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nyctophilin · 4 years

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Fake Affection | IV

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Epilogue

Description: Han Jisung has been rejected by the girl he likes one to many times. He decides that he has had enough and is set on making her want him back. What could possibly make her want him more than seeing him with her rival after she boldly assumed he can’t find anyone better. That way Jisung and Y/N are stuck in a fake relationship until Jisung’s crush falls for him. Or he falls for someone else.

Pairing: Han x fem!Reader, Hyunjin x fem!Reader

Word count: 7.6k

Genre: College!AU, Fake dating!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: swearing, mild description of wounds, dom!jisung, oral(F), fingering, protected penetration, heartbreak

A/N: This got so long, Jesus! Once again I am really sorry for not posting this on time. Thank you for understanding! I’m not going to say much about this chapter. But here’s a fun fact. I wrote the smut part last. Literally, everything that happens after the smut part was written before the actual smut. Just enjoy it! Feedback is not an option anymore!!! If you read the whole story you are forced to give me feedback. Please! I really want to know what y’all think about THIS chapter.

“Stay still!” Y/N murmured, tapping the cotton pad on Jisung’s busted lip.

It had been around ten to fifteen minutes since Jisung decided that it was a good idea to engage in a fistfight with Hyunjin. After her ‘boyfriend’ landed the first punch everything escalated in a full-on fight where, unfortunately for him, he was the loser. Not only was Hyunjin taller than him, but he also turned out to be a lot stronger and faster, barely giving Jisung time to fight back.

He did manage to hit the taller man a few times but he got hit three times more. They finally got separated when a group of male students passed in the hallway and Y/N begged them to help her stop the two. That way they took Hyunjin away and she dragged Jisung outside to the back of the university, to the same bench they sat on a few weeks back.

“I can’t. It stings!” He once again jerked his head away when the rubbing alcohol made contact with his fresh wound.

“Then you shouldn’t have fought!” Y/N held back the urge to shove him. He was injured enough. “Why did you even hit him in the first place?” The question that bugged her since he threw the first punch was finally out.

Jisung grabbed her hand, stopping her from disinfecting his wounds further. Exhaling noisily he looked her in the eyes, an uncharacteristic seriousness present in them. Y/N looked back at him with expectant eyes.

“You were in front of the window over the bench we sat at. Mina and the others saw when Hyunjin hugged you. I felt like doing that would make our relationship look more realistic and show that I’m a great boyfriend.” The confidence with which he said those words made her let out an incredulous laugh.

“What?” Narrowing her eyes she tilted her head to the side.

“What kind of a boyfriend would let another man console his girlfriend? I had to show her that I’m possessive and I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

Unable to control herself anymore she shove him hard and the man let out a wince. Y/N got up from the bench and took two steps away, trying to calm herself down.

“Mina, Mina, Mina! This is all you talk about!” Her voice was calm but her tone was stern.

Jisung couldn’t see her face but he already knew how she looked.

“I’m confused. Isn’t this whole thing about..”

“IT’S NOT! It’s so not!” She burst, turning towards him abruptly.

“How is it not?” The boy looked genuinely confused and that stirred Y/N on even more.

“Are you serious now?” Jisung opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but closed it after taking a moment to think. “It is not, because it wasn’t her ass that you groped. It is not, because it wasn’t her chest that you touched. And it is definitely not, because it wasn’t a line that she drew that you crossed. This whole incident wasn’t about Mina and would not be even in a thousand years.” Her tone became harsher with each word she let out, turning into full-on screaming by the end.

Y/N ran a hand through her hair trying to contain herself. She could not believe what just happened. The fact that he was confused as to why she was mad didn’t help her disposition at all.

Jisung was watching her mannerism with blown pupils. He has never seen her this mad. She scared him in a way he could not explain. Maybe it was the fact that he just got beaten up and in her state, she could easily land him some punches that he was bound to remember. However, he had a very unsettling feeling running through him at the moment.

“I never thought it would be such a big deal.” He let out but immediately regretted his words as he saw her lift her eyebrow.

Letting out a breath and crossing her arms under her chest she fixed him with her eyes. In a voice that was so calm, it made the hair on Jisung’s neck to stand on end, she started talking.

“Do you remember when you kept me awake until 1 AM to talk about the ‘Terms and Conditions’ of this whole fake dating thing we are doing? Do you remember how you made me agree to so many stupid things that we were supposed to do? I had one condition. Only one! Can you tell me what it was?” A smile so fake on her face, even someone from the other end of the university could tell it wasn’t honest.

Jisung swallowed the lump in his throat, moving his gaze on the ground. He did not dare look her in the eyes anymore. Letting his tongue wet his bottom lip he opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t touch you.” He sounded embarrassed and ashamed and that pleased Y/N.

“Exactly! I agreed to kissing, I agreed to hugging, I agreed to sitting in your lap if the situation asks for it. I only asked you not to touch me in any inappropriate way.” She took a short break to breath. “If I remember correctly when I told you that you texted me back ‘As if.’. What happened? Did I suddenly become worth fucking?”

Jisung’s eyes widened at her words, the unsettling feeling from earlier growing. He could not explain to himself why he was feeling that way. Was it because of the way she was acting or because his behaviour pushed her to act like that?

“What? No! It’s just…”

“Just what?” She yelled, interrupting him.

The man bit his bottom lip and slowly raised his eyes to look at her.

“I thought we were becoming closer, like friends. I didn’t think it was going to bother you so much.” In all honesty, he didn’t think much before acting.

He wasn’t sure why he did it in the first place. Maybe it was the fact that Mina was watching and he wanted to make her remember what she was missing out on. Or maybe it was the way Jay would look at Y/N every time the smallest gust of wind would make her skirt slightly flutter. He wanted to force himself to believe it was the first option, but deep down he knew he was lying to himself.

“You are fucking right! We were becoming close. Compared to what I was thinking about you when I first accepted this deal, I really started to think that you were a nice and funny guy to be around. But you know what? Scrap that! You proved to be the asshole I always thought you were.” She let her head fall back as a headache started setting in. Letting out a frustrated moan she brought her head back up looking at Jisung.

“And don’t even get me started about how upset I am that you punched Hyunjin. He was just trying to make me feel better after what you did. What is this going to do to your friendship?”

“It will definitely be awkward when we’ll see each other at home.” Jisung murmured more to himself than to her.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. Taking big steps, she closed the space between them grabbing the boy by the collar. The man froze, stunned by her action. Bringing their faces close, she looked at him with demanding eyes.

“You are roommates?” Her voice bewildered, as her eyes travelled to every part of his face.

Jisung nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. She pushed him against the back of the bench, knocking the air out of him. Her hand shot where her back was resting next to him and in a swift motion, she swung it over her shoulder. Taking a few steps away she turned around and looked at him with accusing eyes.

“I can’t believe you risked your friendship with Hyunjin for..for. For a bitch who you are not even sure likes you back! How stupid are you? Do you want to know what you showed her today? You showed her that you are a nymphomaniac and a bogeyman.”

Y/N ran her hand through her hair, annoyance pumping through her veins. She could not believe the audacity the man in front of her had. Sucking in a sharp breath, she continued talking.

“Right now I should be with Hyunjin, not with you. He actually cares about my feelings. I should be there to nurse his wounds and thank him for caring enough to start a fight with your sorry ass. You don’t deserve me and my help! I should just leave and never see you again. Leave you to deal with your little crush by yourself but compared to you I actually care about other people. It’s so pathetic how after a year and a half you couldn’t make her your official girlfriend so I’m giving you another week. If by next Wednesday she didn’t fall head over heels for you, I’m out!”

Looking for her phone in her bag, she took it out when she found it and dialled someone. Turning on her heels, she left Jisung alone on the bench. Following Y/N with his eyes, his heart sank when he heard the worried tone she used when calling Hyunjin’s name.

Jisung remained sprawled on the bench from the way she pushed him and a deep sight left his chest. He had fucked up big time and he wasn’t sure if he could do anything to fix things.

The man couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy that settled inside him when he remembered that she was on her way to see Hyunjin. She was supposed to stay with him. She was his girlfriend. Y/N was his girlfriend.

He repeated that to himself for a few minutes knowing full well that it wasn’t true. They weren’t together. It was all just a game.

Y/N watched him with attentive eyes as the spoon disappeared inside his mouth and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed the soup. His face contorted in discomfort when the spoon touched the corner of his mouth that was cut. One of her hands instantly gripped his bicep while the other was awkwardly moving in front of him with no exact destination.

Hyunjin held her hand and carefully placed it on the table, not letting it go. With a bright smile, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“I’m fine, Y/N! Please, don’t worry. Eat or you’ll starve.” His voice was soft and loving, trying to show the girl that he was truly okay.

Minho watched the scene unfold in front of him and a scoff left his lips. Besides that little cut in the corner of his mouth and a bruise on his neck, the man looked as good as new. He didn’t need the babying the girl was giving him.

Shifting his eyes to Jisung, he felt an uncomfortable shiver run through him. The man had his lip busted in two places, a bruise under his eye and on his jaw and he had a cut on his forehead. And that was all only on his face. God knows what was hiding under his clothes. Hyunjin really didn’t hold back.

Looking down at his tray, Jisung only had a protein shake that he brought from home on it. He was most probably unable to chew things properly thanks to the wounds on his mouth. He was sipping from the shake while watching with sad eyes how his girlfriend was almost glued to Hyunjin, making sure that he’s as comfortable as he can be. Minho was looking at him with pitiful eyes.

“Jisung is more hurt, but I guess it doesn’t matter.” He muttered to himself, giving Y/N side-eyes.

In an instant, the girl’s eyes were fixed on him, a cold look plastered on her face. He felt his bones freeze inside himself, and embarrassment washed over him when he realised how scared he got.

Y/N moved her eyes between Minho and Jisung before finally rolling them and shifting her attention back on Hyunjin.

“Jisung is a big man that makes his own decisions. I’m sure that when he started the fight he thought of the possibility of getting beaten. Now he has to endure the consequences of his actions.” She said, finally taking a bite out of her sandwich.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he was the one that got hurt more. You as his girlfriend should be caring about him, not about the guy that put him in this state.” Minho said feeling the bit of confidence he had in him leave his body once her eyes darkened with rage.

“I don’t know if you knew that, but Jisung knows how to handle himself. Look at how well he’s handling this relationship!” Sarcasm dripped off her tongue showing Minho there were parts to the story he wasn’t aware of.

A heavy silence fell upon the table after she spoke and no one dared to say anything for a couple of minutes. The only sounds were coming from the cutlery hitting the plates and bowls. Chan finally let out a sigh attracting the attention of a few people.

“Maybe he had his reasons to start that fight.”

The older man tried resonating with her. All they knew about the situation was what Jeongin had told them. Y/N got really mad after Jisung touched certain parts of her body and she left them, Hyunjin close behind her probably wanting to console her. He agreed that Jisung had absolutely no business starting a fight after what he had done, but he was his friend and he felt obliged to take his side.

Silence. For a minute Chan thought she wouldn’t answer him.

“Oh, he did. I know his reasons and I can assure you they were all shit. He has absolutely no justification for what he did.” Voice calm while looking the older male in the eyes.

“They were still reasons..!” Felix said in a careful tone.

She rolled her eyes exasperated. Who the fuck did they think they were questioning her like that. Is not like she was mad for no reason.

Letting the sandwich fall into the plate, she got up and swung her bag over her shoulder.

“I have something to prepare for Miss. Park’s class. Jeongin, I will see you later to go to rehearsals, okay?” The man nodded in her direction and she got out of her seat, taking a few steps away from the table.

Abruptly stopping in her track she let out a sigh. They were right. She wasn’t like that. She was way better than that. Just because he was an asshole didn’t mean she had to be one as well.

Turning towards the table, she walked behind Jisung’s chair. Resting her palms on his shoulders she bent down carefully placing a kiss on his bruised cheek.

Jisung jumped slightly at the contact, taken aback by the sudden proximity. His cheeks became a faint rosy colour and he felt a knot forming in his stomach.

“Make sure to disinfect your wounds when you get home, okay?” She whispered in his ear, her voice soft and he nodded slowly. He didn’t dare turn his head around to look at her.

“Take care!”

She straightened her back, but not before placing another kiss to his cheek. Waving her hand to the other people, she finally made her way to the double doors of the cafeteria, leaving the room.

“God, this movie is so boring!” She exclaimed in the empty room.

Y/N was currently sprawled on the couch in her living room watching some film Hayoon recommended to her. It was another Friday night without any plans to go out so she ordered some pizza, bought some snacks on her way home from university and opened a bottle of wine some of her friends gifted her a few months back.

She wasn’t big on alcohol. In fact, she hated consuming alcoholic drinks but if that was going to help her with her boring night, she was more than willing to endure the sickening taste.

Covered with a blanket pulled up to her neck, Y/N felt the heat suffocate her in a comfortable sort of way. She almost felt annoyed when she heard the familiar ring of her phone indicating she got a message.

Letting one of her arms escape the confines of the blanket she shivered slightly when the cold air hit her skin. Grabbing her phone from the coffee table she brought it close to her eyes reading the notification on the screen. ‘Jisung has sent you a message’ Y/N rolled her eyes wondering why he couldn’t let her alone on weekends.

[Jisung,22:48]A guy from my major is hosting a party tomorrow night. Come with me?

Y/N read the message a few times before scoffing. Was he really inviting her to some lame college party where people were only going to drink and have sex?

[Y/N,22:50]Parties aren’t really my thing…

She really hoped he wouldn’t push the subject further. Every time she went to a party she ended up looking for her friends, that weren’t engaging in the most Christian of activities, everywhere to take them home. She had to drive each and every one of them home and help them walk into their bedrooms resulting in her arriving home two hours later than intended.

If that was not happening then she had to endure the advances of drunk boys and girls and protect herself from getting groped or rubbed on. That was the last thing she needed to end a week that was already shitty.

Another ringing indicated she received a response.

[Jisung,22:51]Mina is going to be there. We’ve been texting the last couple of days and I think she might finally accept to be my girlfriend if I ask her tomorrow night.

Y/N let her head fall on the arm of the sofa, a groan leaving her mouth. Receiving that message only meant she had to go. That might be his only chance to make a move on Mina until Wednesday when the whole fake dating thing was going to end.

Then out of nowhere, a thought hit her and she started typing on her phone.

[Y/N,22:52]Then why do you need me there?

If Jisung was going to make a move on Mina wouldn’t it be smarter for him not to want his so-called girlfriend there? Wasn’t she going to be an obstacle withs so many people that were aware they were dating around? Wouldn’t Mina be hesitant in accepting his advances if she was there?

Y/N laughed loudly at her own thoughts. Of course, Mina wouldn’t care. She’s been actively trying to ‘seduce’ Jisung since their not so unexpected encounter at the outdoor cinema two weeks prior. Still, she was confused. How possibly can she be of help in that situation?

She unlocked her phone upon hearing the familiar ring and read the message.

[Jisung,22:54]Make her more jealous. The chances of her accepting my proposal are bigger if she sees me with you.

[Y/N,22:54]Okay, fine. Text me the address and I’ll be there.

She locked her phone and placed it back on the coffee table. Her phone went off a little bit later indicating that he responded but she didn't care enough at the moment to check. Wrapping the blanket around herself again, she continued to watch the movie that wasn’t paused during her talk with Jisung.

“Oh my God, I should have asked him for more details!” She screamed a few minutes later when the movie got particularly boring.

The moment she stepped out of the elevator loud music invaded her eardrums. Even if Jisung wouldn’t have told her the number of the apartment, she would have been able to find it. The door was wide open, coloured lasers getting out of the room and falling on the carpet of the hallway.

Numerous people were scattered all over the hallway, drinks in hand and Y/N was wondering if the guy that was hosting the party was the only one who lived on that floor. How was no one disturbed by the vibrant music and chatter of the dozens of students?

When she came close to the door of the apartment a strong smell of alcohol hit her nose and she felt her insides turn upside down. This wasn’t going to be a fun night for her at all. She could sense it.

Stepping inside the apartment she was met with the faces of some people she knew visually from university but most people there were strangers. Checking her phone to see if Jisung responded to her message she exhaled angrily when she noticed that he hadn't even seen it yet. This was absolutely great. She was in a house full of horny drunk young adults with absolutely no one familiar around her.

‘I’ll take a look around until he responds.’ she thought to herself. Maybe that way she will be able to find someone she knew. If Jisung was there, his friends were most probably there as well.

The apartment was fairly big for someone who was supposed to live alone. A big living room, a separate office, a big bathroom, a bedroom which she thankfully didn't manage to see, loud female moans alerting her to stay away if she didn’t want to see live porn, and a big kitchen.

Stepping inside the almost deserted kitchen, she leaned over the island and placed her elbows on the cold surface. She was scanning the drink choices the host had displayed on the counters and disappointedly noticed how none of them was missing alcohol from their ingredients.

“Can I offer you a drink babe?” A voice suddenly whispered in her ear.

Her eyes went wide and all her senses heightened. Y/N almost fell down when she abruptly turned around but the owner of the voice secured a strong arm around her waist. A cheerful laugh she knew far too well filled her ears and she angrily hit Hyunjins chest, who only started laughing harder at her action.

“You scared the shit out of me, you asshole!” She yelled over the loud music wanting to get out of his grip but he didn’t allow her.

“That was the whole point.” The man chirped happily, knowing that his little prank worked.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his childish attitude and slightly pushed his chest. Looking away from him to hide her smile, her gaze fell upon the other two people in the room. Insistently staring at her, they were whispering between themselves. She recognised them as being from Jisung’s Major. Their eyes were burning holes into her head and she awkwardly got away from Hyunjin’s embrace. What was up with them?

“Seriously now. Can I offer you a drink?”

“I don’t drink.” Came her short answer that left the boy surprised.

“I don’t want to sound rude, but why did you come then?”

“Jisung invited me. Speaking of him, have you seen him around?”

Hyunjin’s expression turned into an apologetic one before nodding his head. Y/N threw him a questioning look signalling him to continue and the man chewed on his bottom lip before letting out a long sigh.

“He’s with Mina somewhere around here.” Y/N’s expression brightened involuntarily before quickly going back to a neutral one.

This must have been the reason the two boys were staring at her so insistently.

“Oh.. Well then, do you want to talk?”

“I really missed you! It was so lonely without you this past month.” Mina yelled over the loud music and Jisung swore he almost went deaf.

He was currently leaning against a wall with Mina pressed against him. Her palms were pressed on the wall behind him, breasts pushed against his chest and one of her legs between his, teasingly close to his crotch. At that moment Jisung could think of only one word to describe her.

Annoying.

She was so annoying. He noticed this ever since they started texting again a couple of days ago. She was mean, self-centred and really vulgar. The jokes he used to laugh at were not funny anymore, seeming more like straight-up bullying. She was talking about herself so much. Every time he said something about himself she would brush it off and go back to talking about herself. And when reminiscing the ‘good old times’ she would bring up only their sex life.

Looking back at the year and a half he has liked her, Jisung could not explain to himself why that happened. There was really no reason to like her platonically, let alone romantically.

“Really?” He asked, trying to seem interested in whatever she was saying.

“Aham. There wasn’t really anyone able to satisfy me the way you did.” She winked at him and Jisung held back a grimace.

Was that supposed to make him feel flattered? He felt like it should have, but for some odd reason, he only felt disgusted by the information. Was she really incapable of having a conversation without mentioning sex at least once?

Averting his eyes from her, Jisung’s gaze landed on the pair sitting on the couch for the nth time that night. Y/N was lying against the back of the couch and Hyunjin was leaning towards her, whispering things in her ear that made her giggle. Jisung couldn’t hear her, but he bet she sounded so cute at that moment. And all because of Hyunjin.

For the past few weeks, he has been feeling really weird around Y/N. His stomach full of butterflies, face covered in pink, the desire to hold her hand and rage filling him every time he’ll see her with Hyunjin or Jeongin. And that was exactly what he was feeling at that moment.

Jisung has recently accepted that he has a crush on the girl. He thought of it a few times before, but somehow his mind would wander back to Mina and he would dismiss such a possibility. However, at that moment looking at how Hyunjin was so close to her, he was certain about his feelings.

As if they have talked about it beforehand, Hyunjin’s hands rested on Y/N’s thigh at the same time Mina pressed her knee against Jisung’s crotch and he felt something inside himself shift. Carefully pushing Mina away from him as to not hurt her and murmuring an apology he made his way to the couch. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He just knew he had to take her away from him.

Y/N’s eyes looked up at him and a smile appeared on her lips. Hyunjin’s gaze followed hers and he retracted his hand from her leg upon laying his eyes on Jisung. He felt a small weight being lifted from his chest as Hyunjin’s hand left her body.

“Y/N, can we talk?” He yelled over the music, making sure she hears him.

Yes, that was a good idea. They were supposed to be a couple. There was nothing weird in wanting to talk.

Her head fell to the side and her brow raised in confusion. Looking at Hyunjin, he gave her an awkward smile.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Not here. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

She threw Hyunjin one last look before sighing and getting up from the couch. When Y/N got next to Jisung, he held her hand and intertwined their fingers together. The man was leading her out of the apartment. They walked down the hallway in silence until they reached the door at the end of the corridor.

Jisung pressed the handle pulling the door open and Y/N’s eyes widened in shock.

“Jisung, wait! What are you doing?” She pulled his hand, stopping him from entering the apartment.

“Don’t worry. I and Hyunjin live here as well. This is our apartment.”

She calmed down at his words and let the man pull her inside. Once inside, she took a few steps away from the door looking at the way their apartment was furnished. Hearing the door close behind her with a small thud.

“So...is this the part where you break up with me because you and Mina are so in love with each other?” She chuckled and turned to look at him but was met with serious eyes scanning her up and down.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“Let’s date! For real this time.” He said in a pleading tone coming closer to her.

Y/N’s eyes widened and she took a few steps back, startled by the man’s sudden demand. She studied his face for a few seconds looking for a sign, anything, to tell her he was joking but his expression remained unchanged. She gulped visibly and gathered her courage to speak.

“W-what?” Y/N stumbled over her words letting her nervousness show.

Jisung came closer to her, putting his hands on her arms, holding her in place. She didn’t back away this time, letting the boy come as close as he wanted.

“Over the last few days, I realised that I don’t love Mina like I thought I did. I guess I was confused. She was the first girl that approached me when I entered university and immediately after we started hooking up regularly. I never interacted with other girls with the intention of dating them and I didn’t realise what a bad person she was. I don’t want to date her. I want to date you!”

His eyes were staring into hers with a newfound sincerity. Y/N was taken aback by his words and didn’t know if she should believe him or not.

Leaning her head towards him, she sniffed loudly making Jisung pull his head back, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“What a-”

“Are you drunk? I can’t smell alcohol coming from you though.” Y/N said inching her head even closer to his and taking another sniff.

The man was dumbfounded by her question. This is not what he expected.

“I haven’t had alcohol in a month.”

Her expression turned into one of realisation and a sympathetic smile appeared on her face. Jisung smiled back at her, relieved that she finally understood him.

“Did Mina reject you? This is why you suddenly want to date me? Listen Jisung, I unders…”

“Damn it, I love you Y/N!” He cut her off, cupping her face with his hands and pressing their lips together.

His sudden confession made Y/N freeze. For a moment she lost sense of reality and couldn’t think straight.

When she regained her composure she had the urge to push him away but as his tongue was exploring her mouth she found herself unable to. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into the kiss, savouring his taste.

Their lips were moving against each other in perfect unity and the kiss wasn’t too slow or too rushed. Jisung started walking, forcing Y/N to move backwards until they reached the living room.

Without breaking the kiss he crouched down and placed his hand on the back of her thighs. Taking the hint, she jumped lightly and let Jisung put her legs around his waist. Carrying her as if she weighed nothing, he walked into what she assumed was his bedroom and carefully placed her on the bed.

Jisung broke the kiss, a single strand of saliva still connecting them. In a swift motion, he took off his hoodie revealing his surprisingly well-built body to her. Pushing her back against the mattress, he used one hand to prop himself up hovering over her and the other one snaked around her waist keeping her flush against him.

Peppering light kisses from her ear to her jawline he let his teeth sink softly in her delicate skin. His mouth was sucking on the sensitive skin while the hand around her waist went further down, groping her cheek and squeezing.

A gasp left her mouth at the stimulation and Jisung felt his shaft twitch inside the confines of his black jeans. Moving his hand from her arse to the front of her pants, he unbuttoned her pants and slid the zipper down with a quiet noise.

Kissing and nibbling on her neck to distract her, Jisung slid his hand inside her pants brushing it over her clothed slit, not touching her properly yet. Y/N whined louder than he expected her to and bucked her hips up, connecting her heat with his hand.

Smirking against her neck, he let his palm rub her, ripping a series of quiet moans from her. Getting his tongue out and leaving a wet trail from her neck to her ear, he bit her earlobe.

“Want me to touch you, princess?” Whispering hoarsely into her ear, he moved her underwear to the side, tracing the outside of her heat.

“Yes Jisung, please!” Her loud voice strained.

Jisung hummed, satisfied with the response and connected his lips with hers again. The kiss was slow and passionate but his wounded lips were rough against hers.

Hooking his thumbs in the hem of her panties, he slid them down taking her pants off at the same time. Letting his middle finger explore her pussy, he sank his teeth into her bottom lip softly when he felt how wet she already was. Sliding a single finger in with ease, Jisung started pumping it in a steady rhythm.

Adding another finger, shortly after he felt Y/N tighten around him and he twitched again at the thought of her pussy around his dick. He increased the speed of his fingers forcing her to moan louder. Soon the room was filled with moaning and squelching sounds.

Breaking the kiss and licking his lips, he connected his nose to her skin dragging it down his body until it touched her pubic bone. The faint touch of his nose tickled her and she chuckled between breathy moans.

Connecting his eyes with her pussy for the first time he felt his mouth water at how wet she was. Without losing any more time Jisung dove in placing an open-mouthed kiss on her clit. He groaned lowly against her slit sending vibrations through her body. Y/N whined and threw her head back at the unexpected stimulation, bucking her hips up against his face.

Jisung was running his tongue through her labia, lapping at her sweetness while moving his fingers restlessly. He curled his fingers upwards inside her and flicked her clit with his tongue.

“F-fuck...Jisung!” She cried out fingers instantly tangling in his brown locks.

Jisung took it as a sign to increase his speed, fingers curling up from time to time and tongue abusing her sensitive bud.

Y/N felt the knot in her stomach become impossibly tight and she tried to no avail to push the man away from her. She finally felt the tension inside her unwind and a world wrecking orgasm hit her, a string of curses and moans erupting from her throat.

Jisung continued to move his fingers inside her for a bit, helping her ride out her high. When Y/N calmed down he took his fingers out of her and watched in awe as her juices entirely coated them.

Shoving his fingers inside his mouth and licking them clean, he got up from the bed and walked up to his desk. Opening the bottom drawer and rummaging through it he pulled out a silver package.

Y/N was watching him through hooded eyes still swimming in the aftermath of her orgasm. On his way back to the bed he took the liberty to take the rest of his clothes off, remaining completely bare in front of him. Y/N gulped visibly when she noticed his cock standing tall against his abs, the tip slightly curved red and leaking precum. She squeezed her thighs together, the need to be filled again unbearable.

Jisung climbed into the bed and captured her lips into a short kiss. Y/N could taste herself on his lips and she gasped.

Ripping the package of the condom open he rolled it on his length. Jisung spread Y/N’s legs and forced them to wrap around his waist.

With one hand he was holding hers, fingers intertwined and squeezing lightly and the other one was on his cock holding it next to her opening. Jisung stared into her eyes to find any form of restrain and when he found none he pushed inside slowly.

Both of them moaned loudly as he entered her, walls stretching around his rigid length. At that moment all Jisung could think about was how much more better Y/N felt around him than he imagined.

A strand of light made its way between the light curtains in Jisung’s room and fell over the bed, tickling his arm where it touched it. A raspy hum left his mouth and he turned to face the other way from the window, throwing his arm on the other side of the bed with the intention to snake it around Y/N’s waist. The only problem was that she wasn’t on the other side of the bed and the sheets were cold, signalling that she was gone for at least some time.

He lazily opened his eyes and scanned the room for any signs that she was around but there were none. Turning his head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand, big bolded numbers read 13:34. It was already afternoon. Maybe she got up and was in the kitchen or the living room.

Groaning loudly, Jisung got up from the bed and stretched his stiff limbs. Dragging his feet against the floor lazily he made his way into the living room only to find it empty as well.

‘Maybe in the kitchen.’ he thought to himself. Jisung walked the small distance between the living room and the kitchen, hope filling his heart, only for it to be gone when he found it the same way they left it the night before, not even a speck of dust moved from its previous position.

Making his way to the table in the middle of the room, he placed his elbow on it and rested his head in his palm, an elongated sigh leaving his chest. Did Y/N really leave him? After everything that happened?

Then, out of nowhere, something in his brain sparked and he remembered that Sundays she usually met up with Jeongin to practice the script. This must have been the reason she was not there. She wouldn’t leave him after what they did the previous night.

Jisung’s face brightened at the memory of her underneath him. The way they loved each other with so much passion and desire. He could feel it. It wasn’t just plain fucking like he used to do with Mina. Last night he made love to her for the first time in his life.

An involuntary smile crept on his face. He could not believe it was real. Falling in love with someone that also likes you after so many failed attempts to find love. It felt almost too good to be true.

As he was sitting there, fantasising about his relationship with Y/N, the apartment door swung open and a cheerful Hyunjin entered, humming a bright melody. Jisung ignored his roommate, too caught up in his daydreaming to care about his presence.

When Hyunjin noticed Jisung sitting at the table his smile widened even more. With big steps, he reached the other man and pulled him into a chokehold ruffling his hair with his fist.

“Jisung, you big tut! Really made me think that our friendship might be over.” Hyunjin chirped happily, letting the other man, who was struggling in his grasp, go.

“Yo, what the fuck? What are you talking about?” Jisung snapped at the taller man the moment he was free.

“Why haven’t you told me that you and Y/N were just fake dating. I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time. But then again, I guess it made the whole thing more realistic.”

Jisung stopped in his track at Hyunjin’s words and a confused expression adorned his face.

“How do you know that?”

“I met up with Y/N today. She told me everything before she confessed to me. Damn, and I wanted to be the on..”

“Wait, slow down! What do you mean she confessed to you?” His eyes narrowed and suspicion was growing inside of him.

Was Hyunjin lying to him? Did he want to tease him for having to resort to fake dating to try and win Mina? It was impossible for Y/N to have confessed to Hyunjin. She liked him.

“Y/N confessed to me when we met today. She said that she liked me since last year but didn’t have the courage to come talk to me. Isn’t that crazy? How we both liked each other but never talked?” Hyunjin continued rambling on about his crush on Y/N but Jisung couldn’t hear him.

All sorts of thoughts ran through his mind at the moment but he couldn’t organise them. Jisung could feel his heartbeat inside his head and a loud ringing in his left ear. He was so disoriented at that moment. Was it real? Did Y/N really confess to Hyunjin? He hoped that any moment now he would wake up next to her in his bed and discover that he was having a nightmare and that what was happening was not real.

“If you stay and think about it, we wouldn’t be together now if it weren’t for you asking her to fake date. I should thank you, shouldn’t I?” The man chuckled but was soon cut off by Jisung, who grabbed him by the collar and harshly pushed him against the table.

Hyunjin’s pupils were blown from the shock. Looking down at Jisung he noticed his darkened and angry gaze and he could not understand what caused that.

“Don’t you thank me! Don't you ever give me credit for bringing you two together.” He yelled in the other man’s face.

He paused for a moment to make holes through Hyunjin’s head with his eyes and clenched his jaw. Giving his roommate a last hard push that caused the table to move from its place, he turned around and stormed into his room slamming the door shut.

Jisung’s blood was boiling. He didn’t know what to do at that moment to calm himself down. Y/N hadn’t left because she was busy with the movie. She left to meet with Hyunjin. Because she didn’t like him back.

In a spurt of anger, he ripped the blanket from the bed throwing it on the other part of the room. Looking back at the bed, the place where he proved his love to her, he noticed a neatly folded paper resting in the middle of it. How hadn’t he noticed it earlier?

He bent down to pick it up from the bed and carefully unfolded it to start reading what was written on it.

“Dear Jisung,

It’s me, Y/N, but you probably know that already. I’m writing you this because I won’t be here when you wake up.

What happened last night was a mistake on my part. Maybe ‘mistake’ is not exactly the right word to use. I don’t regret what happened between us last night. You are a nice and smart guy and I had a lot of fun with you the past few weeks, ignoring your fight with Hyunjin. This is why I feel like I took advantage of your feelings for me.

I don’t feel the same about you… I’m really sorry! I should have pushed you away when you kissed me. I don’t know why I didn’t. Probably because I haven’t had sex in so long. I feel like I gave you fake hope by doing that and I’m so sorry.

All this time, the whole fake dating thing was exactly that for me. Fake dating. If some of my actions made you think I might be returning your feelings, I’m really sorry!

I did start liking you a lot in the past weeks but not in the way you would like me to… I really hope we can still be friends but if not, I would not blame you.

I’m really bad at this kind of things. I hope my feelings managed to reach you through this letter. See you at school on Monday if you still want to be friends.

Another thing. I’m going to confess to Hyunjin and tell him about our fake dating today. I was already scheduled to meet him today to talk about that since last night at the party. I felt like I should let you know.

And If I do end up dating him, like I want to, I hope you will be okay with that.

Take care of yourself!

Much love,

Y/N”

Jisung lowered his hand and let it dangle next to his body. Letting the letter fall from his hand and hit the floor, a maniacal laugh left him.

“Of course she doesn’t like me back. This is what I get for choosing an actress as my fake girlfriend. This was just another job for her.”

In his mad chase to get Mina, he hasn’t realised that he was losing what was next to him. But maybe Y/N wasn’t ever his. After all, all the love and affection she showed him was fake.

And like a fool, he fell for her fake affection.

Taglist: @qxkwu , @hoodlesspizza, @avisahoe, @just-let-me-go-sweetheart, @hyunooh, @iluvlix, @hwangful(send an ✨ to be added to the Fake Affection taglist, even though there’s only the epilogue left.)

900 notes · View notes

whump-town · 3 years

Text

The Blood That Haunts Me

post-scratch fic

no pairings

Hotch has a bad heart

word count 6k

In Savannah Hayes’ experience, Saturday’s are typically for parents with screaming toddlers looking for emergency medicine to soothe their fears about whatever toy their child has shoved up their nose or to ask an aged nurse what to do with this croup that just won’t go away. It’s scrapes and bruises from a fender bender with kids just learning to drive and roughly two to three broken arms from seven-year-olds learning to ride a bike without training wheels. With any luck, there will be only one underage kid in a banana bag and the college kids will be in and out for stitches and gone as quickly as they come. There’s always the regulars - older men and women that buzz with the opportunity to be out of their houses even if it’s to withstand the pain of stitches and staples on their thin skin.

Rarely has Savannah faced a Saturday where she knew someone being pulled into her emergency room. Virginia isn’t the biggest place but her friends are young and healthy and Saturdays are for squirmy children and stupid teenagers. When she sees him with his ankles stretched out over the end of the stretcher and a large hand weakly fighting with the paramedic to hold the oxygen mask over her face she’s certain of his identity. She’s good with faces and his is unmistakable.

“You shouldn’t be on break yet, baby.” Derek picks up on the first ring, the sound of Hank babbling loudly in the background making him chuckle deeply as he moves. The phone pinched between his shoulder and cheek, she can hear him pick up their son. Talking back to the baby.

Savannah is sitting in the emergency room, camped out behind the desk as she catalogs patient information. Despite it being a Saturday, the hospital is startlingly pretty timid (knock on wood). When there is a new patient the clatter is noticed. So when Hotch came in, supine but weakly fighting against the oxygen mask pulled down over his mouth, Savannah noticed. Even drugged and combative, he’s distinctly himself.

And as Savannah tells Derek, describes the man she’s quite fond of, he doesn’t believe her. Hotch doesn’t go to the hospital and no one’s heard from him in forever, he’s probably not even in Virginia. Garcia said Jack started high school last fall and if they were home and situated again with no contact then… Well, what are they supposed to do? “Derek--” Savannah can hear the pitch change in his voice. Derek goes from dismissive to genuinely worried and now pulling at strings because no one has talked to Hotch in months (nearly two years) and the idea of seeing him now is terrifying. “I am positive that it’s Hotch.” She leans around the monitor, frowning as she watches some nurses she knows buzz around him. Throwing out words she can’t make out entirely but she can see what they’re doing and it makes her heart jump a little to hear medications that they put orders out for.

Hotch makes a noise - it has to be loud for her to hear it from the distance she’s at. “Baby,” she stands and it makes her heart do a weird clenching thing when she catches a glimpse at his face. Sees that he’s crying and clearly upset. “Derek, he’s getting all kinds of agitated. I’m gonna call you back in a second, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and tosses her phone down on her chair before calling out for one of the nurses she recognizes with a wave.

The nurse smiles when she sees Savannah - she’s got a particular gift with patients like Hotch.

“I know this one,” Savannah says, approaching the bed. “What have you got?”

Savannah doesn’t have all the details on the accident that occurred in 2009 with George Foyet. It’s not Derek’s story to tell and it’s not exactly the easiest one to bring into conversation. She’s aware of vague things like his collapse a few years later from scar tissue that caused him to bleed internally and that Hotch's ex-wife was killed by a serial killer. Mostly, she knows that Hotch is dependable and secure and that when he went into witness protection nearly two years ago his absence had crushed them all. Even if the likes of Emily Prentiss and her just as stubborn as hell husband would never admit it.

“Mild tachycardia and respiratory depression -” The nurse tells her about Hotch’s underactive thyroid, something he’s supposed to take medication for ever since the stabbing damaged the organs function. How it’s throwing his heart into tachycardia and it’s getting worse, not responding to medicine yet.

Savannah may not know what happened with George Foyet but she knows Derek regards Hotch as this infallible wall of a man. One she’s come to understand he thinks can’t ever fall down and one that, despite how fondly he’ll speak about him, annoys the hell out of him. Personally, Savannah thinks Aaron Hotchner is just a sweet man. She likes him and his little quirks. He’s quite the odd pairing when he gets together with Emily and Dave but they’re a funny crowd.

What she isn’t expecting is the mess of scars littering his chest. Experience allows her to date some of them by sight - their distinct shape and coloration clustering them into the same time frame and she can’t imagine how someone gets over half a dozen wounds like that at once. They don’t end there. On his right side, there’s a nearly faded out of existence scar from a chest tube. A puncture wound- something blunt she’d assumed by way of its roundness. Even a few rougher-looking, jagged scars that she assumes are shrapnel because Derek has nearly identical ones.

Savannah is a few moments too late to prevent Hotch from being pulled down by a sedative but he’s fighting it, blinking slowly to try and remain awake. “Hey,” she greets softly, turning his wrist over so she can see IV sight in his elbow. It’s secure and there’s nothing special to note but it’s going to bruise. “Long time no see Agent Hotchner.” She squeezes his fingers, smiling at the recognition behind his eyes even if his lips only form a silent mouthed version of her name.

With a smile - remembering the first time they met and how gently he’d taken her hand before shaking his head and admonishing “everyone calls me Hotch” - she reaches down and fixes his hair. He’s let it grow out since he left the BAU. Derek had been livid when he got word that Hotch wasn’t coming back despite the fact that he too left the unit. “How are you feeling, Hotch? Can I call someone?”

His eyes slide shut and for a moment she thinks he’s given in, sunk down low where his pain and his ailments can’t get him. He taps a finger against her palm and she understands he’s still here. “Morgan?” he rasps.

She nods, “Derek already knows you’re here. I imagine he’ll have the whole crew here in no time.” He grimaces, cracking an eye open to give her a look she understands entirely. She’s only ever faced their smothering worry once when Hank was born but she knows it’s a lot. It’s hard to imagine they’re going to somehow be less present and attuned with him than they with her. He’s not looking forward to that and it’s understandable. “Don’t worry,” she promises, “I’ll have your back when they get here.”

He nods, dull eyes sinking back under his eyelids. She holds his hand until she’s certain he’s fallen asleep.

“So,” the nurse asks softly. She moves and tubes and wires around so that they’re not laying against his bare skin. Folding the blankets over Hotch’s hips and leaving his chest bare. He’s still tachycardic, breathing laboriously through inflamed lungs. “How do you know this guy?”

Savannah sits down on the edge of the bed, taking Hotch’s hand into her own. Working her thumb in gentle, hypnotic motions between his knuckles and smiling sadly at the relieved rasping sigh that leaves his parted pale lips. “Family,” she answers because she’s not sure what the answer really is but in some way… yeah, family.

The nurse nods, going about what needs to be done while Savannah stays on the edge of the bed. She does what she can until she clears her throat. “Hey,” the nurse smiles, sympathetic to the soft faraway look in Savannah’s eyes. “Doctor Hamilton admitted him so I need to take him up to the--”

Savannah stands immediately, nodding. “Yeah,” she lays his hand back down on his chest. Stepping away from the bed, “sorry.” She shakes her head, stepping back as the brakes come up and he’s set into motion. “Second floor?” Savannah assumes.

The nurse nods, “he’ll be in room one seventeen. I’ll let the desk know he’s one of yours.”

Savannah watches him disappear down the hall, met at the mouth of the hall by other nurses and staff nodding as they take him to the right floor. She’d been there long enough to see his heart monitor and to identify the ventricular tachycardia plaguing him. He’ll likely need a pacemaker and she’s already racing to a solution. He’ll need to be monitored after surgery but can go home. Hank’s a little too small still but they have the guest room. If Derek cleans up the mess he lets Hank make in there--

Savannah’s heart sinks to the floor and she turns around. Hit with the sudden memory of the last event she saw Hotch at and remembers slowly that Hotch has a son and someone needs to find him.

All morning something had been off, Hotch didn’t have to say it for Jack to know. The oatmeal was made oddly, Hotch’s hands trembling so much he’d gotten the measurements wrong. Too much brown sugar but Jack hadn’t seemed to mind it being too sweet. He’d been distracted by his oatmeal and unalarmed by signs he hasn’t learned to be aware of. If Hotch had gotten up late or made breakfast and then laid down on the couch then Jack would have noticed. Bad days come frequently and like most storms look and sound distinct.

High anxiety days are an early rise, the sound of lights being turned on and off as Hotch fails to get comfortable in any room. Coming out of his room and finding his father curled up on the couch. His knees drawn up and a pillow pressed into his chest, a heated blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. It’s lightly tiptoeing around the house so Hotch stays asleep and avoids him once he does move and allows his aching back to stretch out. Jack knows to keep his music down and to call Jessica if Hotch locks himself away.

Though time has dampened it’s severity it’s not impossible to find his father trying to work through untreated PTSD or ride out an intense wave of depression. Leaving him immobile or desperate for a distraction. Jack knows those things. He understands them and, like the blasting siren that screams out before a tornado, Jack knows when to duck for cover and ride out the storm.

But Jack had no idea what a heart attack would look like. What to expect or even if a heart attack had been what he’d seen.

Hands over his ears, Jack Hotchner sinks into the emotionless walls surrounding him. Trying to find the place past his body where everything ceases to exist. Insistently, against his will, he’s pulled back to a decade ago. To the sound of gunshots tearing through the only home he’d ever known. To Emily wiping his tears away with the palm of her hand, their backs to the carnage his father created in the fall. To a hospital not unlike this one where his father was patched up - open wounds covered and drugs numbing his rough edges - until Jack had finally been able to see him. The feeling of his father’s chest, broad and forever, solid as he’d curled his legs into his lap. His father cried softly as he explained what happened, what he’d done.

“Mommy isn’t coming home, buddy.”

Pinching his eyes shut, Jack rocks himself back and forth. He can’t go there. Not alone. He can’t go back to Foyet. He’s too old for those silly games. Too old for nightmares and monsters hiding under his bed. Unaware of the ones still crawling out of his father’s closet, wrapping their cold fingers around his ankle and threatening to pull him into the darkness with them.

You’re never too old for monsters.

Spencer had found the time to confide in Jack about being raised by a mentally ill single mother. His intent was to demonstrate to Jack that not only did he understand the pre-teens intense fury with his father but that the emotions would abate and Jack would have only a few moments to decide what to do next. How Spencer had turned eighteen and had to have his mother committed to an institution. A decision that haunted him but that he ultimately understood it was simply the only option. One day, Spencer clarified, Jack would understand the way his father worked.

Until that moment, Jack had been more or less paying attention. When it came to all things Uncle Spence, Jack typically has a longer attention span and all the patience in the world but the moment Jack realizes this was a one-on-one sort of deal he was done. He wanted out. But Reid stuttered. That one day, and the words had come out so quickly if he’d had a chance Reid would have stopped them, Jack would realize just what that meant. He’d look at his father and all the magic of his childish love would fall away and Jack would be left with his father’s bare bones. And it would be terrifying but, often, that’s all love is: all the bits bleached down to their true forms.

He gets it now, okay? The nutty academic parent with bouts of deep depression, an obsession with their jobs, and no idea how to say I love you like everyone else. He gets the comparison now. Can he be done? He wants to go home. He’s done learning this stupid lesson about love or whatever bullshit this is supposed to represent. When does it end? It’s going to end, right?

Derek Morgan falters in the doorway, stalled like an engine as he stands at the edge of the messy room. Hank hums in Derek’s left ear, bouncing his foot against Derek’s hip as he stands stationary and trying to wrap his head around everything happening. It’s overwhelming. Derek hasn’t seen Hotch in two years and if the sight of him alone - laid out right here - doesn’t bring its own intense wave of anger and longing then the sight of his uncovered chest is it’s own thing as well.

Hotch is on the bed, curled slightly to his right with the blankets leaving his pale chilled skin open. Even with his face turned into the pillow behind his head, he looks deathly pale in comparison to the white bedspread. Entirely too limp, too still as he lays there pulling in breaths audible over the hiss of the canal running under his nose. Nearly drowned out, consumed by the natural hums of the hospital and constant motion of the monitors to his left and the dissatisfied beep of the blood-pressure cuff around his right arm.

Savannah warned him of what he’d find once he got inside in case she got called away to a patient when he got there. She told him the buzz around the staff, what Hotch’s cardiologist thought and it stung to hear her warn him ahead of time what Hotch looked like, worse, she imagined, than what Derek was imaging. Weaker, she’d said as if the word was some sort of betrayal. He’s weak and Derek can’t push him and he’d wanted to advocate for himself but he couldn’t.

With tears in his eyes, he’d promised to be on his best behavior and Derek realized just how awful he and Hotch could be towards one another. How everyone sees it. He’d wondered if… Well, if Hotch hated him for it. They’d been close once. Partners. Haley used to joke she half expected he’d steal Aaron away from her. That old joke used to make Jason laugh so hard, the two of them together were the cause of all his worry and stress. Now…

Well, now Derek is standing in a room that can’t be more than a 120-foot space with far too much equipment in it feeling like he’s never been so far away from Hotch. So disconnected.

Hotch makes a soft sound from the bed, twitching his nose and flexing his fingers. There are more drugs than blood in him, keeping him weak and tired and unable to pick apart his surroundings. Hazy eyes blink open, peeled apart like they each weigh twenty pounds, and the simple act of keeping them open burns. He can’t make out the world around him very well but he sees the empty chairs on his left and the expanse of white all around. The hospital, he knows, and no one showed up.

Maybe they finally got wise and are leaving him to his own devices. Leaving him to rot where he won’t be missed. Sinking into the fibers of the bed and disappearing. They’ll stop pumping him so full of drugs and just let him wilt away. He wants it, craves the nothing he knows he’ll find. No masks or deception or this anger he feels burning and rearing its ugly head. Just nothing.

Derek steps into the room, sniffling to draw in some noise before he steps into Hotch’s line of sight. Hoping not to startle him, as he clears his throat, meeting Hotch’s gaze for only a moment looking down at his shoes. “Just me and Hank,” he offers. He tucks his hands into his pockets. He can feel Hotch still looking at him, hearing those painstakingly slow, labored breaths. He wishes he hadn’t come. To escape all this restless vulnerability.

Hotch’s eyes sink back shut, pale lips parting to mumbling, “Derek,” under his breath. Savannah told him Hotch wouldn’t even likely know he was there. The drugs are affecting his mental facilities, sedating him to keep him calm while they run tests. When he can remember what’s happening he’s scared and when he can’t… he has a baseline memory that hardly differentiates friend from foe. It’s the latter of which Savannah needs him to be aware of because Hotch’s heart can’t handle the stress. His mind is too clouded and his body too weak, he just needs someone to hold his hand. Someone to distract him.

Derek’s expecting a conversation. For Hotch to say something. To apologize for running off or to pay Hank some sort of mind. There’s not even a stiff silence, Hotch looks so weak, so pliant Derek isn’t sure he can even speak. He realizes that despite all the hefty warnings, despite everything that he was told he still walked into this room expecting Aaron Hotchner. He wanted, he needed the man in the suit, with that stern scowl, and gravelly voice. He’d needed the mask and instead he got the man. The man without the armor, just blood.

And it scares him.

It scares Derek that Hotch can’t put up his shields, that he can’t hide and play their cat and mouse game of anger and misunderstanding. They only have blind defeat.

Derek sits down in the visitor’s chair, shushing Hank when he squirms with agitation. Hank immediately starts touching everything in sight. Reaching and leaning dangerously out of Morgan’s lap, to touch the bed and smack his hand against the rail. A sound that makes Hotch’s eyes peel open to slivers before they shut again, unbothered. “Don’t touch that,” Derek pulls Hank into his lap, redirecting his attention.

He knows, from the low whine Hank lets out, that this isn’t going to work for very long. Mercifully, there’s a knock at the door and Savannah peeks her head in. Waving at Hank who fights his limbs out of Derek’s hold to be placed on the floor so he can propel his body in the direction of his mother.

“Hello baby,” Savannah scoops him right up. Grinning at that way he toddles, that quick toddler pace because he doesn’t know how to pump the brakes. How to set himself into motion that isn’t just guided by leaning forward and running.

Derek stands from his chair, clearing his throat and glancing down at Hotch before looking back to his wife and son.

Savannah can see his hesitation, his worry. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get a snack? Hmm?” She jogs Hank up in her arms and he brightens at the offering - knowing pudding or a cookie is coming his way. “Derek?” She offers out her hand to him, “come on. I’ll explain everything to you downstairs.”

“Ugh--” all he can see is Hotch shivering. His skin slick with sweat from the strain on his body but the way he’s curled into the side. Trying to produce warmth where it isn’t. “Just give me a second.” Derek knows he can’t just throw the blanket over Hotch and he works himself up, gets upset just thinking about the mass of awful scars keeping his friend held together. All the old scars are bare for anyone and everyone to see. If Hotch had the presence of mind for it, he’d be upset.

With a gentleness born with great amounts of stress, Derek gently works the lower half of the blanket over Hotch’s leg. He folds the lower half over and hesitates, stares at Hotch, and wonders just how much he’s allowed. Hotch is cold and Derek knows that means his arms too but that crosses their line. They’re never spoken out loud, only shot through glances about trust and touch but Hotch is asleep or maybe lost to his haze of drugs (and Derek’s not really sure if there’s a difference between those two things). So, he picks up Hotch’s hand, swallowing against the uncomfortable swell of his throat when he feels just how cold the other man’s skin is. He tucks Hotch’s hand carefully against his chest.

Hotch’s face twitches, a grimace that makes him jerk his head but he doesn’t move his hand so Derek leaves it. Carefully, still watching and waiting for some explosive reaction but none come. Derek turns the heated blanket up to the highest setting, making sure even Hotch’s shoulders are covered. Tucking the blanket just under his chin.

Hotch groans from the back of his throat, a startling noise that comes with blinding panic. His eyes fly open, darting around the room and to Derek but not seeing. Derek can’t tell if it’s pain or fear but the machine over his shoulder picks up pace, reflecting Hotch’s distress. Hotch swallows thickly, mouth opening and eyes flicking around the room. Twisting, fighting his body in a futile battle where he loses no matter the outcome. Kicking out and dislodging blankets as he’s blinded by his pain.

“Step back Derek.” Derek just stands there, frozen. Savannah grabs him by the arm and pulls him back, allowing other people to come into the room. “He’s okay,” she mumbles, eyes glued to Hotch. He’s fighting blindly, anything and everything. His heart can’t take it, her eyes flick from his bare skin to the monitors. To the staff also taking note. “Derek, we can’t be in here.”

They pull the crash cart close, preparing vials of medicine before their eyes.

“What’re they--” Derek can’t move. He stands there watching them move blankets out of the way. Listening as they pull open a drawer and settle a machine on top and he knows what it is. Doesn’t need to be told what’s happening next. “Savannah.” He stumbles back, shaking his head. The machine wines, a high-pitched squeal that makes Derek’s heart pick up.

He doesn’t see, doesn’t watch.

He’s standing in the hall when the machine fires off. Can close his eyes but can’t unhear the sound of Hotch’s low groan, a punched-out sound but he’s alive. Still pulling in breaths.

“Morgan?”

He was still a baby the last time Morgan saw him. Quickly trying to climb to his father’s height but every bit as graceful as a colt, and angry. Angry with his father for falling into this same repeated history and questioning what he knew. How much of his father’s strength is something else? What does he really know about the man who raised him? Because he got himself a chunk of history, started to understand the man he’d always blindly turned to. His hero. Instead, he got glimpses, stories about the boy his mother knew and he could no longer recognize him.

But standing here now is a whole teenager. Blonde hair grown out and even taller, built unmistakably like his father with all height in his legs and pale.

“Jack.” Morgan stumbles back when Jack collides into him, long arms wrapping around him. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “When the hell did you get so big?” He’s standing there, a whole armful of the kid he used to give piggyback rides to.

Jack pulls away and wipes his eyes, furiously wipes his eyes so that Morgan can unsee the tears streaming down his face. “My-- My dad,” he asks. “Did you see him?” Jack looks at the room, alerted by the sounds coming from within, but Morgan steps in the way. “Morgan is he-- is he in there?” Jack worms his way out of Morgan’s arms, a whole tangle of long limbs.

Hotch would be proud to know Jack is exactly like him, real scrappy. A lot of fight for such a lanky person.

“Jack,” Morgan pulls him away from the door. Despite how much he wants to go to Hotch too, that’s not where Jack should be. That’s not what Jack should see. “Come on, kid. We can’t go in there. Come on.” The fight leaves him easily enough, he’s really just a kid standing there looking for someone to tell him what to do. Anyone to point him where he’s supposed to be.

Jack still wants to turn, as if pulled by strings.

“I called Rossi,” Morgan offers. Something to distract him, something good. “Everyone else? Reid and Garcia and Emily? They’re on their way, okay?” And even with loaded promises Jack can’t find the nerve to respond. Their names used to be a solace. Someone to call when he needs help with his math homework. To show up with books on whatever cool thing he’s into this week. His family.

People he hasn’t seen in forever.

They do come.

Hank’s ambling about, babbling to Morgan as he pulls his father around the waiting room. It’s his excited squeal that alerts them to the other’s arrival. To Reid holding the door open so the others can pass. The pile-up that happens, shocked inhales and silence as they stand there and look at the carnage. At Jack’s tear-stained face and Morgan going where Hank pulls but empty, fearful.

“Uncle Dave?” Jack stands up, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Dave smiles, “hey kiddo.” He doesn’t argue against the armful of Jack he gets, just closes him up. “Christ,” Dave whispers. “You’re a giant.”

“What is he feeding you?” Jack turns around and finds Emily and all she can do is laugh as he hugs her too. Finds herself all wrapped up in his long arms. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” she whispers, “letting you get so big.” She squeezes him tight, cups the back of his head.

There’s not much more time for reunions, never much time for anything.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Never get used to this part either. The sitting. The waiting. The calling.

Savannah was right about the tachycardia.

“With your permission - ” and it’s important that detail be added. That Hotch can’t make this decision for himself anymore and it’s resting entirely on the shoulders of Jessica or Dave and Emily alternatively. That doesn’t mean it’s not like a kick to the gut. A cruel taunt. “We would like to prepare him for the surgery now while he’s stable.” Stable? Is that what he is? Laying back there with defibrillator pads on his chest and sedated to the point that Morgan wasn’t sure Hotch could even recognize him.

Jack sniffles, ducking his head and whispering to Emily. Attached to her hip, clinging to her. She shakes her head and brushes his hair back, “it doesn’t work like that, Jack.” Jack’s lower lip trembles and it breaks Emily’s heart so she interrupts the doctors. Despite the voice at the back of her head telling her this isn’t a good idea. Despite the sour twist in her stomach. The way she knows Hotch wouldn’t want this. “I know there are strict rules,” and that alone should be enough to know they’re likely to be shot down. “Is there any chance he can go back before the surgery? This is his son, he’s fifteen. He’ll be sixteen soon. You’re hardly breaking the rules at all.”

Soon is a bit of a stretch. Jack’s an October baby.

The doctor looks at Jack and sighs like this is really putting him off but nods. “Yeah, quickly. Five minutes, do you understand? You can’t be back there long,”

And Jack thinks he’s won something grand. That he’ll be faced with the same mirage Morgan was expecting. His dad will be sitting back there tall and strong, probably just tired like he’s sick. But he takes one step into the room and wishes he hadn’t come. Hadn’t asked.

They haven’t removed the defibrillator pads on his chest just pulled a blanket over his stomach but that only minimally covers the damage. There are still visibly warped bullet wounds and jagged surgical scars to be seen. But Dave has seen all that. He’d been there to watch the blood spray out when the scar on Hotch’s shoulder took place. Shouted as the gunshot sprayed out and Hotch grunted, being sent back into the wall behind him. But that was… God, that was a lifetime ago when Hotch was just a kid.

Dave turns behind him and sees Jack frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jack nods but he can hardly move, can’t force himself to move further into the room. He’s seen his father shirtless, not enough times to really gather anything but he’s seen the damage of years of this job has caused. But this is different. Jack isn’t six, isn’t watching him shave. He’s standing there watching him pull in laborious breaths, struggling to keep living.

“You know,” Rossi sits down in the visitor’s chair. “When you were born he cried so hard that Gideon had to call me.” He looks back at Jack, watching his face for some inclination that he’s going to either come into the room or run away. “Haley was exhausted but… She was beautiful, always was. No matter if she was showing up at the office to haul your father home by the ear in her pajamas or crying her make-up off in the waiting room waiting for your knucklehead father to get out of surgery.”

But he’s missed the point.

He chances a glance to Hotch, watching his pale face twist in discomfort. “You were born at eleven at night and by that point I was already in bed and done for the night by ten kind of guy.” He can still remember sighing and almost ignoring his phone when it had gone off. “I got to the hospital and your dad was sitting on the floor just outside the room, sobbing so hard I thought he’d pass out.” It’s still pretty surprising he didn’t pass out. “Didn’t think he could do it. You were so small, small, and pink and screaming your little head off.”

Jack huffs, smiling as he kicks at the ground. Looking everywhere but his father or Dave.

“But I picked him up,” grabbed him by his shirt and forced him to his feet. Managing the tough love Gideon couldn’t bring himself to enforce. “I don’t think he stopped crying until he fell asleep. Just sitting there with you in his arms crying.” Rossi sighs shakes his head. “Honestly, you were tiny. Had a-- Had a thing with your heart and…” Rossi had held Jack after Hotch and Haley finally managed to catch some sleep. A nurse had figured he or Gideon one had to be a grandfather, why else would they be there? They’d sat there with Jack for about an hour just gushing over how small and cute he was. Trying to keep the baby content so Haley could get some sleep.

Drowsily his voice cuts through the silence, nothing but a ghost of a whisper. “An atrial septal defect.” It’s all he can manage but it’s enough to get their attention. Jack had been born with an atrial septal defect and they knew about it in advance just after Haley’s pregnancy got tricky. It was just a tiny little hole in his atrium, closed before he was a whole year old. That doesn’t mean it didn’t scare the hell out of them first. Leave them to check his bassinet every few hours. To make sure he was okay, still breathing.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t play soccer because of it.” Jack manages a few steps and comes to the very end of the bed. His fingers just barely touching the bed frame. “But you let me play anyways.”

Hotch clears his throat, shakes his head. “I didn’t. Jessica did.” He grimaces, shifting uselessly to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “Said-- She said if you were anything like me you’d find a way.” He’s talked himself breathless, gasping and fighting to breathe. “Might as well-- Might as well make it easy on myself. Just let you do it.” So he had. He signed Jack up for soccer despite his own fears and went to every match he could. Every practice. Until he was the only parent paying attention.

He coughs softly, setting off a weight and ache in his lungs. “Jessica--” he cuts himself off, coughing until he holds his breath and fists the sheets in his hand to keep from still.

Jack looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor.

Dave calls it. Hotch won’t admit he’s not okay and Dave would venture Jack has that same stubborn-streak, doesn’t want to think that Hotch isn’t okay.

“Come on,” Dave motions for Jack to follow him. “Times up, better get out of here before they kick us out.” Five or so minutes, that’s all they had and that’s passed. “You’ll be fine,” Dave promises.

He struggles to get his breath, to say something coherent. “Wait,” he grabs Dave’s shirt. Hospitals are so cold, they’re scary and miserable and he doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “I’m sorry.”

Dave pulls Jack on, can’t leave him behind, and can’t stay any longer.

“What did he mean?” Jack asks. He keeps looking back, looking over his shoulder to the room. “Why’d he say that?” He has to run to keep up with Dave’s pace. “Dave, please. Why’d he say he was sorry?”

Dave stops and just stands for a moment, looking at the hall before them. “He’s scared,” Dave answers, finally. “He’s just scared, that’s all.”

He doesn't think he’s going to make it. That’s the horrible ugly truth. That’s why he apologized. Just in case.

“Come on,” Dave holds out his arm. Smiles a smile that doesn't even try to make it to his eyes and wraps an arm around Jack. “It’s going to be okay. You know that?”

Jack looks back over his shoulder once more, to the room. He doesn’t buy it for a second but he nods anyway. “Course,” he answers.

“Good. That’s good.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #savannah hayes #derek morgan #hank morgan #jack hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau

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yeojaa · 3 years

Note

one of the first things ive ever read of yours was the 'read 6:45' it made me bawl my eyes out during 12 am 😭 could i please request a follow up drabble for it?

[ read "i love you.” read: 6:45 pm ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. frustrating among us play, kook being cute, etc. wc. 0.9k. beta reader. n/a. author note. i’m so sorry this is so late but i hope you enjoy this! i wanted to keep it kind of light and silly, since the original was... sad and then silly? also, this was heavily inspired by this twitter post.

Dating Jungkook is kind of like free-falling from an airplane. (Not that you’ve ever done that.) It’s exhilarating and fun and sometimes, downright terrifying. You suppose it comes with the territory of being with someone like him - effortlessly cool, collected, capable of turning every no into a yes.

You’d seen it in action during your time as friends. Watched him woo women and dunk on dudes, somehow scrap an A in a class you both attended where you’d barely gotten a B. (You’re still a little salty about that.) He’d even, somehow, wormed his way into your favourite bartender’s heart, on speed dial any time you and your girlfriends had a little too much fun. Really - just do things you’d formerly thought impossible and with that dumbass grin on his face, confidence rolling off him in waves.

You really shouldn’t have expected you’d fare any better, be able to deny him when so many others had failed.

“Babe. Babe.” There’s that goofy smile, bunny toothed and adorable. “C’mon— it’ll be funny.”

You level him with a look in your mirror - one that screams no, it’s not - but he just keeps beaming at you in the reflection, eyes so sparkly you want to tear your own hair out. “Maybe to you,” you retort, slicking brow gel on, mouth rounded in a little ‘o’.

“No! To everyone!” Your boyfriend is insistent, curling across your back like drapery, chin resting upon your shoulder. He bats his lashes at you, sways you back and forth in his arms.

“A third imposter is so stupid.” Also, because you’re bad at impostering as is. (You always forget which room is where and you can never answer when people ask which fake tasks you’ve been doing.) You don’t think you could properly third imposter if you tried. “Just win the old-fashioned way, you dummy.” Not like Jungkook isn’t already stupidly good at fooling everyone, going so far as to admit he was the imposter and yet somehow still win.

“But it’s funny!” Which you suppose is what it comes down to. Your boyfriend doesn’t particularly care about winning - it’ll likely happen anyway - but he wants to put your friend group through hell. Make them all doubt each other as he cackles maliciously in the background.

(Because he does that. Laughs so long and hard it’s embarrassing, arms thrown around his head as he revels in the chaos he’s unleashed.)

“Whatever.” It’s a lost cause. Once he has his mind set on something, it’s nearly impossible to turn him off the idea. Whether it’s craving corn pizza at 3 AM, forcing everyone to try the bald head Snapchat filter, or doubling his one-rep squat max - he’s as stubborn as an ox.

“Are you kidding me!”

You watch in horror - anger, exasperation - as your little blue character gets shot through the head, the eggplant imposter tearing off in the opposite direction. You don’t know the map well enough to know how likely it is your body will be found or how easily someone will figure out who the murderer is. Are there cams on this map? (God, you really need to pay better attention when you play.)

All you know is frustration, glare furrowing your brows.

Somewhere, past the closed door of his bedroom, you hear Jungkook laughing. He’s like Ed the hyena, snickering loudly, clearly pleased. Then your body is reported. By your boyfriend. Your purple-suit wearing boyfriend.

(He’s with Taehyung, dressed in green with a little companion chasing after him.)

“Who killed my girlfriend?!” He has the audacity to sound devastated, voice pitching three octaves as he all but shouts into his headset.

There’s a chorus of not me’s from the group, people discussing among themselves who could’ve possibly killed you in cold blood - left you to rot in the tree room. (That’s what it’s called, right?) No one even seems to notice how quiet Jungkook is now, likely tapping the tips of his fingers together like an evil genius.

You want to scream, shout, send him straight to the shadow realm. You cannot believe he’s getting away with this, playing the part of an indignant boyfriend so well. It’s absurd, really.

“I can clear JK. He was with me.” Of course Taehyung’s in on it. That, or he’s just as chaotic as his friend. (Both are believable.) You’ve seen the blond accuse everyone under the sun, playing third imposter better than the goddamn imposters themselves. There was something about him, his uncanny ability to cast doubt on anyone.

(Conversely, he could make anyone believe him. And by anyone, you meant Jimin. The two never turned against each other. Ever.)

“I didn’t see Jimin anywhere,” comes Yoongi’s slow drawl. It sounds like he’s just woken up from a nap, syllables rounded and sleepy. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin had been following after his hyung and Yoongi had simply been too tired to notice. Something something life of a bartender something.

“I saw Jimin across the map right as it happened.” There’s Namjoon, ever the reasonable one, humming thoughtfully. (Reasonable, but still suspicious. He was notoriously bad for drawing out votings, calling emergency meetings again because he hadn’t had a chance to consider every possibility.) “And he wasn’t near a vent, so I think he’s okay.” A pause, “but you never know.”

There’s a collective groan - Hoseok’s bubbling laughter cuts through it - and the next round begins.

#anon.eml #incoming.eml #work.zip #drabble.zip #jungkook.doc #bts au #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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mochikeiji · 4 years

Text

Rockabye, My Love

↠ Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

↠ Warning: slight fluff, soft father/daughter moments, angst. Trigger Warning: mentions of death, depression.

↬ Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Every lyrics had a deeper meaning in them than just words that'll fit a song. Yours was heavier than anyone could think of, and Akaashi was singing it to his beloved baby girl.

↣ a/n: ohayo world! I'm sorry for late posts, expect the upcoming ones soon. School was giving too much works again. Thank you all for loving my Day 2 fic in Akaashi Week!! Also, the lullaby in this lyrics is the same tune as Isabella's Lullaby from The Promised Neverland.

⇢ Day 3: Single Parent AU

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine.

You are the most precious thing I have loved.

I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more.

I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you.

You are the most beautiful thing that has came.

I will protect you forever, my love."

Life is difficult in many ways. It's either we were born different, have lost someone dear or have lost ourselves. It's no wonder how millions of people from all around the world, evert second, minute, hour— someone gives up on everything. It was cruel, disturbing, most of all heart breaking.

Akaashi never understood your true intentions. He was one hundred percent sure he had kept an eye on you at all cost. He's made you smile brighter, he's understood you more than anyone. He made you feel alive.

Yet now you ended up being dead to your own inner demons.

He remembers coming home after receiving good news from his company. He had received a promotion and a week off just for you. That was when the hospital had contacted him. He can recall his ragged breathing when he was allowed to place a foot in your room. Your monitor beating in an ever agonizingly slow rhythm, he knew it wasn't normal and immediately ran to your side.

He wanted to yell, scream, ask you why, why did you do this to yourself but he couldn't, not when you looked at him so scared and weak. The doctors had told him that he had only a few minutes with his wife, the drugs you've intake was too much, not everything was removed nor pumped out of your system. Akaashi never felt so depressed in all his life after that situation as he buried himself into your chest, listening to your lullabies that soon died down along with the light in your eyes.

That was the only reminisces he's had with you,the lullaby you would sing to yourself as a teen who strived to survive the world, a lullaby for his anxieties and own demons to be tamed, and the last thing you ever said. He was happy that over the years before your death, you had given him a customized music box that had the right notes of your song, only this time no one was singing it.

Fingers tapping anxiously on his work table, Akaashi started to fiddle with his thumb and then his index, losing his focus despite looking at the same drafted page lit up on his computer screen. He kept eyeing the pack of cigarettes that was just on the edge of his window— he needed one right now. Cigarettes were the last options he has for when he couldn't calm his beating heart or let his emotions out. But he knows how wrong it was to be damaging his health, and he knows he's going to get an earful from Bokuto since he visits his apartment every weekend. Even if Akaashi tries to hide his dirty deeds, Bokuto wasn't stupid to read through his eyes like before.

Foot was starting to bounce, his eyebrows were beginning to furrow, as if he was irritated, in trouble, or something. It wss getting harder for him, who wouldn't after losing their wife? The person he's loved since his teen years, the one he's vowed to never make her feel like how she did in the past. He failed you. He blames himself for all that matter, if he's added more precautions, maybe you'd still be here.

He bites his lips and whimpers, hands ruffling through his tossled hair and holding his head as his elbows were supporting him on the table. Everything was closing in once more, the walls to his workspace became suffocating, how he wishes one of his friends or yours would come knocking at his door even though it was already 2:30 am knowing how reckless he's getting. He swore he wasn't going to die sooner as you did. He promised to himself to let you and his memories live on, because once he dies, no one will ever remember the battles you've fought for, the good things you've done to many, and the love you've shared with him throughout the years.

"It's so hard without you, love.."

Eyes finally cracking with tears behind his glasses, he lets them stream down his face with his body shaking on his chair. Soon enough he was bound to get another headache from extreme emotion and will probably lay the whole day about it. But none of that mattered to him anymore.

He just wanted you back.

But his cries weren't the only ones that can be heard in his apartment.

Jolting up to realization, he carelessly wipes away his tears with his sleeves and tumbles our of his chair straight to his room. His heart was beating fast in worry and adrenaline, he thought the source of the crying in his room had been taken away or worse.

But it turns out, it was just his little baby girl crying in lonliness.

As he got closer, her cries were getting deafening, but he didn't mind. Not when his heart was swooning with guilt when he thought of giving up and caving to his own needs when he's forgotten he has a reason to continue on.

With the night lamp on at the side of her crib and his bed, he cooes at the sobbing baby with sweet nothings to catch her attention. Th cries immediately died down and replaced with sniffles and the baby looking up hazily at the dark figure above her.

Smiling, Akaashi carefully picks her up from the crib to cradle her on his chest. Giving her small pats on her back with hush whispers when he feels her stretch on his body.

"Shhh, I'm sorry, were you lonely?"

Grabbing on the string of his lamp shade on the nightstand, he pulls the string, allowing more light to glow in his room, and for his little girl to finally see that she wasn't alone anymore. Akaashi swayed gently as he remained in eye contact with the baby, smiling ever so slightly at the unreadable expression his daughter was possessing and played with her fingers.

"Maybe I should work with you around, you never really like it in the dark, do you, baby?"

His little girl cooes at him, curious of what language he was speaking to her and hopes he understood what she was saying as well. Akaashi's heart swelled at the adorable sound and nuzzled his face softly on her stomach, the baby still confused as ever but just clenches her hands in wonder.

His anxieties and thoughts disappearing in the air whilst he sat down on his bed and held his baby near to where his hesrt was beating. The same day you died, was the same day you had given birth. It was a miracle for the baby to be healthy despite what you had intake. He remembers after your announced death, the nurses had to usher him out, but only to drag him into another room where lies a bassinet and a couple of IV's attached and treatments.

When he got closer, his world was shaken that day. The sight of you and his baby alive and now existing after 9 months of waiting was there right before his eyes. But his heart broke at the thought of him being the only one to raise her, and her not having to meet her beloved mother. He was so emotional that day that he almost lost it when he realizes why she was kept in there and why there were so much stuff in this room. He didn't want to think thag he was losing another one when he had just met her.

The nurses explained that there was nothing wrong with the baby, just taking further check ups and to ensure she was absolutely healthy. He was already been forced outside your room that no longer held light, he wasn't going to leave the room where his daughter was until he holds her in his arms where he knows she'll be at the safest.

As time went by to now, Akaashi feared her growing up in the future. She resembled mostly to you. She was a dead carbon copy of you and he was terrified she'd experience what you have as history might repeat itself. The very thought of his daughter having something inside her little head without telling him scares him, Akaashi knew how cruel the world can be and hoe each second in life matters because we are unaware of the deaths happening at those time.

He prayed his baby girl wouldn't go through what you did as a child and carry it until she grows up. He hopes and believed in his own strength that he wasn't going to fail her this time— that there will be no person by her side and will lovd and protect her other than her daddy.

His tears blocking his vision of her as he held her tightly. He whimpers at remembering his thoughts earlier. He wanted to curse himself from thinking of leaving his daughter to fend for herself in this world and to find a way to be back to you. But he knows he was still with you, your daughter was the last love you could ever give him and he was going to love her more than anything.

The trembling of his body stops when his baby started to cry and squirm in his hold. Her whimpers breaking his heart when he couldn't solve her distress, it seemed like she was in pain and he knew this situation like in the past.

"Shh, shh, I'm here. I'm always here. I'm sorry."

Reciting out the same line he's used when he held you against his body that night. You cried and held a hand to your heart that day as he hugged you tighter. The demons inside you he had curse to go away and leave you alone. But they didn't.

An idea popped in his head and reached out inside his nightstand drawer. The little music box you have crafted for him still looked the same as it was before since it was taken with good care. He proceeded to wind it gently to let the soft tune play as he stood up once more to cradle his crying baby.

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine."

He sings the first verse of the long memorized lullaby you sang for him. Using his thumb to wipe away the little tears that had escaped his daughters eyes. Her cries were stopped momentarily and were replaced by sniffles. Her dazed eyes making eye contact with her father's.

"You are the most precious thing I have loved."

Akaashi would be cringing thinking his voice was terrible, but the little girl in his arms seemed to be intrigued and loving the harmonized voice of her daddy and an unknown tune from the background.

His voice was smooth and soft. Completely out of character from his monotone one, but enough to capture the attention of someone.

"I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more."

He couldn't tell if he was singing the lullaby to her or he was making a silent vow to her. The lullaby you sang to him for the first time he tried searching for in the internet what the lyrics meant and who wrote it. Sadly, there were no results that came up that day.

And you never really told him how you got that song and who it was referring to in the lyrics.

But nevertheless, the lyrics could never be at the right time as it was now. It felt like he was reminding himself of what his role was from now on and what his daughter should always remember as she grows up.

No one was going to hurt her on her watch.

"I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you."

At the end of that line his voice cracks as he held back his own tears. He can hear only now your voice and hoe you would thread his hair during nights of distress. How he missed so many cracks of your voice from being too intrigued with the song. How he missed the fact that you needed him the most those nights of terror, yet you chose to make him feel secure and loved without leaving anything for yourself.

Slowly, his mind was connecting all the lyrics and your actions in his head. You were a self reliant person.

You sang this song in reminder that you were loved, beautiful and was protected by the few people that truly loved you. This song was meant to keep you alive.

To keep him going.

And now

It was a vow from him to his daughter.

"You are the most beautiful thing that has came."

Smiling sadly down to his baby now calmed down and listening intently to her daddy, Akaashi leans down to press kisses on her face with his tears sliding down.

He should've sang this to you when you needed it the most. A reminder of what you truly were to him. He hopes deep inside, somewhere up there or in his room you were listening. Listening to him remind you and his daughter— his world and universe, that he was going to be stronger and fulfill his own promises.

One day he was going to meet you in another life he believed, where he'd make you stay, where you and him will raise your little girl once again and he'll wake up next to you. Where he'll be the one singing this lullaby tune as he hold you both in his arms.

But for now, it was just going to be him and his baby girl.

"I will, protect you. Forever, my love."

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peachywise · 4 years

Text

nullify

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader

- part 6: the beginning of understandings || part i ⋆ part ii ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part v ⋆ more to be released

- synopsis: It was finally time to meet the bringer of the apocalypse– a petite girl wrapped up in a blanket drinking tea. Totally chill. Nothing unusual about the situation at all. At least Klaus was consistent with his irritating commentary.

- note: my bad sorry i haven’t updated in so long!! but i’m back! and since season 2 is now out, please just note that this story is my own continuation of the story after season 1. also, i am no longer doing a tag list. honestly i just can’t be bothered, and i’m sure most of the blogs have changed since the last one for this series. i post on ao3, so you can subscribe to the story there!!

link on ao3

_______________________________________

Okay. So you were going to face the person who allegedly caused the apocalypse. No big deal. This was just a normal day, and she was just a girl. Albeit one who had undergone pretty severe trauma in her life, but hey. Nothing you couldn’t handle with a pleasant smile and a cup of tea, right?

Maybe the tea was a bad idea. But you felt like you needed a peace offering. Something to break the ice before asking someone who was relatively a complete stranger, “I think I can contain your powers, so why don’t we try? Also, why don’t you move into my apartment for the time being? I promise the occasional cockroach that comes out the drain won’t do any harm. It would be nice if he paid rent, but I can’t complain.”

Yeah. Just a normal day.

An abrupt tap on your shoulder and Klaus’s breath tickling the side of your neck forced your eyes away from your previous stare down with the white bedroom door, and any and all courage you’d built up to walk in quickly dissipated.

“Hey, you think if this whole—” his voice caught on a sharp intake of breath as he tried to find his words, his hands rolling, “trying to convince my sister to not start the second apocalypse by moving in with you thing doesn’t work out, I can still crash there? You can’t begin to imagine just how stifling it is here. I don’t even think Five has changed out of his little uniform in a week, let alone had a shower. You smell so much better. Like vanilla with a bit of stale coffee and deep-seated cynicism.”

Turning your face fully towards his, your noses almost touching by how close he had leaned in, you kept your expression passive. And then you tipped your hand to let half of the scalding tea fall over the lip of the cup and on his bare feet.

As Klaus jumped back, hopping between his feet and hollering a string of “ow, ow, ow,” you took a small step back and replied with a drab and mocking, “that has to hurt.”

Klaus gave a curt laugh that was almost lost, given his teeth were clenched in pain. “You know, I don’t know if I like your violent style of foreplay.”

“You’re making it very clear why Vanya destroyed the world in the first place, Klaus,” you responded, voice raised. “You haven’t even experienced just how sadistic I can be. I can turn around right now and just let her cause the second apocalypse again.”

“How original of you, threatening to leave. What is it, the tenth time already? Maybe if we’re all lucky, you can get a couple more in before dinner!”

“You know what’s original? Your desperate need for attention because you never got any from daddy as a kid. I’ve never seen that before-“

The door opened in front of you, and someone’s soft cough had you and Klaus both turning in their direction.

Allison Hargreeves.

“Are you guys done?” She questioned, a tight impatient look crossed on her features. At a loss for words, partly embarrassed now that you’d raised your voice, you tried to find anywhere to look but her eyes. Your gaze ultimately got caught on her neck, and the healed, puffy scar raised on her skin. Right. They’d mentioned Vanya had injured Allison. Pretty horribly at that. You remembered what you were nervous about in the first place.

“Allison, this is Y/N, though they will reply to trouble or travel-sized Satan just as well,” Klaus offered, slipping past his sister, who stood fully in the frame of the doorway.

Reaching behind to scratch your neck, you forced a timid smile on your face and gave a small wave with your free hand. “Hey. Nice, uh… place you got here.” Totally casual. “Very clean.” Not awkward at all.

Allison snorted. “Uh-huh. Nice to meet you. Let’s see if this was all worth it, shall we?”

Straight to the point. You could respect that. Nodding, you kept the nervous smile on your face as you walked past her after she sidestepped away from the door. You didn’t really know what you were expecting. Part of you thought the room was going to be some weird pit of despair. Dark and broody, like it was supposed to set the scene for some comic book character about to delve into their villain origin story.

But nope. It was just a standard bedroom, very well lit, white linen, clean carpet. The only thing that really stood out was the sunny yellow blanket wrapped tightly around a petite frame huddled on the single bed, a sky blue polka dot teacup clutched in both of her hands.

Well, now you didn’t feel so bad that you’d poured out basically all the tea you were going to give Vanya on Klaus.

“I’m guessing you’re Vanya?”

No shit, she was Vanya. You literally knew what she looked like.

You shuffled your feet awkwardly as the girl’s eyes flickered up to you. You still had the teacup in your hand.

“I brought you this, but I… spilled a little,” you commented off-handily, moving over to set it on a small side table.

Klaus made a notably shocked look. “Is that what you call a little?”

Vanya nodded her head once, her tone quietly gruff as she added, “we could hear you through the door.”

Allison offered a very helpful, “I’m sure the whole apartment floor heard them.”

Klaus, unable to contain himself from continuing this rally of comments, added, “well, it’s not the only time my screams have woken up someone next door. Certainly won’t be the last, God hoping the world doesn’t explode again.”

All three of you groaned. Good to know you weren’t the only one exhausted.

“It’s nice to meet you, Vanya. Did they explain to you why I’m here?” You asked, moving closer to the girl in question.

Vanya’s eyes glanced quickly over to Allison, who nodded her head in encouragement. She then turned to look at you once more and gave a slight jerk of her head in affirmation. Despite what had happened between Vanya and Allison, you could see the trust between the sisters. You might have gotten the story of what happened three months prior, but obviously they had worked out some stuff. At least a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, Five uhm, gave me the gist of it,” Vanya replied, her voice still quiet with an edge of hesitance.

“It really works,” Klaus stated, looking at you with a joyful look. “Not seeing Ben’s ugly mug for once…” he pressed his hands to his heart and contentedly sighed, “it was the biggest blessing one could have given me.” His serene mood quickly dissipated as he looked to an empty corner and bit out a tight, “zip it, ghoul boy.”

“I don’t know,” Vanya carried on, as Klaus and presumably Ben continued to have an argument in the back. “Our powers are different. I don’t know if I want to take the risk of using it again in case it doesn’t work.”

You sighed, and Allison brought her hand up to nervously to chew on a nail. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you tried your best to settle the situation. Yeah, the money you would get for this would be nice, but you could tell this all went beyond that. It was important. You knew they wouldn’t have just let you into their inner circle if it wasn’t.

“I get it. What happened was awful, but you aren’t in that place anymore, right? Panic makes you do stupid shit. You aren’t you when you’re in such a crisis. That doesn’t mean you don’t take accountability for those actions, but the you sitting here isn’t actively trying to blow up the moon and cause the end of the world.” Peering over to Klaus, who stood grumpily off to the side, you asked, “it was the moon, right?”

His attention quickly fixed on you as he replied back, “oh yeah,” making a sudden explosion movement with his hands and horrible sound effects to go with it.

Allison’s blunt, “Klaus,” was enough to quickly shut him up.

“But I could panic again,” Vanya pleaded, her hazel eyes cutting in their pain. As stable and as comfortable as she appeared now, you could recognize that constant fear that must have lived in her. You knew too much about regret. You could see that in her eyes.

“And that’s where I come in. I can stop that. But we have to try first to see if it can work.” Reaching out a hesitant hand, you placed it on her knee still covered with the blanket and offered, “this power is inside you whether you like it or not. I don’t have perfect control over mine. I wish there were things I had done differently.” People you could have saved. People who you accidentally hurt. “You tried suppressing it, but that only made it explosive once it was actually let out. We can try to make it so you can live with it. Even if you don’t use it, at least you can control it.”

Vanya bit her lip and drooped her head, her hair falling in curtains around her face. You were curious about what her thoughts were. The furrow between her brows tensed and untensed in a way you knew her answer to the proposition was continually changing.

“Vanya, I’ve gone the self-destructive route to try and drown the voices out,” Klaus chirped up in the silence, his compassionate tone odd to your ears. From the corner, he strolled past you and rested a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “But I’ve never experienced quiet so fully until they put their field around me.” Soft eyes met yours as he added, “I never thought it was possible. It’s all I ever wanted.”

Holding his look for a moment, you weren’t quite sure what to say. You’d never really been… praised for your gift. Whenever you tried to use it to help someone else, you’d get called a freak or something worse. Any other time, it accidentally (well, purposefully sometimes) harmed someone. You could tell Klaus was sincere. Listening to the voices of the dead so much must be harrowing. You never really gave much thought about spirits and their presence, but for all you know, there could be multiple in the room with him at any moment. Always in pain. Always sharing that with him.

All you could manage to offer in response was a gentle smile before you tipped your head back to look at Vanya. “You don’t know me. I can’t ask you to trust me to do this. But why don’t you stay with me for a bit anyway? Klaus will be there, and you can come and go as you want, the others too. I’ll show you a couple of things I can do with the force field, and when you’re ready to test it out, we will. This is in your hands, Vanya. You’re in control.”

That’s all people like us could ever want. Control. Certainty—

Understanding.

“I already called sharing the bed with Trouble, just so you know,” Klaus said.

Although, it seemed your understanding clearly had its limits.

“If you did that, I would have to burn my bed so I didn’t get fleas. How about I get you a nice doggy bed instead?”

That got a grin out of Vanya, and when Allison added, “I think a flea repellent collar would be a wise investment as well,” her smile grew a little more comfortable.

“very funny, really, ” Klaus muttered.

“Okay. I’ll come with you,” Vanya finally conceded, reaching over to set her cup on the nightstand. “I’m— I don’t think I’m ready to try it out yet, but I guess if I do lose control again, having you there will be a good safety net?”

“We’ll all be your safety net this time.” Allison’s tone was earnest, remorse and care wrapped up on one. “I promise.” She sat on the bed and Vanya gently rested her head on her shoulder.

Whatever had gone on with this family, whatever tragedy had occurred in the past or with the current ordeal, seemed to be mending. You were kind of in awe staring at the scene. You had never known this kind of support since your father, and even then, you were so young that your memories of those feelings of comfort had faded. You lived alone. Didn’t really have any lasting friendships. You had the old couple across the hall who you played cards with at least once a week— though you were pretty sure they cheated every single time— but that wasn’t even close to what the Hargreeves had.

Family.

Standing back up, you heaved in a heavy breath. “I’ll leave you to pack,” you offered with your best shot at a cheery smile despite the sudden growing muck (jealousy, sadness, regret) festering through your veins. “Would you mind if I use the bathroom?”

Allison started to talk, offering you directions before Klaus interjected, “I’ll show you where it is.”

You were going to argue that you were perfectly capable of managing directions in the single apartment, but he placed his hand on your back and was quickly ushering you out of the door and down the rest of the hall.

“You really okay with doing this?” His questioned jarred you, eyes widening as you stepped away from his touch.

“Klaus, are you kidding?” You shot back, your exhaustion entrapping your exasperation in one low, breathy air. “I didn’t see you caring about that when I had originally said no multiple times.”

“You didn’t have that,” he stalled, struggling to come up with words as he haphazardly waved his hands in front of your face, “that look before. You looked sad when Vanya said she would come.”

Ah. You thought you’d shielded your face away from what you had felt. Strange that he would pick up on it. “It’s fine, Klaus. I want to help.”

Klaus didn’t look so sure, but he was also resigned enough to accept that answer. It was the truth anyway. It was a brief second of allowing yourself to feel bad. We all had those. A desire for something else someone has, for love, for care. But maybe this situation would help. Helping someone else, someone relatively similar to you, given the fucked up freak birth that messed up all their lives, would give you a sense of purpose.

“Can I ask you something, though?” You said, biting the inside of your cheek in a sort of nervous gesture.

“Yeah, sure,” Klaus prompted, curiosity lowing his eyebrows as he slightly tilted his head.

“Did you mean what you said in there? Did my blocking your power really help you that much?” You just needed to know. He looked so earnest, almost… desperate to experience it again. You felt seized by a sudden warmth. You just wanted to experience that again, whatever that was. To feel like you had done right.

“Trouble, you have no idea how much that helped. I meant what I said,” his tone turned almost affectionate, his eyes almost pleading with you to believe, “It really is all I ever wanted.”

And suddenly, the warmth that you hoped would have a growing familiarity in your body came back. However, there was something else there, nagging at the back of your consciousness, that you couldn’t quite grasp. It almost felt like concern or empathy, but there was something more. Despite Klaus’s kind words, there was an undercurrent of sadness to them. The man in front of you, who sometimes seemed so much younger and fragile than what he was, had been through hurt. You could recognize it. You had the moment you had met him and all the Hargreeves. But you were finally beginning to fully comprehend what his particular sadness was.

“It’s horrible to have been forced with a burden that could probably do so much good, but we just haven’t been able to see it.” You murmured, speaking your thoughts out loud without really meaning to. “All of you guys were forced to do good with your powers. Be the good guys, get the bad ones. That in itself was another burden just on top of it. You were kids. You never got to experience normal lives and have your powers adjusted to fit normalcy. I guess I’m lucky in that regard.”

You didn’t really know what you were saying. Just looking at Klaus’s face and the emotions you couldn’t read had you spewing words so freely that surely he must have thought you to be the erratic one now and not him.

“Sorry,” you laughed lightly, trying to break the tension. “I guess I’m just trying to say, if my power can do good by helping you guys out, then I’m happy. Whenever things get too noisy, just let me know and I’ll try and drown it out for you. Maybe just… living for a while, not stressing about your next plans, will help too.” You could try to provide some sort of normalcy in your shitty little apartment, with shitty cable, and an even shittier view.

“I’ll do that,” Klaus’s voice was so quiet you barely caught what he had said. “Thank you.”

Averting your gaze to the floor, you rubbed the tip of your nose with the back of your hand and stood in silence for a few moments.

“So uhm. Where’s that bathroom?”

“Oh, shit! Ah, yeah, just down the hall and to the right off the kitchen,” Klaus laughed, tension easing.

“What, not going to lead to it?” You teased.

“No, I think you can manage pretty well,” he smirked, before walking off into one of the adjacent rooms, probably to go pack.

What a shame. You’d probably have to burn all his clothes before they touched your carpets, now that you thought about it. You know, because of the fleas and all that.

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves fanfic #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #nullify #tua #tua fanfic #tua fanfiction #vanya hargreeves #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #robert sheehan

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wthzoe · 4 years

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chapter 5 - don't let it bring you down

"but don't let it bring you down and turn your face into a frown"

series masterlist - here

previous | next

a/n: wrote this right after i posted chap 4 and it's already 4 am 😃 im still not sleepy rip. so as i said, ive been writing the whole night so i don't know if this chapter makes sense sksksks

Kuroo had a volleyball game coming up in two weeks which made him busy after school. He hadn’t been able to pick up the triplets from daycare and look after them. As for you, he only saw you in the mornings and briefly during classes as they had volleyball practice even during class hours. To say he misses you is an understatement. He even went as far as setting the picture he secretly took of you as his lock screen wallpaper so that you were the first thing he sees when he turns on his phone. He made sure to be careful as to not let a stranger who doesn’t know of your circumstances see it.

Akaashi approached Kuroo who was sitting on the floor with his head tilted back. The curly haired male handed him a bottle of water before sitting down next to the bed haired one.

“Bokuto and I could feel how much you miss (Y/N) from a mile away.” Akaashi bluntly stated.

“Really, now.” Kuroo replied, too tired and (Y/N)-deprived to think of a snarky reply. He chugged down the water Akaashi gave him and stood up to leave. “Well, I’m going first.”

“We’ll be going, too.”

With that, all three of them went back to their respective homes. Upon arriving home, Kuroo went straight into the bathroom to shower in able to go straight to bed. Stepping out of the shower topless while drying his hair off with a towel, he fishes his gym bag for his phone only to be met with anything other than the said device. He felt his heart race. Just when he had something to hide in there, he just had to lose his phone. He poured out the contents of his bag into his bed and he felt the fatigue in his body leave him.

Meanwhile back in the university, a student who had business in the gym saw a phone light up. She picks up the phone and turn it on to try to identify the owner. The lock screen was a photo of a woman carrying what seems like a two-year old baby. She takes a closer look and was finally able to identify that it was you.

Back home you were doing your homework when you hear a series of knocks on your door. Opening it, you were met with Kuroo looking quite jittery and pale. You furrow your brows before asking him what was wrong.

“I, uh. Can you do me a favor? My phone’s missing and I’m pretty sure the location’s on.”

“Oh, sure, sure. Come in. Do you want some water?”

“I’m fine but thanks anyway.”

The two of you work together to locate his phone and he was so relieved to find out that it was just in the university, most likely in the gym. Then he remembered what he had set as his lock screen a few days ago. He quickly thanked you then rushed to pick his phone up, silently praying that no one saw his wallpaper. He didn’t think that you’d be ashamed of your sons, but then you didn’t really seem like you intended to tell people you’re not close to seeing as people usually don’t have anything nice to say. He wanted to respect that decision of yours but because of him losing his phone you might have a hard time. When he got to the university his phone was at the lost and found which only means that someone had seen his lock screen. Fuck.

The next day rolled around and you were in Kuroo’s backseat with the triplets as usual. The two of you drop them off at the daycare and when you went back to his car, he seemed paler than before. He was also tapping the stirring wheel repeatedly, something he does when something is bothering him.

“Tetsu,” the way he flinched at the sound of your voice had you even more worried. “Are you okay?”

He debated whether he should tell you what he’d done. If by chance someone did see it and the news had spread, it’d be his fault and there was a big chance that this would be the last time you’d talk to him. However, he didn’t want to keep it from you and wait before you find out yourself. He sighed, here goes.

“Listen, (Y/N). I just want to say that I’m sorry in advance,” your brows furrowed, heart beating faster. “Why don’t you go grab my phone then turn it on.”

You do as he says, eyes widening at the candid photo of you and Masao. It was surprising, but you didn’t get what was making him so troubled.

“Remember when I left that behind at uni last night?” He glanced at you to check your reaction. Your expression remained confused. “I got it from the lost and found. So, that being said… it’s highly likely that someone saw that lock screen.”

It took you a few more seconds to get what he was saying and then, oh. Oh. You got it. There’s a big chance that at this very second, people would be talking about you and your sons. You didn’t know whether to laugh or what. It was like high school all over again. You were sure of one thing, though. You were scared. Scared of having to walk through the hallways with all eyes on you, hearing their whispers. The disgust and disappointment evident in the way they looked at you.

Your silence made Kuroo even more tense. He couldn’t read your expression from the little glances he’s taking as he drives. You carefully place his phone back where it was before speaking.

“Oh.” You reply shortly. Tears were starting to pool around your eyes and you were sure your voice would break if you speak. You didn’t want Kuroo to see you being weak and worry so you turn your head away from him. He took this as a sign that you were indeed mad at him, his heart broke thinking about how he ruined everything between the two of you.

When you arrived you quickly stepped out of the car and walked ahead. Usually, Kuroo would open the door for you then you’d walk together, but of course, today would be different. Maybe even the following days, weeks, months, years. Who knows? All Kuroo knew was that he fucked up and he’d driven you away from him.

You wiped away your tears before entering the building. Just as you’d suspected, almost everyone was looking at you weird and whispering amongst themselves. You were even able to hear one of the few things they said.

“I heard that the child looked like it was already at least two, that means…”

You clenched your fists and carried on. When you entered the classroom, you were surprised to see people sitting down in their respective seats quietly. Too quietly. You expected the classroom to be the place where there’d be more people talking about you. It still didn’t change the fact, however, that some others have their eyes on you.

“Mornin’, (Y/N)!” Bokuto greeted. You smiled back at him curtly. Akaashi was looking at you with worry but you didn’t notice as you immediately sink into your seat.

Classes dragged on longer than it used to and lunch became unbearable as you decided not to join your three friends. Instead, you lock yourself in a bathroom stall, head tilted back as you try to stop your tears from falling. You thought you’d be safe there but you were proved to be wrong when at least four girls entered, gossiping about ‘that freshie who already has a child.’

‘Please, let this day end already.’ You thought.

When the classes were finally over, you went straight home instead of at work, wanting nothing else but to wrap yourself in your blanket and cry yourself to sleep. You didn’t even realize that you haven’t picked up the triplets from the daycare when you’d fallen asleep.

Kuroo was staring at your number on his phone, debating whether to call you or give you space. When he was about to turn his phone off and shove it into his gym bag, he felt it vibrate. However, instead of your name popping up like he hoped, it was an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Sir Kuroo! I’m the triplets’ teacher. Ms. (Y/N) hasn’t come to pick the boys up. I know it’s only been twenty minutes but Ms. (Y/N) is never late unless she calls to say so. She wouldn’t answer her phone either. I was hoping you could check up on her.”

He felt his heart beating faster. “O-okay. I’ll pick the boys up on the way as well. Thank you for calling me.”

“Okay, I’ll have the boys ready. Have a safe drive, sir.”

The call ended and Kuroo slung his gym bag on his shoulder. He turned to Bokuto and Akaashi who were also taking a break from practice.

“Guys, I’m going ahead. The triplets’ teacher called, apparently they haven’t been picked up yet and (Y/N)’s not answering her phone. Cover for me.” He didn’t even wait for their response when he practically sprinted to his car.

When he picked up the boys, they were staring at him with a curious look on their faces. Kuroo wasn’t able to pay mind to it as he couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the three were safely seated in their car seats, they drove to where you worked but alas, you weren’t there. Your boss explained that you didn’t come in that day and that usually you’d call when you weren’t coming in. This didn’t make Kuroo feel any better at all. The only place he knows to check was your apartment.

Back at your apartment you’d just woken up, panicking when you saw that it’s already dark out. You tried to recall if you even picked up the boys. When you remembered that you didn’t, you sprung up. Muttering a string of ‘oh shit’s, you run out of your room. You were about to open the door when someone from the other side beat you to it. Kuroo was standing in front of you, hands on the triplets’ shared stroller. Without a word, you grab the stroller from him and slammed the door on him. You were 100% sure that there were clear traces of the breakdown you had earlier so in fear of having Kuroo see you in that state, you had no choice but to cold heartedly slam the door on him.

Once again, Kuroo Tetsurou’s heart broke.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagines #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo tetsurou imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu au #haikyuu #with a smile series

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sailorbellewrites · 4 years

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Fools Rush In... VIII

characters — yoongi x reader (ft. members of bts and other original characters)

summary — min yoongi, music executive and perpetual bachelor, marries a las vegas stripper he’s only known for six months. chaos ensues.

inspiration — fools rush in (1997 rom-com starring salma hayek and matthew perry)

information — a drabble series loosely based on the 1997 movie fools rush in. drabbles not posted in any linear order and written as a creative writing outlet.

warnings — mentions of sex work; age-difference; light sugar daddy themes; smut; light angst (specifically in parts V & VI).

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI

VIII — latte (ft. various original characters)

You fucked up.

Or at least, you had made a very big mistake in coming to Kim Hana’s Sunday brunch. It was your first time at her biweekly event and you already wanted to go home. All of the women there were older, faces tight with botox and fillers as they ooh-ed and ahh-ed at one woman’s jewelry and another’s purse. They made surface level comments about politics and fashion and so-and-so’s son who was seen walking around Apgujeong with you-know-who’s daughter. It was mind numbing, but Hana ate it up in a way you didn’t fully understand. Yet, you couldn’t let yourself text Yoongi, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on his face at you wanting to ditch. He had been doing so much for you recently, so adamant that he had to be sure he didn’t make a mistake in convincing you to marry him. There was nothing you could say to make him believe that you would follow him into an active volcano if he wanted. So you had to at least try.

Still, it’s hard to keep up the facade of a dutiful wife when Kim Hana yells out, “Oh, you’re finally here! I was thinking you’d never arrive! Please, come over. I have someone I want you to meet,” into your ear. The woman who just walked into the private area, lithe and pale with long dark hair, freezes briefly, seemingly unaccustomed to being spoken to so directly. She recovers quickly though, throwing on a blinding white smile as she saunters over to where you and Hana sit at the head of the table.

“Hello, Kim Hana. It’s nice to see you again,” the woman offers, bowing deeply to Hana as though they were worlds apart in the hierarchy that was this brunch.

“A pleasure to see you too. Choi Mina, might I introduce you to our friend Min Yoongi’s new wife? She’s such a doll,” Hana says, tone light despite the suggestiveness of her words. She would have been a great stripper in another life, with her ability to placate people even as she was readying for attack.

“Oh,” Mina responds quietly, eyes trained on your seated form in a way that you were more than used to. Every woman Hana introduced to you had looked at you in the same exact way. She was sizing you up. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you say, bowing your head to her slightly.

“I know this can be a bit strange, seeing as you two have been with the same man. But I actually think you guys have a lot in common and would be great friends,” Hana explains, eyes bright with an excitement that you suspect is rooted in her innate desire to make everyone else feel inferior. You end up glaring at Hana due to her words—of course, she’d find a way to bring you around one of Yoongi’s exes. With this new information, the weight of Mina’s stare increases. You hate it. “Ah, you should sit near us. There is so much to discuss.”

As it turns out, there isn’t much to discuss. You didn’t have a lot in common with Yoongi’s ex outside of you both being “dancers”. In fact, it’s hard to see what he would have seen in a professional ballerina who spent half of the year performing in Europe. She speaks in a soft voice, laughter ringing out like windchimes at every joke that was not so secretly told at your expense and she moves so gracefully that even the act of her chewing makes you feel like a slob. She has the type of polish Yoongi often said made him uncomfortable. But, as the conversation progresses, you find it hard to see what Yoongi has seen in you. It is made all too clear that women like Choi Mina and Kim Hana were the expectation for men with money and influence. You weren’t even good enough to qualify as an exception to the rule.

Your resolve weakens. You text Yoongi. Right as you put your phone down, Mina asks, “Your marriage to our Yoongi must have been recent right? I wasn’t even aware that he was dating someone.” A few women murmur in agreement at her observation.

You roll your eyes when she refers to him as “our Yoongi” and shrug. Hana answers for you, “He wasn’t dating someone last year! They rushed right to the altar. It’s incredible. They didn’t even have a wedding here. They got married in America!”

“Oh?” Mina says, a perfect act of curiosity. “Well, how long did you two date?”

Your phone lets out a long vibration as Yoongi’s picture flashes across the screen. Hana again answers for you, excitedly saying, “Only six months! Can you believe it? Namjoon and I didn’t even know he was dating anyone. He must have felt like he had something to hide, though I don’t know why.”

You pick up the phone, only to be greeted by his exasperated tone asking, “Which ex is there exactly?”

The women continue talking about your relationship as though you aren’t there, but Kim Hana’s continued glances towards you lets you know that she is listening. Instead of answering his question outright, you say, “Hi honey,” in a voice far too sweet to be subtle.

Yoongi sighs on the end of the line.“Is it the politician's daughter?”

“Oh no, I’m having a great time! You don’t have to worry,” you respond, hoping he picks up on what you’re trying to say. You can hear a womea say how happy she is that Yoongi is finally sharing you with the world the way he used to in his other relationships.

“Okay… or is the ballerina?”

“Yes, that’s alright,” you answer, patience wearing thin.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he responds, sounding sad. You feel sad too. You fucked up again.

The ten minutes pass by slowly and in that time, you learn several things. Yoongi and Choi Mina had been considering marriage before they broke up. They dated on and off for three years. It had been a rough breakup. Jimin did not like her. Namjoon did. Mina is now engaged to a professor in Nice. She will always have love Yoongi and hopes that he is happy with you. That last part sounds like a lie.

The ‘I’m outside’ text you receive feels like someone just handed you a tank of oxygen. You take a deep breath, keeping calm as you explain to the women that your husband had to pick you up early due to another appointment. The excuse seems to appease most of them, though Mina insists that she walk you outside so she can say hello to her “dear old Yoongi.”

Your husband sits behind the wheel of his car, paying no attention to his surroundings as he taps away on his cell phone. You feel tension melt from your shoulders as you open the passenger door, sliding inside even though he doesn’t acknowledge your presence. Mina helps you close your door, sticking her face in the open window to say, “Hello Min Yoongi!”

“Hi Choi Mina,” he murmurs, not looking up from his phone.

She is undeterred. “It’s been quite a while since we have seen each other.”

“It has,” he answers, before cussing softly under his breath and angrily throwing the phone in the empty cup. Mina’s eyes widen at his actions, making you giggle. You knew Yoongi wasn’t really angry, just irritated—nothing that would cause the concern the ballerina was showing.

“I just wanted to tell you that your wife is lovely. Truly, we all couldn’t take our eyes off her. You really picked a winner,” she states diplomatically, playing her part well.

Yoongi finally looks up at her, eyes bored as he moves to rest a hand on your thigh. “You really think so? I think she’s kind of awful,” he says darkly, though the pads of his fingers rub small circles onto the skin of your thigh. You try to scoff at his words, but it transforms into a quiet laugh. “She’s cute enough I guess, but I wouldn’t call her lovely. I mean she’s not a ballet dancer or anything. Just a stripper. And she spends all my money, too. I don’t even think we would be together if I was broke.” The ballerina’s mouth drops open in shock at his words and you press your lips together hard to stop from laughing. After three years of dating and so much supposed love between them, she should have been able to tell when Yoongi was joking; but it was clear she had no idea.

“Min Yoongi, that’s no way to talk about the woman you married! If you are having a bad day, you do not take it out on others,” she chides, turning her head to you finally. “I’m so sorry he is being this way with you. I hope his actions don’t stop you from coming to the next brunch and that he cleans up this act!” Mina bows her head to you slightly before turning swiftly and heading back inside the restaurant.

You let out a deep sigh and Yoongi squeezes your thigh gently. “Thanks for playing along,” he tells you sincerely. You shrug, but he continues, “Not just with Mina, you know. I mean with this whole… thing.”

“It was just brunch. No need to thank me.”

“It was a brunch with my ex present. That’s just… not right.”

“Yoongi, it’s okay. You wanted me to go, so I went. I’m just sorry that I made you pick me up early.”

He clicks his tongue at you in disbelief, removing his hand from your thigh to put the car in drive and pull away from the curb. He is silent for a few minutes, leading you to believe that he has accepted your lies until he says, “I didn’t want you to go. Namjoon suggested it. I knew you wouldn’t have a good time, but he insisted that you might make some friends.”

You hum quietly at his words, wondering if that’s who he was texting when you first got in the car. “So you’re not mad that I left early?”

He shakes his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask to leave earlier. I was waiting for you to call for hours.”

Your heart swells at his admission. He knows you well. “Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He nods in acknowledgement of your words, but says nothing. You try again. “You make me happy.” He reaches a hand over the center console to grab your own, a small smirk resting on his lips as he continues to stare ahead. “I’m happy I’m here with you.”

“I love you, too,” he finally responds. You know he believes you.

#yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabbles #min yoongi drabbles #suga scenarios #suga drabbles #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #au: fools rush in #suga fluff #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fluff #bts fluff #sailor belle writes

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cicinicole-14 · 3 years

Note

I know you haven't even posted Part 2 yet but just for when you get to it ... and need to post Part 3.... feel free to use this ask hehe ! Just preempting ya know

jkyk anon, I’m gonna need at least 5 more of these asks, seeing as ive written through part 8 so far.

anyway, here’s part 3! its unedited bc we die like men…

“Alex.”

Her voice edges on surprise, but doesn’t quite match it, teetering on the verge of a warning almost as well. She’s genuinely confused seeing him leaning up against her car in the rain.

She unlocks it, ushering him to get in and out of the drizzling rain she knows is going to soon pick up.

He looks over at her with solemn brown eyes, and she can read him like a book, just as she’d always been able to once he’d let her past his walls.

She could see the immense amount of guilt swirling behind the friendly front he’s put up. She can see the regret in his eyes, and knows the hurt is evident in his chest as he looks down, breaking their eye contact.

“I’m sorry.” The first words he speaks to her as he reaches for her hand across the console, but she pulls away, not ready for that. Had it not been raining, she wouldn’t have even invited him in the car and would’ve made sure there was much more distance between them still, but alas.

“I don’t need your apologies, Alex.” She says softly. And it pains her to even speak to him.

“I know.” He replies back before taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

The silence in the car hangs heavy over both of them, but neither are willing to break it yet. Jo has tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over but she refuses to show even a slight sign of weakness by letting a tear fall in front of him.

Alex finally caves, facing forward, not sure if he could even do this while looking at Jo.

He’d given up everything for a notion of a happy life, and it had all fallen apart instantly. He’d given up his entire life and happiness at a notion of a life, that fell through cracks and ruined his joy.

He clears his throat before speaking.

“Izzie and I aren’t together.” He finally breaks the heavy silence. It’s enough to pull Jo out of her intense daze and look at him for the first time.

She can see from his profile view, the bags laying heavy around his eyes, the redness rimming them, and how hollow he looks compared to what she remembered.

It makes her feel sick and dread fills her chest, but she pushes it down before quickly looking away, staying silent, hoping he’d take it as a cue to continue.

He doesn’t. Whether it’s lack of not knowing what else to say or how to continue, or that was all he had to say, he remains silent.

“What do you want me to say, Alex? Come back home? Marry me, again? Let’s just be a happy family again and forget that you left me for your ex-wife and supposed children and moved halfway across the country without consulting me, your wife, first?”

She didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but things were still fresh and raw and she had a lot of hormones flowing through her at the moment. She was exhausted after her twelve hour shift and had just wanted to crawl into bed tonight and forget things for a while, but the universe obviously had other plans.

“No. I don’t expect you to take me back, but I just wanted to clear the air between us. I wanted you to know, and know how truly sorry I am for leaving like that. No one deserves to be broken up with, like that, especially you. It was a really crappy thing I did and I know that. Also, I want you to know that I’m fighting Izzie for custody of the kids. I currently have a two bedroom apartment in Kansas and split custody of the twins, but I'm fighting for full.”

Jo grips the steering wheel in her hands until her knuckles are turning white. “So you’re going to sue me for full custody of this baby too?”

“No.” Alex barely lets her finish her sentence before shutting her down. “No, Jo, I’d never do that to you. The fact that you’re telling me already, that we’re having a kid, makes me so happy. That even with how much you hate me, you’re still willing to tell me about this baby. Izzie––” He pauses. “Izzie deprived me of over five years of that with Eli and Lex. You’re––you’re still letting me in from the beginning. So thank you.”

Jo still sits, gripping the wheel, though this time the pressure is lighter as the color returns to her fingers. She stares at the tan line that had started fading from where her wedding rings used to lie.

She hates a lot of things at the moment, like how empty her ring finger feels without the weight of the rings. She hates how angry she is at the universe. She hates not having any control over her emotions at the moment, and hates that she can feel the tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

She hates a lot of things right now, but not Alex. Never Alex.

“I don’t hate you.” She says after a beat, managing to find her voice. It’s raw, wavering and barely audible but by the way Alex’s head lifts and his eyes meet her in slight surprise, she knows he heard it. “I hate a lot of things right now, but not you. I’m mad, angry, furious at you. I want to smack you upside the head and maybe punch you, but I don’t hate you. Especially after giving me something to be happy about among all my anger.”

Alex looks back down. “I don’t know what else to say.” He taps his foot lightly against the floorboards of the car.

Jo just nods subtly. She pauses before digging through her purse sitting on her lap, pulling out the folded sonogram picture and handing it to him. “Here, I have another copy.” She says, offering the olive branch.

Alex takes it, tentatively, staring down at the grainy photo.

“That’s a baby in there.” He says in slight shock still, a smile gracing his face.

Jo quietly stifles a laugh before shutting herself up. She looks up at him with teary eyes. “Our baby.” She says, ever so softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah, our baby.” Alex echoes softly.

She can’t take the tense feeling in the car any longer and she pulls it into reverse. “What hotel are you at?” She says, clearing her throat and pushing back her tear-filled voice, trying to sound as normal as she can manage as she turns around checking her surrounding areas for other vehicles in the parking lot.

The drive to the hotel is silent as Jo keeps her eyes on the road and focuses on the blades of the wipers going back and forth as she pulls up to the building. She puts the car into park and waits for Alex to unbuckle and exit.

He ducks out of the car, and just as he’s shutting the door, he looks back at her, back at Jo, the woman he loves with everything in him, and smiles. “It was never going to work with Izzie because my heart still belongs to someone else, Jo. I still love you.”

Jo looks up from the steering wheel just as Alex shuts the door and turns, heading into the lobby of the hotel.

She watches as the man who once owned her heart walked off, leaving her swirling with emotions. She rests her head on the back of her hands on the wheel, letting the tears finally freely fall, once again, not sure what to feel at this moment.

oop so, Alex still loves her…wbk… wonder what’s happening next? what are y’alls thoughts? what about the twins? Izzie? is jo going to take him back? cant wait to hear what y’all think! and if there’s anything you’d really like to see in this story/series lmk, I can work it in here, or maybe in a oneshot for the verse. :D

#jolex #jolex fic #jolex miniseries #tell the world im coming home #cici writes

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

Johnny Snapshots

@onereyofstarlight Okay, let’s face it, I live in the land of the Virg and John is one of the hardest for me to tackle (the other being Alan who I do a disservice to on a regular basis). So I don’t read much John focussed fic. Not that I don’t love the boi, it’s just...oooh, look a bright shiny Virg! :D

So in order to get Johnny fluff for you, I only really have my pile of Virg-focussed fic to play with, though I can recommend reading stuff from @the-lady-razorsharp and @willow-salix cos they claim Johnny as their boi and write lots of stuff focussed on their space noodle :D

While looking for my previous post in my archives, I came across a snippet of John from one of my fics and got the idea of little Johnny Snapshots. So, here from amongst all my Virg fic, have a little Johnny Nutty-style.

Note: Snapshots from all sorts of fic, looking for fluff, spoilers for everything, several AUs, several ships, pretty much potluck and lots of description of the Johnny :D And while I’ve included links to the fics, the fics themselves are likely Virgil focussed and there may not be much more of John in them than is already here. You’ve probably read some of these before, too.

I hope you enjoy anyway :D

-o-o-o-

A ghost drifted on the breeze.

White as an angel, pale as the moonlight sculpting his form, his next youngest brother rode the air currents above the island.

The only word to describe John was elegant. Airborne porcelain, he circled. Midnight starlight cascaded through Virgil’s mind. Expressions of sorrow draped in calm, warmed by an amber light, the steady core of his star-loving brother.

Virgil watched mesmerised as his turns became tighter and tighter, closer to the ground. A great arch of white feathers and he landed gently, barely disturbing the sand beneath his bare feet.

He was gleaming in the moonlight from toe to hooded gaze. Ever so pale skin, free to be bare to the elements with the absence of the sun, his only clothing was a cut off pair of jeans so faded they were more white than blue.

Only his hair had colour, flame caught in just the right flash of light.

Decision

-o-o-o-

When he woke, the sun was making for the horizon, the whole island cast in gold.

“Hey, Virgil.”

The soft melodious voice of his space borne brother was lacking its usual transmission static and it was a pleasant surprise to roll over and find John sitting on a lounger beside him. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

First question of any brother to any injured brother, of course. “Good, actually.” And he was. Relaxed, pain at a minimum, a gorgeous sunset in preparation, and... “Great to see you down here.” Virgil didn’t admit it often, but he did miss his middle brother. Didn’t really like him so far out of reach. But John loved it, so it was what it was. Didn’t mean Virgil couldn’t be happy to see him when he could. “What brings you to this little planet?”

The sun was sculpting John’s pale features and white shirt in almost molten gold, merging his skin with his copper hair. The odd thought of some kind of Greek god fluttered through the back of Virgil’s mind. He shook himself mentally. What the hell?

V.T. Green

-o-o-o-

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Food, Tracy style

-o-o-o-

A sigh. “Um....never have I ever...er...been arrested?” Surely, they hadn’t done that?

“Are you kidding me?” Gordon, glugged down some more drink. “That’s an easy one. Paris. The Louvre.”

What?

Scott raised his hand holding his glass. “Gordon.” As if that explained everything. He swallowed heavily.

Alan snorted, rolled and fell face first onto the carpet.

Gordon laughed. “Hey, bro. Time to take another drink. Remember the teddy bear at the fair?”

“Crap.” Alan grabbed his glass and toasted the air. “Gordon.” Apparently, it did explain everything.

“Gordon.” Kayo said it like a zombie and swallowed some more alcohol. Ridley just stared at her, but was distracted as apparently not-so-asleep John attempted to locate his glass by pawing blindly at the carpet with one hand. His mumbled “Gordon.” Was almost muffled as Ridley tried to grab his arm.

“Lawn flamingo.” Virgil attempted to bring the drink to his mouth, but missed and threw it over his shoulder instead. “Oops.”

Em blinked.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling this game. Off to bed with the lot of you. I have the strongest feeling that I should have taken Grandma’s advice and gone to bed early myself.”

There were many a muttered groan, mostly of ‘Awww’ and her name, but the brothers mostly stumbled to their feet. Kayo had to drag Virgil off of Em. The man was heavy.

Ridley smiled at her as she manhandled her space noodle off into their rooms. John was muttering something about ‘Gordon’s fault...didn’t want to do that in a book store.’ Penny helped Alan to his rooms, all the time shooting glares at Gordon.

“What?” The aquanaut looked non-plussed. “What did I do?”

“Gordon, go look after your brother.” Scott’s voice was firm. He still hadn’t relaxed.

Em sighed, grabbed his arm and, activating her hoverjets, pulled him up. “C’mon, Commander, time for bed.”

“Em.” And suddenly she was in his arms.

“Flyboy, your blood alcohol content can be detected from space.”

“Space!” John’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Not today, spaceman, you’d miss TB5 and end up on Mars.” Ridley was obviously being very patient.

“Not Mars. Wrong trejacktory.” A closing door shut off the rest of the mumbled maths that followed.

Never Have I Ever

-o-o-o-

John sighed, walked over to the bed and sat on the edge in echo of something he had done so many times as a boy. He used to come in here and talk Virgil’s ear off about space and stars and his latest science projects. Virgil, in turn, would nod, say the right things at the right time and generally be the good older brother. John suspected that Virgil hadn’t understood half of what he was saying, but the older boy had never said anything. Not that Virgil wasn’t smart, just his interests lay in different areas.

They were both quiet by nature and Virgil’s patience drew John to him. Mostly because he would listen. One of the hardest things about being a far above average student with very specific interests was finding someone to talk to about them. John wasn’t a big talker outside the family, but that was because society in general was lost two words into any sentence he wanted to construct. John had no use for general gossip when he had spent the day discovering a new extra-solar object. Who cared who won the football when Neptune was aligning with Earth in a way that wouldn’t happen for another one hundred and sixty five years?

It was Virgil who stopped and listened as a young John Tracy babbled about his latest discoveries.

He was his big brother.

The House

-o-o-o-

Unfortunately, distracted, he didn’t see brother number three and collided with him, nearly sending both of them to the floor.

“Oh, god, sorry…J-“ His hands met soft silk and he looked up, this time truly focussing on his tall brother.

Oh my god.

He must truly have some kind of sibling radar because there was no way in hell he could have recognised his brother otherwise.

“John?”

“Hey, Virgil.”

And yes, that was a smirk on that face.

He eyed the man from bottom to top. High heeled boots in shiny black leather. Black tights! High cut, buttoned up, deep blue coat sequined in an elaborate filigree with almost ankle length tails. The ends of his sleeves flared out like flowers over leather gloves. And a white silk cravat wrapped his throat with about ten layers of frills.

But all that didn’t live up to the hair. Oh, god, the hair. Gone was the familiar red, replaced with a fountain of silver white, springing in strands from the top of his head like a spray of leafless weeping willow, long enough to reach his chest.

Virgil stared. “Are you wearing makeup?”

The smirk widened and, yes, there was some kind of lip gloss to go with the elaborate eyeshadow arching into his brows.

Blink. “Wh-who are you?”

“Why, my dear child,” and John tapped him on the head with his ornamental riding crop. “I’m the Goblin King.”

Another blink. “Who?” He couldn’t recall ever seeing a goblin who looked quite like that.

And the more familiar John rolled his eyes. “A friend of mine advised me that this would be easier if I made myself completely unrecognisable. She is a fan of old movies, so I picked one.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “She?”

“She.”

“Okay.” He eyed his brother again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A Warm Rain Halloween (wip)

-o-o-o-

It had been three days. His brother was now hooked up to several IVs and other invasive support mechanisms, his unconscious body needing assistance to survive. The usually agile, calm and kind man now lay pale, his hair unkempt and limp, eyes bruised smudges on his lifeless face, hands wrapped in copious bandages.

Virgil reached over and ran his fingers through that blond and red hair, attempting to straighten it out, forcing the flick to behave itself.

“C’mon, John, speak to me.” Virgil’s voice was little above a whisper. “I can’t do this without you.” And the statement was suddenly true. Spoken without thought, Virgil realised that through everything that had happened to him in the last few months, John had been there, even when Virgil was too terrified to see him, John had stood strong while his brother dragged him through the mud. He had done everything in his power, everything, to support Virgil. “God, don’t let a faulty circuit be your epitaph, you are worth so much more than that. So much more.”

He needed his brother’s dry wit. He needed his calm voice. He needed him.

Virgil let his head drop to the bed.

Please.

Father

-o-o-o-

John hated crowds, especially those involving the press. Scott went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t exposed to them, but his brother wasn’t available right now.

Head down, no eye contact. “No comment.”

“No comment.”

They crowded in on him and he grit his teeth.

A sharp crack and a yelp. A squawk and the clattering of plastic on concrete. A scream and a flash of light. John looked up to find holocams falling like rain. One close to him simply stopped and dropped. Another sparked, spun and dove at the nearest reporter. She screamed and ran.

The holocam chased her.

Oh.

The crowd began to disperse in erratic squeals and yelps of fear. John took advantage and dashed through to the doors of the hospital. Behind him, the elevator fired its thrusters, adding to the confusion, and launched towards orbit.

“Eos, you are dangerous.”

“Yes, John, and don’t you forget it.” The amusement in her voice had him smiling.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Dirt

-o-o-o-

The only one standing entirely upright was her middle grandson. He brought up the rear, his tall, lithe form fluid as he walked. As always, his red hair was startling against his golden baldric. His eyes tracked around the room, his expression cool and controlled, but as his grandmother, she could see the tells of worry and exhaustion.

The great silver form of Eos sat on his arm preening her feathers. Every so often, the hawk would pause and survey the room, just like her bearer, her startling red eyes catching everything. Sal would never understand that relationship, but it had saved her family more than once and she was grateful, if still wary.

The Prince Who Would Not be King

-o-o-o-

If the quiet lifestyle is more your thing, you may wish to upgrade to John Tracy. ‘Up’ is the keyword here as he resides twenty-two thousand miles up, in orbit, in fact. Yes, John is the original space Tracy. Fully adapted to the cold and dark beyond our atmosphere, he does indeed adore the quiet life.

However, before we tempt you any further, it should be noted that John is the only Tracy brother who is a parent. A single parent at that. Inadvertent though her existence is, Eos is recognised as John’s daughter and she presents a number of unique challenges, the least of which is what she will do to your bank accounts if you upset her. Yes, if you are looking for bankruptcy, offending Eos is a fantastic way to achieve your goal.

In summary, don’t piss off the kid.

Having said that, should she approve of your existence, Eos is quite capable of enhancing that existence should she so choose. In any case, John’s daughter is a great conversationalist, even if she has locked you in the bathroom.

John himself sports arguably the most stunning eyes of all the five brothers. Alan, please be quite and Scott, sit down.

A unique pair of turquoise irises that contrast exquisitely with his copper hair makes for a stunning date to have on your arm. The only downside is that arm may need to be handcuffed to yours if you intend on going anywhere involving more than six people at a time.

Our space Tracy is not a social being. Despite communication as a profession, John Tracy has been heard to wish to only speak to others from space. This may include you. Please keep your phone charged at all times.

It should also be noted that if your phone battery is dead and John wishes to contact you, he may hack an appliance as mundane as your toaster. Communicating via the temperature controls in the shower has been reported. Virgil was not impressed.

John is one of the taller Tracys. Unlike Scott, however, heels may not be needed as ninety-five percent of the time John is in space, so if you are planning to get to know him, you’re going to be in space too. Just float up to look him in those gorgeous eyes.

A fan of spaceball and Star Trek, John is your traditional loveable geek. Be aware that his neighbour knows this and you may want to lock all the airlocks in case she comes knocking for a cup of sugar.

John is definitely a good investment and comes with a space station to boot. You will be able to spend many hours stargazing both at the universe and those irises.

Plus One Tracy

-o-o-o-

Oh, I do have a couple of John focussed fics. The fluffiest is Bagel.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy

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mad-ncity · 5 years

Text

Told You | Mafia!Yuta x Reader

this has to do with the recent reaction post i made it goes more in depth about yuta’s reaction and how it went down. hope yall like it!!

its been your goal since you met yuta to scare him

and even though yuta could be relaxed around you he never flinched or showed any fear when you tried to freak him out

though in the time you two have been dating you have managed to scare other members such as taeil a couple times but never haechan that man is the scariest man here although thats beside the point

today was another day that you attempted to scare your boyfriend

and honestly you thought you had got him this time

he had no idea you were behind him and you were absolutely going to freak him out with the mask you had on

you tapped on his shoulder and-

“Oh hey y/n what the hell is on your face?”

you pulled off the mask hastily which made your hair a bit messed up

“why dont you get ever scared?”

“babe im in the mafia. i was beaten as a kid and thrown into terrifying situations that no kid should have to go through. i dont get scared anymore.”

you poked his chest “that sounds like a challenge and i gladly accept”

“whatever i have stuff to go do so why dont you go back to our apartment and ill meet you back there in a little bit” he pulled you towards him and kissed the top of your head

you smiled at him and nodded your head “okay ill see you later yuta”

you left the hideout and started your way back home

the sun was setting it was nearly dusk but you knew this route like the back of your hand

you was casually walking when someone bumped into you knocking you down

“I am so sorry! here let me help you up”

the man pulled you up off the ground but not letting you go he pulled a gun out and held is discretely between your back and him

“Walk”

he led you into an alley where there was a truck lying in wait

“this is kind of cliche dont you think?”

“shut up or ill shoot you”

“right got it”

you suddenly felt extreme pain in your leg

“I told you to shut up”

he then threw you into the van while you passed out from the pain

yuta started to make his way home around midnight

he didnt want to worry you earlier but he had a tough job to do today and he needed to be sure you were home by the time he left for his job

“y/n im home”

he took of his shoes at the door and waited for you to poke your head out like you usually did

that was one thing he loved about you

you always stayed up and waited for him

but when you didnt come out he knew something was wrong

from the looks of it you hadnt even made it home your shoes werent anywhere in sight

suddenly his phone started ringing and he immediately answered it without looking to see who it is

“y/n is that you?!”

“yuta. this is taeyong. you need to get back here now. youre not going to like this”

with that taeyong hung up and yuta ran back out the door

when he got back to the hideout he rushed in and saw everyone huddled around in a room

when he pushed through everyone he thought his heart would stop

there you were wrapped in bandages and bruises laying on a makeshift cot

“what the hell...do we know who did this?”

taeil stepped forward and moved your arm ever so slightly so that yuta could see what was written on it

it was a phone number

mark then spoke up “the phone number is an international one. specifically japan. though i couldnt get the owner of it i think we all know who did this”

yutas knuckles were white from how hard he was clenching his fists

everyone filed out and left him alone in there with you

he knelt down next to you and held your hand “y/n i swear im going to make sure this never happens again” he kissed your hand and then left

he made it outside and called the number

“took you long enough to call me. i was starting to get worried that i beat up the wrong person! glad to see my men didnt screw up this time”

yuta was shaking in his shoes “what do you want dad”

yuta could hear his dad chuckle into the phone “always straight to the point. thats what ive always admired about you, son”

“cut the crap just tell me what you want”

“fine, fine. i want you to come back. youve had your fun here in korea but its time you came back and i thought that my message would be more widely received if you saw what would happen if you said no. but next time your little toy will be dead. ill text you an address. you better be there.”

with that his dad hung up

and yuta was pissed

once he got the text he would have ran but someone stopped him

“where are you going?”

taeyong walked up to yuta and waited for his answer

“im going to where my father is. you cant stop me so dont even try”

taeyong threw his hands into the air “hey man i wasnt going to. i just thought that you might need someone to go with you”

“why would you want to go? dont you have other things to do?”

taeyong puckered his lips and bobbed his head around “yeah but it seems like your father wants to take a valuable asset from my gang and its part of my job as the boss to make sure everything is going as smoothly as possible and its my job as your friend to make sure that you dont make any decisions youll regret”

“aww the boss cares”

“shut up and get in the car”

so the two of them went to where the address was and got out of the car and into the warehouse

“you know, your dad is very cliche”

“yeah hes always been predictable like this. anyways you should stay out here. if you hear anything then you come in. nothing should happen but its always good to have some backup”

taeyong nodded his head and yuta went in

“glad to see you could make it son. though youre a bit later than i expected. well as long as youre here. lets go”

mr. nakamoto turned around to leave with all his grunts

“im not going dad. im just here to tell you my last goodbyes.”

mr. nakamoto stopped in his tracks and swiftly spun around

“your what?”

“I seem to have left you with the wrong idea when i left for korea. i meant that as a final goodbye but i guess you didnt get it. i am done with you and the yakuza. im happy here and theres nothing you could do to make me leave. so this is it. goodbye, father.”

yuta was walking towards the exit when he stopped “oh yeah and if i ever see you or your men around y/n again i will personally make sure that you and your little syndicate will be nothing but dust.”

taeyong and yuta made their way back to the base where you were up already

when yuta saw you awake he ran in and hugged you

“god y/n i was absolutely terrified that I had lost you. I am so sorry about this it will never happen again.”

you could hear the emotion in his voice and you kissed his cheek as the hug came to an end but you had another thought on your mind

“what are you smiling about? you were shot and could have died”

“I told you I could scare you”

#nct mafia au #yuta x reader #nakamoto yuta x reader #yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct127 #nct127 scenarios

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

when i said it i thought it was true [4] {Ben Hardy}

A/N: 2973 words. Listen, I massaged the timeline a little bit, just suspend your disbelief, perhaps it only takes 4 months to be in post production. Also yes I know X-Men didn’t actually film in Egypt, but I didn’t know that at the start of this fic and now I’m sticking with my mistakes because momma didn’t raise a quitter but she did raise a fool.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

“You’re not proposing to me in a sheer shirt.” The moment the makeup team leaves, you turn on Ben, amusement tugging at your lips as you cross your arms, cocking your hip.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, the picture of innocence as he fiddles with the cuff of his jacket. You raise a singular eyebrow. “I think you do like it.” He hummed, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. When you refuse to break eye contact, your silence is answer enough. “I think you like it a lot.”

It’s been almost a four months since shooting officially wrapped, two since you’d filmed the last of the pick up shots they’d needed, and a full month since you and Ben seen each other in person; you’d been busy with a Netflix series, and Ben had been in talks about a new project, and you’d been messaging every day but seeing each other in person is... well there’s something different. Playful. Easy. Somehow neither of you seem worried about the looming proposal, and are just making up for lost time.

“Love, you’ve gotta take it up with the stylist, not me.” He shrugged, as if helpless, and turned, making his way to the door, knowing without even looking that you’ll be following behind him. He’s chipper, brimming with excitement and looking damn good, and once he gets to the elevator and pushes the button, he offers you his arm while he waits.

“Marry me.” He says it suddenly, watching the numbers of the elevator tick up to your floor. There’s no-one around, and the ring is still in his pocket.

“What?” With a frown, you step into the elevator, and press the button for the lobby, still tucked up against him.

“What if we just show up engaged?” He asks, hand in his pocket where he’s fiddling with the ring box. He’s not nervous, just contemplative.

“And deprive Swarovski of their moment?” You scoffed, and he tipped his head to look at you, eyebrows raised in exasperated amusement.

“I know you hate the ring, ‘too gaudy, too ostentatious by half’, isn’t that what you said?” He snickers after doing as half decent imitation of you. Giving him a shove, you duck your head to hide your embarrassed smile.

“It’s so ‘look at me! Look at me!’” You huff, and he can’t help but laugh at that. The sound of it, in person rather than over Skype, made you feel, for lack of a better phrase, like you were home. Not that there really was a better phrase, you just didn’t want to think about or admit how much you’d missed him.

“Sorry to say, dude, but there’s nothing more ‘look at me! Look at me!’ than a red carpet proposal.” And yeah, okay, maybe he had a point, but that was one night, you had to wear that ring until... they hadn’t told you the DVD release date, but you’re pretty sure it was some time in the New Year. When you bring this up, he just rolls his eyes. “You’re not the one getting down on one knee for a fake proposal; I’m gonna look like an idiot when this is all over.”

“Well fine, if you’re so worried, I’ll propose.” Instead of dwelling on his words, you step away, holding your hand out expectantly. When he just stares at you, bewildered, you motion for him to hand the ring box over, and he finally cracks a grin, shaking his head.

“If you think I’m gonna be caught dead in that ring you’re wrong.” He spluttered, and you can’t help but laugh at that.

“Fine, I won’t take your first proposal away from you.” You hum with a smile, tucking yourself back against him. He goes very quiet. It takes you a few moments, but you look up at him, brow furrowed. He seems lost in his own thoughts. “It- Ben you’ve never been engaged before, I feel like I’d know if you had been.” Your words snap him out of his trance and he looks at you with wide, bright eyes, and an unconvincing smile.

“Yeah, no, I would have told you by now otherwise.” The silence that falls around you in not a comfortable one, and you’re glad when the elevator comes to a stop. “I got close once, though.” He admits, quietly. You don’t know how to respond to that; you hadn’t considered how much those words would hurt. You want to ask with who, but you already felt an unreasonable rush of jealousy at the thought of someone else stealing his heart enough for him to want to be with them forever. Unreasonable jealousy.

Filming for X-Men started a week ago and he’s only called you once; he’s on a film lot somewhere in Canada and his hair is curly and god he looks cute but the apartment feels so empty. He’s bright eyed and excited. He’s rambling about how busy he is, and he’s still wearing his makeup. The call lasts five minutes; the cast are going out for dinner. You tell him to have fun, but you’re heart’s not in it; he can sense it, and promises to call you tomorrow, before he hangs up.

He doesn’t call, part of you isn’t surprised.

“Marry me.” He asks again, voice low in your ear. The others in the car can’t hear him, but part of you is afraid they might. They don’t technically know it’s not a real relationship, though part of you thinks Gwilym has his doubts, not that he’d ever voice them.

“Not the time.” You shoot him a warning look, and he just slings an arm around you, leaning back in his seat.

“You’ll regret not letting me be low-key about it.” He warns in return, giving you a blithe smile, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Low-key about what?” Lucy asks, and you elbow Ben in the ribs. He keeps smiling, though his mischievousness slides to something more fond as he actually looks at you.

“About anything.” You say by way of explanation, and though she, along with the rest of the car, still look confused, they don’t push it. There’s reporters everywhere when you get out of the car, and you and Ben are the last ones out.

“Last chance before this becomes a spectacle.” He murmurs when he steps out after you, straightening the back of your dress just a little, and he sounds amused, but there’s something genuine in his voice, and you take a moment to pause, turning back to him. His hands land on your hips, his touch light, and his expression is so familiar it hurts, and you realise he is a little nervous; it’s a very public setting for what should be a very private matter. With cameras going off all around you, you pull him in for a kiss, and he relaxes somewhat, kissing you back with his grip tightening on your hips.

“We’re being paid to be a spectacle.” You remind him, and he nods, smiling softly, and the two of you make your way down the red purple carpet together. You have to stop every few feet to do interviews, and soon enough you had pulled ahead of Ben; he had a much larger part in the film that you did, it wasn’t surprising the reporters wanted to monopolise him. It still felt strange, to turn and not have him there. Sometimes you’d do interviews with the other boys, sometimes he’ll be there, and as the main photo area loomed, you could finally feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Soon.

Perhaps too soon.

“What do you mean you’re going to Egypt?” You snapped, wishing your internet connection was better so he could see you glaring clearly.

“I told you about it ages ago.” Ben sighs, clearly tired. It’s there in his eyes, how drained he is, how hard he’s been working, and your expression softens.

“That’s exciting,” you force yourself to take a breath, it was the first time you two had spoken that fortnight, neither of you needed this to be hostile. The days had started feeling so long when you don’t hear from him; all you want is a damn hug and he’s on the other side of the world. “What if I come visit you?”

“In Egypt?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“In Egypt.” You confirm, a weak smile on your face, he doesn’t look thrilled by the process.

“Don’t bother.” He sighs, and the moment he sees your expression fall, he realises how his words had sounded, and he’s sitting up straight, panicked look on his face, spluttering his way through an apology. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just busy and it’s going to be hot and-”

“No, I get it.” Your dejected sigh was followed by a yawn, and you hovered over the end call button. “When you’re less tired I think we should talk.” You tell him, and you see the confusion, fear, and resignation pass over his face in quick succession.

He agrees quietly, and neither of you really say goodbye before hanging up.

He was tapping on your shoulder as you were halfway through talking to E! News, and you’ve never been more anxious and excited in your life, and never so thankful to not be at the main photo area on a red carpet. His timing was perfect.

“So sorry, could I borrow Y/N for a minute?” He smiles charmingly at the reporter, and his expression softens when he sees the relief in your eyes.

Before he even starts, it feels off, feels wrong, feels like a performance for the cameras more than anything else.

“Don’t get teary on me, I know how hard your makeup artists worked.” He begins, and you make sure the cameras catch your surprised confusion. He’s takes one of your hands in his, linking your finger together, and the other holds your face. There’s a moment that passes between you two, his expression softens as he looks in your eyes and it’s as if he’s looking past everything that had happened, the whole setup you’d found yourself in; he was seeing you.

“This is probably the biggest night of my life,” he starts, taking a deep breath, “for more than one reason; you’re my best friend, you’ve been there for some of the highest points in my life, and some of the lowest. I know you, Y/N, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, and I want to. I want you there by my side for the rest of it,” it sounds... so much more planned out than you’d expected, so much more heartfelt, and you’d be damned if there weren’t tears in your eyes. Despite the fact that this very private moment had a huge audience, which included a reporter muttering ‘holy shit, is this what I think it is?’, you could only see him. Damn if it didn’t feel real.

“I love you; I’ve loved your since-” his voice catches in his throat, and you see a hint of pain flash across his face before he’s smiling again, “since I first saw you in that damn wig they put you in,” it sounds like an addendum, like he doesn’t really mean it, or like it’s not the whole truth, but it’s enough to make you laugh, and when you look down to hide your embarrassed smile, your tears fall from your eyes, “since you agreed to all of this,” he gestures to himself with a self-deprecating grin, though his double meaning is not lost on you, though his expression turns serious after a moment, “since I first kissed you on set, though that feels like a long time ago.” Your breath catches in your throat, and he sounds like he hadn’t mean to say that last part, his voice too raw, his heart too honest for it to be a truly fake statement. You can do little more than whisper his name in reverence. Gently, so gently, he lifts your head, his thumb wiping the tear track from your cheek.

“Marry me?” It’s a question this time, and when you look at him with confusion, disbelief written on your face at the way he chose to word it, he laughs softly, sinking to one knee and pulling out the ring box, and revealing the single most frivolous ring you’d ever had the displeasure of seeing. “Will you marry me?” He corrects softly.

The crowd behind you is going absolutely mad behind you, and cameras are going off at an almost blinding rate, but his eyes don’t leave yours. Nodding, you can’t even form words, so caught up in the moment, and he stands, pulling you into a kiss. The flash of cameras surround you like a sea of stars and Ben’s the only thing keeping you on solid ground. His grip is tight enough that he almost lifts you off the ground, and you’re on your tiptoes with his arms around you before his grip loosens, his hands sliding down the small of your back, and for the first time since this whole fake relationship began, he doesn’t hesitate before he deepens the kiss. He tastes like mint and you’re so glad you’re wearing that twenty-four hour lipstick or you know you’d be a mess, and when you pull back, you’re both out of breath, looking at each other with a something akin to awe in your eyes.

You’re pretty sure, in this moment, you love him; nothing fake about it. And you can see it in his eyes that he loves you too. This is dangerous territory for you both.

Stepping back, he takes your hands again.

“I told you not to cry, love.” He laughs gently, voice so soft as you dab at your eyes with your right hand, watching as he slides the ring onto the ring finger of your left hand.

“What can I say, you have a way with words; how long were you working on that speech.” You sniffle, grinning brightly as you examine the ring, still holding his hand. After a beat too long of silence, you look up to see him smiling softly at you.

“A while.” He admits, and something about the way he says it makes your chest ache. The moment passes and he looks down at your joined hands. “That’s fucking hideous.” He whispers, shaking his head at the sight of the ring, and you giggle, preferring to throw your arms around him, kissing him again.

The two of you are the last two to arrive at the formal photo area, with the logo backdrop, and Joe’s grin is confused where he greets you both at the edge of where everyone was in a line getting a group shot.

“What was all the commotion over there?” He asked quietly, and Ben stepped into position easily, slipping an arm around Joe’s shoulders and pulling you in. You were still beaming, you couldn’t help yourself.

“We got engaged.” Ben murmurs to Joe, careful not to draw attention to them, which was immediately counteracted by Joe’s loud ‘What the fuck?!’ “Calm down, man, we didn’t want to take all the focus off of the premiere, you know?”

As soon as the big group shot was taken, you stepped off to the side as the four boys had their photos taken, and you could see Joe murmuring to the others, while Ben just smiled for the cameras and tried not to blush.

Photos were taken with Brian and Roger, of Rami and Lucy, and even some of you and Ben, and when you posed, you both had an arm around each other, and you leaned into him, resting your hand on his chest with your ring on clear display.

There’s congratulations all around as you’re heading into the theatre, but the biggest shock of the night comes in the form of Roger Taylor wrapping you up in a hug while you’re still glowing with pride.

“Before we go in, I want you to know you did an incredible job, dear. You’re a stunning performer and I never had any doubts about you.” As he says it, you can feel Ben give your hand a gentle squeeze. You’re pretty sure you’ve got shock written all over your face. “I’m very proud of you both.” He claps Ben on the shoulder, and Ben thanks him quietly. It looks as though he’s about to head in, but he turns back. “Be good to her, you hear?” He says to Ben sternly, but there’s a glimmer of fondness in his eyes, and Ben rolls his eyes good-naturedly. He’s still holding your hand.

“What was that?” You breathed as soon as Roger had left; you feel like you’ve been doused in cold water, though you can’t help but smile.

“Well I think he definitely approves of you playing Amanda.” Ben moves to wrap an arm around you as the two of you head into the theatre, searching for your seats. “And I think... I think he gave us his blessing?” That sounds more confused than anything else, and you don’t know how to respond one way or the other, apart from softly laughing as you sit down next to Lucy. Part of you, the largest part that had stayed sane and not drunk on this fake engagement, is pretty sure Roger’s going to be the hardest to break it to, when everything’s over; part of you worries that without Ben, you’ll lose his approval, which you didn’t realise you’d been craving until you’d received it. There’s an anxiety that builds in your chest as the lights go down, but Ben’s hand is in yours and you lean your head on his shoulder, and you can ignore that little worry for now.

the rat pack: @hotspacedeacon @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @itssaje @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @callumidiot @rockandrollandshit @bohorap @pietrorunsforme @sweetfierceimagines @itsjackothy @mhftrs @sherlockiantheatrenerd @softbenhardy @multifandomgirlrandomstuff @virtualsheepeat @smile-nine @i-padfootblack-things @deaconsroger @spookyfrances @holyurlbatman @your-idiotic-excellency @cosmicsskies @chlobo6 @screaminggalileochickenwrites

(crossed out means it wouldn’t tag; i’ll try again for the next part, lemme know if you wanna be tagged xx)

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #the angry lizard writes

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mistymark · 5 years

Text

the one with all the spoilers.

part of the 50 things you said project // mark lee x reader // 4.2k words // university!au // strangers to lovers!au // masterlist // send in requests here

summary; things you said when we were the only ones left

warnings; drunk donghyuck, jeno and jaemin

request; this is for the 50 things you said works. I would like 31 with Mark, but could it be at the same roof party of that Renjun fic? I just thought it would be suuuuuper cute if oc was invited to Haechan's party and instead hanging out with Mark the entire night. Thank you!! 😘 (you can read the first fic here)

notes; I know it has been a loooonnnggg time since ive posted but ive been really trying to make this specific story as good as possible,,,, so I hope y’all like it. (sporadically edited)

You were late. You were so very late, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic was not helping. “Are we far away?” you asked the taxi driver, leaning forward in your seat only to see red brake lights and a long line of stopped vehicles in front of you.

“It might be faster to get out and walk, miss,” the driver informs you, leaning out his window to see what has caused such a delay on the normally-flowing road.

You thank the taxi driver and hand over the amount of money due, with a tip for his troubles, and run down the street, passing all the stopped cars in a blur. Without looking at what has caused the build up of traffic, you look down at your phone, hastily trying to figure out what street Donghyuck lives on now. You had previously been neighbours, for almost two years, but he had left a few months ago, opting to move in with one of his friends in a nicer apartment a few blocks down from you.

He’d sent you detailed instructions on how to get there from your workplace, knowing you’d get lost, but you were still unable to interpret his badly drawn Snapchat diagrams.

You eventually found the bakery he was referring to in his map, and turned left, walking towards some large apartment buildings. You figured you were in the right place and walked in, making your way up to his floor. When you arrived at the apartment, 6G, you couldnt hear any noise apart from the soft murmuring of two people talking and you hoped you weren’t too late and everyone had already gone home. You’d told Donghyuck you had work that day, and said you’ll be a bit late, but thirty minutes after your guaranteed time of arrival; you still hadn’t shown.

You knocked on the door. The murmurs stopped and you heard the door being unlocked, before being opened. Your eyes widened in shock at the boy before you, and you instantly looked down at your phone, suddenly unsure if you’d come to the right place as you took in the (rather attractive) boy’s appearance. He was dressed in flannel pyjama pants and a plain black tee, round glasses perched on his nose and a bowl of popcorn in his hand. He appeared to be the only one in the apartment. “Um, is this building 127 on 92nd?”

He smiled, “Yeah. Are you here for Hyuck’s birthday?” He turned around slightly, placing the bowl on a nearby table as you nodded shyly before opening the door wider to let you in. He made a gesture to his clothes, “Sorry, I thought everyone had already arrived.”

“Oh! Er, no problem,” you tried to smile back and hide the shame you were feeling, before asking where you should put your present.

He gestured to the dining table, where various presents had been stacked haphazardly on top of each other. When he caught a glimpse of the tag on your gift, his eyes widened in realisation, “You’re y/n! Hyuck said you were going to be late. I completely forgot.”

You laughed with him, stealing a glance at the TV behind him, which happened to be playing your favourite TV show. No wonder you thought you’d heard voices when you first arrived.

He gestured to the window beside you, ‘giving you directions’ to get to the roof where the rest of the party was being held.

“You’re not coming?” You asked, surprised.

He leant against the couch and patted the back fondly, “Nope, I’m staying here. Holding down the fort.”

“Just like Hyuck not to invite his own roommate to his party,” you grinned mischievously, not giving him the chance to dispute as you disappeared up the fire escape.

When you climbed over the edge and onto the roof, you sought out Donghyuck, as he was pretty much the only person you would know at this party. You’d met a few of his friends before while you were neighbours - Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun, specifically - but there were at least thirty people up here who you’d never even seen before.

You found Hyuck talking to two boys by the entryway, the latter both holding fireworks and with disappointed looks on their faces. He looked up as you approached, “Look who finally decided to show up!” Donghyuck patted the taller boy’s shoulder as he left and walked over to you, arms out for a hug.

You hugged him, laughing, “Don’t say it like you weren’t three hours late to my birthday.” He squeezed you in response.

“Have you seen Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin, yet? They’ll take care of you if you need it. I know you haven't met a lot of these people yet,” he smiled at you happily, his childish grin showing. He was evidently so happy and you couldnt help but smile back.

“I haven’t actually. I just arrived,” you said, glancing around. You saw Jeno and Jaemin playing drinking games in the dark with a few other people, and Renjun sitting down by the drinks table, alone.

You bid Hyuck goodbye as you walked towards Renjun, greeting him with a one-armed hug and grabbing a drink, before sitting down beside him on the stretched out lawn chair.

“It’s been ages since I last saw you,” he said, clinking his bottle against yours in a toast. “Have you been here the entire night?”

You sighed, “No, I just arrived twenty minutes ago. I had work and then traffic was bad and - it was a whole mess. I’m glad I came, though. I havent seen you and your dumb friends in ages.”

He laughed with you, recalling all the outrageous pranks and activities the 00 line had attempted whilst Hyuck lived next door to you. “I bet you don’t miss us,” he looked away, watching Jeno cheer for someone taking a shot and smiling.

“Believe it or not but you guys were better than the young married couple I live next to now,” you wrinkled your nose. “Let’s just say I try to take night shifts as often as possible.”

He cringed at your words and laughed, before looking up as Donghyuck approached, rather frantic, “Hey, y/n, could you duck downstairs and grab the case of beer in my bedroom? Mark will show you where it is.”

You stood up immediately, “Of course.” You turned to leave before turning back, “Um, quick question: who is Mark?”

Donghyuck had already rushed off, eyeing a stumbling partygoer by the drinks table worriedly. Renjun stayed sitting on the chair, lifting his beer up to his lips, “Mark’s Donghyuck’s roommate. The guy probably opened the door for you.”

You feel your eyebrows raise in realisation, and you’re suddenly embarrassed that you hadn't previously asked him his name, especially since you thought he was rather cute. “Oh,” you turn to leave. “Tell Hyuck I’ll be back in a second.”

You entered the apartment through the window, climbing in and attempting to not kick the flowerpot off the shelf beside it as you did. You landed nimbly on your feet and clapped your hands together, causing Mark to jump in his seat on the couch and turn around to you, “Oh God! You scared me.” You walked in the direction of the bedrooms, briefly checking which part of the show he was watching and he called out after you, “Hey! Bathroom is here!”

You stopped in the corridor, the doors to the two bedrooms on either side of you. You pointed to each one in turn, “I’m looking for Hyuck’s room. Which one?”

He didn’t bother turning around, his eyes glued to the screen, as he yelled, “Left!”

You searched Donghyuck’s room for the case of beer, before standing up with your hands on your hips, “Hey, Mark? Where’s the beer?”

“Closet!” His voice was muffled by a handful of food.

“It’s not here!” You shouted back, before mumbling under your breath, “Unless I’m blind.”

He leant back on the couch to better see where you were and his mouth fell open when he realised you were in the wrong room, his room. “Oh, um, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You poked your head around the door and leant against the wall, your cheek squishing against the doorframe. Mark’s lips quirked up a fraction at your pout.

“That’s... that’s my room. Hyuck’s is the other one.”

You immediately jumped back from the door, trying not to make eye contact as you shut the door and went into the bedroom opposite, “Oh, sorry. I thought you said left.” You attempted to hide your blush that was rising up your neck due to your embarrassment, wondering how how you could have been so stupid as to start going through a stranger’s bedroom.

“Right, yeah, sorry. My bad. Are you taking it up to the roof?” You heard him call from the couch, and you pulled your phone out to check the time.

You placed it on the bed and eyed the case again, “Yeah.”

You could hear him let out a laugh, “Good luck with that.”

Stumbling out of Hyuck’s bedroom, the case in hand, you glared at him, “Gee, thanks for your help.”

Mark smirked, “You’re welcome.” Smartass, you thought.

You made your way to the door, before turning around, quickly shouting before it closed behind you, “By the way, she dies in the next episode! He ends up marrying her best friend!”

As the door slams shut, from you pulling it with your foot, you hear him groan and shout behind you. Smirking to yourself, you make your way up the stairs.

Hyuck thanks you for bringing all the beer up and you smile, insisting it was no problem. You crack a cold one with the boys one open and look around the crowd, Donghyuck departing once again to talk to his guests.

You spot Jeno under one of the food tables, rummaging through boxes of supplies as Jaemin stands behind him, his posture slack and foot tapping against the ground in an attempt to appear casual. Jeno whoops in success and jumps up, a roll of duct tape in hand. You grin at them, knowing they’re up to no good but not wanting to spoil their fun.

You don't see Renjun anywhere, so you reach for your phone to check your messages, only to find the pocket you normally keep it in is empty. You pat yourself down, searching all your pockets for your phone, before realising you probably left it in Donghyuck’s room when you went to fetch more beer.

Climbing down the fire escape again, you enter Donghyuck’s apartment and make your way to his room, not bothering to greet Mark this time. He does a double take as he sees you walking, staring after you and hurriedly looking away as soon as you walk out of the bedroom, your hand sliding your phone into your pocket.

When you make your way back to the window, he refuses to take his eyes off the screen, “Hey, does she really die next episode?”

You turn around and watch the screen momentarily, making sure you got the right episode and weren't getting mixed up. When you don’t respond, Mark turns his head back a little. He watches you silently.

Your eyes snap down to his and you watch his eyebrows raise every so slightly, “Yeah, I’m sure. She goes to the wedding planner after they get engaged and-”

“They get engaged?!”

“Oh, yeah. It’s real cute. He’s all like ‘You’re so gorgeous will you do me a gosh darn favour and be my gosh darn wife’ and then she says ‘Oh YES I love you so passionately, my love is like a thousand burning stars!” He laughs as you lower and raise your voice to imitate the actors.

You quirk an eyebrow at him before turning around to leave, but he spins around in his seat, his arms coming to rest on top of the couch, “And then what happens?”

He’s staring at you so cutely, you can’t help but blush a little bit, “I - er... well, she says yes, obviously and then- OH WAIT NO THIS IS THE GOOD PART SHH!” You quickly run forward and snatch the remote from the arm of the couch, turning up the volume and staring at the TV with wide eyes.

You’re standing behind the couch now, subconsciously clutching the remote close to your chest as you watch the plot unravel on the screen, unaware of the fact that Mark is watching you.

When five minutes go by, and the credits are rolling, you start walking backwards towards the fire escape, your eyes on Mark, “I told you the engagement was lame. Next episode is the engagement party, I think, so enjoy that.”

“You don’t want to keep watching?” He asks, standing up with the empty chip bowl in his hand. “Hyuck won’t mind.”

You hesitate. You’d been here for less than an hour, and only spoken to Donghyuck briefly because he was so busy. And if you were being completely honest, you had jumped at the chance to help with the beer just because you didn’t have anything else to do. While you’d been chatting to Renjun, other people had come up and introduced themselves, but you either couldn’t remember their name or weren’t interested in talking to them again after your meagre conversation.

You bite the corner of your lip in thought, before nodding slowly, watching as he empties another packet of chips into the large bowl. “Sure. And I promise, no more spoilers.”

He grinned at your answer and then pouted mockingly before walking back over to the couch. It was only now that you realised how ill-fitting Donghyuck’s furniture was. When he had moved in with Mark, they had obviously kept whatever furniture they previously owned and put it in the new apartment, despite the fact that Mark’s modern, stark white dining table and chairs contrasted to Donghyuck’s old brown leather sofa and wooden table.

The three-seater couch sat opposite the TV, and you happily plopped yourself down on one side, Mark placing the bowl of chips between you two in offering. He pressed play on the remote.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it was getting late, and you were at least another five episodes into the show. Mark had assured you Donghyuck told his drunken guests to leave via the stairwell rather than the fire escape (to prevent any injuries) so you were left virtually undisturbed. Two people (one who Mark addressed as Johnny) climbed in through the window and left, and you assumed the tall boy was taking the other home.

Renjun poked his head in the front door as he left to bid you a quick farewell and a ‘let’s catch up soon’, one arm around the much larger bodies of drunk Jaemin and Jeno. The party was still going on. When you slid your phone off the table, you noticed it was past midnight, and you were growing tired. You leant your head back and, when you looked over at Mark, your eyes slowly shutting, you realised he was already passed out on the couch.

It was sometime after three when Donghyuck stumbled into the apartment, carrying a box of decorations and trays. He had kicked the door open, dismissing the loud slam it made as it swung into the wall, and placed the box at the entrance of the apartment, before promptly disappearing into his room and face planting onto his bed.

The loud bang had disturbed your peaceful slumber, and your eyes began fluttering open, your mind screaming at you to go back to sleep. You could’ve gone back to sleep right there and then, bringing the pillow closer to your face but it was at that moment that you realised this was not a pillow, but was actually the soft black material of Mark’s shirt. Apparently, while you were sleeping, you had leant towards him slightly, your body weight causing you to lean diagonally towards Mark, who had shifted so that he was now with sleeping with one arm on the arm rest and one around you, sitting up slightly due to his previous sitting position.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to his stomach as you used him as a pillow, his legs outstretched and off the side of the couch. You attempted to move out of his hold, but he groaned, his other arm reaching down to hold you in place, “No. Stay.”

Suddenly, there was another loud bang as Donghyuck threw his bedroom door open in search of water and began making his way to the kitchen. The sudden noise made you jump in your half-asleep state, and you felt Mark stir as he blinked his eyes open, looking down at you in shock.

You were sure your face mirrored his, the surprise evident on your face.

You pushed yourself up and began gathering your things. It was at this point Donghyuck noticed you, “Oh, y/n! What a surprise! I’m so glad you came tonight, I had a wonderful time.” His eyes flickered to the couch as Mark sat up drearily, “Hey Ma- oh. My mistake. Forgive me. Have a good night.”

Donghyuck disappeared back into his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him and you sighed, “I’d better get going.”

“What? You’re exhausted and it’s 3:30am. As if I’m going to let you drive home at this hour,” Mark said, standing up and fixing up the cushions on the couch. His eyes were half closed as he brought the dirty bowl to the kitchen.

“I was going to walk, or Uber,” you said.

“That’s dumb; you could literally be murdered. And that’s impractical - what Ubers would be out at this hour?”

“Well, how do you suggest I get home then?” Maybe it was the tiredness, but his snarky smartass attitude was getting on your nerves again. He was acting the same way he had been when you’d come to collect the beer case.

“I’m saying you should stay here,” Mark’s voice changed, becoming softer, quieter.

“I shouldn’t-,” you immediately attempted to dismiss his kindness, but he argued back.

“It’s fine, you can sleep in my bed,” he watched your eyes widen and hid a smile as he glanced down at the floor. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Right, of course,” you said, eventually relenting and then helping him grab the last of the snacks from the couch.

He gestured towards his room, “Well, you know which one is mine. I have an early class tomorrow so I might not see you, but Donghyuck will be here so...” Mark set a pillow down, smirking at you, as he settled in on the couch, disappearing from view from where you stood behind it, “Sleep well.”

When you walked backed into Mark’s room, you couldnt help but notice how obviously Mark it was. When you were in it the first time, you hadn’t really been paying attention to it, focussing on finding the beer Hyuck had stashed. Now, you could fully appreciate the colours, the decorations, the organisation, everything that was completely Mark.

You noticed a spare blanket and pillow on his bed, and immediately pulled them into the living room, dropping them on Mark’s stomach before making your way back to his bedroom. You didn’t let yourself watch for his reaction.

The next morning, you woke up to Donghyuck lying across his couch, his hand clutching his head as he groaned in pain. He had shrieked when he first saw you walking out of Mark’s bedroom, thinking he was the only one home, and then almost cried because his own shout was so loud. You began to make him breakfast, but he insisted he couldn't eat and would wait until Mark came home from class, so you made yourself pancakes.

“Hey, can I get Mark’s number?” you asked casually, biting a piece of pancake.

Immediately, the younger boy sat bolt upright from the couch, his eyes wide in shock, “What?”

“Err... your roommate. Can I have his number?” You continued eating your breakfast, watching him closely.

“What do you want his number for?” Hyuck questioned, his elbow coming to rest on the back of the couch as he pressed his palm to his forehead.

“I wanted to thank him,” you said, straightening your back subconsciously at the subtle accusation in Donhyuck’s question. “I had a good time last night.”

“Ughhhh, y/n! I don’t want to hear that!”

“What? Oh, God, no. Donghyuck, no! Gross,” you turned back to face your plate, avoiding the boy’s gaze.

He sighed, dropping dramatically back onto the couch, “Fine, whatever. Grab me my phone, then. It’s on the bench over there, I think.”

“Uhh, what happened to it?” The phone screen was smashed beyond repair, and the phone was bent slightly in half. The forward-facing camera was dislodged, and the buttons were stiff, as if, when pressed, nothing would happen. When you pointed this fact out to Donghyuck, he groaned and threw it at the wall, ignoring the shattering sound of the glass screen as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

“Mark will know,” he mumbled into a pillow.

“Well, thanks for letting me stay last night. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You began to put on your coat as you searched for your handbag in the messy apartment.

The door swung open and Mark walked in, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a plain white tee, with a dark bomber jacket to compliment the outfit. He wasn’t wearing glasses today, and you were unsure whether he looked better or worse without them.

He hung up his jacket on the rack, briefly glancing at both you and Hyuck as he did, “Oh! Y/n! I didn’t think you’d be here when I got back.” He shot you a grin, but you missed it as you finally grabbed your bag and slung it over you shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m heading off now. Thanks for letting me stay the night,” you walked past him to the door, sending him a small smile before yelling at Haechan just to frustrate him in his hungover state.

You left, and walked down the stairs of the building, berating yourself for not asking Mark for his number. The guy was easily the most attractive person you’d ever seen, and you liked the same TV shows. What you were thinking was: you’re basically soulmates.

With newfound determination, you spun on your heel and marched back to the apartment door, convincing yourself you were confident enough to get the boy’s number. You breathed deeply, before raising your hand to knock.

Before your hand could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, and suddenly a body slammed rather strongly into you. You didn’t need to look up to know it was Mark, you recognised his scent, and his voice when he began apologising.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” His hands gripped your waist as he simultaneously tried to hold you up and push you out of his way gently.

“No, no, it’s-”

Finally, his brain seemed to have caught up to the situation. “Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi,” you smiled up at him. One arm was still wrapped securely around your waist, holding you flush against his body.

His eyes awkwardly flittered elsewhere, focussing on anything and everything as long as it wasn’t your face, “I, uh, was trying to catch you.”

You looked at your hand that was placed on his chest, “Well, here I am.” There was a lengthy pause. “What’s up?”

He cocked his head to the side, before pulling you up and slightly stepping back, clearing his throat, “Wait. What are you doing here? Did you forget something?”

You glanced at your feet, suddenly insecure that he had just let you go whilst you were here trying to confess your feelings. “I... No. I actually came back to ask you for your number.”

His face lit up at your words, a large, happy smile stretching across his face as he suddenly reached into his pocket, producing a small square of paper, “I was going to catch you and give you this.”

You raised an eyebrow at it before plucking it from his fingers and opening the note. The words ‘call me’ were printed above his phone number, and below, a message:

spoiler alert! we go on a date :)

You laughed at his reference to the night before, during which you had spoiled many episode endings.

“Well? Is that a yes? I can’t tell,” he asked, stepping forward a little.

“Definitely,” you smiled, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as your faces drew closer, and closer, and closer, and-

“MARK, CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE ME A QUESADILLA?” Donghyuck’s voice interrupted what was almost a kiss, and Mark giggled, resting his forehead against yours.

“We’ll continue this later.” Then he stepped back, gave your hand a squeeze and shut the door of his apartment.

there u have it kiddos!!! my first post in like two months lol (sorry, love u)

#nct #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct writing #nct fanfic #nct texts #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #mark lee #nct mark #lee mark #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #mark fluff #nct mark fluff #nct fluff

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