve been together for awhile now.”

“Wow, I had no idea. Well good,” Santana lifts her chin. “He can carry his fine ass on over to her and stay there then.”

“You’re really hung up on how people can be both smart and hot,” Brittany points out with a laugh. “Like you and I aren’t also examples of that being a thing.”

“Hold up,” Santana starts to smirk. “Did you just say I’m hot?”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “I mean, you do look nice.”

Santana frowns, “Just nice?”

Brittany eyes her up and down slowly before shrugging, “Yeah, nice. I’m actually surprised you didn’t wear one of your stripper dresses. Guess you won’t be making it rain tonight.”

Santana lets out a laugh. She’s glad Brittany’s back to bantering with her instead of the heavy intensity from before. Maybe they’re not completely back on good terms, but at least it’s better than what it was.

“We’ll see. Those moves are for later,” Santana winks jokingly before giving her compliments. “You clean up pretty good too. I like what you’ve done with your hair. It’s cute.”

Brittany gets a little bashful as she fluffs her softly tussled hair, “Thanks.”

Santana only nods, “Now where’s this elusive open bar I’ve heard so much about? I needs me something other than champagne.”

“Ah, so that’s the real reason you’re here,” Brittany quips.

Santana feels like Brittany’s testing her although her tone remains playful.

“Yeah, but I’m mostly here for you,” Santana replies super sweetly. “I mean, how can I say no to an open bar? I am a broke college student after all.”

Brittany chuckles, “I see your priorities are straight.”

“It’s the only straight thing about me,” Santana jokes before hooking her arm with Brittany’s.

After getting their drinks, the couple roam around the room arm in arm. It’s mostly to keep up appearances; a way to make up for Santana arriving late and to show that Brittany really isn’t here all alone.

She’s surprised by how many come up to greet them – well, greet Brittany. Santana guesses the blonde really is a big deal here after all and everyone happily chats away with her. Who can blame them though? Brittany’s probably the friendliest person Santana knows.

They bump into Mike and Tina again near the giant owl ice sculpture while they make their rounds – because yeah, of course this party has one of those – but the conversation is kept brief with Tina trying to get in as many interviews with everyone before dinner.

Mike tags along after her with a proud smile on his face as he offers to hold her drink and for a second Santana kind of feels a little guilty about having her claws out when they first met. He seems kind, happy to be alongside Tina and Santana finds herself wondering if people get that vibe when she’s with Brittany.

While Santana and Brittany linger by the ice sculpture, Santana notices a small group of people that look a lot like the guys from Brittany’s team. At least the one in the center of it all is for sure. They stick out to her because they’re probably some of the lasts who haven’t come to greet Brittany which seems odd considering she’s their teammate.

Wouldn’t they have been the first to see her? Maybe Santana missed that part since she arrived late, then again judging by how they seemed to shun her at the match they probably haven’t come to say hi on purpose.

Santana quietly watches them though as Brittany chats with another guest about robotics or whatever nerdy talk that goes completely over Santana’s head. She notices how they all gravitate to the one guy in the center and it’s like they hang on his every word. They laugh when he does, they nod when he nods – they’re puppets and he’s the puppet master.

Santana doesn’t realize she’s pulling a face until Brittany bumps her with her elbow.

“Quit it,” Brittany chastises. “People can see you.”

“My bad,” Santana fixes her face and gestures over to the group. “He’s on your team, right? The one in the dusty grandpa sweater.”

Brittany glances in the direction and nods.

Santana wrinkles her nose, “He seems like a tool.”

“He’s not,” Brittany’s quick to defend before softening. “Not really.”

Santana doesn’t looked convinced so Brittany adds.

“He’s a pretty big deal to this community. People say he has one of the most gifted minds in our generation.”

Santana picks up on Brittany’s tone, but she can’t tell whether it’s envy or something entirely different. She knows one thing is for sure though.

“People say that about you too,” Santana tells her honestly. “The whole gifted mind thing.”

Brittany shakes her head and looks to the ground, “No they don’t.”

Her dismissiveness confuses Santana. She’s never not seen Brittany confident in how intelligent she actually is. If there’s one thing Santana knows the blonde is sure about, it’s her smarts. They argue about it all the time! That’s the very foundation of their rivalry, but apparently here that’s not the case.

“Word about his work has travelled all the way to MIT,” Brittany adds. “It’s so impressive.”

“And yet, he never went there. You did,” Santana reminds her as she continues to stare down the guy. She glances to Brittany again skeptically, “Or is he a transfer too?”

“He’s not. But I’m sure he would’ve gotten in easy. His work is…it’s legendary.”

Santana watches Brittany, trying to figure her out. It sounds a lot like admiration rather than envy, but why? How great can this guy possibly be if he has Brittany doubting herself?

“I didn’t know you were such a fan,” Santana comments.

“I just admire him is all,” Brittany says, confirming Santana’s thoughts.

Santana still doesn’t get it though and frowns around the word, “Admire…”

The both of them watch the man chat with the others silently for two very different reasons. The longer Santana stares, the more she kind of wants to punch him. He just has a very punchable face she supposes, especially when he laughs louder than anyone else in the room.

The sound makes Santana grit her teeth while it has the opposite effect on Brittany.

“He’s kind of cute too,” The blonde admits.

“Cute?” Santana raises both brows and laughs. “We looking at the same guy?”

Brittany shrugs, “He’s cute in that boy next door kind of way.”

“Seriously?” Santana snickers. “That Mike guy was kind of cute. Him? He ain’t it.”

Brittany suddenly hardens, “Well it doesn’t matter what you think. Does it?”

Santana’s taken aback.

“It’s not always about looks,” Brittany further chastises. “There’s more to people than that.”

Santana keeps quiet and nods, not wanting to piss Brittany off again. Afterall, her presence is completely dependent on whether or not Brittany wants her around. She can revoke the privilege at any second and Santana would hate to be kicked to the curb because she once again can’t keep her opinions to herself.

“What’d you say his name was again?” She asks a moment later.

“Artie.”

Suddenly something clicks. She remembers the conversation she had with Brittany’s parents at Brittany’s last match and the comment about someone named Artie.

“So that’s who your parents were talking about,” Santana hums.

“Wait what?” Brittany whirls on her. “I’ve mentioned him like twice. What’d they say?”

Santana shrugs, “They said dating me is an upgrade.”

Brittany gives her a look and slumps, “They didn’t say that.”

“No, but it’s true.”

“They clearly don’t know you well enough.”

Santana cringes, “Hey, I’m trying. At least I’m not a tool like that guy.”

“Debatable.”

“Rude.”

They settle into silence again. Santana goes from scanning the crowd to glancing Brittany’s way. She notices how the blonde continues to gravitate towards Artie too, just like one of his puppets. Santana finds it so odd and the curiosity begins to get the better of her.

“So what’s your deal with him?” She asks. “He an ex I need to worry about?”

“No. It’s nothing like that,” Brittany replies.

Santana doesn’t believe that for a second though.

“I sense a story.”

“There isn’t one,” Brittany says with a shrug. “We were friends and now, I don’t know what we are. Things got weird after I was asked to join the robotics team and he wasn’t. We used to study all the time together, but after that happened he kind of kept me at a distance.”

Santana struggles to mask the disdain she has for this guy. He really is a tool if that’s how he acts. But she fights the urge to speak on it, sensing Brittany still has some kind of connection with him.

“Do you like him or something?” Santana wonders.

Brittany shrugs again, “It’s complicated. We’ve got history I guess.”

Santana nods; she can oddly relate to that.

“You know, he was the first friend I made here?” Brittany smiles at the memory. “I was so freaking nervous – you know, new campus and all. I spent extra time trying to get my bearings the day before but I still ended up getting lost on my first day. Artie was the one who took the time to show me around.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, but notices Brittany’s melancholy even more.

“Don’t tell Tina that,” Santana tries to joke. “We’ll have some conflicting stories.”

When Brittany barely gives her a smile, Santana tries again.

“I thought Puck was the one who showed you around?” Santana asks. “That’s how you guys became friends?”

“He was, but Artie was the first.”

“Huh,” Santana glances at the guy and laughs. “He must not have done a very good job then if you still ended up getting lost.”

This time there’s a small that graces Brittany’s lips, but it’s not nearly as big and bright as Santana’s used to. She’ll just have to try harder.

“He also introduced me to the Brainiacs,” Brittany tells her. “It was pretty cool of him. When I was at MIT, it was hard to get into any clubs. Everyone was kind of cliquey, so it was nice to see that things were different here. Everyone on the team was super accepting at first.”

“At first?” Santana questions.

“Yeah,” Brittany starts to frown. “When I first joined, the team was mostly girls and they were really great – super smart and so lovely – but they graduated last year. Now the dynamic’s changed a lot because of all the new people who seem to worship Artie. That’s probably part of the reason for his ego boost.”

Santana turns up her nose at that, but Brittany’s quick to return to the positives.

“But when it’s just us, he’s not so bad. He really looked out for me when I first came to Columbia. He introduced me to the Brainiacs and recommended me for the tutoring gig,” Brittany tells her. “We used to work together all the time until I got into this fake relationship with you.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Santana quips, but Brittany doesn’t really laugh at that. So Santana softens, a little intrigued by Brittany’s past, “So after all that time spent together, nothing ever happened between you two?”

“No,” Brittany replies. “I don’t think it ever would anyway.”

“Because you’re taken or…”

Brittany sighs at the joke, “Like I said, things got weird after I joined the robotics team. It was like the first time I did something for myself without his help or recommendation and I guess it rubbed him the wrong way?”

“You’re friends, aren’t you?” Santana questions. “Why would he feel some type of way about you branching out?”

“I don’t know,” Brittany shrugs. “Maybe I’m looking too much into things? Maybe he really doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

Santana shakes her head and stares at Artie again, “Well it looks like on top of being a tool, he’s an idiot too.”

Then almost as if he was summoned, Artie looks their way.

Santana finds herself straightening up, trying to stand taller, trying to seem more intimidating, but it doesn’t look like it deters the guy as he begins his journey over.

“Brittany,” Artie greets with a nod. “Hi.”

Brittany smiles, “Hey Artie.”

He then looks to Santana and gives her a curious look full of judgement. It has Santana clenching her teeth, trying her hardest to maintain character when all she wants to do is roll the guy into the giant owl ice sculpture.

“Who’s this?” He asks Brittany as if Santana can’t hear.

Santana breaks slightly and scoffs, “You know how I am.”

Artie raises his brow and looks expectantly to Brittany.

“This is my girlfriend, Santana,” Brittany introduces. “I’ve mentioned her to you before.”

“Right,” Artie looks to Santana again. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

Santana stares back challengingly, “I bet your hear that a lot.”

Artie sits back in his chair with this smug look on his face, “Funny. She’s funny.”

“It’s one of my many top notch qualities,” Santana fires back before looking to Brittany. Her arm goes around her waist, “Ain’t that right, babe?”

It takes a moment for Brittany to play along, but then she’s smiling and melting into Santana’s side, “Yeah. Totally.”

Artie only eyes the two though, out of suspicion or jealousy – Santana’s unsure. She’s hoping for the latter, because it seems like no one’s ever put him in his place before. Santana’s just the girl for the job!

“So do you think the team is going to get the top spot, Artie?” Brittany asks, trying to keep things light. “It was a lot of close matches this year, I hope our percentage is enough to pull us through.”

Artie shakes his head, almost like he’s disappointed. “I don’t know. Several of those matches shouldn’t have been that close. You really should’ve spent more time studying.”

Santana’s brows rise, but she remains quiet – looking to Brittany to see her reaction. To her surprise, the blonde looks just as remorseful.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I was having an off day.”

“I think you had a lot of those,” Artie quips. “Too busy with the robotics team maybe?”

Santana scoffs, “Is he joking?”

But Brittany doesn’t say anything so Santana keeps quiet too.

“Some competitors take a little while to warm up,” Artie continues. “You just aren’t a seasoned contender like I am. You know I hold the record for fastest buzz in during my rookie season?”

“I know.”

“No one’s come close to beating it,” Artie flaunts. “We might’ve made state if you didn’t botch the science round during the last match. Maybe I should’ve taken the turn instead.”

Brittany nods and Santana can tell she’s trying to take his criticism constructively – only problem is that it’s not constructive at all. It’s completely condescending and uncalled for.

“Hold up, no,” Santana finds herself interrupting which seems to surprise the pair. “Brittany killed it during the finals or whatever you call it. She was buzzing in when no one else on your little team was. Not even you knew those answers, so what I think you need to be doing is thanking her.”

“For what?” Artie challenges.

“For carrying the team obviously. No way you would’ve gotten far if it wasn’t for her.”

Brittany looks a little shocked by the way Santana stands up for her, but Santana barely notices – too busy willing Artie to step out of line again.

And he does, with an arrogant laugh, he brushes Santana off.

“But the time it took her to buzz in is what we lose points for,” Artie explains. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand how academic decathlons work. They’re not like your cheerleading competitions, we actually have to use our brains.”

“Artie,” Brittany chastises but he’s unfazed.

Meanwhile Santana’s eyes are wide with surprise. The nerve, the audacity – it’s unbelievable!

“I’m sorry,” Santana starts to lean forward, getting down on his level. “Are you jealous that you can’t possibly possess both brains and brawn?”

Artie shifts in his chair and tries to evade Santana’s eye, but she’s so close now that he can’t avoid her.

“Or do you feel threatened by it?” Santana presses. “Threatened because this cheerleader’s GPA is something you’ve only dreamt of having and I didn’t have to waste away in a musty old library to get it? Tell me, Wheels, who was it again that was on track to be valedictorian until Brittany came along because I don’t remember seeing your name anywhere on the list.”

Artie’s face goes a little red that time; out of embarrassment or anger, Santana doesn’t care. All she cares about is making sure that he knows he isn’t shit and there’s no way he’ll talk to Brittany like that while she’s around.

There’s only one person in the world that can pick on Brittany and that’s her.

“The keyword is was,” He retorts.

“The keyword is you’re a prick,” Santana bites back just as fiercely.

“Okay,” Brittany cuts in. She gives Santana a little tug until she can curl an arm around her waist, “I think that’s enough of that.”

Artie continues to look shaken, but he does his best to mask it. Trying to be as macho as he can while in that turtleneck sweater he must’ve stolen from his grandfather’s closet. Safe to say it doesn’t fool Santana one bit.

“Well, I can see why you like her, Britt,” Artie comments with a glance in Santana’s direction. “She’s fiery.”

“She’s also this close to going all Lima He– “

“Santana,” Brittany scolds again.

There’s a pleading look in her eye that has Santana softening. She remembers what Brittany said earlier about tonight being fun and not wanting to fight, so Santana let’s Brittany pull her back. She settles, but it feels like it’s only the calm before the storm.

Artie notices too and puts on a smug grin, “Come to think of it, I have heard your name floating around on campus. Santana Lopez; the girl can’t be tied down to save her life.”

“Well Brittany’s changed that,” Santana quips. “Hasn’t she?”

“Hmm,” Artie nods but the stare he gives her is almost analytical. “It’s not really a pairing I would’ve pictured considering your history.” He then looks to Brittany and frowns, “I’m pretty sure you once told me that she couldn’t possibly have any redeeming qualities.”

Santana tries looking unfazed, but she can’t lie and say that comment didn’t sting. One look at Brittany and she can sense the guilt, but she keeps it hidden from Artie. Santana can’t hold it against Brittany though if she did say something like that about her, there’s been many times she’s complained about the blonde to Puck too.

But that was before they got to know each other, that was before they had to work together to emulate this perfect couple.

“Looks like I was wrong about that,” Brittany replies behind a smile that’s directed at Santana. She squeezes a little at the brunette’s waist, “Who would’ve known, opposites really do attract?”

Santana chuckles, remembering saying something similar during a conversation with Tina months ago.

“It sure took me by surprise,” Santana adds before glancing to Artie. “Guess I have some pretty redeeming qualities after all.”

Artie hums again with this contemplative look on his face, but he doesn’t rock the boat any further. He just nods and says, “Well this was fun. I guess I’ll leave you two to enjoy the Ball.”

Santana sneers at him while Brittany bids him goodbye.

“Oh. By the way Britt,” Artie pauses and glances back. “You look really great.”

Santana raises a brow at the compliment.

She wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but there’s the slightest little smirk on his dumb face as he says it and it has Santana feeling hot. Even if Brittany isn’t her actual girlfriend, what the hell? Who compliments another person’s date right in front of them? It seems as though Artie knows exactly what he’s doing, but given her promise to Brittany she’ll bite her tongue – for now.

While Brittany ducks her head in thanks, Santana stays quiet – waiting until Artie is out of sight before she can finally let down her guard and say what’s really on her mind.

#hate to date #brittana #brittana fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating au

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escapewithbts · 3 years

Text

“We Really Are Just Friends” - Seokjin

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

"I don't know, (y/n), this guy you've been seeing kind of seems like a goofball if you ask me..." your best friend Kim Seokjin told you, keeping his eyes fixated on the road in front of him.

You turned away from your phone and stared at his tall, lean body in the driver's seat next to you. The bangs of his dark brown hair covered his forehead and his brown eyes were shielded by a pair of dark sunglasses. He wore a pair of medium wash jeans and a simple white t shirt under a gray zip up hoodie. Classic Jin.

You scoffed.

"Gosh, Jinnie, tell me how you really feel," you replied sarcastically.

Jin chuckled to himself.

"He is not a 'goofball'," you continued, "he is literally one of the nicest guys ever. And how would you even know, you've never even met him."

Jin shrugged.

"So how about I meet him then."

You stared at him in disbelief.

"Sorry, what?"

Jin stopped his Lamborghini at the red stoplight, removed his sunglasses and turned his head to face you.

The butterfly feeling formed in your stomach when his gaze met yours, but by now you had learned how to ignore it.

"If he's as great as you say he is, how about you introduce him to me?"

You turned away and fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

Introduce the guy you were dating to one of the most famous people in the world? Introduce him to your best friend, who also happened to be male?

But most of all, introduce him to the man you were trying so hard to admit to yourself you didn't have feelings for?

None of that sounded like a good idea.

"Uhh.. I don't know if that's a good idea, Jinnie..." you mumbled.

Before Jin could respond, a black car pulled up next to his side of the car and the sound of a camera clicking and voices shouting in Korean interrupted your conversation.

"Aiiishhh, come on..." Jin mumbled, putting his sunglasses back on as well as pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Despite the windows being expertly tinted, you froze and looked down at your phone, mentally willing the light to turn green.

You had been in this situation before and Jin knew how uncomfortable it made you; not every gossip company followed the laws that were put in place. You knew it was all part of being best friends with Jin, but it still felt weird and invasive.

"Why won't this fucking light turn green?" you heard Jin say under his breath as he continued to ignore the men trying to get a good look at him through the window. He anxiously tapped his foot on the car floor and gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Finally the light turned, and Jin stepped on the accelerator so hard that the engine revved and your back hit the seat.

He quickly turned down a side street and was able to lose the car that had been following.

You let out a sigh of relief.

Jin glanced at you, then gently placed his large hand on your bare knee.

A shock went through your whole body at the mere contact of his skin on yours.

"Sorry, (y/n)-ah. I know you hate that. Are you okay?"

You turned to him and nodded.

"Yeah, it's okay. It's not your fault." you replied quietly.

The two of you drove a few minutes in a content silence, the only noise was the soft tune of Jin's music playing in the background.

"So, can I meet this new boyfriend of yours or not?" Jin suddenly questioned, breaking the silence.

Was there a hint of jealousy in his voice or had you just wishfully imagined it?

"Okay, a)he's not my boyfriend and b)..I just...I don't know..." you responded, biting your lip.

"Well what's the problem?" he asked, still sounding playful but also slightly annoyed.

You pointed towards his window and exclaimed,

"This kind of stuff Seokjin! People follow you everywhere! If we run into them he might get... intimidated or something," your voice got softer, "it's a scary thing to deal with at first..."

Jin removed his hood and ran his hand through his hair. The muscles on his face twitched slightly, a sign he was either thinking hard, feeling stressed, or both.

"Yeah, okay, I understand..." he said with a sigh.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to decipher what he was feeling.

"It's just, well, you've been my best friend for almost three years now, (y/n)," he said suddenly, "And it's the first time you've had serious feelings for a guy in that time. I guess I just think it's important I meet him. I know you best out of anyone in the world and I care about you, you know? I want to make sure you're not with someone who will treat you badly."

You smiled. You loved when Jin got protective.

"So you're like my older brother now?" you joked.

Jin didn't take his eyes off the road and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't know if I would say that exactly..." he mumbled.

You let out a heavy sigh. You knew he was right, Jin did know you best out of anyone. And if another guy was going to be in your life it was best to start off honestly; no surprises later about being best friends with an idol known all over the world. So you knew you should definitely tell him about Jin... just maybe not everything about Jin...

"Okay, fine, you can meet him," you grumbled.

A huge smile spread across Jin's face.

"But it's going to be at my apartment, nowhere in public, okay? I'll make you guys dinner or something," you told him.

Jin briefly glanced at you with a cheeky grin.

"Yah, this guy as no idea what he's in for."

You rolled your eyes.

"You better not try anything, Mr. Kim... don't make me regret this."

The night Jin and the guy you were seeing, whose name was Andrew and was also a fluent English-speaker studying in Seoul, came faster than you expected, and with every minute leading up to it you became more and more nervous.

Around 6:50pm the doorbell to your apartment rang. You took a deep breath, straightened out your mid-thigh length black dress, ran your fingers through your long hair and opened the door.

"(y/n)-ah!" Jin threw his arms out, smiled wide and wrapped around you in a tight embrace.

"Oh, I thought it was going to be Andrew..." you said, releasing yourself from his grasp and shutting the door behind him.

You felt your heart pound against your chest. Why were you so nervous?

"Well, sorry to disappoint," Jin sat down on the couch and propped his feet up, "So why is this Andrew guy late?"

You leaned against the wall and glared at Jin.

"He's not late, you're just weirdly early."

Jin glanced at his expensive watch and knitted his eyebrows.

"Oh, I guess I am early, sorry (y/n)-ah. But my mother always said, it's better to arrive early than on time!"

You cocked your head and sighed.

"Why are you being so weird?"

Before Jin could answer the doorbell rang again.

He stood up quickly and followed you to the door.

Your shaky hands smoothed out your hair and dress once more.

"Don't worry (y/n), you look beautiful," Jin whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You opened the door and there stood Andrew, holding a beautiful bouquet of pink roses and a bottle of white wine.

"Hi, Andrew, come on in," you smiled.

Andrew smiled back and leaned in to kiss the side of your cheek.

"Hey, (y/n). I, uh, brought you these," he handed you the flowers and held up the bottle of wine, "And I brought this, too, though I wasn't sure if you liked wine..."

"She's more of a beer person actually," Jin chimed in from behind you.

Andrew glanced nervously at him then back to you.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

You shook your head and gave him a reassuring smile.

"No, no, it's okay. It was so nice of you, thank you."

You turned to Jin, who towered a good 4 inches over Andrew.

"Andrew, this is my best friend Jin, Jin this is Andrew."

They shook hands as Andrew said,

"Hey man, nice to meet you. I've never really heard your music but I'm sure it's good stuff based on how popular it is."

You noticed Jin's grip on Andrew's hand get tighter.

"Mmmhmm thanks, you really should listen to it sometime," Jin replied.

"So, dinner is ready if you guys are hungry we can eat now," you suggested, leading them into the dining room.

"Oh, yeah, I'm starved, eating sounds great," Andrew responded following you, with Jin not far behind.

The boys took their seats; the table was set with you sitting at the head and Andrew and Jin sitting across from each other.

"The roast is in the oven and the vegetables are on the stove so I'm going to go grab them and bring them out. I'll be right back."

Andrew started to get out of his chair.

"Do you need any help?" he asked.

But before you could reply Jin shot up from his seat.

"No, no, I got it" he said to him, walking towards you and the kitchen door.

"Oh..okay..." Andrew hesitantly sat back down as Jin and you entered the kitchen.

"Can you please STOP?" you whispered harshly at Jin, shoving the pot of green beans in his hands.

Jin failed at hiding the grin on his face.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes.

"You know what, Jin. Come on, give the guy a break."

The two of you went back into the dining room and placed the food on the table. Then you dished it out and you all started eating in an awkward silence.

Andrew was the first to break it, turning to you and asking,

"So how long have you guys been friends?"

Jin spoke up quickly, with a heap of semi-chewed green beans still in his mouth.

"Oh we've been best friends for about 3 years now. We actually met at a fansign event for my band. It's a funny story, (y/n) came down the line of my fellow members and started massively freaking out when she got to me. It was the cutest thing ever. She had the absolute BIGGEST crush on me, like to the point of obsession-"

You quickly cut him off.

"It wasn't THAT big..." you laughed nervously, glancing at Andrew.

Jin shook his head.

"No, it was, it was. Remember? After we became friends you even admitted you were that obsessed with me. Anyways, she just seemed so goofy and adorable and sweet I just knew I had to see her again. So I asked for her number and the next time I was in America we hung out. Then she moved here for graduate school and I guess the rest is history!"

Andrew chuckled slightly and cleared his throat.

"That is, uh, yeah, a funny story..."

Then there was silence again.

"I actually just got back from a trip to Japan with my family," Andrew said, "It was so beautiful. Have you ever been to Japan, (y/n)?"

"(y/n) and I went to Japan last year, just for a fun vacation right after I finished my world tour," Jin answered for you, "you're right, it was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Nice in France though, right (y/n)-ah? We went there a few months ago. All around Europe actually; England, France, Italy... it was a great trip. I didn't really want to go at first, but of course she convinced me. She had wanted to go for years so I just couldn't say no."

The rest of dinner went mostly like that. Andrew would direct questions towards you, but Jin would always answer them before you could even open your mouth. By the time the three of you were finished with the meal, you had barely spoken at all. You knew Jin was doing it to keep an eye out for you, but it was getting very annoying.

And apparently you weren't the only person who thought so.

"I made pie for dessert," you said, starting to rid up the plates, "I'll go grab it from the kitchen," Jin started to get up but you stopped him, "And I don't need help, thank you, I'll get it myself."

You went into the kitchen and placed the dirty dishes in the sink, sighing to yourself. Tonight was not going how you had planned.

You grabbed the homemade apple pie you had made off the countertop and turned around, only to be met with Andrew standing behind you.

"Andrew," you said, "hey."

He scratched the back of his head and looked down at his feet.

"(y/n), listen, I think I'm actually going to head out..."

You looked at him in shock and put the pie back down.

"What? You don't have to go... why are you leaving?"

He sighed and looked up at you.

"Well, if I'm being honest... it kind of seems like there's something going on between you two," he gestured toward the dining room. Toward Jin.

You stared at him in disbelief.

"Look, don't get me wrong, you're a great girl, I just... I don't feel comfortable. It just seems like you guys have some things to work out. I don't really want to stick around like an idiot just waiting for the girl he's dating to tell him she has feelings for her best friend."

You shook your head and put your hands up. Was this really happening? You were getting rejected because of Jin?

"No, no, no, I don't have feelings for Jin... we really are just friends."

But it came out way less convincing than you thought it would.

Andrew sighed.

"Okay, well, it was nice hanging out with you," he kissed your cheek, "good luck with everything."

And with that he walked out of the kitchen and you heard the front door open then shut behind him.

Suddenly you felt furious.

Furious at Andrew because he was right, you did have feelings for Jin. Furious at Jin for wrecking any chance of getting over those feelings. But mostly furious at yourself for still wishing Jin felt that way about you, too.

Your hands balled up into fists as you walked back into the dining room.

Jin was standing up, a smug smile plastered across his face.

You glared at him and stomped towards him, pushing his chest with your hands.

"What the hell, Seokjin-ah?? I thought I told you to be nice! Now he's gone and-" but before you could finish Jin grabbed your wrists, bent his head down and put his plump, soft lips on yours.

He kissed you tenderly as your body melted into his. Your heart started to feel fuller than ever and all the anger just seemed to disappear.

You pulled away and was met with Jin smiling down softly at you.

"Aiisshh, it's about time he left," he said, holding you at your waist.

You stared at him confusingly.

"I-I don't understand.."

He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and studied your face.

"Listening to you talk about another guy, thinking about you with another guy, and especially seeing you with another guy made me so... mad. Right when he came in it hit me how much I wanted it to be me with you, not him, not anyone else. I love you, (y/n), I've loved you since we met that day three years ago."

You smiled wide and couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Oh Jinnie-ah... I love you, too."

Then you both shared another wonderful kiss followed by a delicious slice of apple pie.

Masterlist

90 notes · View notes

softboywriting · 4 years

Text

Unmated

Summary: Sometimes your mate is right under your nose. [werewolf au] [fluff] [alpha shawn]

Word Count: 1.7k

|Masterlist in Bio|

Getting a date when you're a werewolf is hard, but getting a mate, that's even harder. Most of the other wolves in town are already taken and the human guys aren't interested once they find out what you are. Not that you really want a human mate. They just don't understand a lot of aspects of werewolf life and don't care to try to.

So when you find out that one of your pack alphas is making it harder for you to find someone, you're simultaneously annoyed and curious. Being cockblocked is one thing, but having it being done by the one alpha you've had a crush on since you moved into the pack house is another. Only problem is, this alpha is a pain in the ass and you can't decide if you want him, or if you want to strangle him.

Shawn has his pros and cons. He’s fine, like damn fine. Gorgeous even. But he’s bossy, always on your ass about keeping up with the pack on runs. Always reminding you when it’s your turn to do parameter checks because you do them with him and he won’t have you make him look bad. But at the same time he will make you lunch, give you extra time in the bathroom when the other wolves are fighting to get in, and even do your laundry when you forget about it in the laundry room. He cares, and those little moments make your heart race. You walk a fine line between wanting him, feeling drawn to him, and being irritated by his very existence.

Everything changes on one Friday night. You and your friend Tish have gone out of town to a new night club that has just opened. What better place to meet someone then there? Loads of people from all around are going to the grand opening. There is bound to be someone who will take you out.

Things are great. You chat up a few human guys, get some drinks off of them, dance a little, the usual for a night out. But as soon as you get the courage to ask for their number, they split. It's like they know something isn't right, like they sense you're a werewolf. It's annoying and quite frankly it hurts.

You turn your sights to a werewolf guy at the bar. Tall, light brown hair, real soft on the eyes. He's definitely a beta, not big enough to be an alpha. Perfect.

"Hey, how's it going?" You smile as you take a seat on the bar stool beside him.

He looks up from his drink and raises his eyebrows. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. How's it going?"

"Uh, good. Just chilling, having some whiskey." He lifts his glass and takes a sip.

"Yeah, cool." You wave at the bartender and he motions that he'll be there in a moment. This conversation isn't too thrilling, you'll need a drink. "Did you come with friends?"

"Yeah, they're around."

You wait, expecting him to continue the conversation but he doesn't. "Are you single or am I reading you wrong?"

The guy nearly chokes on his drink. "Am I single? Yes. But you're not, so why are you trying to flirt with me?"

"What?" You laugh in disbelief. "I'm extremely single. Have you gone scent blind?"

"You reek of an alpha. I'm not messing with an alpha's girl. I'm not stupid."

"An alph-" you freeze mid sentence as realization hits you like a truck. It's Shawn. You smell like Shawn, the only unmated alpha in your pack, the one you've got a crush on. He's cockblocking you and probably has been for a long while simply because he is unmated. "Oh my God."

"Yeah, sorry sweetheart." The guy chuckles to himself. "Good luck though."

____________________

Just after two in the morning you arrive home, Tish dropping you off and going to her own place. You get inside and drop your keys and shoes by the door. Everyone is asleep, the lights are all off. You head up to your bedroom and stop short of the door. It is open just a crack, the latch not completely flush to the frame. Did you miss closing it? No. You always close your door tight.

You push open the door and see a figure on your bed, illuminated by your winnie the Pooh night light in the corner. It's silly. You got that nightlight when you were ten and kept it solely because it was the last gift you received from your grandmother before she passed. Who knew it would actually come to use in your twenties.

"Hello?" You call out, flipping the switch beside your door and illuminating the room in soft white light.

Immediately the person stirs, stretching and then sitting up. It's Shawn. "What who- oh."

"What's going on here?" You ask, looking around just to make sure it's actually your bedroom. It is. One hundred percent. No doubt about it. "Why are you in my bed?"

Shawn stands and puts on his usual air of authority, arms crossed, eyes hard set on you as if you're the one who's done something wrong. "I came to check on you and you were gone. So I waited."

"I went out with Tish. I didn't know I needed to update you on my personal life." You roll your eyes and go to your dresser to find a pair of pajamas. "That doesn't explain why you were waiting on my bed asleep. Why not just wait in your own room?"

Shawn doesn't say anything and heads for the door. You stop him, hand on his arm and he looks down at you. "What?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes I did. I said I was waiting. I guess I fell asleep."

"But why in my room?"

"Because you would come in here."

"Do you wait for me often?"

Shawn looks away and you raise your eyebrows. That's new. He never turns away, never shows fault to anyone.

"Shawn. Do you come into my room a lot?"

"I'm just protecting you."

You narrow your eyes. "What? Protecting me from what? That's not an answer to my question."

He steps toward the door and crosses his arms, avoiding eye contact. It's not unlike him to be so defensive, but to be silent is unlike him. He's always the one to drive an argument or command attention in a conversation. It's as if he feels guilty now, as if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't be. "Please don't be angry with me."

His words sideline you for a moment. You're pretty sure you've never heard the word please come out of his mouth. "How can I be angry when I don't even know what you're talking about?" You duck into his field of vision and he looks the other way. "Why are you being weird?"

"I'm not being weird."

"Then stop talking in riddles and answer my questions. Why are you in my room now? Have you been coming in here when I'm gone? And what are you protecting me from?"

Shawn shakes his head. "I just...sometimes I just come and sit in here, okay? I don't touch anything I promise."

"I mean it's not okay because this is my private space and-"

"I don't want you to leave."

You fall silent, staring at the alpha before you. Leave? Why would you leave? This makes even less sense than before. "Shawn. I don't understand anything you're saying to me. I'm very confused."

Shawn takes a deep breath and leans against your desk, hands gripping the edges. "I like you."

"Okay." Your stomach flips in excitement. You feel like such a teenager getting attention from her crush for the first time.

"I really, really like you a lot." His eyes find yours and you can't breathe. "Your scent calms me down when I get irritated or uh, anxious, but anyway, I come and sit down on your bed. I know I shouldn't do that and that this is your space. I'm sorry."

"Oh."

"And...I guess I also come in here so my scent is on your stuff because I don't want you to...to find someone else and leave the pack."

"You know you can just ask me out right?" You mumble and he flushes. "You don't have to cockblock me all the damn time if you just want to go out with me."

Shawn pushes off the desk and stands in front of you, cheeks red and you can't help but feel a sense of pride knowing you caused it. You made the big scary alpha blush and say please and sorry. Such power you weild in this moment. "You won't say no?"

"Why would I, Shawn? Not sure if you've noticed but I really like you too."

"Oh." He rubs his neck. "You do?"

"Yeah, you're a little hard to read so I didn't know you liked me back. I've been trying to get a date for weeks and I haven't been able to because you've been keeping everyone away."

He smiles sheepishly. "Oops?"

"I guess I've been looking for a date in all the wrong places."

"Yeah." He bumps your fingers with his and you let him curl his around yours. "You really like me? You're not just saying that?"

"Yes I really do like you. It's like this pull that I have whenever you're around. Even when you irritate me and boss me around a bit on runs, I still just want you."

Shawn grins, his prominent fang teeth showing and you take a deep breath. "I thought it was just me. I feel that too, the pull to be closer to you."

"Maybe we should stop fighting it?"

"Definitely."

You wrap your arms around him and he squeezes you tight, falling over onto your bed. "Great, now I'm really gonna stink like you."

"Mmm, gonna taste like me too." He says and brushes his lip against your lips, sending your pulse through the roof. "Can I?"

"Yes."

With that he presses a kiss to your lips and you automatically open up to let him in. It's all it takes to seal the deal for you. You don't care if you smell like him, taste like him, or hear nothing again but his voice. You're sold, signed and sealed on this deal. You’re definitely mated.

End

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

Thank you for reading :) Please reblog if you enjoyed. - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes werewolf au #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes stories #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes words #shawn mendes x reader #werewolf au fic

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shyneanon · 3 years

Text

Just wanted to write a x reader about HT Sans out of curiosity, so I did. Kinda long though. But I hope you guys like it. Have an x reader of mine where Axe doesn’t do anything incredibly stupid, lol.

(I promise the longfics are gonna be updated I just wanted to write this >~<)

---

It had been a long time since you had first fallen into the Underground. Long enough that you’d lost track of time. Though that wasn’t hard to do when there was no sky to watch.

To be honest, you were lucky to not be dead. You had the feeling every other human to fall down here had died at the hands of monsters.

For some reason the two skeletons… hadn’t killed you. Which was odd, considering that when you’d first met them you’d had to navigate some deadly traps while they’d watched. When you’d made it past everything, the taller one had seemed impressed with you, and proud.

The shorter one hadn’t seemed so pleased.

Their names were Papyrus and Sans, apparently, and upon Papyrus’ insistence they’d snuck you through town and to their house, where you resided to this day. You wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that you had survived their traps, which Papyrus insisted on calling “puzzles,” despite the fact that they had obviously been designed to kill anyone who failed them. But at least Papyrus was kind to you. He was happy to talk, though he was very hesitant to answer a lot of your questions. Often he responded by telling you that he couldn’t answer your question at all. But he liked sharing his hobbies and favorite media with you, so even though he was holding you captive, he’d become like a friend.

Although you had the feeling that holding you captive was more for your benefit than theirs. When they fed you, it was always the same food. Some kind of meat.

You had the feeling you knew what kind.

But you wouldn’t ask. To spare your sanity.

Sans wasn’t hostile. But he made it a point to ignore you. Even if you needed help with something and you asked, he would simply act as if you weren’t there, as if he couldn’t see or hear you. If you annoyed him enough he would shoot you an unsettling look with his one red eye and you would back down. You quickly learned not to bother. You decided he didn’t like you, and that you were lucky he hadn’t killed you by this point. Especially considering that he hauled a giant axe everywhere. So you left him alone and spoke to Papyrus instead.

Over time, though, Sans started to change.

One day you were asked to throw out the old food, and as you were attempting to figure out which of the meat was older and therefore likely to go rotten soon, Sans intervened.

And he helped.

The whole time he barely said a word to you, and he didn’t look at you for even a second, but he helped. Though you tried not to get too optimistic. Perhaps he had simply been annoyed by how long you’d been taking.

A few days later, when you and Papyrus were playing a board game to pass the time, Sans sat next to his brother to watch. This was also new-- he usually did his best to stay as far away from you as possible at all times, dinner being the only exception.

He joined the two of you to watch several times, and then one day Papyrus asked him if he wanted to play a game for more people. And Sans said yes.

That day you saw a different side of him.

Rather than brood silently with an unsettling grin on his face, Sans started to crack jokes. Bad ones. At first you were too confused and almost bothered by the sudden change to laugh, but eventually he made a particularly fucked up joke and you laughed from the shock of it, despite Papyrus scolding him.

The next time you and Papyrus played a 1v1 game, Sans sat next to you.

Several sessions of this happened, Sans sitting and watching. You couldn’t tell if he was rooting for either of you, though he occasionally made jokes mocking you specifically. You’d noticed he never liked to say anything mean to his brother, however, so maybe that explained the lack of jabs at Papyrus.

Then one game, as you were contemplating your next move, Sans leaned in next to your ear. You leaned away, expecting him to say something threatening or cruel.

Instead, he gave you a hint.

As it turned out, Sans was really smart. He understood strategy, though he rarely employed it much when he played with you two. You had the feeling he liked letting Papyrus beat him.

He wasn’t such a bad guy, it seemed.

Then he asked to play a game of chess with you one day. You had the feeling he’d beat you, but you said yes.

You were right. He beat you quickly and easily. But he seemed to enjoy himself, particularly with some jabs at you that were accompanied by winks. So you didn’t mind.

Though you did feel something kind of odd whenever he winked at you. And it didn’t stop even when winking became a regular thing. In the following weeks he started pulling pranks on you, something he apparently enjoyed a lot. Papyrus seemed annoyed about it at first, but then confessed to you that it had been a long time since Sans had regularly cracked jokes and pulled pranks on others, and he was happy to have glimmers of the old Sans back. You’d had no idea this was what he had been like before… whatever had happened in the Underground had happened. Neither of them would talk about it. Regardless, seeing Sans smile and laugh so sincerely felt really good.

...

And then he cornered you with his axe.

Or, at least, that’s what it felt like at first. One day, weeks after he had begun to lighten up, Sans approached you when you were in the kitchen, dragging his axe behind him. Papyrus was out of the house, though you didn’t know where, or doing what. They never told you that either.

He’s going to kill me.

“Heya,” he said.

You tried not to stare at the blade. But it was hard. “Hi,” you said.

He took a few steps closer to you. There was nowhere you could go. You were against the extremely tall sink. If he decided he wanted to chop you up into little pieces, there was nothing you could do about it.

“Think we can talk?” he said.

You nodded, but once you did you weren’t sure if that was the right decision.

“Cool.”

Before you knew it he was standing over you and you were pressing yourself back against the sink. You felt so small.

This is it. He’s going to take his axe, and he’s going to cut me into little pieces. And then eat me.

“So…” he began.

Please just make it fast. Please just don’t make me suffer. Please just get it over with--

“I wanted to say thanks.”

“... Huh?” was your only reply. You realized you were shaking.

“Thanks,” he repeated. “For being nice to my brother. And… to me, even when I haven’t been so nice to you.”

Not sure what to say, you just stared.

“He’s… been through a lot. He’s really needed a friend. And I’m glad you’re being that friend to him.”

You weren’t sure if he was trying to put you at ease before murdering you, but you smiled a little. “It’s no problem. Papyrus is fun, I like spending time with him.”

“Yeah?” Sans smiled one of his more sincere smiles. “Yeah, my brother’s really cool.”

There was an awkward (and, at least for you, tense) silence as you both looked at each other.

“Sorry for scaring you.” His red eye looked away. “I know… I look scary.”

Hm?

“It’s not you,” you said. “You’ve just… been holding that huge axe… the whole time, and I didn’t… Y’know, I just thought, maybe…”

He looked at the blade as if he’d just realized it was there. “... Oh. Oh, that makes sense.”

He unceremoniously let go of it and it dropped to the ground.

“Still, I know I’m… intimidating.”

“The way you look doesn’t scare me,” you told him. “It hasn’t for a long time. Your appearance is just that, your appearance. No big deal.”

He watched you, as if he were looking for signs that you were lying.

Then he smiled, seeming almost… reassured.

“Cool,” he said.

He moved closer. His smile was different, though you couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Though, that was often the case with him.

“Listen, I don’t hate you anymore. I haven’t for a long time. I’m sorry… for the way I treated you.”

“It’s OK,” you said. You weren’t sure why he’d treated you that way, but he was apologizing.

“Thanks.”

You realized the two of you were making eye contact, and then you noticed the pupil in the middle of his red eye. It was… getting bigger?

“I… like you a lot, actually.”

What do I say?

“I like you a lot too,” you returned. It wasn’t really a lie. He was fun. You just… weren’t ever sure what he was thinking, so you had always been slightly afraid that he wanted to kill you.

You saw his cheeks start to turn a blue color. You had never seen that before.

A… blush? Or am I insane?

Wait, when did our faces get so close?

Why is my heart beating so fast?

“Anyway,” he said, leaning away from you. When the gap between you widened you suddenly felt like you could breathe again. “I’ve got stuff to do, upstairs.” He winked. “Like nap.”

He picked up his weapon and turned away, though he looked back at you.

“See ya.”

All you did was raise a hand, and he left.

After that day, things were different.

Sans had been nicer to you for a while, but now he was really nice. He threw you compliments, and they didn’t seem sarcastic. He sat next to you on the couch regularly. He would breach your personal bubble-- albeit carefully. Sometimes he would brush hair out of your face, or put his hand on your shoulder when talking to you, or sling an arm around your shoulder. It… seemed friendly, but you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be more.

Either way, your heart would beat fast and your senses would heighten whenever the two of you made contact.

He spoke to you whenever Papyrus was out and he wasn’t. Sometimes he ended up telling you stuff that he and Papyrus had refused to address early on in your stay. He didn’t give details, but… it was sad.

A couple of times you gave him hugs to comfort him. They were returned, and the two of you would just… stay like that for a little while, holding onto each other. Even you started telling him about home. You were kind of like confidants now. It seemed that Sans didn’t tell Papyrus a lot, in an effort not to worry him. Papyrus worried already, it made sense that Sans wouldn’t want to make it any worse.

Then one day, while you were sitting together on the couch, he finally explained to you how he’d gotten the hole in his skull.

A former friend, the current queen… had stabbed him with a spear.

You held him, and he held onto you.

“Thanks,” he said, “for listening to me.”

“I’ll always listen to you,” you told him.

Like that day in the kitchen, you realized that your faces were close. This time it seemed very intentional, though. Sans was watching you carefully. Your own face got hot.

“Sans?” you said. It was almost a whisper.

He pressed his teeth to your lips and you froze up, shocked.

Almost immediately, he let out a soft moan, as if just the kiss were releasing tension. He pulled you closer. Your heart started to pound, and without thinking you threw your arms around his neck and kissed back. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you sank into him. His teeth then pressed against your neck and you shivered, sighing. It was followed by his teeth slamming into your lips, and you were swiftly pressed down onto the couch. It felt like his touch was a shockwave that moved through your whole body. You opened an eye and saw that he was flushed blue.

“I haven’t felt this good in so long,” he told you. “Everything sucks here. But you…”

More kisses. He sighed. Your eyes drifted shut again.

“... you make everything go away. You make me… feel things… I’ve never felt before.”

A hand worked its way down to your hip. He looked… high.

“... Y’know… Paps… isn’t gonna be back for a while.”

Your face got hotter than it already was. Was he insinuating what you thought he was insinuating?

“Geez,” you said with a shy smile, “we just kissed for the first time. At least… take me out to dinner first, right?”

He chuckled. “OK… yeah, maybe I’m moving a bit fast….”

Another kiss, this one more gentle. He cupped your cheek.

“I’m just… not used to feeling this good. It’s… kind of addictive.”

You fluttered your lashes playfully. “Ooh, I’m addictive?”

“Yes,” he responded. There was no irony in his voice. “Yes, you are.”

You were clutching his hoodie, and you realized that what you had thought was blood on his clothing was actually ketchup stains. You could smell it. It made you giggle.

“What?”

“I thought this was blood but it’s ketchup.”

A deep laugh. “You didn’t notice that all this time?” A wink. “Wow, you’re slow. Try to ketchup.”

You flicked his forehead playfully. “Get off the stage, nerd.”

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied with a smile.

“Y’know, sex is great and all, but y’know what’s better?”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“A nap.”

You snorted.

“Don’t say it’s not true.”

“It’s true,” you told him, smiling.

“Here,” he said, pulling you up from your horizontal position and then flopping back, pulling you with him. “I make for a great cushion.”

“You do,” you observed. He was a skeleton but it actually didn’t feel weird to lie on top of him. So you got comfy.

“Nice. If Paps gets mad at me I can blame you.”

A wink, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Aw, c’mon now. That’s just childish.”

He wrapped his arms around you.

“You’re insane for liking me, by the way.”

You grinned. “Eh, I blame Stockholm Syndrome.”

He snickered.

#I know a lot of ppl characterize him as insane #But I dunno he's a Sans #I can't not see him as a Sans #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #self-insert #reader insert #x reader #sans x reader #horrortale

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kuromantic · 4 years

Text

Daishou and Mika’s New Year (with the cats)

Here is a reupload of the novel translation, where Daishou and Mika go on a date for new year and end up meeting the Nekoma students.

“Then, how about the shrine near the school?”

“….Eh, no.”

Yamaka Mika hung her head, slightly sulking.

They were in the fast food shop beside Nohebi Academy, and the boy sitting opposite her across the small table was her boyfriend, Daishou Suguru. Friends at their school often commented that he seemed like he had a bad personality, but that wasn’t true. Mika thought that it was a shame, just because he had a mean look in his eyes.

With Daishou being the captain of the volleyball club, he had nothing but practice on weekdays and weekends, every day until he lost a big match in November and retired. Because of this, they were able to stay together during winter break.

He lost the last match, but he was cool, with a serious expression Mika had never seen on him before. But that story didn’t matter now. Their current topic was the new year’s shrine visit.

Seeing as the shrine in their local area was boring for something as big as new year, Mika wanted to stretch her legs and go somewhere further away. The shrine visit was their first date of the new year, and only elementary schoolers would go to the shrine just behind the school. Mika pouted. Why were guys so flaky when it came to this kind of stuff?

“Why not? Isn’t it the same wherever you go?”

Mika persisted against her boyfriend, who didn’t understand at all.

“It’s not the same! If we go to Meiji Jingu, we can drop by at the Harajuku sale. If you want a charm to give to your friend, Yushima Tenjin is the place to go. Oh, the one at Nezu has a power spot for romance. And what else…”

Mika researched other shrines on her phone and glanced at Daishou, but he carried on eating his fries, as if to say that he didn’t care where they went.

“……”

Horrible, Mika thought. This was why girls said he had a bad personality. He was lazy at times, but his personality wasn’t that bad…

Mika began to get annoyed at her friends as well as Daishou, but she carried on without giving up.

“Then… how about Senso-ji? It’s not a shrine, but everyone goes there. Oh, the Skytree’s around there too.”

“Eh?”

Daishou’s sudden interest surprised Mika, although she was the one to suggest it in the first place.

“Uh, what? Do you not like Senso-ji?”

“Ah, no. I just realised I’d never been to the Skytree.”

Mika was even more shocked at Daishou’s words.

“What, really? Why?”

“Why? Even if you have a reason to go, there’s no reason to not go. I just haven’t gone there yet.”

Daishou said, with a hint of tiredness in his voice. He carried on eating his fries, and Mika frowned. It was really annoying to deal with Daishou’s argumentative side. He just had slightly better grades than her. If he was worse at sports and study than her, he wouldn’t be able to beat her in anything. And it was annoying how he could eat more fries than her and not gain weight at all….

But it was the one spot that he had shown interest in. Mika knew she just had to push and push from there. Lose the battle and win the war, as the saying went. Well, maybe that wasn’t it.

“Then let’s go to Senso-ji! Come on. It’ll be fun!”

“If that’s what you want… I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

And so, the two decided to go to Senso-ji. Mika had won by persistence.

The new year came, and the day finally arrived. The train they got on at Moyori station was spacious at first, but more and more passengers were in each train they took. When they arrived at Asakusa by the yellow Ginza train, they got off from the train by being practically pushed out by the other passengers.

“So many people.”

The station was crowded with people going to their first shrine visit of their new year. Feeling that she wouldn’t be able to see Daishou ever again if she got lost, she held his coat tightly.

“Uh, what is it, Mika-chan? Are you okay?”

Daishou was flustered and turning red, but Mika replied with a “Yeah. I’ll try and follow you as best as I can,” in complete seriousness. They got through the gates as they were pushed by the waves of people, but from there, the area was packed so tightly that they couldn’t move.

“Maybe we should have just stuck with the one in our area…”

Mika yanked the complaining Daishou’s coat. “This is nothing! So, which exit was the one near the Skytree?”

Just as she stood tall, a shout came from somewhere in the crowd.

“Ah! The number one from Nohebi!”

Daishou, having been called his uniform number, lifted his head.

Nohebi Academy High School, uniform number one.

The number he bore on his back for a year had blended into him completely, and it wasn’t something that disappeared just because he moved away from the gymnasium for a month or so. It was still the same as his name.

Daishou found a small girl from middle or elementary school at the back of the crowd, pointing at him and jumping about.

Mika’s expression stiffened slightly. “Who’s she?”

“I don’t know…”

Daishou didn’t recognise her. Maybe it was one of his teammates’ sister. He cocked his head quizzically, but remembered who she was with an “Ah,” when he saw the tall, beautiful blonde girl by her side.

“That beautiful girl, I think she was at the sidelines of Nekoma…”

As soon as he murmured that, a deep, guttural voice came from behind them.

“A date, huh?”

Fearing for themselves, the two whipped around. There was a Mohawk man exuding a dark aura behind them, and a western-looking, tall man behind the Mohawk man.

Mika let out an “eek,” and jumped away, stepping on the foot of a stranger nearby. The stranger grumbled “Be careful,” which was completely justified, but became silent and frozen after being surrounded by the Mohawk man and the tall man- Yamamoto Taketora and Haiba Lev from Nekoma High School- and Daishou, the captain of Nohebi Academy High School.

Yamamoto stared at the pair from Nohebi, letting out a low, hushed whisper. “A shrine visit date from the start of new year… that means your parents have already approved…. I see how it is. I see…”

“What, aren’t you guys with your girlfriends too? Over there…”

Before Daishou could continue, the girl from earlier on- Yamamoto’s sister, Akane- slipped in between the two like a cat and corrected him.

“I’m his sister.”

Her eyes staring up scared Daishou.

“See? Now my sister has those scary eyes of hers because of you!”

As Yamamoto began to panic at his sister’s attitude, Lev explained to them calmly. “We only had practice in the morning, so Taketora-san and I are just being made to come with our siblings. Oh, this is my sister.”

“We went shopping at the Skytree! I bought matching accessories with Akane-chan, too!” Alisa, the beautiful blonde girl, held up her shopping bag with a smile.

“Ah, I see.”

“Who are they?” Mika asked the fatigued Daishou.

“The guys from Nekoma.”

As soon as she heard that, Mika let go of Daishou’s coat that she had been gripping. “Volleyball again, huh?” She muttered forlornly, pushing her way through the crowd and heading over to the stairs at the exit.

“Huh? Mika-chan, wait a sec!”

“It’s kinda refreshing. They don’t seem to be getting along!” Yamamoto said cheerfully, as Daishou chased after his girlfriend while bumping into others in the crowd.

“Hey, that’s horrible, bro.”

“What? You’re the one who talked to them first! …Hey, stop looking at me that way!”

“Why are you angry?”

Daishou finally got a hold of Mika’s arm, after getting up the stairs and inhaling a breath of fresh air at last. But Mika shook away his large hand.

“…I’m not angry.”

“But you are. Sure, it’s volleyball again, but that was because they were there, and I didn’t…”

Mika stared coldly at her boyfriend, who was making excuses without looking her in the eye.

“…You called her a beautiful girl.”

“What?”

“You called that person a beautiful girl, earlier.”

“Oh.”

He said that, he definitely said that. She remembered. The colour drained from Daishou’s face, but he had to make it up to her somehow. He did say that, but he didn’t say it in that kind of way. He doesn’t know what kind of way he meant it in, but it wasn’t in that kind of way.

“Uh… it’s not in that kind of way. Anyway, Mika-chan, you’re much more of a beautiful girl!”

“That’s not true! She’s more of a beautiful girl!”

Mika felt stupid and pathetic that she was getting angry over a such a trivial matter, and she really knew that Daishou didn’t mean it in that way. She doesn’t know what kind of way, but she knows he didn’t mean it.

But still, it was irritating, and it annoyed her that Daishou kept making excuses instead of apologising. She felt like crying from anger, but she didn’t want to cry while she was on a date. She stayed silent and stared at the ground, because the tears would come out if she spoke.

“…..”

Daishou sighed, not able to do anything for Mika. He started walking.

“The shrine visit doesn’t matter anymore. We should change our mood.”

The two passed Kaminari-mon, which was flooded with people coming for shrine visits, walking along the street. On the road, rickshaw workers called out to people energetically, and women wearing kimonos were getting on, laughing.

All of the shops were open, even though it was New Year’s Day. It was elegant, and it looked like fun. The passers-by all had sweet sake, coffee or dango in their hands, and it looked so delicious, so warm. Mika was jealous of everyone that caught her eye.

Horrible.

It was their date, and they were fighting again. They’d made up after that match, why did it have to come to this? Was she the one at fault? But it was Daishou’s fault too. God, if only the Mohawk guys hadn’t come…

Yamamoto’s face popped into her mind, irritating her. Right, it was their fault. If they hadn’t come, she would have been visiting the shrine with Daishou right then. Wait, that meant that it maybe wasn’t her fault or Daishou’s fault. It was the Mohawk guys’ fault, perhaps?

A single beam of light shone through Mika’s feelings.

Yeah, it was that Mohawk’s fault! Why did she have to fight with Daishou because of that Mohawk? Why was he wearing a Mohawk, anyway? It was total nonsense!

When she concluded that it was all the Mohawk’s fault, her irritation towards Daishou disappeared, and she wanted to make up with him as soon as he could. Mika cast aside her embarrassment and talked to Daishou’s back.

“…Hey, maybe we should… turn?”

“Eh? …Ah, sure.” Daishou replied awkwardly.

They turned right at the intersection and went into the shopping street. As they walked around aimlessly in the street full of old-fashioned coffee shops and Japanese sweetshops, Mika pointed to something.

“What’s that…? Oh, it says Kabuki.”

It was the building standing at the back of the shopping street, Asakusa Public Hall. Elegant banners were lined up there, and many wine-casks and posters with “New Year Asakusa Kabuki” written on them decorated the walls.

“Guess that’s Asakusa for you.”

“Yeah, it’s Asakusa-like.”

The two started to talk a little while walking to the end of the street, peering into the paths to their left and right. Beyond the T-junction, the streets were Edo-fashion, as if they had been swept into a historical drama. Mika looked around the refined streets curiously.

“It’s kind of a cute street. Hey, look, there’s Nezumi Kozou on that roof over there!”

“…Mika-chan, you’re like a tourist. You’re from Tokyo.”

“Well, I haven’t really been to Asakusa…”

Mika, embarrassed, turned her back to Daishou after being teased, who began to laugh at that.

“I haven’t really been here either, so how about we explore around here a little?”

And so their Asakusa quest began. Enticed by a nice scent, they moved their legs along to a street packed with red lanterns. Every izakaya pub had chairs and tables laid out on the road as well as inside, and the bustle was just like a festival’s.

“It’s so lively even in the afternoon, huh.”

“Is this meant to be… an open deck seat?”

There were young couples and families in seats with wind-proofing vinyl sheets around them, in high spirits even before it was dark out. Mika and Daishou nervously walked past Hoppy Street, getting to the front of the white fence and tiled roof just like a mansion’s.

“Is this a temple?” “No, it’s…”

Inside the fence, there came laughing and screaming. The building wasn’t a temple nor a mansion.

“Oh, I know what it is! It’s an amusement park! What should we do, Suguru? It’s an amusement park!”

“What do you mean, what should we do? Should we go in, Mika-chan?”

“Let’s go in!”

As they ran into the amusement park psyched-up, a rollercoaster roared past above their heads.

“Whoa! It’s so close to us! That’s scary!”

“Look, there are pandas! Let’s get on the pandas!”

Mika pointed to the panda-karts that moved when a one hundred yen coin was put into them. They seemed fluffy and soft, like a huge moving plushy. The pandas were popular, getting their pictures taken and pointed at as they clunked around dangerously in the crowd.

“Uh, I’d prefer the stuff more like roller coasters, or the ones that spin, or the ones that fall…”

“I want to go on the panda! Let’s get on after those people!”

Mika was completely enchanted by the pandas as she dragged the unamused Daishou over to them. They were going to wait until the people on it got off, and then get on in place of them.

When they looked closely, two boys seemed to be racing each other in the panda-karts, getting all excited over a vehicle slower then their walking pace.

“If I get in from the inside…”

“I won’t lose!”

A tall boy and a boy with a small frame. Perhaps they were brothers, Mika mused as she gazed at them.

The panda-karts eventually stopped with a bump, and the boys got off. “Oh, there’s someone waiting,” they said as they caught sight of Mika. “Ah!” When they saw Daishou, they let out an exclamation and trotted over to them.

“Inuoka-kun, look! They’re from Nohebi!”

“Eh? Wow, you’re right! Um, happy new year!”

The larger one gave them a new year’s greeting and bowed energetically. They didn’t seem to be brothers, after all.

“Oh, you’re the backup libero from Nekoma!” “Y-yes!”

The smaller one, Shibayama Yuuki, bowed his head too. The two of them were strangely polite. And the larger one, Inuoka Sou, was making assertive attempts to keep the conversation going for Mika and Daishou, who was having trouble dealing with them.

“Isn’t this place great? It’s open from the new year!”

“Huh? Well, yeah…”

“There was shaved ice that had seven colours earlier on! Did you eat it? My mouth’s turned into such a weird colour! See!”

The larger one opened his mouth to show his tongue with seven colours, as if he were a relative’s child.

“Yeah. That’s… pretty amazing.”

Mika began to feel uneasy. If she let it continue on, she would be dragged into his pace, and end up eating yakisoba in the food court, riding the rollercoaster and taking photos with the illuminated lights. If she was pleaded with that genuine smile, she couldn’t possibly say no.

“Oh, actually, we’re about to go home! Right, Suguru?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Daishou nodded hurriedly.

“I see, that’s a pity! I was thinking we could have all eaten yakisoba together. Well, see you then!”

Inuoka waved to them, and Shibayama bowed his head. Mika and Daishou broke into a run, as if they were escaping them.

The two ran out of the amusement park and along the road a little, facing each other and laughing after they finally came to a stop. “I guess we can stop now.”

“That was pretty surprising.”

“Yeah. We’ll have to come back for the pandas sometime else.”

“Yeah… Let’s come again.”

Mika found herself reddening, glad that Daishou promised her to take her there again. In the end, he always put her first. She had always thought he only thought about volleyball, but perhaps he really thought about her the most, it was just that she didn’t realise.

Her boyfriend’s sentence made her footsteps lighter as she walked through the cloud. Shops, big and small, were lined up freely, making the whole street seem like a maze. Everything that caught her eye was something rare and interesting, making her excited. She wouldn’t be surprised if a circus tent or a freak show appeared right before her eyes. Mika stared around the street as she walked, making sure she wouldn’t lose sight of a sign of somewhere she didn’t know. It was an exploration, after all. When she was with another person, doing anything anywhere was fun.

“…Oh, there are many banners here too. Is it a Kabuki again?”

There was a building with many colourful banners, along with red and white lanterns and cocoon balls that intensely gave off new year vibes. Daishou looked into the billboard, checking the photos of the faces of those performing.

“No, I think… it’s a rakugo.”

When they looked at the building, it said in big letters, “Entertainment Hall”. They had walked Rokku Broadway south from the amusement park, up to the corner of the entertainment hall.

“Look, there are spinning tops and magic tricks, too.”

“Seems kinda suspicious, but it’s new year’s. Guess we’ll go in.”

They bought the tickets at the reception, and entered the dimly lit entertainment hall. When they opened the door, it was packed to the aisles. The humidity was so extreme that it made Mika take off her coat.

“Oh, they’re already at it.”

“There are more people than I expected. It’s standing room only.”

On the stage adorned with red and white decorations, a young man wearing a kimono was talking. I guess they’re not all old men, Mika thought. “Huh?” Daishou looked over at Mika, furrowing his brows.

“Uh, what? Is it… weird?”

As Mika tried to check her white knitted dress she bought for the date, she realised that Daishou wasn’t looking at her.

“What?”

Mika followed Daishou’s glance, and Daishou whispered, “You’re from Nekoma!”

The man with a buzzcut sitting beside Mika turned around.

“Hm? ….Oh, yes.”

The buzzcut man looked surprised for a moment, and then greeted them with a smile.

“Nohebi’s captain, huh? Happy new year. Fukunaga told me there’d be a comedian that he recommends coming here today, so the two of us came. Right?”

Beside the buzzcut who talked gently, a silent boy stared at them. The boy called Fukunaga wasn’t one for friendliness, and didn’t say anything.

“Y- you guys, it’s almost Spring High! What, you have time to spare?!”

Daishou exclaimed loudly, and the members of the audience around them warned him with a “Shh!”

“Oh, s-sorry…”

Daishou’s voice behind her back, Mika ran out of the hall alone.

Crouching through the red barrier, Mika paced through the new shopping street that had appeared. She didn’t know where she was walking, or where she was heading to.

It was just pathetic and frustrating, and she was about to cry.

After all, Daishou didn’t look at her, he only cared about volleyball. He could have just left the kids from other schools alone, but he went up and talked to them. So stupid. He lost to them.

A sneeze escaped her. She realised she had taken off her coat, and put it on. The white knitted dress she had just bought became hidden by her coat.

“So stupid.”

She’d bought the dress by borrowing her new year’s money off her mother earlier, but he didn’t notice at all. It was fun buying clothes. Would he like these kinds of feminine looks more? Would he prefer white or pink? There had been no point even thinking that at all. She should have just bought some delicious cakes instead of clothes. The ones at the underground floor of the department store that cost about 500 yen apiece, lots of it.

As she thought such things, the back of her nose stung and tears started to appear. As she held back her tears, the flamboyant banner was still waving about in front of her, but it didn’t matter anymore. Kabuki or Rakugo, it didn’t seem fun anymore, like a spell had been removed. But when she glanced at the sign, it read “Rokyoku”, neither Kabuki nor Rakugo. It was even more frustrating.

She couldn’t take it anymore. No more.

Her makeup would be washed away, but she didn’t care anymore. She was going to cry, and she didn’t care about it.

Mika decided so, and stopped walking. She glanced up at the sky, and let out an “ah” sound. In the blue, pure new year’s sky, the large, large skytree towered.

“It’s so big…”

Her tears disappeared.

Beside the road she’d been walking, there had been the skytree all along, pointing up. Of course it was, it was always in the same Asakusa. But she had been walking hunched forward, running as if she were escaping from something, looking around as if looking for a secret in the alleyway. She hadn’t noticed at all.

Forgetting that she wanted to cry, Mika started to walk straight ahead. When she got out of the shopping street, it was Senso-ji. The place where they were meant to come for their first shrine visit. When she carried on while staring at the skytree, she could see the amusement park from earlier to her left, and if she listened carefully, she could hear the rollercoaster too. It felt like she had been walking around a lot, but really, she had just been going round and round the same spot. It was rather funny.

“I didn’t notice at all, either.”

As she walked at the back of the five-story pagoda to the main hall of the temple, Mika realised she hadn’t completed her new year’s shrine visit yet and joined the queue for worship. Daishou ran there, out of breath.

“You’re there… I’m glad… What’s wrong, all of a sudden, Mika-chan?!”

“Sorry.”

“Huh? No, it’s… you don’t have to apologise.”

Daishou averted his eyes, for some reason. He had a tendency to become flustered and nervous at weird moments, Mika thought. She undid the buttons on her coat, showing Daishou her dress inside.

“I bought this a little while ago.”

“Huh? Oh… I think it is cute.”

“Why’re you being polite all of a sudden?”

Mika burst out laughing a little. She couldn’t wait around, hoping to be noticed, she thought. If she didn’t talk to him and show him, they wouldn’t be able to reach an understanding. It’s embarrassing and hard, but even so, they would talk, bit by bit.

The line they queued up at moved slowly, and they finally started to talk quietly. When it was their turn, they threw their coins in and pressed their hands together. And they held hands and walked down the steps.

The sound of shaking the oracle box, the sound of a mobile phone’s camera. Many sounds and many words from different countries rained down. A selfie stick popped out somewhere, too. They walked under Hozomon gate where the two Deva gods stood, and walked the shopping streets to the Kaminari-mon.

“Hey, what did you wish for earlier?”

“Huh? Well, nothing really...”

Mika glared lightly and elbowed her boyfriend, who was mumbling for some reason. “Tell me.” She couldn’t know if he didn’t say it.

“Ow. Well, so… In the Spring High, I wished that they- Nekoma would get at least one win.”

“What, why?” Mika stopped walking.

“Why? …Well, I kinda want them to win for us, as well.”

“What…? I wished I could go shrine visiting with Suguru next year too, but now I just look like an idiot!”

“What?!”

Daishou was dumbstruck by the unexpected words, but Mika couldn’t be stopped now.

“You weren’t even enthusiastic about shrine visiting, Suguru. You just made it seem like you didn’t care where we went!”

“…No, I was looking forward to it! But I said wherever is fine, because it’s embarrassing to act like I’m excited for the date…”

“What’s that mean? I don’t get you!”

It wasn’t just Daishou and Mika that stopped and stood in the crowd. Behind them, two guys stood whispering quietly, but loud enough to make them hear what they were saying.

“It’s a shoujo manga.”

“It is, indeed.”

Mika turned around, surprised. There was yet another tall guy and a shorter guy, but they were nowhere near as pure as the two she’d met at the amusement park. Before she could wonder who those guys were, Daishou shouted.

“Kuroo, you bastard, why are you here?!”

The duo behind them were Nekoma’s third years, Captain Kuroo Tetsurou and Libero Yaku Morisuke. They paid no attention to the red-faced, yelling Daishou and nibbled on ningyo-yaki while arguing.

“See? There are these types of pain-in-the-ass people. This is why we should have just gone shrine visiting in our local area. Kenma won’t come if it’s far away. He’ll say he’s too tired.”

“Shut up! The bigger it is, the more advantage you get!”

“God isn’t that much of a simpleton.”

As if to lash out at the loudly bickering duo, Daishou screamed.

“Oi, Nekoma! You ignoring me?!”

“Hm? Oh, it’s just shoujo manga-kun.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Daishou tried to appear intimidating to hide his embarrassment, but Kuroo continued to smirk.

“I already know you’re a good guy. Never would have guessed you were praying for our victory.”

“Never would have guessed.”

Yaku crossed his arms and nodded too.

“Were you guys eavesdropping…?!”

Embarrassment and humiliation turned Daishou a deep red up to his neck as he glared at Kuroo. But Kuroo merely tapped Daishou’s shoulder lightly.

“Don’t worry. We won’t just win once.”

The words made Daishou momentarily confused, but as soon as he locked eyes with Kuroo, who was smirking with the corners of his mouth, he smiled lightly and retorted.

“You’ve said it now.”

They made a strange face that could have been a glare or a smile, but soon burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Lose, lose! Lose already, you shitty cat!”

“Sadly for you, we’re definitely not losing!”

“Nekoma has me, after all.”

“Well, we won last time without needing Yaku, though.”

“Huh?!”

“That’s it, fall out amongst yourselves!”

“Nope, not falling out anytime soon!”

Mika dropped her shoulders as she watched the three argue childishly.

“Guys are so stupid.”

They seemed so stupid, but they fought many times, won and lost, and still could argue like this. She was a little jealous. Maybe, she thought, maybe playing a volleyball match instead of talking and hanging out made people understand each other more. It was pretty neat, she though as she waved at Daishou under Kaminari-mon.

“Come on already! Let’s go!”

They couldn’t go to the Sky tree after all, but she would go another time. Take her time, when Nekoma’s guys weren’t there. But if she were to encounter them again- she’d like to eat anmitsu or ice cream wafers with them, together. Even with that Mohawk.

#haikyuu light novel #haikyuu translation #Daishou Suguru #yamaka mika #Kuroo Tetsurou #Yaku Morisuke

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fairestwriting · 3 years

Text

title: a treasure hunt of sorts

word count: 2696

summary: Malleus had been gifting Ellis gems, recently, so many that they were piling up and he wouldn't know what to do with them even if he actually understood the meaning behind the gift. After some "careful consideration", he decides to give something back.

commissioned by @nymphgrotto , also available on ao3 here ! tysm for the commission, i hope you enjoy it!

my guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested

Everything in the Ramshackle dorm building creaks, floorboards and doors and ceiling threatening to collapse in a way that Ellis somehow had just grown used to. Door shut behind him, he walks noisy steps towards the lounge, leaving the beautiful night outside, and placing a red gem the size of his palm on the coffee table.

Another one. The fifth one he’d gotten this week, and they were only halfway through it.

The gems gather on top of the surface like freshly picked fruits, full of color and life and almost glaring at him in their little shiny pile. He slides the blazer off, tossing it somewhere — Grim was asleep at this point, it’s fine if he wasn’t being the best influence — and lets himself collapse on the plush stuffing of the couch.

The gems were a gift from Malleus Draconia — A name that strikes fear into many students’ hearts, for reasons Ellis just couldn’t see. They had met by chance outside Ramshackle, Malleus was taking a nightly stroll and they just ended up chatting for a reason or another. He found out bits and pieces of information every time they saw each other. That he liked abandoned buildings and the night sky, that he was very knowledgeable about gargoyles and owned a tamagotchi, then his name that he had been refusing to actually tell. They hit it off and became friends. Malleus was a person Ellis liked to be around.

And a person he had an exponentially growing crush on, he admits, but just to himself for now. He sighs again, head in his hands. His crush, putting a different precious gem in his hand every night. It should have been a dream scenario, but he just doesn’t get it. The way Malleus does it is so unaffected, they couldn’t be heartfelt gifts at all. It looked like he was lending him money.

Maybe that’s what’s happening, he thinks tiredly, looking around the inside of the building. He had been cleaning up for most of the semester, it managed to look decent now, if only a little like somewhere a grandmother would live, but that was cozy in its own way. The outside was still screwed up, though, so maybe Malleus trying to help him with repairs? Ellis stares at the pile of gems, they stare back. With the amount all of them were worth, they were probably enough to cover all the costs needed to polish Ramshackle’s outside, so maybe…

...he really didn’t want his crush, a guy so lofty and admirable, to think he just couldn’t do something like that by himself, though. The very thought of it makes him uneasy.

He sighs. Maybe he should talk it out with someone, he was burning up his brain cells just thinking by himself like this. He scrolls through names in his contact list before stopping on Cater’s. Cater had mentioned talking to Malleus before, right? And he didn’t seem scared. Plus he may have been aware of Ellis’ crush, even half so — Though that’s sort of embarrassing, it’s not like he’d been trying to hide.

But it’s okay, the phone makes its dialing noise. “Hey, Cater?”

“Ellis! Hi hi.” Cater chimes from the other side of the line. Ellis could hear ruffling even through the phone, maybe he just moved around on his bed. “What’s up!”

“Malleus.” Ellis starts, leaning back against the couch. Thank god it was so comfy, right. “Has he ever brought you, um… gems and stuff? Like really expensive looking things?”

There’s silence.

“Uh, no?” Cater responds mid a confused laugh. “...why are you asking that? We don’t really talk.”

“I don’t know.” Ellis admits, shaking his head in defeat. “He’s been giving me gems all week and I don’t get it. I thought maybe you knew something since you’ve talked to him...once? That’s more than most people here, anyways.”

Cater hums, a short pause. “Well, I really can’t tell what that means.”

Another sigh, another feeling of defeat. Ellis sinks on the couch.

“Ugh. Do you think he feels bad about the state of the dorm or something? I like gifts as much as everyone else, but…” He sighs. “I just wanna know what’s going on in his head.”

“Y’know, they’re still gems, I don’t get why you’re complaining. And you’re so curious about him too.”

“I just wanna know.” He huffs, face feeling hot. “I feel bad I’m not giving him anything back, is all. Gifts are nice but this is too much.”

“Ehh, you wanna one up Malleus?” He asks, voice incredulous. Do I wanna do that? Ellis finds himself wondering. Is that what this is about?

“I mean, I might as well try, right.” He says. He thinks of it as a joke, but it might not really be one. Looking up to Malleus all the time felt… kind of lame, sometimes, Ellis wanted him to look up to him too. His heart feels heavy thinking about it — But he does.

“Okay, that’s just crazy.” Cater laughs from the other side of the line, mixing with the ruffling sound again.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe.” He laughs back, but, again, he’s actually thinking about it. He can’t help but think about it. What if he actually impressed Malleus this time? He wonders how he’d look.

They say their goodbyes after more idle chatter and Ellis has his flushed cheeks on his hands, pulling his knees closer to his body. He’s tried doing something impressive before, though it usually just ends up going humorously wrong… but, but, maybe this time it’d work. He stares at the gems on the coffee table. These could be the clue he needed.

A wide-eyed Malleus comes to mind. If things went like that, maybe the messages he’d been wanting to send with all the casual affection would get through. Even if Malleus didn’t like him back — That was a scary thought, but he knew it wouldn’t ruin their friendship, Malleus wasn’t like anyone else — he’d been wanting to tell him in a way where he could actually understand, visualize how deep his feelings had been running. This seemed like the perfect chance.

He dreams of emeralds in a treasure room that night.

. . .

He knew that this, at least, was something Malleus would like — Ellis can’t help but giggle in excitement while he drags him around the woods, clutching at his hand, hearing the crunching of leaves under their shoes and the subtle howling of the wind.

“So, tonight,” He introduces, voice chimy and full of energy. Malleus is standing right behind him in his towering glory. His stare is mostly blank, but Ellis somewhat knows how to decode it, and he can see a glint of curiosity there. They stop in front of an assortment of rocks that made up something looking like a gate. “I was thinking we could go looking for gems in this little cave? I heard from some guys that it has a lot of interesting stuff inside!”

Some guys was a chain of information that started with Rook, who had been doing god knows what in the cave, but what mattered now is that Ellis would go there, and he would find something that would blow Malleus away.

“A cave,” Malleus repeats, blinking. His long hair sways with the wind, lime green glow emitted from his eyes — He did things to his heart, honestly, even just being there — as he looks at Ellis with amusement. “Is that… a common outing for your culture, Child of Man?”

“I mean, not really? But I like collecting things.” He says, a bit sheepish as they begin to walk inside. It’s dark, but that’s an issue easily solved by flicking his flashlight on. “And I thought you might like this.”

Malleus chuckles, and that does more to his heart than him just standing here. “I see,” He says, the amusement visible. Ellis can’t help the excited smile beginning to show up on his face. This was it. “I do think it could be interesting.”

“Yeah!” He chimes. Shining the light forwards, he inspects the path in front of them as they walk further away from the entrance — It was safe, right? A lot of people seemed to have been there, plus it wasn’t exactly hard to move inside, the ground wasn’t as rocky as the walls “I heard they have gems deeper inside? Uh, it might be a little creepy for a bit, though.”

Malleus hums. The glow of his eyes shows up more at every step they take towards the inner parts of the cave, shrouded in darkness. Looks magical, Ellis’ brain unhelpfully reminds him, majestic, beautiful.

(He needed to get that confession out already, and yet…)

“I’m not displeased with this place, though.” Malleus’ voice makes a light echo. “It reminds me of home in a way.”

“Home? Like in the Valley of Thorns?” He asks, wincing when he steps against what seemed to be a tree branch, cracking it into two. How do things like that end up here, anyway?

“It’s a very rocky scenery. Tall mountains and thorn bushes, dark almost all year long.” Malleus explains. “I remember seeing it through my room’s window.”

“You know, that’s kind of cool in a way, I’ve never been somewhere like that.” He comments, thumb resting over the flashlight’s switch. He feels fidgety trying to visualize the Valley of Thorns in his mind, then briefly entertaining the thought of actually being there, with him too… “Is the palace all dark too?”

“Darkness is associated with royalty, so naturally it is.” He speaks. There’s a hint of nostalgia in his voice, almost. It’s strangely warm thinking of a smaller Malleus walking around a big, imposing dark castle, and still making all those sweet childhood memories there. It’s a testament to Malleus himself, maybe. The contrast between the imposing exterior and the softer interior. “It's tall, built in black bricks a long time ago, surrounded by thorn bushes…”

“You should bring me there one day.” Ellis suggests. His voice comes out sweet, it always does — And he hopes Malleus can notice why, he wants him to. But he doesn’t expect it at this point.

(Because if there’s one thing about Malleus’ he’s learned, it’s that genius or not, everything just flew right over his head, and flirting with him was a battle you lost before you even started fighting.)

“Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.” Malleus says mid a chuckle, and his heart flutters. Oh to have a tour around Malleus’ hometown. Maybe there wasn’t much more to see at the place than thorn bushes, but Ellis thought about it insistently anyways. The things that made it unique, and the things about it that Malleus carried over. It’s insistent curiosity and his equally insistent crushing.

He glances forward as he smiles, recalling what he’d been told about the cave. They should be getting to the part with the cool rocks (Cater’s words, not his, maybe not even Cater’s either, since he got that from Ace who got it from someone else… you know how it is) now, Ellis is excited. He’s read up a little bit on gems before doing this. Surely Malleus would be caught off guard by that too, if he was interested in them, then they could choose one to bring home, and it’d be like jewelry shopping, kind of, maybe…

But jewelry stores don’t have swarms of bats in it, and caves do — And in they come, screechy noises and motion blur, and Ellis wasn’t thinking about the presence of bats at all, so he completely flips out, jumping in shock with a yelp and dropping the flashlight.

Dropping himself, actually, tripping on a damned rock and almost falling on top of Malleus as he hears the crack of his light falling, rolling somewhere he couldn’t see.

“Careful, Child of Man—”

Ellis blinks, looking around to try and find that light, but it’s nowhere to be seen — Not that he could see anything, the place was shrouded in darkness now — and his breath quickens with panic, damn it this wasn’t what…

“The flashlight?” Ellis asks, voice frantic. “Damn it, I can’t see it, I…”

Malleus’ eyes are still glowing green.

“I’m guessing you can’t see in the dark?”

“No?” He sputters. What, now he could see in the dark too? Malleus’ abilities are usually interesting to hear about, but now… “Ugh, the flashlight…”

“It’s not anywhere near us.” He informs unhelpfully. “Fallen from a drop. Perhaps I should guide us back.”

He sighs, heavy and tired. Great, there went his plans, everything down the drain again. Usually he could just laugh something like this off, but…

Maybe he had higher hopes for tonight.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ellis mumbles. “Sorry, in the end we couldn’t really do anything cool.”

“We still have time for a stroll near the woods, don’t we?” He can’t see Malleus’ face, exactly, just the outline of his eyes dotting the black dye, but with the way they move he guesses he may have tilted his head. “And I’ve actually enjoyed visiting this cave, short as our outing was.”

“...yeah, b-but I wanted to impress you.” His face feels hot, mostly with shame, the stutter comes with the blurting out of the words. He hates being upset like this, and yet— “You’re always the one doing cool things, disappearing in thin air and leaving fireflies behind, bringing me all that stuff… I wanted to do it too, I guess, especially with you bringing me all those gems for reasons I still don’t know why. I wanted you to… l-like me more, I guess, because I really like you.”

Too many words. He feels his core burn, but they’d been spinning around in his mind for so long now, at some point it was meant to come out. At least, even if Malleus hated that, he wouldn’t…

“Child of Man,” He speaks, voice clear and blank after a pause. There it comes, Ellis thinks dejectedly, though he doesn’t know exactly what bad thing he’s expecting. “Ellis.”

But that’s his name. His agape mouth closes. Was it that bad? One might worry his heartbeat would start echoing into the empty cave.

“...I believe there may have been a misunderstanding here.”

He shakes his head, heart twisting. “N-No, it’s okay, I get that you don’t…”

“Are you not aware of dragon courting traditions?”

Ellis feels his heart both drop the ground and soar at the same time.

“...the gifting of gems. I’d been trying to tell you about… how I feel, I suppose, for a while.” He says, and his voice sounds different. Quieter. Guilty? Ellis can’t put his finger on what it is exactly, but he wonders if Malleus is blushing.

And the image of it in his mind makes him want to look away, even as he can’t.

“There’s been a misunderstanding after all.” Malleus sighs. Yeah, his voice is different. Airy, light, something to it that has Ellis’ face burning. “If you’ve been thinking you could make me like you any more than I already do.”

It feels like an impossible dream to have something like this happen, in this damn cave of all places too, but the smile makes its way into his lips and doesn’t leave, lopsided or not. The laughter starts bubbling up. And on his first snicker, he has Malleus’ confusion too.

“Are you laughing at my confession?” He asks when the snickers turn into a full on laugh, one that has him wiping tears off his eyes with his sleeves.

“G-God, no way, I’m just laughing ‘cause we’re both so stupid…” Ellis shakes his head. Who would have known, huh. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Then we can go for that walk you wanted. I think it’d be nice.”

“As you wish, then.” He replies, and Ellis feels his hand on his, warmth spreading across him. It’s really a dream— “Would that mean we are… dating, now?”

Oh to see the great Malleus asking him all these dorky questions. “Maybe. Let’s get out of here first.”

The light from the entrance shines back onto them soon.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x oc #twst oc #malleus draconia #lis writing #commissions tag

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fnf-brain-rot · 3 years

Text

[Whitty x Boyfriend] Chapter - 7 don’t worry about it

Whitty found it hard to rest that night.

He had been thinking about that sad look on Bee's face when he got home that night. He didn't like seeing him sad, it put him on edge. Boyfriend said he would talk it out with him, but they never did talk about what happened over dinner, or even after. The small male simply retired to his room at about ten at night.

He watched the boy sleep, out of being new to staying in one place. Boyfriend obviously wasn't sleeping peacefully, however Whitty had no idea how to fix that. It must have to do with what was bothering him earlier that day. The only thing he could think to do was Boyfriend's favorite form of comfort; physical touch. He tried his best to gently slide into bed with him, curling his large body around him protectively so he could snuggle. Boyfriend didn't wake up, though he did lean against Whitty's arm some, and his tense expression finally calmed down. Whitty smiled a little at the sight. He hadn't known Boyfriend for very long, but seeing him smile was starting to have an affect on him. He was warm, but on the inside. But not warm on the inside like mechanical wise, like.. happy? Was this happiness?

________________________________________________________________________________

Boyfriend felt like shit in the morning.

He opened his eyes, only slightly since a ray of sunshine decided it would be best to hit him directly in the face. He grumbled irritably, turning around so the light wouldn't be in his eyes, though he paused when he saw Whitty staring at him.

Fucking again.

The rapper let out a yelp and shot up in his spot, pulling the covers up on his half naked body. He immediately relaxed though, upon realizing it was Whitty, but tensed when he noticed Whitty was in his bed. "Whitty!! What the hell are you doing in my bed??" He quickly asked, and Whitty sat up beside him, not breaking eye contact. "You looked sad last night.. So I thought it would help if I gave you cuddles.." The bomb responded with a soft tone, then seemed to remember something. His expression took a more serious and angry one, and he pointed to a purple bite mark on Boyfriend's shoulder.

"You told me no one hurt you yesterday. Where did that come from?" He then asked. Boyfriend knew Whitty was naive to most things, that probably included sex and everything surrounding it. "N-No Whits, no one hurt me.. It was uh.. I wanted that.." He then explained softly, though the pang of guilt from the mere thought of Pico made him not want to continue. "Why would you want to be bitten? It looks painful." The taller made a face at the statement. He noticed Boyfriend's face begin to saturate a deep red color, though in context this doesn't seem like a particularly happy conversation.

"I can explain it to you some other time, just uh.. Let me get dressed.." Boyfriend took note of the somewhat disappointed expression on Whitty's face, but he of course nodded, not wanting to impose on his little buddy. He was starting to feel bad about this too.. Maybe he should talk to Gigi and see how she would handle it.

________________________________________________________________________________

He had called the auburn haired girl to meet up at the little local café, and brought Whitty with him this time so he wouldn't be home alone. Besides he and Girlfriend were friends now, so it wouldn't make sense to hide him from her still.

"Whitty! Bee!" Girlfriend ran over to the two as she saw them approach the building down the sidewalk. "Hi Gigi.." Whitty muttered shyly as she tackled his leg in a hug, which he greatly appreciated. She had such a warm, happy aura, it would be impossible not to feel comfortable around her. She pulled away and looked to Boyfriend, who simply gave her a weak smile. It was worse than she thought. "Come on, I reserved one of the rooms back in the building so we could be alone." She hummed, gently rubbing Boyfriend's hand with her thumb to comfort him. He nodded, then followed her, along with Whitty, into the café.

The room wasn't huge, enough for maybe a group of people. Whitty would need all the room he could get. "So, you two been alright since this weekend?" Girlfriend smiled, grabbing the menus from the center of the circular table. "Yeah, I guess.. Whitty's getting more comfortable around the house, considering every morning I wake up to him staring at me." Boyfriend shot Whitty a look, though the taller just seemed confused. "I just like to make sure you're okay.." He pouted a little, causing Gigi to giggle. "You two are so cute." She sighed happily, then remembered what Boyfriend had called her for in the first place.

"Are you doing any better since.. yesterday?" She started, cautiously of course as to not trigger any water works the blue haired male might still have pent up. "Eh.. He still hasn't texted me back. I'm gonna have to go see him sooner or later, but I feel so guilty." Boyfriend dropped his head onto the table in despair, and Whitty leaned down a bit to where his head connected with the smooth surface.

"I mean bailing after sex is kinda.. it's kinda shitty, I'll give him that." Girlfriend nodded her head, only for Bee's head to shoot up. "Aw what!"

"What, do you want me to lie?"

"A little bit yes!" Boyfriend pouted at her. It only made her laugh more. "Sweetie, you know Pico is a sensitive man. He may not show it but he notices every little thing you do, and he takes it all into consideration. He knows you're pretty stupid, and he doesn't even know Whitty yet so you can't expect him to understand why you would leave for him like that." Gigi had moved so she was on the other side of Boyfriend, gently pressing against him in a hug.

Whitty was hella confused as to what they were even talking about right now, but decided to join in the hug anyway. Anything to make his little buddy happy. "Yeah.. You're right.. I don't have the energy to confront that today though.." Bee sighed softly into her shoulder, and she gently cupped his cheek. "Well you're in luck. There's a carnival in town, and I'm taking both of you with me. To get your mind off things. I don't like it when you're mopey." Boyfriend perked a bit at the mention of "carnival", and Whitty made a sound of discomfort. "What's a carnival?" He asked the two softly, and Boyfriend gasped.

He hopped onto the bomb man's lap, squeezing his face in his hands, the excitement showing in his dark eyes. "Oh my god Whitty! you don't know what a carnival is?!" He cried out, bouncing a bit on him. "It's an event where you go to play games and win prizes and ride rides! It's absolutely amazing!" Whitty grunted a bit as Bee began to shake his head a little, and Girlfriend tugged on his pants leg. "Now now, be gentle on the big guy."

"Oh right.. ha, sorry.. I just haven't been in so long." Boyfriend let him go, and plopped back down in his seat. "I used to go all the time with my parents when we were little, but honestly, the events were always really shitty. Like.. the budget was a thousand dollars shitty." He laughed lightly in memory. That town in itself was just.. shitty. No wonder he moved.

"Well I can assure you the ones here are frankly not as bad." Girlfriend smiled, gently giving his arm a squeeze. He was glad he came to talk to her. He would talk to Whitty, but he would have to explain every little thing to him. Plus he didn't want him to worry. "Now order up boys, we have a big day ahead of us." She opened up her menu, and the other two followed suit.

______________________________________________________________________________

The event took place on the far east of the city on the beach. Of course they hadn't walked, Girlfriend simply called a chauffer. Whitty found it very, very hard to sit in that limo. He ended up having to lie on the floor, resting his head and feet parallel on the seats. He looked like a wooden plank with a crook in it. Boyfriend teased him about it for a couple minutes. The guy was unbearable sometimes.

Whitty didn't know how he felt about the carnival at first. There were a lot of people around, a lot of noises, and the sand was hard to walk on. Thank goodness most of it was on solid land. The only major part on the sand were bouncy castles and a few random booths for games he didn't recognize. "Whitty!" Boyfriend's voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him to glance down at the shorty. "Look at the giant wheel up there." He pointed to the Ferris wheel standing tall quite a bit away from them, so he couldn't see the whole thing. Just looking at it made Whitty a little queasy.

"What is that? What.. What is it for?" Whitty asked him, feeling the smaller slip their hands together, intertwining their fingers. "It's one of the rides! You get on and it takes you high up into the air. If we're lucky they'll stop it when we're at the top." Whitty didn't know how he felt about being so high up. "Is it safe?" He looked to Boyfriend with an anxious expression, and the smaller simply nodded. "Of course. It wouldn't be legal if it was unsafe." Whitty hummed in acknowledgement.

"Do you wanna try it?" Boyfriend beamed up at him, and Whitty couldn't help but laugh nervously. "Not.. at the moment.." Boyfriend nodded understandably. "We can play some carnival games while Gigi goes to get our tickets for the fireworks tonight." Boyfriend then informed, beginning to pull his big roommate down onto the boardwalk.

"Fireworks?" Whitty echoed in curiosity. Boyfriend seemed bewildered with how many things Whitty didn't know. He was pretty much born yesterday. "Yeah they're like.. They're lights that shoot up in the sky and go BOOM!" Boyfriend threw up his free hand to exaggerate the explosion. "That sounds scary.." Whitty muttered softly, and Boyfriend laughed at his timid nature. "It's pretty loud yeah, but it won't hurt you. It's like gunpowder and fire and that makes it explode.. I think.. In the air. I'll ask Gigi how it works later." Whitty flashed him an unamused look. He knew just as much as the bomb did.

They decided to try a ring toss booth first. Boyfriend handed the man two dollars for four tries. "Here, I'll do two, and you do two. Watch me." Whitty stood to the side of him, and watched as he held up a red, plastic ring. Boyfriend studied the jars in front of him for a moment, then tossed the ring. Of course, it bounced off the glass in between the jars, falling to the floor under the stand the jars were on. Boyfriend didn't give up. He paused another moment, then threw the second ring, only to have the same result. "Aw man! This game is rigged!" The blue haired male pouted, but Whitty only seemed confused.

"Tough luck bucko." The concession owner shrugged his shoulders, a devious smirk on his face. Boyfriend only glared at him. "Wait, so what's the objective?" Whitty asked softly, awkwardly moving in place of Boyfriend to give his try. "You have to get the ring around one of the bottles. If you get it on the one on top, you can get the best prize!" Boyfriend pointed at some stuffed animals hanging above them. There was a large alien plushie, and one that particularly caught Whitty's eye.

It was a little bomb with little orange feet and cute white eyes. Boyfriend recognized it as the little bomba from the Mario games. "I want that one.." Whitty pointed at it. Boyfriend couldn't help but grin and put a hand on his mouth. Whitty was so cute sometimes, it was ridiculous. Of course he would want the bomb one.

"You gotta get the ring around the jar for it." Boyfriend nudged Whitty's hip in encouragement. It wouldn't hurt to try. He really wanted that little bomb thing. With a new found determination, Whitty focused on the glass jars ahead of him. He tossed the ring, and it bounced off the glass. He whined a little, and looked down to Boyfriend, who gently patted his back. "You got one more try buddy." He hummed softly. Whitty looked back to the jars, huffing lightly under his breath.

He stared for a good thirty seconds, then tossed the ring. He whined again, louder this time as it seemed like it wouldn't hit, but he and Boyfriend gasped in unison as the plastic successfully clinked and dinged against the glass, settling around the top one. "Holy shit Whitty!!" Boyfriend cried out happily, and concession owner seemed surprised. "Well I'll be! That's a different type of luck." He stood, going over to the back of the booth and grabbing the long stick to retrieve Whitty's beloved little bomb plushie. Whitty thankfully took it from him, holding it in front of him and. His eyes stared wide into the smaller white pellets of the soft thing in front of him. "It's.. it's so soft.." The bomb man muttered, wonder in his voice.

"You two have a lovely date na'!" The owner shot a finger gun at them as they began to walk away, making Boyfriend's cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "That was... fun.." Whitty mumbled. He didn't use the word often. He could barely put into words what this emotion was other than, what was it earlier, happiness? Whitty hugged the plushie tight to his chest, a tiny smile on his face.

The two walked around for a bit, looking at all the colorful attractions around, there was even a stage down on the beach, there was a band playing music, rock music of course. It fit the atmosphere of the little fun house down by the pier though. "Oh oh!" Boyfriend suddenly popped up upon smelling a sweet smell. "The carnival has all types of food around! The most popular one is cotton candy!"

"Cotton candy?" Whitty looked down, Boyfriend squeezing his hand in confirmation. "Yeah! Come on I'll show you!" Boyfriend had Whitty sold when he said the word "food". They walked up to another concession stand, one of the little cotton candy machines. Strewn around were different colors of cotton candy on the frame of the stand. Blue, pink, yellow, red, white.

"This is cotton candy. It's made out of uh.. It's not made out of cotton, it's.. sugar or something." Boyfriend made a face in thought. The line was short, thankfully. He and Whitty got to the front in no time. The owner of this stand was a woman, and she smiled at the two men, but seemed to focus on Boyfriend. "Hey, you're that blue haired kid that featured with Mommy must Murder!' She pointed out, and Boyfriend blushed, but tried his best to stand tall. "Yeah that's me! I try my best!" He put a hand on his chest, a confident smile on his face.

"You got quite the voice on you. I wouldn't be surprised if you became as big as some of these mainstream artists. What can I get for ya, darlin?" She gave him a warm smile. Boyfriend cleared his throat, hoping she couldn't see how flustered this was actually making him. "Well, uh.. Whitty, what color do you want?" He turned to his buddy, and Whitty stared at the options available.

"Uh.. red." Whitty hummed softly. "Alright, it'll be ready in just a moment." She grabbed a bottle sitting on a table behind her, pouring an opaque substance into the spinning device in front of her. "How big would you like it?" She asked, and Whitty thought for a moment. He tucked his plushie under his arm and held his hands apart scarily wide. Boyfriend and the woman both laughed awkwardly. "How big can twenty dollars get me?" The blue haired male asked awkwardly. "Twenty is just fine for that amount." She winked at him. Boyfriend smiled sheepishly. People were so nice..

The cotton candy was the size of the giant alien plushie they saw earlier. Whitty happily took it, and Boyfriend paid up. "Good luck on your trip to fame, little guy." She smiled, and held up a fist. He grinned back, and fist bumped her. "Thanks miss!" He walked off on Whitty's side, ducking to avoid the ridiculous amount of cotton candy on that stick.

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"Whitty! Bf! I've been looking for you guys!" Girlfriend's voice sounded from behind the two. The sun had set a few minutes ago, and the two guys were sitting on a bench down near the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore. They turned around, noticing she was approaching someone else. Wait.. No way.

"NENE?!!" Boyfriend shot up from the bench, damn there sprinting full speed to the girl in pink beside Girlfriend. "Wh- Bee-" She squealed as their bodies collided, and Boyfriend tackled her into the grass below. "Oh, you know each other?" Girlfriend laughed a little as Boyfriend stuffed his face into Nene's neck, squeezing her torso tightly.

"Ow! That hurt! Get off me dumbass!" Nene laughed out, gently pushing against the man. He was starting to suffocate her. They eventually got up, but Boyfriend didn't want to let her go. "I haven't seen you in fucken years how DARE you ghost me!!" He finally let her go, putting his fists against his hips. "I never got your number! I'm sorry! Everything got super busy ever since you moved out!" She smiled and held his hand with both her own.

Whitty stared at the interaction from the bench, not knowing how to feel from the new face. And how much Boyfriend was paying attention to her. Why? Why did he feel that way? He likes Boyfriend's hugs yes, but enough to the point where he felt weird watching him hug someone else? He squeezed onto his plushie again, deciding not to move from his spot as the three interacted, Boyfriend of course being the loudest one. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Oh yeah! I want you to meet someone!"

Whitty's head perked back up, now seeing them begin to walk over to him. He grew a little tense, pressing his knees together. "Whitty, I know you wanna take it slow, but this is the perfect opportunity! This is Nene, a friend of mine!" He grinned at the bomb man as he sat beside him. "Nice to meet you Whitty!" She smiled and waved, and Whitty nervously looked at her. "He's very shy, it'll take him a while to open up." Boyfriend then informed her. "Oh no worries! No pressure." Nene hummed, and Girlfriend laughed at her.

"Hey bb.." Whitty then mumbled out of no where. "I think the Ferris wheel is a good option now." He told him. Boyfriend beamed happily, hopping up from his seat once more. "Hell yeah! Come on let's go!" Whitty didn't really want to get on it. He just wanted to escape this situation. Four people is a lot of people, and one of them he doesn't know well. It was pretty abrupt. Boyfriend didn't seem to notice his discomfort, which was good for Whitty. He didn't want to inconvenience him.

The small man led him to the Ferris wheel, which looked absolutely fucking massive up close. People ride this for fun?? Yeah, a fun torture method. He swallowed nervously as they stood in line, Boyfriend gently bouncing on his toes and humming cheerfully. It helped Whitty to see Boyfriend be so happy. "Woohoo!" Boyfriend threw his fists in the air and exclaimed excitedly, running onto the loading dock when it was their turn. they got booth number twenty four. "Hey Whitty, you know what's funnier than twenty four?" He asked the tall bomb as he strapped himself in his seat. Whitty had to get one of the staff to do it for him. It was confusing. "Funnier? What?" He asked him. "Twenty five." Boyfriend giggled into his hand like a little school girl, and Whitty stared at him, confused.

"What's so funny about numbers?" He mumbled in confusion. they sat there for a couple minutes, Whitty allowing Boyfriend to rant to him about, who the hell knows. He was doing a thing with his hands where he would bounce them up and down, like shaking some maracas. Whitty found that image funny. The queasy feeling in Whitty's stomach returned when he felt the booth begin to move. He held onto his plushy tight, unable to hold Boyfriend due to them being seated across from each other.

"Hey, you nervous?" Boyfriend tilted his head, and Whitty opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he closed them. No wonder he couldn't see anything. Whitty nodded, deciding to be honest. no point in lying to him. "You can come sit by me if you want." He patted the leather seat beside him. It was comfortable, funnily enough. Whitty hesitated for a moment, nervous to even stand up in the moving car, but he eventually unbuckled his belt, doing the opposite of what he saw the ride operator do earlier.

He stood up slowly, swaying a little, which made the booth sway a little. He made a nervous sound, but managed to shuffle toward the blue haired male, taking a stiff seat next to him. "Oh look at the ocean Whitty!" Boyfriend locked arms with the bomb, and that seemed to comfort him to an extent. He hesitantly looked up from the floor, through the clear glass surrounding them.

They weren't too high up yet, but man did everyone look like ants. More so than usual. He wasn't as scared as he thought he would be, though. In fact, he was intrigued. "Woah.." He muttered under his breath, watching as their view slowly ascended above the entire carnival. There was something with fire going on at the stage, and all the lights and colors popped against the darkness of the evening. The ocean stretched out wide, and Whitty watched the sunlight slowly disappear over the horizon. It was at the moment Whitty realized just how.. big the world was.

He looked down at Boyfriend, who had his face pressed against the glass beside him. "Aw man the fire dancers already started.." He pouted a little, but his smile quickly returned as he continued to look out over the sea. He then turned around to look at Whitty, noticing the look on his face.

"What's wrong?" The small rapper blinked, though Whitty couldn't answer right away. He stared at Boyfriend for another moment, the eye contact causing butterflies to explode in the taller's stomach. God he was so.. pretty. Pretty was the word right? He'd have to expand on his vocabulary.

"Thank you, Boyfriend.." Was all he said, and the man in question blushed heavily, looking away and tugging on his collar. "Aw come on Whits, you don't need to thank me.." He uttered out. Whitty enjoyed his company. A lot. He appreciated him. A lot.

He likes him. A lot.

#whitty x boyfriend #fnfwhitmore #fnf whitty #fnf #friday night funkin #fnf girlfriend #whitty x bf

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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@trulytaka asked: um i’ve always dreamt about a tattoo artist!renji falling for a client AU. it’s okay if you can’t come up with anything, just a suggestion!

How is it even possible that I have never read a Tattoo Artist! Renji AU?? (If there is one, please, send it to me immediately). Anyway, I got way too enamored of this idea, this is not even remotely a drabble, it is 4400 words and it is incredibly self-indulgent, I am absolutely not sorry.

It takes place in America and everyone is Japanese-American, because I am way more comfortable writing about American tattoo culture. I have never actually read a Tattoo Artist AU, I don’t know how they are supposed to go, this is just based on my own experiences getting inked. It’s mostly a story about Rukia and Renji being incredible nerfballs, there are not nearly enough stories about Rukia being a nerfball around Renji.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀 🛹 💕

Izuru Kira found Renji Abarai in the break room, simultaneously trying to cram a burrito into his face and read a Hellboy comic. He was holding the comic open with his elbow in an attempt to avoid spilling guacamole on Abe Sapien.

“Your two o’clock is here,” Izuru informed his distinguished colleague.

“Oh, great!” Renji replied, creasing the foil wrapper into a spout so that he could pour the last of the salsa drippings into his mouth.

“She’s waiting in the consult room,” Izuru went on, watching Renji toss the crumpled foil ball across the room, completely missing the trash can. “Look, have you met her before? A Miss Kuchiki?”

“Just exchanged a few emails,” Renji replied, as he scrubbed his hands at the sink. “Why? Is she scary?”

“Not in the usual way of Abarai clients,” Izuru replied. “I was just… wondering if she was... in the right place.”

“Her request was very specific,” Renji replied, scooping up his comic and the manila folder underneath it. “In fact, I am quite proud of what I came up with for her.” He whipped the folder open.

Izuru stared at it for a moment. “That is so specific.”

“I honestly think this is one of the best tatts I have ever designed. I hope she’s a real weirdo, because not just anyone deserves a masterpiece of this caliber.”

“Mmm,” Izuru agreed. “Yeah. Anyway, if there’s been a, uh, miscommunication, see if you can just… redirect her. Both Momo and I are in today, okay?”

Renji scoffed and stuffed his comic in Izuru’s hand as he marched down the hall toward the consult room. A miscommunication. Renji wondered what was wrong with her. She was probably mousy and wore glasses. Izuru always assumed girls like that would rather have a sad poem about the sea or a sprig of herbs inked on her wrist (conveniently, his specialties). Plenty of mousy girls with glasses would rather rock some fangs or dripping daggers, in Renji’s professional experience.

“Knock knock!” he announced, as he slid the door open. He took one step into the room and stopped dead.

Rukia Kuchiki was not mousy. She did not wear glasses.

Renji didn’t know much about suits. He did not happen to own one himself. But he guessed that Rukia Kuchiki’s suit was expensive, in part because it fit her perfectly, despite her tiny frame. It was jet black, and didn’t have a single speck of lint or cat hair on it. Her perfectly manicured hands were folded neatly on top of her crossed legs. She was wearing very tall, very pointy heels. Their soles were bright red, which Renji had learned from television meant that they were super expensive. He realized that he probably shouldn’t be looking at her legs, even though they were very nice to look at. His eyes snapped up to her face, but that honestly wasn’t any better.

Renji wasn’t often attracted to women, but she had probably the most interesting face he had ever seen-- heart-shaped, with big, dark eyes, a sharp chin, the cutest little nose. Her make-up was subtle and professional, and her hair was swept up with a clip, although it must be fairly short, because a few pieces hung down in front of her ears, and a thick lock dangled between her eyes.

She looked like a mean lawyer from a movie, one that would drive a fancy sportscar like an act of violence. Scary, for sure. But not in the usual way of Abarai clients, who tended toward the large and beefy, not that sharp and sharklike.

That nose, though.

Suddenly, her face split into a big grin. “Hi,” she announced brightly. “I’m Rukia Kuchiki.” She had a deep voice, a very beautiful voice. “You must be Renji Abarai.” Her eyes flicked to his arms. “I mean, of course you are, who else would have those arms? They’re so cool.”

“My arms?” Renji said stupidly. “Are they… famous?”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, well, I follow you on Instagram, and you don’t have any pictures of your face, but your arms are in a lot of the shots and they’re, well, they’re kinda distinctive. Do you think, um, would you mind if I looked at them?”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. It’s not like he wasn’t used to having his arms checked out, but most people were more… subtle about it. Oh, well, it was her dime. “I didn’t do them myself, obviously,” he pointed out, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt so she could see the baboon skull on his left shoulder. A skeletal arm traced down the rest of that arm, complete with an outline of his own hand bones. On the right side, a snake spine coiled around his bicep, ending with a hissing skull. “I mean, it was my design, but my friends-- the other three tattoo artists here-- all helped ink me up.” He plopped down in the chair that sat catty corner to the couch where Rukia was sitting, and held his arms out. “We’re sort of a full-service studio. I’m the skeletons and monsters guy. Izuru, the guy you met on desk duty today-- is good at calligraphy and watercolors and little, itty bitty tattoos. Momo is our nature girl, she specializes in flowers and animals, and she’s great with bright colors. The snake skull was all her. Shuuhei is really into classic tattoo art-- you need a hula girl or a heart with an arrow through it, he’s your man. He’s also incredibly talented at revamping old regret tattoos, there’s good money in that.”

“Mm,” Rukia agreed, finally tearing her eyes away from his forearms to look up at his face, and abruptly turned even pinker. A lot of people fantasized about getting a tattoo and then got a bad case of nerves when it was time to make the leap. Maybe all this was way out of her comfort zone. Renji was trying his best to be friendly and chatty, which usually helped, but he was not used to dealing with this class of lady. He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too familiar.

“Actually,” Rukia went on, pulling on her fingers nervously. “I picked this place specifically because of you. For your work, I mean. I’m kind of a big fan. I saw some of your paintings at an exhibition over at the Fine Arts College, and I just, you know, fell in love. I’d always thought I’d like to get a tattoo someday, and when I found out that you were a tattoo artist, I knew it had to be you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, and I’m babbling and I’m really sorry, I’m just very excited.”

Renji blinked. “You’re not babbling,” he replied slowly. He was sort of hoping she might say some more things about how much she liked his art in her beautiful voice. “Wait, an exhibition at the art school? That must have been at least three years ago, when I was doing my MFA.”

“Er, right,” Rukia looked a little sheepish. “A friend of mine had some work in the same exhibit, you probably don’t know her. My favorite one of your paintings was the one with the Black Lagoon creatures eating hamburgers at a diner, but I also really liked the one that was like a huge monster with a big bone mask stalking through a city, the way you did the shadows was just incredible.”

That particular painting was currently wrapped in brown paper and stuffed behind Renji’s couch. His last boyfriend had told him it was “creepy.”

“Uh, glad you liked it,” Renji managed. “Who was your friend?”

“Her name is Inoue. Orihime Inoue.”

“Oh, the robot girl!” Renji exclaimed. “Er, I mean she drew robots. Constantly. For every assignment. I didn’t mean to imply she was… robotic. In any way.” Jeez, Abarai, pull it together, he chided himself. “Yeah, I remember her. I didn’t know her well, but she sure could draw some tight robots. Is, she, uh, doing well?”

“She’s doing storyboards for a stop-motion animation studio,” Rukia replied.

Renji smiled. “That sounds perfect for her.”

Rukia bit her bottom lip and Renji’s throat went dry.

“So, um, you said in your email that you would have a design for me to look at?”

Renji realized that he was gripping the folder like a doofus. “Right! I did a couple of variations,” he explained, passing it from one hand to the other. “But you explained the concept pretty clearly, and I’m really happy with how the first one came out. I mean, obviously, it’s your tattoo! Please give me any feedback you have, you won’t offend me, even if you hate it! Tattoo designs often take a few iterations, it’s very normal, don’t hold back.”

She was staring at him, those big eyes wide and sparkling. “Can I… see it?”

“Oh! Right!” He shoved the folder at her.

Rukia opened it up and gasped.

“I especially love the way you draw skeletons,” Rukia’s email had read. “Do you think you could tattoo a grim reaper doing a sick kickflip on a skateboard onto my outer bicep? I do lift, so I am pretty jacked, if that makes a difference.”

“It’s perfect,” Rukia sighed in a tiny voice.

“Um, in the first variation (that’s page 2) I added some sunglasses, and in the second one, the grim reaper is flipping the bird and also its head is on fire. I guess I thought that grim reapers should be gender neutral but now I’m wondering if you would have preferred more of a… lady grim reaper?” Renji yammered absently.

“Oh, no,” Rukia murmured softly, flipping through the pages. Renji wasn’t even sure she had listened to a word he had said. “These are amazing. I love the sunglasses, but I also like the way you put little flames in the eye sockets in the first one…” She waved a hand absently. “Oh, and don’t worry, I like a non-binary skeleton.”

A small problem had just occurred to Renji. “Hey, um, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I… may have overestimated the size of your arms.”

“Oh?” Rukia asked, and abruptly shucked off her expensive suit jacket. She was wearing a pale purple sleeveless silk blouse underneath. She held one arm out experimentally, and then flexed. The muscle definition on her bicep made Renji take an involuntary swallow, but the fact that she was wicked cut did not buy him much in the way of real estate.

“I’ll just shrink it down maybe 25%,” he reassured her. “I’ll have to simplify some of the detail on--”

“No,” Rukia frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t do that.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not committed to having it on my arm.” She uncrossed her legs and hefted one high-heeled foot onto the coffee table in front of her. “What do you think? Is my thigh big enough?”

Renji tried to make words come out, but it just wasn’t happening.

“Er… sorry,” Rukia said slowly, tugging at her hem. “I forgot I was wearing a skirt today.”

“Huh?” Renji scrambled to recover. He needed to say something. She looked really embarrassed. Say something! Say something professional about her leg! “Sorry, I was, uh, thinking!” Good, good, now keep going. “Don’t be self-conscious, I see people’s bodies all the time. Bodies are no big deal, we all got ‘em, right?” This was true in the abstract sense, but he knew these were blatant lies as they exited his mouth. Most people’s bodies were no big deal. He had only known her for five minutes, but was certain that Rukia Kuchiki’s thighs were a very big deal. He studied her leg, stroking his chin, like he was some kind of anthropologist of thigh tattoos. Mostly he was trying to figure out what would seem like an appropriate amount of time to look at a person’s thigh, a person who was your professional client that you most definitely did not have the hots for. “There’s certainly plenty of room,” he declared. “But, you know, people are going to see it less. Which is a selling point for some people! It’s just a personal decision that you’ll have to make. It sounds like you had a big vision.”

Rukia gingerly placed her foot back on the floor. “I had actually been wondering if maybe the upper arm was too public, anyway,” she admitted. “The fact is, I just got full access to my trust fund, and this is sort of a celebration, but I may have been a little overeager to piss off my big brother. He’s very stodgy.” She contemplated the area of her leg that was covered by her pencil skirt. “But so are a lot of people in my field. I can wait until I’m running my own company before I get started on the full sleeve of my dreams, right?”

“Worked for me,” Renji replied, utterly lost by whatever she was talking about. “What… field are you in?”

“Oh, finance,” she dismissed.

Finance. Of course. Renji tried to shoo away the weight of disappointment that was settling in his stomach. He was talking to a friendly client who was clearly loaded, loved his work, and was contemplating thousands of dollars worth of future business. He should be thrilled. He should probably be trying to sell her one of his old paintings-- they were only gathering dust, anyway. Renji would never break the studio policy about hitting on clients. The fact that she would surely laugh at him if he asked her to his favorite burger joint ought to make things easier, right?

“This is so hard!” Rukia declared, and Renji was shaken from his reverie. She was just contemplating his draft designs again, though, flipping back and forth between them.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he reassured her. “You can think about it and email me. If you’re happy enough, we can schedule your session, and we’ll work out the details between now and then. Chat it over with your pal MechaHime, she’s got good opinions.” He paused. Momo always said he was too nice during consults, they were running a business, but he couldn’t help it. “Or you can just call back when you’re ready. No pressure.”

Rukia slammed her fist down on her knee. “No! Let’s schedule it! Do I pay now?”

“20% deposit. Let’s go out front, Izuru will ring it up.”

“Perfect.” She looked longingly at the drawings again. “Can I take these with me? You’re absolutely right, Orihime will know what to do.”

Renji wrinkled his nose. “It’s actually against studio policy but…”

Rukia’s face suddenly became very serious. “Then it’s against policy.” She winked at him and smiled. “You should take care of your intellectual property, Mr. Abarai.”

“I never get over to this part of town, to be honest,” Rukia admitted as they walked back up to the front. “Is the taco place across the street any good?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Renji agreed. “Momo and I painted a huge mural on their wall, so they give us free churros.”

“Are tacos a good post-tattoo celebratory meal?” Rukia asked curiously.

“Well, you actually want to eat beforehand,” Renji pointed out. “It’s important to keep your energy up. I don’t estimate yours should take very long, I’m gonna book you a two-hour slot.”

“Ah, okay,” Rukia agreed, and Renji realized belatedly that...maybe… she had been asking him out? No. Surely not. His brain scrabbled for a response, but then he stepped into the reception area and his brain shut down entirely.

“It’s DONE!” Shuuhei bellowed. “Behold my work, ye mighty, and despair!”

Tetsuzaemon Iba, serial client, yakuza enthusiast, and assistant manager at a doggie day care, was flexing. He was not wearing a shirt.

From behind the reception desk, Kira was wearing a dour frown and shaking his head.

“It’s a masterpiece,” Renji declared. “I admit I was skeptical, but it looks fantastic, man. You happy with it?”

“It” was a massive tattoo, covering the wide landscape of Iba’s broad back. It featured a lucky cat, grinning maniacally, its paw held high. It was on fire. The kanji for “lucky charm” was incorporated somehow. It was a disaster. It was perfect.

“How could I not be?” Iba boomed.

“Whoa,” a tiny voice behind Renji said.

Iba’s face went pale when he realized that he was being Peak Iba in front of an elegant, professional woman whose shoes probably cost more than his entire net worth. “Gimme me my shirt!” he demanded of Shuuhei.

“That’s… amazing!” Rukia exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Wow, how long did that take?”

Shuuhei blinked slowly as he passed Iba his shirt. “Five sessions.”

“Well, it’s so cute!” Rukia announced. “You must love cats.”

Iba lifted at the same gym as Renji and watched Momo’s Pomeranian on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was a regular fixture at the tattoo studio, and all four of them liked to drag him, but no one, none of them, had ever roasted him this hard. Renji cursed that no-asking-out-clients rule, because he wanted to buy Rukia Kuchiki her own body weight in tacos and then ask her to be his wife.

“He’s more of a dog person,” Shuuhei supplied.

“Great with dogs,” Izuru added.

“Shut up, you jerks, I am a lover of all animals,” Iba grumbled as he pulled his Hawaiian shirt over his shoulders. “Is this your lawyer, Abarai? Did you finally get arrested for that hairstyle?”

“I have an MBA, actually, not a JD,” Rukia replied matter-of-factly. “And I am his client. Can you show that large man my tattoo design? Is that allowed?”

Renji chuckled, and pulled out his drawing.

“That,” Iba declared, “is a wicked tatt.”

“Oh, you showed me that email!” Shuuhei recalled. “It came out great.” He regarded Rukia. “He was really excited about that one, you made his day.”

Rukia just beamed proudly.

“Are we booking a session, then?” Izuru asked hopefully.

“Yeah, two hours,” Renji nodded.

“Let me just finish ringing up Iba, and I’ll see when you’ve got an opening,” Izuru replied.

“This your first one?” Shuuhei asked Rukia conversationally.

“Mm-hmm,” Rukia nodded.

“Well, you made a good choice. Clean design, mostly black with just a few color pops, should go on quick and easy, and it’ll hold up really well, too.”

“This is Shuuhei, the one I was telling you about, who fixes a lot of bad tattoos.”

“I have never had to fix an Abarai tattoo,” Shuuhei declared. “He’s great with first timers. Very gentle. I’ve fallen asleep while he was inking me.” Shuuhei pointed to the pair of crossed scythes gracing his upper arm. “This is one of his.”

“Oooh, neat!” Rukia agreed.

“You’re being embarrassing,” Renji informed his friend.

“Always,” Shuuhei agreed. “Nice to meet you! I hope I get to see the finished product.” He waved to Iba as he headed off toward the back. “Don’t forget to moisturize!”

“Everyone’s so friendly here,” Rukia said softly to Renji. “This isn’t at all like I pictured it.”

Renji stretched his arms behind his head. “Nah, we’re just a bunch of goofballs who like drawin’ on people. Very lowkey.”

“I guess I’ve thought a lot about the getting tattooed part of getting tattooed, but I never thought of it as… a job. That people have.”

“It’s a great job,” Renji replied. “I love it. I’m just lucky that Izuru over there has enough business sense to keep the other three of us from running it into the ground.”

“That’s certainly the truth,” Izuru agreed, as Iba headed out the door. “Two hours, you said? Renji’s got a 4-6pm block open on a Wednesday, three weeks from now. The 24th, how does that work for you, Ms. Kuchiki?”

“Do you think that’s enough time to settle on a design?” Renji asked. “If you come up with changes, it should only take me a day or two to incorporate them.”

“Oh! Yes, three weeks should be fine. I thought… it might be a little sooner,” Rukia replied, sounding a tad disappointed.

“Abarai’s a busy man, three weeks is actually pretty quick,” Izuru explained.

“Right, of course!” Rukia nodded. “Yes, I’ll take the 24th!”

She then paid her deposit, a process which involved her taking approximately ten thousand items out of her purse, including a full-sized drawing pad, a single fingerless glove, and a Pez dispenser with a duck head. She was the most contradictory person Renji had ever met, and he just wanted to know everything about her. But instead, they were going to exchange a couple of emails about a grim reaper on a skateboard, he was going to spend an hour and a half two inches from her naked thigh in a state of intense, non-sexual concentration, and then he would likely never see her again.

“Okay, I guess that’s it!” Rukia said, stuffing the last of her worldly belongings back into the purse. “Three weeks, then!”

“Three weeks it is,” Renji agreed. “Unless we happen to run into each other at the taco place.”

Rukia blinked. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Right. Ha, ha, of course!” She’d been walking backwards toward the door, an impressive feat in those heels, and she spun suddenly to pull it open.

“It’s a push,” Renji and Izuru chorused together.

“Ha, ha, of course it is!” Rukia laughed nervously, and ducked out.

Izuru stared pointedly at Renji. “Wow,” he said.

“I don’t know what you have against her,” Renji scowled. “So she’s professional. She was really nice. She’s a big fan of my work.”

Izuru cocked his head. “She’s clearly also a big fan of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renji said.

“Look, I’m sorry I implied that a person who drives a Lotus Exige would not be interested in having your weird skeleton doodles permanently placed on her body,” Izuru held up his hands, “but did you really not notice the little hearts and singing birds floating around her head every time she gazed longingly at you?”

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Renji snapped.

“It looked fancy and I asked Shuuhei what it was, okay!”

On cue, Shuuhei burst back into the reception area, Momo close on his tail. “Are we talking about the hot client who has a crush on Abarai?”

“Did you ask her out?” Momo asked breathlessly.

“She’s not really his type,” Izuru mused. “Very corporate.”

Renji frowned. Did he have a type? If his type excluded people like Rukia Kuchiki, he might need to get a new type.

“Who cares, she was adorable!” Momo insisted. “I woulda asked her out.”

“Renji, if you go out with her, can you get me a ride in the Exige?” Shuuhei added.

“I’m not gonna ask her out!” Renji protested. “What happened to the no-hitting-on-clients rule?”

“The rule is no creeping on clients,” Shuuhei correctly. “This is different. She’s clearly into you, big time.”

“Also, she seems non-terrible, unlike the questionable human beings you usually take up with,” Izuru pointed out. “We could relax the rule if it netted you an actually decent partner for a change.”

Renji scowled judgmentally at Izuru, as if his own dating history had been remotely better before he and Shuuhei finally hooked up.

“Oh!” Momo waved her phone. “Speaking of which, I googled her, like you told me to, Izuru--”

“Izuru!” Renji protested.

“--and you were right! She’s not just one of the Kuchikis, she’s the granddaughter!” Momo thrust her phone in Renji’s face. It was some article about some fancy charity event, complete with a picture that was clearly Rukia, dressed in a dramatic black and gold evening gown.

Renji wanted to push Momo’s hand away, but he also didn’t want to stop looking at Rukia in that dress. “The who?” he asked.

Izuru and Momo sighed dramatically in synchronized exasperation.

“Embarrassingly rich old money family? I don’t know what they actually do, but they’re always in the newspapers, donating money for something or other--”

“Billionaire philanthropists,” Shuuhei intoned in a fake deep voice.

“--I heard they’re descended from some famous clan of samurai back in Japan,” Momo ignored him. She jerked her phone back and started tapping at it frantically. “I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of the grandson-- Rukia’s brother, I guess. He always makes those lists of top ten hottest bachelors.”

“He’s dreamy,” Shuuhei seconded.

“Impossibly dreamy,” Izuru thirded.

Momo flipped her phone around again, to reveal a picture of a very serious, and very handsome man in a classic three-piece wool suit. Renji supposed “impossibly dreamy” was not an inaccurate description.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen pictures of that guy before,” Renji shrugged. “He’s okay. Rukia has a more interesting face, I think.”

Momo and Shuuhei exchanged raised eyebrows.

“You do like her, then?” Izuru asked, his face brightening. “You’re wrong, by the way, Byakuya Kuchiki has the face of an angel.”

“Rukia says he’s stuffy,” Renji shrugged. “And fine. I like her. She’s cute and nice and had good taste in tattoos. What’s not to like?”

“Are you gonna ask her out, then?” Momo pressed.

“Absolutely not,” Renji replied. “She’s my client. Besides, as you just pointed out, she’s loaded. What’s she want with a scumbag like me?”

All three of his friends groaned.

“You have good delts and sexy hair,” Izuru pointed out.

“You give amazing hugs!” Momo declared.

“You draw fantastic skeletons,” Shuuhei added. “Which, apparently, is relevant to her interests, and not a thing you usually find on Tindr.”

“Also, we’ve already established that she does like you, regardless of whether she has a valid reason for doing so,” Izuru concluded. “So, if you’re at all interested, you really shouldn’t let that stop you.”

“I think you should go for it,” Momo encouraged.

“Me, too,” Shuuhei agreed.

Renji grimaced. She was an amazing girl, too good to be true probably. If she had any sense at all, she would certainly turn him down. But maybe… just maybe… she didn’t have any sense. “Okay,” he grudgingly agreed. “I’ll do it. But not until I’m finished the damn tattoo!”

#my writing #wacky au requests #god i want to read 100k worth of this #i just don't want to *write* it #insert dog no write! only read! meme #special thanks to mr p for coming up with rukia's car for me #we spent about a month once discussed which 80s sportscar each of the vice-captains would drive #it is the best bleach conversation we have ever had

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