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inlovewithpandora · 1 year

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- Endless Cycle -

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Pairing: Aonung (23) x fem!reader (21)

Synopsis: Your relationship with Aonung was a toxic one. He’s cheated on you several times and you always let him sweet talk you into taking him back. What happens when you finally reach your breaking point? What happens when you’ve finally had enough?

Content/Warning(s): modern au/human au, serial cheater Aonung, infidelity, caught cheating, destruction of property, crazy (slightly unhinged) reader, toxic relationship, strong language, full angst

Authors Note: I had fun writing this, I hope you all enjoy! (My first Aonung fic!)

- italicized words indicate a flashback

- If you see any mistakes please excuse them

Word count: 3.2k

You and Aonung have always gotten into arguments due to both of you having strong personalities but the most recent fight between the two of you caused both of you to not see each other for multiple days. You've been sitting by your phone anticipating his call, hoping that he would crack first.

You knew it was probably stupid, stupid that you were hoping for his call after what he did but you just couldn't walk away from him. As you sat by the phone desperately waiting for his call you began to think about the argument both of you had a few days ago.

"Aonung I'm sick of going through this shit with you!"

"y/n I'm not trying to hear this today okay?!"

"No, you must like me yelling at you because you continue to repeat the same actions that get us in this same position!"

You and Aonung always have this same argument every few weeks and it always ends the same, you yell, he apologizes and says he's never going to cheat on you again, and you believe him.

He always feeds you these empty promises and you eat them up every time, hoping that one day he'll stay true to his words.

"Aonung I swear to Eywa if I find out you cheat on me again it's going to get ugly" You place your pointer finger on his chest forcefully.

"I promise y/n I won't that was my last time" he grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him, and plants his lips onto yours.

Every time both of you had this conversation you said that same sentence but every time you found out he cheated you didn't do anything. Aonung just saw it as empty threats so he would always kiss you just to make you quiet and you always fell into his trap, you always let him have this effect on you.

After both of you made up not even a few minutes later someone called his phone. You look down at the contact ID and saw the name 'Alicia💦'

"Who is this Aonung?! Is this one of those hoes you've been messing around with?!"

Aonung let out a groan of frustration and grab his keys and began walking toward your front door, "I'm leaving I'm not going through this with you again"

"Fine! Leave! I don't care!" You really didn't want him to leave but you pretended that you did. You knew he was going to go whoever this girl Alicia was it just upset you even more. As you watched Aonung walk out your front door tears began to fill up in your eyes, you hated this endless cycle with him. Every time he did this to you it created a painful slit on your heart.

*ring* *ring* *ring*

The ringing from your phone snapped you out of your thoughts, A grin became plastered on your face as you saw Aonung's name on the screen. You immediately click the accept button, "Hey Nung! I'm so glad you call—"

You began to hear some strange noise in the background which made you fur your eyebrows, "Aonung? Can you hear me?"

You didn't hear him respond to you, but he did respond to someone else. "Fuck j-just like that" you could hear him groan. As you listened two things clicked into your brain, number one he must've butt dialed you and number two he was cheating on you again.

Your blood began to boil as you continued to hear him murmur words that were equivalent to the pleasure he was receiving from whoever this woman was. You knew he would do this again after he promised you he wouldn't, you knew he would just repeat his serial cheating cycle but you were going to put a stop to that right now.

You knew he most likely couldn't hear you but you decided to speak anyway, "Aonung I'm coming to your place right now, if that girl is still at your house when I get there I'm fucking you up!" You hung up the phone and began to put on your shoes. You grabbed your car keys and began walking toward the front door, right before you walked out of the house you saw the pink baseball bat that you keep next to the door in case of emergencies.

"Oh, I'm going to have some fun using this" A smirk spreads across your face as grab the bat and head out the door. You jump into your car and begin to drive to Aonung's house.

By the way you were driving some people would describe it as 'like bat out of hell' but you didn't care. You needed to get to his place as fast as your car would allow.

It normally took you twenty minutes to get to his house but by the rapid speed you were going you made it in ten. As you pulled wildly into his driveway you could see two cars indicating that the girl was still there. A laugh began to erupt from your throat as you began to think about the damage you were about to create. You put your hair into a ponytail, grab your bat, and began walking to his door. You had a key to his house so you began to unlock it quietly so Aonung couldn't hear.

As you swiftly moved the key inside the lock the door opened, you took the key out and walked inside while closing the door slowly. As you walked throughout the house you could hear Aonung and the woman moaning in sync as the sound of their skin slapping together echoed around the house. As the sound flowed through your ears it made your eye twitch and your grip tighten on your bat, you wanted to run in there and just start smashing things but you had another plan.

A plan that was for sure going to throw Aonung off completely.

You walked into the living room and saw both of them fornicating on the couch. You wanted to laugh at how much of the downgrade the girl was compared to you but you keep your composure.

Both of their eyes were closed and they were just so caught up in themselves that they didn't even notice you. Instead of acknowledging your presence, you sat down at his kitchen table waiting for one of them to notice you. After a few minutes of sitting there silently, the woman opened her eyes and saw you and you could see the spooked look written all over her face. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you waved at her.

The girl immediately began to get Aonung attention, tapping him and pointing over to where you were.

"What are you pointing at?" He turned around from the couch and saw you sitting at the table which made him move the girl from on top of him and begin to cover himself up and grab his sweatpants to put on, "Y-Y/N this isn't what it-"

You immediately start brushing him off, "No no Aonung don't let me stop you" You begin to look over at the girl who was frantically putting her clothes back on. "Is this Alicia or is it one of the other girls you're cheating on me with?" You ask him in a calm yet fierce tone which confused him.

He was always used to you blowing up and getting angry so seeing you so serene with a smile on your face made him fearful. He had a feeling that today your 'empty threats' weren't going to be so empty.

"I-I'm Lisa" the girl spoke up quietly

"Nice to meet you Lisa, can you leave I would like to speak to my boyfriend alone please" Lisa doesn't waste any time and begins to grab her things while scrambling toward the door and leaving.

"You know you promised me that wouldn't cheat on me again right?"

"Y-yeah I know-"

"So why did you do it again Aonung? Hm?" You asked him as you begin walking toward him. As Aonung watched you swing the bat in your hands so effortlessly it created a lump of worry in his throat.

"Y-Y/N w-what are you d-doing with that bat?"

"Don't worry about that Aonung just answer my question, why did you do it again?" You tap the point of your metal bat against his tan skin which creates a rubble of nerves in his chest.

He tried to pry his mouth open and speak words but he couldn't, the only thing that would come out was the oxygen he was exhaling.

You stood there waiting for his reply and when you noticed he wasn't going to say anything you began to shake your head, "You know what Aonung... I've given you way too many chances without any kind of repercussions so I'm starting now" you walk back over to his beautiful glass kitchen table and slam your metal bat into it.

As your bat made contact it make the glass shatter all over the granite tile which made Aonung's eyes widen at the scene in front of him, "Y/N are you crazy?! What are you doing?!"

"Maybe I am a little crazy" you say with a chuckle as you walk over to his eighty-five-inch television "but you made me this way, you know that right? You made me like this because you KEEP deciding to be unfaithful to me! I think you do this on purpose because you THINK that I'll allow you"

"No no Y/N that's not true—"

"Yes, it is! You only do what I ALLOW you to do, I ALLOW you to cheat on me so you do it. And then I look like a fucking fool when I think you're going to change! You feed me all these lies and I believe them like an idiot but I'm done with that!" You lift your bat and begin to swing it toward the television

*bam* *bam* *bam*

With each swing, you caused more damage to the television. Each swing portrayed the anger you felt, it was coursing through your veins, pumping through your body at lightning speed. The screen was completely cracked with lines spreading all over the screen from the impact.

"Stop Y/N! Stop!" Aonung shouted at you as he began to grab you and pull you away so you could stop your path of destruction.

"Let go of me!" You yelled trying to squirm out of his grip. "Why should I stop?! Huh?!" you finally manage to get out of his hold and begin making your way outside "You never stopped cheating on me so why should I stop destroying things?!"

You opened the front door and began walking outside to his car, the one thing you knew he prized the most.

"Y/N I'm sorry okay? I love—"

You turned around and faced him, "Love?! Really Aonung?! You got to be kidding me right?"

Hearing his attempt to say that three-letter phrase made you feel so irate that you felt like smoke was going to come out of your ears.

"IF YOU LOVED ME Y-YOU WOULD SLEEP WITH ALL THESE DIFFERENT WOMEN!"

Aonung begins to frantically shake his head "No y/n I love you, I don't want those other women I just want you!" He pulled you towards him, placing his hands on your waist. "Just please don't break the car okay?"

You scoffed at his last sentence, you used your free hand and shoved him harshly "FUCK YOU AONUNG! YOU DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT ME AND OUR RELATIONSHIP, YOU JUST WANT TO TAKE CARE OF THIS FUCKING CAR!"

You lift your bat towards the car and begin to swing, "But don't worry when I'm done you'll have a whole lot to take care of" You begin to smash his car doors, creating huge dents and bending the material inward.

Aonung was now yelling at you, begging you to stop but of course you didn't. You wanted him to at least feel a fragment of the pain he caused you over the years of your relationship. You want him to feel the agony, the suffering, the tears, the heartbreak. You wanted him to feel all of that and some. You knew that by doing this it wouldn't amount to the emotions he's made you feel but you still wanted to try.

"I *slam* HATE *slam* YOU *slam*" You began to bust each one of his windows, with each forceful swing it caused the glass to completely shatter and fall onto the pavement and the inside of the car.

As you yelled at him hot tears pouring from your eyes, "I GAVE *slam* YOU ALL OF ME AONUNG *slam* AND YOU PLAYED ME! YOU TOYED WITH MY EMOTIONS LIKE I WAS NOTHING! *slam*"

Aonung watched you destroy his car he began to cry at your words. He began to realize how he emotionally manipulated you over the years and he was feeling a sense of guilt. He knew what he was doing to you was wrong but he still did it regardless. He did it because he always knew you would come back to him but he realized he broke you. The y/n that he once knew before was long gone, the girl who would keep accepting him back into her life after being unfaithful was no longer there.

"y/n please put the bat down" his tone was no longer harsh, the yelling stopped and his voice turned to a tone of calm that caught your attention. You turn around and notice the flow of tears down his face which surprised you, "WHY SHOULD I STOP? ARE YOUR TEARS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL GUILTY FOR DESTROYING YOUR 'PRIZED POSSESSION' BECAUSE I DONT! I'M SUPPOSE TO BE THAT FOR YOU AONUNG NOT SOME STUPID CAR!" you scream at him so loud that you begin to feel a sting in your throat.

You loosen the grip on your bat and it falls to your side, you begin to sob putting your face in your hands as your tears drop onto your palms. As you cry you begin to feel a warm embrace engulf you, "I swear I'm sorry y/n, I truly am. I love you with all my heart, my soul, my mind, everything in me" Aonung spoke softly into your ear as he tightened his arms around you.

The words he spoke sounded so sincere, those were the words you've been wanting him to say. When the words fell off his lips mixed with his warm embrace made you feel warm, it made you feel loved by him. As you laid your head on his shoulder and cried you realized you were once again falling into his web of lies, letting him say sweet words so you could forgive him.

you almost foolishly believed him hoping that his words were true but deep down in your soul you knew that he was just saying whatever he knew would get you to forgive him and move forward with the relationship.

As you were starting to come back to your senses you began to smell Lisa's perfume on his skin which brought you back to the reason all this happened in the first place. You shove him away from you for the second time today but this time it was fueled by fury "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME AONUNG BEFORE I HIT YOU WITH THE BAT NEXT!"

As you continued to yell at him you noticed that there was a whole audience outside watching the argument take place. People were watching from their lawns and others looking out their windows.

"IM NOT FORGIVING AND FORGETTING THIS TIME AONUNG, I HAVE DONE THAT TOO MANY TIMES IN THE PAST, AND WHERE DOES IT LEAVE ME?! BROKEN AND HURT! I CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH AONUNG AND YOU'VE PUSHED ME TO MY LIMIT!"

The look on Aonung's face was a guilty one. All he could do was look at you with sad eyes while just standing there not being able to form a single word.

"I LET YOU WALK ALL OVER ME AND I STILL TOOK YOU BACK! I STILL LET YOU BACK IN AFTER YOU CHEATED SO MANY TIMES I CANT EVEN KEEP TRACK ANYMORE!"

The more you yelled, the more fury spread through your body. Your chest was moving up and down at a rapid rate from how heavy you were breathing and veins were popping out your neck. All you could see was red and you began to have the urge to physically attack him. You knew that if you gave into your impulse the neighbors watching would instantly call the police and you didn't want to jail for battery and assault.

You began to slowly back away from him and take a deep breath so you could try and calm yourself down, "I'm leaving you for good Aonung, I can't deal with this and you anymore" you said calmly as you begin to grab your keys out your pocket and walk away. You knew that you needed to just leave and get out of this situation.

You got inside your car and put your key in the ignition. As you begin to put your car in reverse you hear banging on your car window, "Y/N PLEASE I LOVE YOU DON'T LEAVE!" Aonung yelled as you backed out of his driveway

You just roll your eyes, "Aonung please get out of my way before I hit you" You were speaking in a soft but stern tone, trying your best to stay calm before you burst a blood vessel.

"No, you're not leaving me!" he ran from the driver's side window and moved in front of your car. As you watched him stand in front of your car it just irritated you by how dumb he was acting. You fully rolled your window down and stuck your head out the window, "Aonung move from in front of my car before I run your stupid ass over!"

Aonung didn't move an inch. He decided to continue standing in front of your car, trying to keep you from leaving his house. You kept trying to reason with him but he just kept shaking his head and telling you he wasn't moving.

You put your hand on your gear shift and put it in drive. You place your foot on the gas pedal and begin to put slight pressure on it.

"Aonung you have one more chance to move!"

"I told you I'm not moving!" He spoke sternly as he slammed his hands on the hood of your car

"Fine Aonung have it your way!" You put more pressure on the gas pedal, moving your car forward and pressing into Aonung's abdomen.

Suddenly you heard and thump and saw him rolling over the top of your car as you drove away. As you adjusted your review mirror you could Aonung's body sprawled out on the ground barely moving a muscle...

I hope you enjoyed💗!

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f4iry-bell · 5 months

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Request !?

Maybe reader moving into the house with avery (whatever reason why is up to you) and jameson like being totally down bad for her. like she doesn’t really notice cause she thinks hes outta her league (other way around tbh cause we’re all hot) but jameson just being like a huge simp.

maybe the readers like a bit of a book girly too, and he likes to bother her while she reads (i lowkey hate when this happens but id let him <3)

jameson hawthorne x oblivious reader.

thank you for requesting. hope you like this it's kind of dialogue heavy. and past events there. also sorry it took some time!!!

After hearing stories about the great Tobias Hawthorn and his games from Avery she was intrigued about him and his games. Now that Avery is going to host her own games, she couldn't hold back. She asked Avery if she can help, Avery knows she is a sucker for murder mysteries and has written some of her own. After reading them Avery thought she'd be useful for the games. So, she invited her to Hawthorne House and to help her plan the game along with the boys.

When Jameson read her works he was definitely fascinated by it Nothing keeps Jameson Hawthorne interested more than a mind that sees things the way they aren't supposed to be and makes the thing something else.

He tried to find her in Hawthorne House but it was hard, he only saw her during dinner and lunch. Everytime he tried to woo her but she showed no interest. Though when they talk she has a lot to say, just not what he needs to hear from her though. Everytime she talks his mind goes blank and all he can think about is how to win her heart.

“And that's how I came up with that idea. I swear if it wasn't for the cat I wouldn't have written my recent work. I should credit it.” She was explaining how she got the idea for her short story because Jameson asked her.

He always has something to ask her.

“You look lost.” Jameson stated.

“I'm not, I have the blueprint on my phone.” She showed him the picture.

Jameson smiled. “Why a map when you have a guide?” He asked in a flirty tone.

She frowned. “Hawthrone House had its own guide?!” Her tone filled with surprise and not a clue that he was implying himself.

Jameson nodded. “Yeah, actually they're on vacation.” He pursed his lips.

Jameson was staring at her the whole time while she was explaining how to plant clues for the game in the Great Room and didn't pay attention to what she was saying. She did notice it and confronted him after everyone dispersed.

“It's really disrespectful to not listen when your teammate is explaining something.” She sounded mad.

“What?”

“You weren't paying attention to what I was saying. If you hate it just say it. Don't make me look like I'm talking to the wall.” She

“Wait, no. I wanted to listen, I was just…let's say distracted by something.” He gave her a frisky smile, stepping closer to her.

“Crap! I knew I should have rehearsed before I told everyone! My presentation skills are very bad, I'm so sorry that you got distracted because of my lack of skill to keep someone focused.”

Jameson thought how can someone who is as smart as her could be so oblivious about his signs?

He found her in one of the libraries reading alone.

“What are you reading?” He asked after grabbing a book and just simply flipping through the pages.

“Book.” She answered after a few seconds.

“I know that, what book?” He took a seat next to her trying to peek. She immediately closed the book and kept the book behind her.

“Contemporary romance.” She admitted not wanting to explain further and went back to reading after opening her book.

Jameson was quiet for a while and then spoke again.

“I thought you were a mystery person.” He said.

internally groaning, she spoke. “I like romance too. Sometimes all a girl needs is a corny romance book.” She shrugged. “And since you know I'm reading, please leave me be.” She added.

“Just a book?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What else?” She rolled her eyes at him, unaware of what he was trying to imply.

“Real life corny romance. With someone.”

She chuckled. “Who? Almost every guy I know is taken or wouldn't be interested in me and I don't go out often so I don't meet people. It's almost impossible for me to experience romance.”

“Not true, not everyone is taken and not interested.” He was hoping she'll get a hint.

“Yeah. Sure. Like who?” She chuckled again.

“You're an idiot.” He said.

“Why?” She frowned, taking a bit of offence.

Jameson kept quiet, and then realisation hit her.

“Wait! Your brother Grayson?!”

Jameson made a disgusting face. “What? No!”

“Then who— Oh my god. Tell me I'm wrong.”

“You did not say anything.” He rolled his eyes.

“You?” She prayed to every God that it's right or else she would have to change her whole identity and leave the country.

“Finally! Took you long enough.” He sighed.

“You like me? So you were flirting with me!” She exclaimed.

“So you did notice that I was flirting!”

“I thought you weren't though it sounded like you were!”

“Because I was!”

“You're lying.” She shook her head.

“Why would I lie? After all the signs I gave you?” He asked.

“Because! you're you and I'm me, why would you like me?”

“Exactly, me being me obviously I like you because you are you!” He explained in her own terms.

“But!”

“But what?”

“I don't know. It's not believable.”

“That I like you?”

“Yes!”

“Would a kiss make you believe?”

“Yes!”

#jameson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the inheritance games #the final gambit #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #xander hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs

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ohforficsakelibrary · 1 year

Text

You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 2: Yarrow - It draws the attention of those you most want to see.

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Series Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes. Slow-ish burn.

Chapter subtitles taken from Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham. Although herbal preparations are consistent with historic uses, nothing herein is to be construed as medical advice.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~4.1K

Rating: Eventually explicit 18+ / Minors DNI.

A/N: Joel fucks up a plant ID. Lennie feels him up and has him hang out for three.

Thanks very much to everyone who read and left some love on the first chapter of this little adventure. I honestly love these two, and I hope you all will come to as well.

Lennie’s processing comfrey for drying when Joel returns a week later. The shop is empty this time, he figures probably because they’re serving lunch down at the Mess Hall.

“Hey, Lennie,” he glances over at where she’s splitting stalks, “I brought you yarrow.”

Lennie casts her eyes up momentarily and the sight of him very nearly makes her cackle.

He’s freshly washed, having just returned from a morning patrol shift, silvered hair raked wet off of his face. Brow knitted. Mouth frozen in that scowl that he never quite realizes is perpetually plastered to his face. But he’s got a massive bouquet of white flowers clutched to his chest.

And not a moment after she looks away her eyes cut back to him.

The comfrey is hastily abandoned.

“Yeah, just, go ahead and lay that down on the table there.” Joel obliges as she wipes her hands on the edge of her apron and quickly swings around the bar. “How long ago did you pick those?”

“Uh, dunno, an hour, hour and a half maybe, sorry, I know they wilted a bit…”

She considers his face carefully before glancing at up the clock that hangs above the door as she closes the distance between them. “Did you eat lunch before or after you picked those?”

“Haven’t eaten lunch yet.” Suddenly she’s in his space, toe to toe. Immediately his back goes rigid.

“Ok, good,” she starts calmly before grabbing his face in her hands to hold him in place, staring intently into big brown eyes that have flown wide.

And now he’s been struck stupid.

“And you didn’t eat any part of those plants?”

“What? No.”

Her hands are quick yet determined as she lays the back of one across his forehead for a moment. He’d daresay he’s amused.

Bringing a woman flowers seems to go much farther these days.

“Open your mouth.” It’s a command. He does and she stands on tiptoes.

He finds himself enough to very nearly reach up to stop her the second she thumbs his bottom lip to get a better look.

And he would have. If he wasn’t starved.

The kind of hungry you don’t realize until the scent of food wafts in on a breeze.

“Did you happen to touch your face at all after you picked them? Rub your eyes, your nose, touch your mouth?”

“Uh, no? I dunno.”

“Are your eyes burning? Numb?”

“No.”

“Nose?”

“No.”

“Mouth?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Shortness of breath?” Her left hand is on his neck now, eyes on the clock, fingers gently applying pressure and readjusting until she finds his pulse and he swallows hard.

You mean not from this? What even is this?

His mouth drops open and “no” falls out. In response to her question, nothing else.

Christ, Miller. Like a fuckin sixteen year old.

“Sorry, what are you…” He finally finds his words, but she makes a soft noise to shush him.

A few seconds later “good” comes out on a breath that’s meant more for herself than for him.

“Do you feel nauseous?” Her small hands take both of his by wrists she can’t fully encircle, carefully poring over his palms.

“No.”

"And you haven't thrown up."

"No."

“Headache?”

“No.”

The backs of his hands fall under her scrutiny before she carefully examines his fingers.

“Sorry, may I?” She points at his chest and then at her ear. He nods before the thought finishes processing and in an instant she’s popped another button on his flannel and pressed her ear against his naked heart.

“You feel dizzy?” Her head is still on his chest and he realizes that his hands are poised in space, hovering just above her shoulders.

Yup.

“No.”

“You’re more than likely going to be fine.”

The fuck does that mean. Good sense is back.

“Lennie, what is going on.” He takes a step, hands held up before his chest in surrender. “Is this from that plant? You didn’t tell me yarrow was dangerous.”

“It’s not,” she finally vacates his space but instead of relief he registers loss of warmth.

“It’s actually incredibly safe outside of pregnancy and it’s one of the few things I can freely recommend for children, but you didn’t bring me yarrow.” She’s over at her bookshelf now, scanning quickly before slipping a text out of line.

“You brought me poison hemlock.”

Means you’re a fuckin’ idiot.

He glances down at the flowers. “What.”

“Poison hemlock,” she returns to him and perches on the edge of the table, feet on the bench. “Of Socrates fame. Take a seat.” He obeys her, mostly because he’s in a daze. “Hey, look at me.” He does. “It’s actually an incredibly honest mistake. You got any plans in the next three?”

“What the fuck Lennie, did I just…” big brown eyes are wide and he goes to scrub a hand down his face.

“Don’t touch your face,” she’s fast and grabs his elbow before he can make contact. “And no, you didn’t.” She stops meets his stare. “You’re more than likely going to be fine.”

“More than likely,” he nearly mocks, “how the fuck do you know? I thought you couldn’t touch that stuff.”

I know because its my fucking job to know, don’t test me, Miller.

“That’s a myth, all but the most sensitive people won’t have a reaction to just touching it and even then it’s just contact dermatitis, it has to get into your blood to do any harm.” She lets loose his arm as her words come fast and easy. “You didn’t eat it, so we’re good there, and you don’t have any fresh cuts on your hands, but you’re not sure if you touched your nose, mouth, or eyes, so that’s an open question.” She’s gone back to flipping pages, searching for something as she rattles this off. “Your pulse is strong, pupils a normal size, your heart is in normal rhythm, body temperature seems normal if a little warm, but we’re…”

“I run warm.” He’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify in this moment of all things.

“…concerned about cold here.” She finishes simultaneously. “You’re not sweating or salivating, no dizziness, nausea, or vomiting, no tremors, and finally, here we go.”

She appears to have found what she’s looking for.

“You’re staying here for the next three hours though.”

Ah. A finally a fuckin’ unit.

“You said I’m fine.”

“Symptoms can appear anywhere from 30 minutes to three hours after exposure.” Lennie reads out and clamps the book shut with one hand. “You haven’t touched your face since you’ve been in here, meaning the absolute last time any sap and therefore toxin could have made it into your system is right before you walked in that door. I figure give it three hours max for you to be completely in the clear.” She drops the book behind her on the table.

Somehow, he actually does follow her math.

“And if I do show symptoms…I assume you have an antidote?” “There is no antidote.” Lennie leans over her knees so her face is level with his. “It works by paralyzing your neuro-musculatory junctions…”

The dazed look is back.

“Where your nerves control your muscles,” she rephrases, “and causes paralysis, which is a problem when it comes to, you know, breathing. But that’s not going to happen.”

Lennie springs from the table and moves behind the bar.

“Me not being able to breathe is not going to happen, but I have to stay here for three hours and you have no antidote.” He’s not quite yelling but he’s not calm either.

“There is no antidote, and don’t touch YOUR FUCKING FACE,” she is though, seeing that he’s nearly gone to rub his eyes in frustration. “If you start to show any symptoms at all, I will notice, and I can get you over to Jane at the hospital sooner rather than later. She can treat the symptoms until it processes out of your system.” She drops down, disappearing for an instant before popping back up and dropping a pair of black rubber gloves on the bar top.

“I need your knife.” Lennie crosses the distance to stand in front of him, hand outstretched. Joel weakly reaches back for the pocket knife he used to cut the blooms.

She tosses it on the table next to the flowers.

“Come,” Lennie takes both of his hands in hers and he allows himself to be led to the sink. He’s not in shock, not by a long shot, but he’s not all here right now either.

These past few months here in Jackson have been the first time in the last twenty years that he didn’t want to. You know.

He has a house. His brother back. He isn’t tossing fucking bodies onto a burn pile.

He has Ellie.

And now here he might have actually gone and done it to himself. Finally.

Unless he missed again.

The water runs cool and then warm against his skin before Lennie soaps up her own hands and massages the suds into his skin, idly taking note that his hands are massive. Strong square palms and thick fingers.

Earth hands.

She continues in silence for a full minute before reaching for a nail brush. It takes him another minute of her scrubbing before he speaks.

“I know how to wash my hands, Lennie.”

“Well, that’s good,” she guides them under the water until they run clean and then some. “Your face now.”

Joel looks down at her with an expression she doesn’t bother to unpack. Instead she holds the bar of soap up between them and he takes it.

“Wash everything around your eyes and mouth first, keep ‘em shut tight.” Lennie calls over her shoulder as she heads back to the bar top. “Rinse for 30, repeat that once, and then gently take the soap over your eyes and mouth. Scrub that beard. And your neck too.”

She slips the rubber gloves on and grabs the Reaper’s bouquet that’s resting on the table. “Keep going till I get back,” she calls, passing him on her way through the door to the left. He hears the creaking of something heavy and the click of a screen door and two full wash cycles later hears the sequence in reverse.

“You should be good now,” moments later a gentle hand rests on his back and a washcloth is pressed into his palm before she turns the water off. Joel dries his face first, then his hands and finally opens his eyes as he steps back from the sink. All he can manage right now is to slump down at the table. Face in his hands.

Behind him, Lennie is at the bar, pouring soap into a metal bowl. She fills it with hot water and drops it off near him, slipping the rubber gloves on again. She washes the table carefully, starting with areas she knows are clean, before moving in to where he was sitting before, anywhere he could have touched with sap-sticky hands. She’s so thorough that she wipes the cover of whatever text she was flipping through too.

Joel watches her while she works.

He’s not really sure what else to do.

Faded jeans are rolled up at the cuffs and at some point she had taken off her sweatshirt. Underneath she’s wearing a yellow t-shirt upon which Smokey the Bear urges him to help prevent forest fires.

What if you are a fucking forest fire?

He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before but her left arm is adorned in a black and grey sleeve of foliage and bones.

She has the arms of someone used to throwing heavy stuff around all day. He likes that about her.

What a fucking thought process.

He’s hungry and delusional from nearly having poisoned himself, he figures. Or potentially having lightly poisoned himself.

“Elbows up,” she says gently from across heavy oak. She’s quick with the cloth and allows him to get back to sulking in no time at all.

Lennie spends at least five minutes on the spot where the flowers were before his knife is flipped open and dropped into the soapy water. She’s careful to clean that spot too. She takes the whole bowl to the sink and deposits it into the basin to soak before dropping the rubber gloves into the bowl too. Lennie then moves to the front of the shop, flips the “Open” sign to “Closed” and pulls dark blue curtains over the front windows.

“Alright,” she turns around, resting her hands on her hips before pointing at him. He has no idea what she means, but knows it wasn’t meant for him. The kettle is filled and placed on the hot plate and she disappears again, this time through a door to the right, returning in five with a fork and a plate of thickly sliced ham, cheese, bread, and salad greens dressed lightly in oil.

“Sorry it’s not very cohesive, but it’s the quickest thing I have.”

“It’s fine,” Joel tears into the ham, honey-sweetness on his tongue reminding him of his manners.

“Thank you.”

Ten minutes later there’s weird coffee in front of him and he could not be more grateful. She finally comes to rest opposite him with her own cup, and rakes a hand through her hair as he shoves a bite of crumbly bread into his mouth.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” he says as he swallows.

“Don’t apologize, Joel. It’s an honest mistake. And I probably should have made it more clear.”

A few moments pass in silence before he mumbles, “a thousand leaves.”

“What’s that?”

“You said the leaves were the key. Soft and lacy. Thousand leaves.” He downs the last bite of greens, staring idly at a knot in the wood. “The leaves were different, that thing had carrot leaves.”

“It’s a member of the same family, yeah. Which is actually how most poisonings happen,” she takes another sip from her mug and rests a cheek in her hand. “Good observation.”

“What did you do with them?” He asks between bites of cheese.

“They’re in a lock box out back until I can process them.”

“Process?”

“Even poison plants have their uses.”

He’s curious but not ready to know.

“So what now?” He finally meets her eyes.

“Well, when you’re finished there I’m going to check you again for symptoms, and I’ll keep doing that every thirty until we’re clear.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you want Joel.” She stands and makes her way back to the bar. “You can read a book, tell me your life story, take a nap, sit there and scowl.”

At this, he throws a scowl back over his shoulder at her.

And for the first time today she grins.

She runs through her checks again after he’s through, and much to her surprise, he opts to help her finish processing the comfrey, portioning and binding bundles for drying. After that he pulls a book from the shelf and takes a seat at the table facing her as she sets to work straining tinctures.

Lennie smirks when she sees what he’s chosen. The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien.

_____

They continue like this, in silence save for the clinking of mason jars and the metallic scrape of lids, speaking only for her to run her checks.

And yet discomfort remains at bay.

She catches him occasionally, dark eyes angled at her up over Flann’s pages. She can’t see his mouth but from the knit of his brow she knows the scowl is there. He doesn’t dwell long each time, but each time he dwells longer than the last.

He likes how she looks with her wild curls pulled back. Likes the rebellion of the errant ones at the nape of her neck. She isn’t a frail thing, whether from conscious nurturing of strength or what life has seen fit to deal. And yet the promise of softness in all the right places shows through baggy denim. Under the yellow cotton of her shirt. That gold against tawny skin. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat.

A sip of water helps.

Lennie isn’t innocent here. She’s just sneakier. His hair has dried by now, accentuating the silver streaks in ashen brown. The way his massive hands make the novel look small. It’s impossible not to notice the way brown and red flannel clings to his shoulders, stretching around his biceps when he brings the glass of water to his lips.

Those lips. Far more plush than they have any right to be.

Man walks in with big hands and broad shoulders and you’re fuckin’ nineteen again.

Just the hands will do these days, apparently.

She takes it out on chicory root with a cleaver.

_____

About ten minutes after a third round of checks Joel pipes up again.

“Hey uh, you got a bathroom?” His bladder is protesting the coffee. Tea. Whatever the fuck that thing is, and the glass of water that she’s been keeping full for him.

Lennie is a good host even in a shit situation.

“Yup,” he watches as she looks up from where she’s splitting roots of god knows what and points her cleaver at the woodstove in the corner. “Left and then another left.”

He follows her instructions, seeing that there’s a mudroom to the right after the first left. He can’t help but take quick stock. A door to the back garden. Jackets for all seasons hung on cast iron hooks. An array of practical shoes lined up neatly in a tray. He idly notices the pair of rain boots far larger than its companions before he slips into the tiny wood-paneled bathroom.

“Soap you’ve got in there smells nice.” This when he returns.

She smirks as he walks back in, amused that this broad, rugged thing likes scented soap.

“Oh so it does know how to wash its hands.” She grins up at him before answering in earnest. “Thanks. Think I’ve got…ponderosa? In there?” She reaches out a hand.

It takes him a moment to realize she’s asking for his hand to confirm. He obliges, and a corner of his mouth twitches in amusement when she takes a quick whiff.

“Ponderosa. You want a bar? Give me a sec.”

She wipes her hands on her apron and turns behind her where small wooden crates are stacked nearest the window. She shuffles through a few boxes before selecting a bar for him.

“I don’t have anything to trade.”

“What are you talking about, you brought me poison flowers. Those are my favorite.” She returns to her chopping with a smile.

He very nearly laughs. Instead, he returns to his seat and his book, absently pressing the bar of soap to his nose as he reads.

It’s funny how when everything went away, smells went with them. The good ones at least. Replaced with decay and dry rot. Gunpowder and shitty whiskey. Burning bodies. You stop paying attention.

To register is to be repulsed.

It apparently takes scented soap to make you want to inhale again. Warm vanilla without sticky sweetness. Earth. Barely there lavender.

“How’d you do this?”

“Uhm,” she takes a moment to simplify down to component parts. “Soap is some kind of fat and a base. A few years ago I started using whatever was left over from the prior year’s infused oils and tallow as the fat and some janky steam distilling equipment to eek out a bit of essential oil from fresh plants to boost the scent. It takes a lot of material and it’s not a particularly productive process but I figure everyone deserves a little frivolity. Something normal like before.”

“But there’s benefit to the plants being in there?” He still has the bar idly pressed up under his nose in a way that makes something jump in the pit of Lennie's stomach.

“Great question, there’s more benefit to the infused fat than the essential oil, but the essential oils carry the smell.”

“Hmm.”

Is he learning?

He finally pops the bar into the front pocket of his flannel.

Thank god flits across her mind.

The way that pleasure registered on his face every time he took a whiff didn’t go unnoticed.

It sets something long-dormant to churning.

Twenty minutes later he says, “I think it’s time for you to feel me up again.”

She snorts and glances at the clock seeing that it is indeed.

Paying attention and learning. What a guy.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re beginning to enjoy this, Joel.”

She washes her hands and he stands up, smoothing the front of his shirt for a reason he can’t explain.

“Any shortness of breath?” Lennie starts, taking his face in her hands, studying his eyes in the late afternoon light. She can see easily that his pupils are a completely normal size, but now she notes softness in the brown. A subtle shade of gratitude.

She doesn’t bother with his mouth this time, leaving lips to tingle in unfulfilled anticipation.

She sees something flit across his eyes for a moment but doesn’t dwell. Instead, her fingers brush over his stubble to fit under his jaw. She’s learned by now that his pulse jumps just behind the bare patches in his beard. A handy shortcut that a part of her perhaps didn’t actually ask for.

Lennie breaks his stare to hold the clock’s gaze, and for a few seconds, Joel takes the opportunity to really look at her. He had noticed a round ago that her brown eyes are flecked with gold. But he can’t for his life figure out how old she is. Long strands of aggregated silver curl from her widow’s peak and temples. Faint lines in the corners of her eyes belie that perhaps at least she was able to find some joy in this hell.

Her mouth was impossible not to notice, but up close it strikes him that her lips aren’t chapped. They look—soft.

Soft? An adjective that fell to the wayside.

“Alright, good,” she breaks his reverie. “A little faster, but still within a completely normal range.” She steps back instead of leaning in.

“You’re not gonna listen?” He points loosely at his chest.

“Do feel out of breath?”

Gasping.

“No.”

“Like it’s skipping?”

Fuckin hopscotch.

“No.”

“Racing?”

A mile a minute.

“No.”

“Do you want me to?”

He takes too long to answer and she takes it as a “no.”

She returns to the bar top and her roots and Joel sits back down and finds his last-read page.

_____

The next thing he remembers is the hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?” He sniffs as his eyes pop open. The shop is filled with pink light.

“You’re free to go.”

“It’s three hours?”

“It’s a little over four, but you looked like you could use the rest. You’ve been asleep for about two. It’s getting to dinner time and I figured Ellie would be looking for you.”

He scrubs his eyes with the heels of his palms before lightly scratching his beard.

“You didn’t wake me up to check.”

“I checked your breathing every fifteen until you started snoring, so I just listened for any change.” She slips him a scrap of paper on which is scribbled a few time entries and numbers next to them ranging from twelve to fourteen.

“Every fifteen?”

He lets it go without units.

“Well, you weren’t awake to tell me if anything started feeling off.”

“You really do care," he snarks.

“I mean, I try.” Lennie smiles and rakes a hand through curls that she’s freed from the scrap of fabric she had tied them with.

He stares at her for a second, hair wild from what she’s just done. Her sweatshirt is on again and she’s got her hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should head out.” Not because of the time, though. He stands and tentatively stretches his back. “Can I borrow this?” Joel asks, holding the book up.

“Yeah, of course.”

“You comin’ to Mess?” He slips his clean knife into his back pocket.

“I’ve actually got some leftovers from a rabbit I trapped the other day, so.”

“Yeah. Yeah ok,” Joel starts for the door and turns back. “Hey, thank you, Lennie. For today.”

He sticks out his hand again and it makes her want to scream.

He does that. His reserve. Makes her want to scream.

“Yeah, of course,” she gives it a firm shake instead. “Anytime you uh, feel like you’re dying. Hit me up.” She grins.

He returns it. With teeth.

“Have a good night, Joel.”

“Goodnight, Lennie.”

She latches the door behind him and presses her back against it before sliding down to the floor.

Heavy breath hisses from her lungs.

“Not what I needed.”

Exactly what she needed.

“Fuck.”

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #YBMPF

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femme4ngel · 2 years

Text

coffee with mbappe ✩

𐐪♡𐑂 summary: you have a horrible day and call your best friend, kylian. you can always count on him.

𐐪♡𐑂 pure fluff, can be seen as platonic or romantic ( reader refers to mbappe as their bestfriend)

𐐪♡𐑂 pairing: kylian mbappe x fem reader

after a stressed day you call your best friend, the one you can always count on. kylian. he picks up immediately, he asks about your day, his kind voice melting your heart immediately. you whine and tell him about the horrible weather, your mean boss, the rude costumers, all that went wrong with your day. as you talk you can feel tears rolling down your face. you sniff, trying to vipe away the tears with the sleeve of your hoodie hoping kylian didn’t hear your shakey voice. but he does, and tells you to put on something comfortable and meet him in front of your apartment in 5 minutes.

- oh okay, im just going to put on sweatpants is that okay? or should i wear something prettier?

you ask not wanting to embarrass him if you go to somewhere fancy. ( plus the cameras are always on kylian and whoever hes with wherever he goes)

- noo, sweatpants are perfect! im bringing you my big paris hoodie, i know you love. no one will see us, i promise amour. just be ready!

he sends you kisses trough the phone and hangs up. you sit on your bed confused for a second, but then you think about it rationally and realize that going out with kylian will be the best remedy for this awful day. so you get ready, wash your face, spray on some bodymist and put on a simple pair of sweatpants with a black shirt. you grab your coat and phone, close the apartment and go downstairs, waiting for your best friend on the side of the street. kylian arrives just in a minute, he gets out of the taxi and steps up to you. he takes your hand into his, squeezing you into a tight hug.

- where are we going ky? im really tired, im sorry. i had such a bad day and..-

he looks at you kindly with joy and sparkles in his eyes.

- its okay, amour we aren’t going anywhere far. just hang on for a little, you’ll see ill make your day so much better!

you smile back at him nodding and the two of you start walking through the streets of paris. the paparazzi somehow doesn’t bother you, you keep looking around but no-one seems to care about you and kylian embracing eachother. ( maybe his disguise consisting of a black hoodie and cap is actually working) he guides you through isolated parts of the city, lonely houses, abandoned buildings with plants growing on their walls, narrow alley’s with small stairs. you walk in silence but its not uncomfortable, you feel at peace with him by your side. after crossing under a small bridge you arrive at your destination. its a beautiful small coffeehouse, its walls are built from old rocks and brown wood, the windows are painted glass with church like decorations. the house has a little terrace with a few people sitting at elegant white tables sipping on their drinks. kylian looks at you;

- see cherie? i told you id make your day better!

- oh kyky, this is so beautiful! iv never been here before, iv never even heard about it!

you look at him with a surprising adoring look. you think about how special this place must be for him, how hidden it is. you wonder if he comes here often, if he runs away from the crowd and strangers to this little miraculous paradise.

- thank you kylian, really i.. thank you.

you smile at him, trying to make him realize how grateful for him you truly are.

- you are so welcome y/n. i’m glad i have you in my life, and i’m glad you will now also know about this place. maybe it will provide you a similar comfort as it does for me.

he says, answering your unasked questions.

you spend the rest of the evening in the caffee drinking teas after teas, trying out every flavor they have. no one harasses kylian, the waiters seem to know him but they just treat him like everyone else. kylian listens to you as you tell him about your horrible day again, then he tells dumb funny things from his day. how neymar and him pranked his other teammates, how he scored at practice or how he didn’t score and actually fell on his butt on the pitch. you laugh for hours, your cheeks hurting from the constant smiling. he truly is your best friend, capable of making you forget anything that hurts, anything that worries you. and you just hope you can provide him the same kind of support and love, always standing by his side. the night ends with kylian in your bed as the big spoon, with you in his arms, in his paris hoodie snoring peacefully.

#kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe imagine #mbappe imagines #football imagines #mbappe x reader

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lexa-griffins · 2 years

Note

I have a sappy farm clexa headcanon for Valentine's Day. Adorable toddler Saige asks her cool big sister Madi to help her make a card so she can ask Clarke to be her Valentine's 🥹

Saige is giggling as she hides the card behind her back when she waddles up to her momma. She pokes her momma in the leg who looks down adoringly on her daughter and says, "Yes, baby?"

Saige shows her momma the pretty handmade card with a cute blob drawing on the front of what looks like Clarke and herself enveloped in a large heart

"Surprise momma! Look, I made you a card. Read pwease." Saige beckons in her cute toddler voice

Clarke grabs the card from Saige and opens it to read (clearly in Madi's handwriting) - "Will you be my Valentine?"

"Yes Saige! Of course I'll be your Valentine baby." Clarke immediately cries out as she tries to hold in her tears but fails. Saige squeals enthused by her momma saying yes.

"Momma, up up! I wanna give you kisses." Saige begs as she lifts her chubby little arms up. Clarke then picks up her cute tiny look-a-like and swings her in the air. When she stops, Saige is laughing uncontrollably and smothers her momma's cheeks with kisses

"I lub you momma! This is the best valentine's day ever! Now it's your turn to give me kisses." Saige politely asks as she looks lovingly into her momma's eyes

"Of course baby. Whatever my Valentine's date wants, she gets." Clarke chokes out as she's overcome by emotion. Saige immediately blushes from her momma's words calling her "my Valentine's date." Soon after Clarke is peppering Saige's face with kisses who blushes even more from her momma's affection

Lexa is in the background trying not to cry at how adorable her wife looks right now with their daughter. Feeling a slight pang of jealousy, Lexa tries to join in the action. She leans forward hoping to plant a tender kiss on Clarke's cheek before a tiny grubby hand is shoved into her face

"No mommy! Momma is my Valentine today. No kisses for you. All kisses for me." Saige pouts when she sees her mommy trying to steal her momma from her. Lexa can't help but chuckle because grumpy Saige looks exactly like a mini version of her wife when she's grumpy.

Lexa concedes defeat and leaves the two of them alone to continue being sweet and cute with each other on Valentine's Day. In the back of her mind, Lexa knows that she'll still have Clarke for Valentine's Night

Oh my gooooooooooooooooood this is so cuuuuuuuteeeeeeeeeee :'))))))))))))))))))

Oh my god i love them so much 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 Look at Saige deciding she's gonna be the one to ask mama!! Lexa and Clarke had kind of taken the day off (which just means doing the minimum possible around the farm, never really completely off) to spend some time with the girls and each other but the entire day after Saige asks Clarke to be her valentine she will not let go of Clarke what so ever. Lexa wouldn't mind so much if her daughter was so adamant about not letting her kiss her wife on valentine's day nor even letting Lexa give her a kiss (because with so many kids timelines are important id say this is probably when Lexa's just a few weeks pregnant with the twins so she's feeling extra needy with Clarke's attention). Her and Clarke were supposed to have a little cuddle session while Saige took a nap but her youngest has kidnapped her mama and made her nap with her, which is so freaking cute to see them laying down together but still gets Lexa pouting a little. Luckily for her Madi steps in and cuddles with her, assuring mommy she'll be her valentine's since mama has Saige. Honestly Lexa could not have asked for sweeter kids :')

And yes yup, even if the day doesn't turn out how they had planned, Clarke will finally manage to get back to their room after Saige fell asleep and now she gets to show her second Valentine all the love she deserves - and between their babies and the pregnancy nothing really makes Lexa fall harder in love with Clarke then seeing her be such a wonderful mom 🥰🥰

#farm clexa #heda-in-the-clouds #uabdisjsis this is so cute 😭😭😭😭😭😭#/ah!!!/#baby saige is so adorable my god

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bricksybricks · 1 year

Text

The Name's Herring. Red Herring.

It was another day for LEGO secret agent Max, or Agent Brick as he was known in the field. He had been assigned a critical mission, one that would require all his skills and expertise. He had to infiltrate a high-security facility and retrieve a piece of technology that could be used to create a devastating weapon.

Max was a seasoned agent, with years of experience under his belt. He knew the risks, and he was ready to face them. He had spent the last few weeks preparing for the mission, studying the facility's layout, and gathering intelligence.

On the day of the mission, Max put on his signature black suit and tie and headed out to the facility. He arrived at the entrance, showed his fake ID, and was granted access. He made his way through the corridors, avoiding security cameras and guards, and finally arrived at the lab where the technology was stored.

He quickly located the device and was about to make his escape when he heard footsteps approaching. He hid behind a desk and waited. Two guards entered the lab, and Max knew he had to act fast.

He picked up a nearby LEGO set and started building. He created a small robot that would distract the guards while he made his escape. The robot started moving around the lab, making beeping noises, and the guards were immediately drawn to it.

Max seized the opportunity and made a run for it. He sprinted down the corridors, dodging security cameras and guards, until he reached the exit. He was almost there when he heard a voice behind him.

"Stop right there, Agent Brick."

Max turned around to see a familiar face. It was his former partner, Agent Red, who had gone rogue and was now working for the enemy.

"Hello, Max. It's been a while," Agent Red said, pointing a gun at him.

Max knew he was in trouble. Agent Red was one of the best agents he had ever worked with, and now he was standing in his way.

"What do you want, Red?" Max asked, trying to buy some time.

"I want what you have, Max. Give me the device, and I'll let you go."

Max knew he couldn't trust Agent Red. He had to come up with a plan, and fast.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small LEGO figurine. It was a replica of Agent Red, complete with his signature red tie.

"Here, take it," Max said, holding out the figurine.

Agent Red looked at the figurine, confused.

"What's this supposed to be, Max?"

"It's you, Red. I made it myself. Don't you remember? You always used to say that you were the best LEGO builder on the team."

Agent Red's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. He lowered his gun for a moment, and that was all the time Max needed. He kicked the gun out of Agent Red's hand and knocked him to the ground.

Max grabbed the device and made a run for it. He sprinted out of the facility and into the waiting car that his team had prepared for him.

As they drove away, Max breathed a sigh of relief. He had completed the mission and retrieved the device. He had also managed to outsmart Agent Red and escape unharmed.

But as they drove back to base, Max couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He looked down at the device and realized that it wasn't what he thought it was. It was a fake, a decoy that had been planted by the enemy.

Max realized that the real device was still out there, in the hands of the enemy, and he had no idea where it was or what they were planning to do with it.

#lego #short story #flash fiction #spy thriller #minifigures #legoadventure #legofantasy

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plantpositivevibes · 5 years

Text

Wish list plants

Peperomia argyriea

Peperomia prostrata

Monstera borsigiana

Monstera adansonii

Monstera siltepecana

Alocasia dragon scale

Alocasia frydek

Philodendron micans

Ceropegia woodii

Syngonium podophyllum albo-variegatem

Maidenhair fern 'wide leaf'

Hoya linearis

#i want all the plants but these are the ones id immediately grab if i saw them and do a little dance #wish list plants #plantblr #house plants #houseplants

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Note

ari i am on my hands and knees begging you to write shigaraki + cockwarming (only if you want to though!!)

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

little deaths | s. tomura

➳ tags ;; fem!reader, cockwarming (obviously), needy / lovesick shiggy, very light femdom

➳ wc ;; 1.1k

➳ plot ;; tomura, no - tenko, can't sit still

➳ a/n ;; ngl writing this made my heart rate SPEED (also first time writing smut for him so ?)

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

He knows what he's doing when he looks at you like that.

He has to - with his the way he presses over your spine, arms spindly around your waist like a web. You can feel his gaze boring into your back, have been the whole time you were helping him tidy your room. He's not very subtle and he doesn't have it in him to try.

His voice is raspy and slight, a little agitated but he always sounds like that. His affectionate nature comes out in huffs and frustrated groans against the nape of your neck. His mouth leaves an open kiss, a confession or a threat or something in between that.

A heat flutters through you at the display of his lust. He's never been all that orthodox - everything he does is done because he thinks that's the right way. Love is no different and when Shigaraki loves you, he wants you and he wants you so much he's willing to whine for it. Press for it.

His voice is low in your ear. Affection seeps through his tone as you feel warm breath on your ski.

"No more cleaning," ― it's a demand more than it's a question ― "Wanna.. sit with you while I game. Come here,"

You want to tell him no, almost. But you'd be lying and you think Shigaraki hates liars more than anything. So you let him tug you, let him sit you in his lap. He turns his PC on and before it can turn on, you find his gloves hands on your thighs.

You regret wearing shorts, the half-stiff erection he's sporting strong against your cunt. You sigh placing a hand over his.

"Tomura," you repeat, exasperated. He doesn't respond so you repeat yourself "Tomura, baby"

"Say it again," he demands. He's petulant, fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts. He licks a stripe up your shoulder before biting it, frustrated "Again,"

"Baby, we can't just -"

He struggles to get your shorts down but he doesn't let that stop him, they bunch up at your knees as he shuffles around. He moves you to sit in the chair, ungracefully pulling his jeans down till his erect cock leaps and lays on his black shirt. He snatches you back to his lap swiftly, prying your thighs apart until they're spread - hooked over his own legs.

"Do you need prep?" but he doesn't really asks, just slides one of his fingers over your slit "Doesn't seem like it,"

"Baby," you say with more force and he stops, digs his fingers into your thighs. He needs you and you're making him wait and he hates it. He hates waiting so much but he stops.

"What." he spits. You roll your eyes at him.

"Slow down and don't speak to me like that," you say slow. He settles just a little - a breath passing.

"Just wanna ― fuck, feel you, can't I just feel you?" he asks you, frustrated. You know it won't last but he sounds so needy, so aching you give him a sigh. Leaning back, you lift your hips up to let the head press inside of you, proceeding to plant your feet on the floor in prep for whats next. Warm, wet heat envelops him and he moans - loud and shameless in your ears.

You can feel how jittery he is. No moving, right? His fingers are so harshly into your thighs it almost hurts, fat dimpled underneath his hands. You lean forward, your elbows resting on his gaming desk as you look over your shoulder.

Which proves to be a mistake - seeing him looking so fucking blissed out. Head thrown back, mouth agape, eyes fluttering and breathing heavy. His strong chest goes in and out and in and out and you shut your eyes.

"Go on," ― you say sarcastically, knowing he can't really hear you ― "Play your game, Tomura,"

He bites his lip as groans spill out his mouth, unrelenting pleasure raking through him. He doesn't even get through two-minutes of it, the heat of your pussy driving him into lust. With a sharp gasp, he immediately grabs you and stands up. You yelp, gripping the front of the table as he slams into you.

His thrusts are shallow and hardly thought through - clinging to you with such greed you almost want to laugh. His forehead drops onto your shoulder again as he groans. His breathing is ragged - his cock is long and narrows, feels as pretty as it looks inside of you. His moans quickly turn into whimpers as he fucks into you so hard his keyboard shakes.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck - love you, love your pussy. Hngh, shit" his voice cracks in the last word. You want to reply but the words don't come out right. He slams into you so quickly you almost lose your footing, cunt clenching harshly as he fucks you.

Tell me you love me, need you to - ngh. Need you to love me,"

You know what he means so you reach a hand around and brush your fingers on his thigh. You moan.

"I love you so much, Tomura,"

"No, no - not like that" he whines, still going. You blink briefly before you catch on, wanting to smile but moaning instead. Your orgasm hits you with an intense force as you choke out the syllables, body rag-dolling as he penetrates you over and over.

"I love you, Tenko. Love you s'much, oh fuck"

As soon as the words leave your lips he buries himself to the hilt, moaning as he spills hot seed inside of you. So much to unload even though he likes to take his stress out on your pussy whenever possible. It spills and drops onto the newly cleaned floors before. Instead of saying anything, he clears his desk and flips you around on his cock before sitting down. You straddle him, still stiff member twitching inside of you.

You blink at him, mouth agape as he lifts your shirt up over your tits and buries his face in them. He sits quiet, sucking at them until he sates himself on you for a brief moment. He's still hard. You look down at him, holding his face in your hands as he lays his cheek in your palm.

"You're so impatient," you tsk. He doesn't say anything, just kisses you before hugging you.

"Shut up," ― he replies, before adding ― "Need to go again,"

"And why's that?"

"Because," ― he says flatly ― "Couldn't see you that time. What id you didn't mean it?"

You sigh.

"Right. Whatever you say,"

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

#shigaraki x reader #lov x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #prettyboy.thirsts #writing tag #formal

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

By Its Cover

Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers x Shy!Reader, College AU

Summary: Your late nights at the university library spark a chain of events. Will they lead to your undoing? To anyone else's?

W/C: 8,890 (oops, sorry)

Warnings: DARK themes, NO MINORS, stalking, murder, minor character death, smut, angst, unprotected sex, oral sex, alcohol consumption, swearing

A/N: FINALLY, I wrote this for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's 2 Years of Darkness challenge! This fic kicked my ass but after some months I'm so excited about it! This is my first truly dark fic so please don't read if any of these topics upset you but I do want to make a note that the sex is consensual. If I missed any warnings please DM me immediately and I will add them. Reblog/comment if you liked it! Maybe even check out some of my other fics 👀 Cheers!

Main Masterlist

You stumbled slightly on the uneven pavement as you made the final steps towards the graduate school library. It was always so much quieter than the undergrad library and at this hour there’d be a good chance it was just you and the poor person stuck working the overnight help desk. You didn’t mind that though, you were never an overly sociable person and you preferred to work alone anyways.

You swiped your student ID through the sensor and the little green light granted you entry as you opened the door. Looking around there wasn’t even someone at the desk, just the sound of the always-on A/C rattling the leaves of the fake plants in the lobby.

You moved to put your ID away when it slipped from your fingers and plapped onto the floor, your own face staring back up to you from the plastic. You sighed and swung your bag further back over your shoulder as you bent to pick it up when a pair of legs edged their way into your vision. Caught off guard by the man attached to them, you watched him bend to pick up the piece of plastic.

You both straightened back up to your full heights and you found yourself looking up at him. He had clear blue eyes and sandy blond hair that was swept back. He looked like he could be a model, he was so handsome and you felt like a deer in headlights.

You realized that he had your ID in his hand and was waiting patiently for you to take it. You smiled awkwardly and took it from him. He looked back to your card and read your name out loud and snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you” you said more in surprise than gratitude “Sorry, I just, I could’ve sworn no one was here you came out of nowhere” You laughed nervously, hoping to hide your embarrassment. You were never good with talking to people and once a situation got awkward you just got yourself deeper in it.

“I was just coming around the corner when I noticed you dropped your ID. I actually work the late shift at the desk. Serves me right for applying last minute for work through the university, right?” He asked with a small laugh.

“Late night cram session? You look like your back’s about to snap from holding all those books” He pointed to your bag, the stitches of it’s straps were frayed and had been sewn over a couple of times.

“Yeah, I like coming here late, hardly anyone’s here, I don’t have to deal with people and I can just focus” You explained

“Right, well, sorry to keep you. If you need anything I’m Steve, and I’ll be bored out of my mind at the desk” he smirked and walked back towards reception.

You turned down the hall and thought how strange it was that you’d never seen him here before. It was the middle of the semester so he couldn’t have just started but you were in here all the time and you’d never run into him once. You brushed the thought off and continued on your way.

____

Over the next few weeks you and Steve developed a routine. You’d come in around 10 or 11, you’d stop at the desk and chat a bit and then you’d head up to your spot on the second floor to study. Occasionally Steve would see you when he returned books and you’d joke around a bit before he’d leave you to your work. You were building a good rapport with each other and he was pleased.

Sometimes he’d been too shy to approach you. It made him feel like the scrawny, helpless kid he was before the growth spurt. Beautiful girls like you never looked twice at him but he knows that you’re different, he knows that if you had met him then that you’d never treat him like those girls did. He knows that in time you two could really have something special.

Steve understood that building a relationship with you would take time and balance. He didn’t want to seem too eager but ever since he saw you he knew he’d do anything to just talk to you.

It started some months ago when he was visiting Bucky on campus. They had been hanging out in the quad right by a group of buildings when you tripped on the pavement and your books fell at his feet. He helped you up and even collected your books for you but you were too flustered and embarrassed to meet his eye. You eked out a thank you and scurried into the graduate library.

That moment sparked a blooming obsession within him. The following night he was still in town but he went out without Bucky and staked out where he’d been the previous night and watched you go to the library at the same time you had. The next two nights he did this and quickly pieced together your nightly routine.

Within a month's time he was set to transfer for the next semester and when he did he got a job working night shifts at the library. Bucky had asked him why on Earth he’d want that and Steve had shrugged him off, claiming that he wanted to be paid and didn’t want to deal with anyone. Seemed like a good enough reason to anyone else.

And so that’s how Steve found himself invading your personal space to hand you your ID. He enjoyed the way you trembled slightly in surprise. You looked so small next to him, looking up at him. He nearly forgot what he was going to say, feeling suddenly shy himself. You were so close to him and you were just as beautiful as he remembered.

Take it slow, he reminded himself.

____

Your apartment door slammed behind you as you stormed out of the building. You left in only what you were wearing which was a light hoodie and some leggings. You had thought to grab your book bag before you left and it kept knocking into your side with each angry step you took. Tears streaked your face but you tried your best to brush them off and continued on your brisk walk to the library.

You and your boyfriend had gotten into a fight and things got heated pretty fast, they always did with Sean. You had confronted Sean about being gone so often and so late, you’d missed him and wanted to spend time with you. That’s when he started getting defensive and turning your late nights at the library right around on you.

Things escalated to shouting and Sean had gotten so angry that he’d knocked over a pile of your books from the table. It had scared you and that’s when you left. You knew that you’d be getting nowhere with him when he was so angry. You wanted to be alone and needed a distraction so you grabbed your bag and headed for the library.

You secretly hoped Steve was working, it’d be nice to see a friendly face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the tiniest crush on him. He’s handsome and funny and kind and he always knows when to give you space. You wish you’d met him at a different point in your life, you could really see yourself with him in another timeline. Maybe it was just easier to think that having just had a fight with Sean.

You swiped your card and waited patiently for the door to open. You could tell Steve had already spotted you and was looking at you as you passed through the glass doors. He was smiling his same boyish charm smile that made you feel even shier than you already were. You must’ve looked a mess but it was comforting to see him there waiting for you.

“There she is,” Steve said with a smile as he got up from his chair to greet you. His face immediately fell though as he took in the tracks of your tears and your puffy eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve looked upset and angry for you. You were touched, but you’d rather leave it.

“I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s okay. It’s nice to see you though, Steve. How’s your night?”

Steve’s jaw ticked but he swallowed and nodded and you were grateful he didn’t push it further.

“Uneventful as usual, it’s good to see you too, doll.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the nickname. If you were on better terms with Sean you’d feel bad but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but giggle.

You said your goodbye to Steve and made your way to the second floor to study.

Hours passed and you had your nose buried in a book when you felt a sudden presence. You looked up slowly behind you and shrieked when you found Steve just inches from you. He held his hands out defensively and tried to catch your breathing.

“Steve, oh my God, I didn’t see you there, you scared me!” You laughed as you caught your breath.

“Yeah, sorry, I uh, have a habit of doing that.” He said as he ducked his head sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. Was he blushing? Why did he look nervous?

“I, um. I was uh, I was hoping to maybe ah, ask you something, actually.” Steve swallowed thickly. He is nervous. You smiled at him and motioned for him to go on.

“I was thinking… maybe, when you’re free if um, would you maybe want to go to dinner? With me?” He stammered out.

You smiled and felt heat flood your cheeks all over again, Steve was gorgeous and you were flattered that someone like him would want to go out with you. Just as quickly as that flattery came dread had instantly replaced it. You had a boyfriend, you couldn’t do that to Sean. Oh God, now I have to turn him down. What if he hates me?

“Wow… I uh, Steve,” you started, “I’m. You’re so sweet, I don’t know what to say. But, I have a boyfriend, I’m really sorry”

“But- but don’t think I wouldn’t say yes, if I could. You’re such a nice guy and I’m really happy for our friendship. I hope this doesn’t make things weird between us, I’m. I’m sorry,” You quickly led up with. You felt so awkward and bad that you had to turn him down.

Steve’s jaw ticked and he looked away. A blush of embarrassment had made its way up his neck and into his cheeks. His fists clenched at his sides and he took a deep breath.

“It’s… It’s fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t want things to be weird between us either. You know what? Why don’t we just forget the whole thing? Sorry again.” He finished with a tight lipped smile

You sent an uneasy smile back and nodded.

“Of course, no damage done, Steve.”

With that he left you and you went back to your book. You tried not to overthink the entire situation but couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable.

____

“Boyfriend” the word echoed in his head on a never ending loop with deafening reverb. He nodded curtly at you and smiled. You had your awkward exchange of apologies and excuses. Wordlessly, he made his way back to the information desk. He felt angry but also humiliated, he had spent at least a week building himself up to say something to you and you just turned him down so wholly?

He saw the way you looked at him, the way you laughed at his jokes. Steve knew that he meant more to you than you were letting on. There was attraction there, you were just in denial because you had a boyfriend.

Who even was this schmuck? You couldn’t have liked him that much because if you did then you would’ve mentioned him before but you hadn’t. If you really loved your boyfriend then you wouldn’t have smiled at Steve the way you did or stopped to say hello every night. He needed to see for himself whom exactly it was that was so undeserving of your attention.

Steve checked the cameras and saw that you were packing up your things. He had maybe a few minutes to gather his own things and wait for you. There was someone else coming to cover the library in 20 minutes, it would be fine if he left it alone until then. He decided to make himself scarce from the desk so you wouldn’t have to see him again before you left and you wouldn’t notice he’d be following you.

Waiting for the sound of the double doors to click shut he turned the corner and waited for just a minute. He slunk down the mainways of campus towards the student apartments and stopped just 20 yards away from you up against a wall. You looked so cold all alone in the dark as you buzzed in one of the numbers.

“1B, what the fuck could you possibly want at this hour?” a gruff voice answered over the comm.

“Baby, it’s me, sorry I forgot my keys but you weren’t responding to my texts so” You trailed off as you shivered in the night. No reply came, just the buzzer sounding off. You hurried inside and Steve tried his best to scope out external windows.

Finally the light came on in one of them and to his luck the blinds were mostly open. Through the vertical slats he could make out your entrance and an impeding figure from the hall. It was him, the boyfriend. The guy that was apparently so much better than Steve.

He saw your body language was tense and you opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word in, your boyfriend was grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you. You looked surprised maybe, but you just let him grab you like that. You just fucking let him.

He watched from his spot against a pillar from the building across the walkway. He clenched his jaw and tried to control his breathing watching this guy, this boy manhandle you like you weren’t something special, something precious. He was disgusted but he couldn’t look away as your clothes were shirked off and you two fucked right there on the couch.

He couldn’t bring himself to watch anymore and stormed off. As he walked back to his place a plan began to form in the back of his mind.

____

Things with Sean were smoothed over. You didn’t really talk, so much as he just fucked you before you could even talk about it. He had kissed you on the cheek after and said he was sorry. So you figured that he was. You didn’t really feel like pushing it anyways.

You made for the library once again, anticipating a long night ahead of you with midterms around the corner.

You let out a shriek as you realized someone was standing over you. Steve was hovering right above you, looking even taller than he already was. You pushed your chair back to get some distance between yourself and him while you caught your breath from the momentary scare.

“Steve, I uh, sorry I didn’t hear you coming, again.”

He leaned himself against the edge of the table and crossed his arms. How had you not realized he was so muscular before? You flushed and scolded yourself for thinking about him like that. You had a boyfriend and Steve was just the nice guy at the library.

He ducked his head shyly and waved your apology off.

“Sorry, guess I’m just sneaky.” He chuckled in amusement but the feeling wasn’t mutual, “I was just up here returning some books when I realized I missed you coming in, thought I’d come say hi.”

“Right,” you replied, “Guess we just missed each other. How’s the desk tonight?”

“Bored to tears as usual, just glad you’re here tonight”

Steve winked at you and you felt your cheeks get hot again and you looked away with a small laugh.

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“Ah that’s not true.” He paused, “I get nervous all the time around pretty girls like you”

You were really in it now. Your cheeks heated instantly and you had to look away from him again. For someone that just got rejected he doesn’t stay down for long. How the hell were you going to talk your way out of this one? He knows you have a boyfriend, why would he say that?

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.” Oh, thank God.

He begins to walk back to his cart before spinning on his heel one last time.

“Hey, I forgot to ask. You’re pretty good with art history, right?”

You nod cautiously, afraid that you know where this is going.

“Well, as of right now I’ve got a C. I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet on one of my nights off here and help me out?”

“O-oh. Yeah, of course. No problem. I’m sure Sean wouldn’t mind.”

You were too nice for your own good, saying yes before really thinking it all through. You only realized you had after the words left your mouth so you mentioned Sean to save yourself a bit.

Steve’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled at you.

“Awesome, you’re the best. Maybe we can get together at that cafe on 3rd next Tuesday around noon?”

“Of course, I’ll be there” You confirm.

____

Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough for Steve. He didn’t need any help in art history, he was averaging about an 87, actually. But when you turned him down he knew he had to find another way to get closer to you and he knew that you’d say yes out of pressure.

All in all things were going pretty well for Steve. Despite your shy nature he’d managed to get closer to you much quicker than he expected. He loved watching you get flustered whenever he was close, finding it hard not to get flustered himself. He was impatient for things to move forward but he knew it would all pan out. There was only one wrench in the plan; your boyfriend Sean.

The other night when Steve had followed you home and witnessed Sean manhandle you in your apartment he began thinking of how to remove him from the picture. Steve did his research on Sean and found it suspicious he couldn’t find anything on him. Usually after a little digging you can find something off about anyone, but not him. Steve knew it would take a little more effort, but for you he’d make it.

So that’s how Steve wound up spending his night off in the corner of the dive bar that was just off campus. Off campus enough that you’d need to drive there. He had tailed Sean’s Jeep there after his club soccer game in hopes of finding something he could actually use to justify getting rid of him for you. He groused as he pulled into the parking garage across the street and pocketed his parking stub. He waited a few beats and watched Sean leave his car.

He slinked in the door and grabbed a dimly lit corner booth. The residue of whatever cleaner this place used was causing his forearms to stick to the table at his booth and the air stunk of vape smoke. He was surrounded by other 20-somethings, awkward Tinder hookups and frat bros meeting up to blow off steam.

On the opposite side of the room he spotted Sean, watched him as he approached the bar for another pint. He’d followed him here in hopes of getting some sort of information on him that he could use. After an hour of nursing one beer and absolutely nothing happening with Sean Steve had been ready to give up.

Just as he was getting ready to down the rest of his drink the door had opened and in walked a girl around his age. She looked nervous but excited as she looked around the place. She nearly squealed as she rushed over when she found who she was looking for. A smile slowly crawled across Steve’s face as the girl rushed into Sean’s arms and embraced him with a kiss. This is exactly what Steve needed to get him out of the picture.

Steve discreetly took out his phone and snapped a few photos, even got a video of them kissing again. He figured this would be enough to blackmail Sean into leaving you. Getting what he needed, he grabbed his jacket and left the bar. He felt light as a feather walking home, his plan was finally setting into motion and it wouldn’t be long until you were together.

Tuesday had finally come and Steve’s good mood only carried over. He practically skipped to the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at. He grabbed a table and waited for you. When he saw you open the door he was grinning ear to ear but his expression quickly changed taking in your appearance. You looked exhausted, like you’d been crying again. This wouldn’t do.

“What’s wrong? Is it your boyfriend again?” Steve asked.

You nodded silently and set down your bag with a huff.

“He’s just been out really late lately, I feel like he’s never home. Then again I’m always out late.”

“Well I’m glad you’re a night owl, otherwise we wouldn’t have met” Steve tried to turn the conversation back to them and to keep it positive.

“I guess you’re right. You didn’t order anything?” You frowned, noticing his empty hands.

“I was waiting for you, it’s my treat.” You opened your mouth to protest but Steve was quick to add, “Don’t even try to argue with me on this one.”

You sighed but ultimately relented, following him to the counter. He let you order first.

“Um, just a small hot chocolate please, thank you so much”

Steve thought it was cute that you didn’t drink caffeine, he knew hot chocolate was your drink of choice. He knew this of course from hours of pouring over every profile of yours he could find on the internet. He even found your tumblr you were just sure nobody knew about. Turns out you’ve got quite the dirty mind. But that was a thought for another day. Steve turned back to the counter and ordered black coffee and paid the bill.

With drinks in hand you made your way back to your table and settled in for an afternoon of art history. It went smoothly overall and Steve even got you to laugh a few times. He’d perfectly played his balance of pretending not to know about the subject while seeming to be learning what you were teaching. He could tell you felt proud of yourself for accomplishing something and he was happy he could make you feel that way. He was sure he was the only one that could.

You called it a day and said your goodbyes, you went in for an awkward hug which Steve accepted wholeheartedly. He’d even managed to finally snag your number so you two could work out more study times. Maybe you were coming around much easier than he anticipated. He smiled to himself and on the walk home began to devise a plan to get rid of Sean. It’d only be a matter of days if everything went accordingly.

____

You were basking in the rare day off, taking every moment to enjoy doing absolutely nothing. You’d felt drained lately from your class workload, late nights at the library, and your elevating fights with Sean. He was at work today followed by an evening class so you had uninterrupted alone time. Around 10pm it took every ounce of your free will to get off the couch and get the mail.

You milled over to your box and jammed the key in. Pulling the mail out your head titled in curiosity at the large unmarked manila folder. No return address written, only yours but there was nothing indicating whether it was for you or Sean. You’d open it when you got back upstairs.

Finally back to your spot on the couch your fingers slowly undid the folder’s metal clasp and you reached inside for its contents. Out came several photos and a hastily written note. You held the grainy photos closer to your face to make out what they were. When you did your heart plummeted and you went into emotional shock.

Though the photos were grainy it was very clear what they were of. Shots of Sean and some mystery brunette making out in a bar. Sean with his arm around her waist, Sean with his hand on her ass. All the photos were timestamped for only a few days ago when he claimed his soccer game was running late. You dropped them instantly and they scattered to the floor.

Your heart was hammering in your ears, you didn’t know what to think. Sean was the only boyfriend you’d ever really had, Sean loved you, you loved him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remembered there was a note. You searched for it and tried to read it through the tears that were beginning to blur your vision.

‘I know what you did. You tell her or I will. You have three days’

You didn’t recognize the handwriting. Who would send this? Why would they send it? You and Sean didn’t have many friends and you couldn’t picture them doing this. Maybe this is some prank? Maybe the timestamp is wrong and this is before you were together.

Sean was all you’d ever known and you shared an apartment, it’s not like you’d have anywhere to go or anyone to turn to. Should you confront him with these? It’s not like you two were exactly good at solving your problems. Would he leave you if you showed him these? What then?

Your mind was spinning, unsure of what to do with this new information. Maybe you could keep quiet about this, try to spend some more time with Sean, make him see what the two of you have. Maybe you can ask him to be home more, maybe you could be home more too.

You took a deep breath and wiped your tears before you gathered the photos and put them back into the envelope. You decided you’d hold onto them for now, tucking them away in your drawer of the dresser. Deciding you’d just work yourself up if you stayed up you shot Sean a text goodnight and went to bed.

Morning came and he was snuggled into your side, the comfort you felt had you feeling like everything might be okay for a moment. You stayed in bed just a little longer and turned so he could hold you in his arms. Your heart felt so unsure and scared, but you didn’t know what else you could do.

The week passed by and you decided to shift more of your energy towards your relationship with Sean, pushing your nights at the library to the backburner. You still hadn’t told him about the envelope but you did tell him you missed him and wished he was home more. He relented and was home four nights this week instead of his usual two.

The time together was uncomfortable but you kept telling yourself that things were getting a little better over time, even if your studies were suffering for it. As the week went on you were able to suppress your doubts about your relationship a bit more. Sean loved you and you loved him.

You couldn’t ignore the oncoming threat of midterms forever, though. The last thing you wanted was to be alone because you knew that your thoughts would just spiral but you needed to do well this semester so you grabbed your bag and headed out.

You swipe through the doors, almost looking forward to seeing Steve. You’d blown off your study session with a profuse apology so you could be with Sean. You were eager to apologize in person but found the reference desk to be completely abandoned. You frowned, maybe Steve was putting away books or something. You’d see him eventually though, for now you had an essay to write.

Hours could have gone by and you wouldn’t have known. You were getting so much done though, it felt good to be focused on something other than your own thoughts.

“Where’ve you been?”

You jump in your seat. You turn around to find Steve emerging from the shelves that were just out of your view. He wore a neutral expression but you could cut the tension with a knife. He stepped forward and you debated on what to say.

“Sorry, I had to cancel with you this week. How are you getting along?”

“Nothing another tutoring session couldn’t fix, I’m sure. Were you sick? I feel like you haven’t been here in forever. The nights get awful lonely without ya here”

Why did Steve keep making statements like that when he knew you had a boyfriend? It was driving you insane and getting harder to ignore them.

“Um, no, I was with Sean, actually. But y’know, can’t avoid midterms forever” You gave a half-hearted laugh hoping to lighten things up.

Steve’s neutral expression is slipping, but you can’t tell if he’s angry or not. But his face broke out into a small smile, putting you at ease instantly. He clapped you on the shoulder and took a step back.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. We still on for Tuesday?”

You gave him an easy smile and nodded.

“I’ll be counting the days” With that Steve disappeared back between the shelves.

____

The moment Steve placed the envelope in the mail he felt a confidence he hadn’t felt before. All he had to do was wait for you to open the envelope and everything would take its course. He knew Sean was at work and you’d be the one to get the mail that day. From his spot he’d peered in your windows all those weeks ago he watched you open the photos. You dropped them to the ground and held a hand to your mouth to cover what looked like a sob. Steve smiled to himself, now all you had to do was leave him.

The week went on and Steve figured you might need a little time to break it off and he’d be there at the library, waiting to comfort you. It’s not like you had any other friends in your life to turn to. But then you cancelled your study session with no explanation. Steve figured maybe you were still in shock, needed to cry it out alone. Then two days turned to four turned to seven.

Steve was confused, he was infuriated even. Why hadn’t you come to the library yet? Why hadn’t you texted him? There’s no way that you were actually going to stay with him after you saw him with another woman. Except that’s exactly what he did.

Looking back on it Steve recognized his mistakes. He knew you were shy and meek, sweet, it’s what he loved about you. But he should’ve accounted for this to happen. You were too sweet for your own good, wanting to make it work with Sean. It was an obstacle he hadn’t seen but this is just a slight bump in the plan. He can work around it.

When he saw you coming up the steps on the security camera he made himself scarce, not ready to face you just yet. He gave you some hours to study before he made himself known to you. He could tell just by the way you talked that you were in complete denial about what was happening. You weren’t strong enough to leave him but that’s okay, Steve is strong enough for the both of you right now, he’ll help you get there.

____

Just when you thought things were getting better Sean was back to becoming distant, going out with his teammates and coming home still a little drunk. The more you thought about those photos and thought about how he slipped back into old habits so easily the more you were working up the courage to confront him. You weren’t sure if you’d leave him, but maybe it would make him change.

Then the second envelope came. More photos of them kissing and leaving the bar together. They were time stamped just two nights ago. Your heart fell through the floor as you tried to make sense of things. How much of this could you put up with? When was enough? You needed to confront him when he got home.

You texted him to try to come home early tonight, saying it was important. You spent the rest of the evening planning out your words and trying to quell the oncoming panic attacks. Time passed by in a blur and before you knew it it was midnight and you still had no word from Sean. You couldn’t spend one more minute alone, you needed to get out. You needed a friend.

Your body was on autopilot as your feet carried you up the steps of the library. Steve wasn’t at the desk and you felt almost distressed. You knew he’d be a good third party to talk all this out to and you didn’t know what to think when he wasn’t there. You decided to shoot him a text.

‘Hey, I know you usually work Thursdays, I’ll be at my usual spot, I could really use a friend if you’re not too busy’ Did that sound too desperate? At this point you didn’t care.

You sunk down into your chair on the second floor with a huff. You hadn’t brought your bag so it’s not like you could study to distract yourself. As it turned out you didn’t need to.

“I’m never too busy for you, doll. ‘Specially not at this job” Steve’s voice carried as he rounded a corner into your sight.

You felt instantly better before you realized you were crying. It was hard to be vulnerable but if you could trust anyone with this it was Steve. You gave him a weak smile as he pulled up a chair beside you.

“What’s wrong? Do you need tissues?”

“No, sorry, I just.” You were struggling to find the words. “Sean is cheating on me”

Steve’s hands clenched into fists, he looked absolutely furious for you.

“Are you serious? That bastard! Doll, I’m so sorry. Have you confronted him?” His hand reached for yours and his thumb rubbed light circles.

“I-I, I haven’t said...anything. I just. He loves me y’know? Why would he do that? He’s all I have? What happens if he leaves me where will I stay I’ll be completely alone, I’ll-”

You had worked yourself into a panic attack as you desperately tried to take gulps of air while tears streamed down your face. You were losing touch with your surroundings and spiraling into a place you couldn’t get yourself out of. Steve moved his chair closer to you and brought you into his lap. He held your back to his chest and wrapped his arms around you. You could just make out what he was saying.

“Doll, it’s okay, I need you to breathe with me, can you do that? Take a deep breath in with me. Hold it and count to five with me,” You do but you’re still struggling. “Now exhale, count again for me. You’re doing so well, you can do this.”

Eventually Steve is able to bring you back down to Earth and you slumped back into his arms. You don’t care that Steve is holding you, it feels safe. You shifted so you could lean your head against his chest and let out a heavy sigh. He holds you to himself and lets you sit there for a while.

You don’t know how much time passes but you sit up slowly and he’s reluctant to let you go. You wipe your eyes as you go back to your own chair.

“Sorry, I’m keeping you from your job. Sorry I just totally came here and freaked out” You were starting to feel embarrassed, oversharing your life and emotions with him. You really liked him, you didn’t want to think you’d ruined the friendship.

“Don’t even apologize. You can always come to me.” He gave you a warm smile and you felt reassured. “So what are you going to do about Sean?”

Another hour had gone by with Steve and you could see the sun starting to come through the windows. You had decided you would confront him and go from there. You weren’t ready to fully commit to leaving him but this needed to end one way or another. For the first time in two weeks you felt like things were maybe going to be okay. The next time you saw Sean you were going to confront him.

____

Clearly seeing that you weren’t going to do anything after he sent the photos, he had to go to plan B. Steve waited outside the practice field and followed him to the parking structure once again. He jammed the parking stub in his jacket pocket along with the others and repeated his previous trips here. It was astounding how unaware Sean was of his surroundings, Steve had followed him and that girl from the bar back to her place at least twice now.

Getting what he needed he put another envelope in the mail the next day, this time with no note but the photos were more upsetting. It hurt Steve to hurt you but it’s what needed to be done. You were never going to confront him with things as they were so he had to push the envelope, literally and metaphorically. The hurt would be worth it though, because you came crying to him just like he’d hoped you would. Seeing your text warmed his heart, you needed him and he’d be there. Every time.

He knew he’d be comforting you but he didn’t think that he’d get to hold you. He was hiding his smile as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you down from your panic attack. You did so well listening to him and calming down. He was convinced he was the only one that could help you, you just needed to see that.

Steve abandoned his cart of books that needed to be shelved but he couldn’t care less. He’d stay up all night with you every night if that’s what it took. As dawn broke the two of you devised a plan and he built you up to say something. You weren’t committed to leaving him, which Steve wasn’t happy about, but you were committed to confronting him, if only you’d get the chance.

Based on what Steve knew of both yours and Sean's schedules you’d just miss each other between classes during the day and Sean had a game tonight, which would inevitably lead to a night at the bar. All Steve had to do was wait. He had to contain his excitement, things were finally finally falling right into place, they just needed a final push.

Nightfall came and this time Steve beat Sean to the structure. Steve parked on the top level and stuck the parking stub in his pocket. He didn’t feel like he was taking a risk by counting on Sean to follow routine, he was a good boy, he’d park in his same spot he always did and proceed to get wasted across the street.

A slow smile creeped across Steve’s face as Sean and his teammates stumbled into the bar, probably already drunk from pre-gaming. Sean’s sidepiece wouldn’t come to the bar tonight, her sorority having some dumb mixer or another. Steve reminded himself of his mantra to wait. His phone buzzed and he saw it was a text from you. You two had been texting after you came to him in the library.

‘He’s not responding to my texts. I know he had a game tonight but I really thought he’d be here’

He’d have to text you back another time, Steve needed to be on his toes tonight. He sat at what was becoming his usual booth for nearly two hours, barely touching his pint. Finally Sean paid his tab and said goodnight to his friends. Steve pulled down the brim of his hat and pursued him towards the parking structure. Drunken and fumbling up through the stairwell, Steve entered behind him quietly while taking out a knife he’d stolen from Bucky. He always knew his friend’s strange obsession with them would come in handy someday.

Just as Sean was about to take the final step Steve grabbed him from behind. Sean’s reactions may have been slowed but it hadn’t stopped him trying to thrash out of the grip. His efforts stopped immediately as Steve held the blade to his throat. He spoke clearly and in a low voice.

“Keep walking up the stairs or I will slit your fucking throat, do you hear me?” He brought the knife closer to his neck to drive home the threat.

“E-easy man, please, please don’t do this”

“Keep moving. Up.”

Steve pushed him all the way towards his car at the edge of the top level. He flipped Sean around so his back was to the ledge, the knife still trained closely on him. Pleads for mercy fell on deaf ears.

“What do you wan’!? You wan’ money!? Take, take my wallet man I don’t need it, jus’ please don’t kill me please!”

Steve pushed him slightly, though his grip on him remained tight. Sean struggled against him as his body weight wavered over the ledge. He must have realised how far up they were because he started crying at this point, begging even harder as he teetered and trying desperately to get his bearings against the wall.

“Why are you doing this!?” He wailed, “I’ll do anything, please! Please, I have a girlfriend, I have a family”

That was all that it took. Steve was feeling a high like he’d never felt. He knew at this moment he was doing the right thing for both of you. With a rush of adrenaline and in a flash of certainty he pushed Sean’s body over the edge. He didn’t watch him fall the seven stories down to the ground, but he did wait to hear the sickening crack and thud of his body hitting the ground. There was no way he’d survived.

Blood rushing through his ears, he felt euphoric, so powerful, so in love with you. He climbed back into his car and headed for his apartment. His plan wasn’t quite complete yet though, but everything he needed to do was done. He could watch the rest unfold from the sidelines. He knows you’ll be heartbroken all over again when you find out, but he’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

____

You’d been in mourning for nearly two months. The shock you’d felt wasn’t comparable to any other feeling you’d felt. The police ultimately ruled his death an accident, they performed an autopsy and found dangerous amounts of alcohol in his system. They weren’t able to pinpoint an exact time of death but estimated 2-3 AM, as he’d been found in the morning. They figured he’d just gotten piss drunk and came too close to the edge. And he was gone just like that.

His death weighed heavy on you, you blamed yourself for a long time. He wouldn’t have stayed out if you hadn’t pushed him so far away from you. The last thing you ever said to him was nagging and whiny, no wonder he didn’t want to come home. To think that you were possibly going to leave him. You felt so much self-contempt but slowly you were learning to forgive yourself.

You don’t know what you’d have done without Steve by your side. He was there for you every step of the way. He held you at the funeral, he helped you pack up Sean’s things in the apartment, he took your late night phone calls and came over at the drop of a hat to help you through your grief. You were eternally grateful for his selflessness and his willingness to help you heal.

Guilt loomed over you once again as the old feelings you’d had for Steve in the early days of your friendship started to flare up again. It felt natural to feel them, with him being closer to you than he ever was, but it didn’t stop you from feeling shame over it. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t culpable for anything that happened, that Sean himself was interested in someone else when he’d died. You had to forgive yourself for these feelings for Steve. Maybe even pursue them.

‘Can you come over tonight? I think we should talk’ Your nerves were on fire from the rush you got sending him that text.

‘How about you come to my place? 7? We can go for something to eat if you want.’ Your heart was fluttering, was this a date?

‘Sounds good :)’

Checking the time you saw it was 4, you spent the next few hours obsessing over what to say. No matter what you were determined to tell him your feelings for him. You were debating whether or not you should kiss him. Would he even want you back? What if he only sees you as a friend now? The hours whiled away and you took a deep breath before setting out.

You’d been to Steve’s apartment only once before, you knew he lived alone but he’d managed to make the place feel homey. You were buzzed in and before you had the chance to knock on the door Steve had it open and was waiting for you. His smile was all teeth and it was contagious, you smiled back looking up at him and he let you in.

You sat down on the couch and waited for Steve. No turning back now. Deep breath. He sat down and turned to face you.

“What did you want to talk about?”

No words were coming to you. Your mouth opened but you could only sputter. Oh God, where were the words? Do something!

So you did. Before you could think about it you put a shaky hand up to Steve’s jaw and pulled him in for a kiss. You didn’t know what you were feeling, you were just waiting for Steve to respond. You began to pull back but before you could he took your face in his hands and kissed you back tenderly but with purpose. Your arms were around him and he pulled you closer into his lap to kiss you more passionately.

You finally pulled apart to catch your breath. You snuck a look up to his face and you were nervous but you felt like you were floating.

“You have… no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that” He said between breaths.

You two smiled like idiots and he brought his lips to yours again. The kiss deepened and a moan slipped from your mouth. This seemed to spark something in Steve and his hands shakily moved over your body. He was feeling every curve of you and you ground down into his lap and his hips bucked up in response. You have no idea where this confidence came from but you’d never felt more sure of yourself. You broke apart again and Steve was breathing heavily.

“Is this what you want?” He asked. You could only nod before he was on you again. He pulled you up from the couch and led you to his bed. This time he laid you back and was hovering over you, slowly undoing the buttons of your jeans. You helped him get yourself out of them and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. How was this happening? Who cares?

He sat back and took the sight of you in, he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing. He slowly removed his clothes and moved back over you, kissing his way up your thighs before pulling your panties down your legs. He continued laving away at your skin, making you nervous but excited. His fingers brushed your core and he brought them up to his face.

“Sweetheart, you are dripping.” Your cheeks heated instantly as he chuckled. Not giving you the chance to respond he dove right in. Two fingers entered you and you arched your back, his tongue lapped up your wetness and then at your clit. You’d really never known pleasure like this, no one had ever done this for you before. His fingers pumped in and out of you and your hands flew to his hair and pulled. He continued on and curved his fingers just slightly and you clenched down around him, you were so close.

“Please, I’m so close” you whimpered.

Steve doubled his efforts and before you knew it the tension he had been building up was released in a white hot flash of ecstasy. You writhed against his fingers as he kept pumping them into you. Finally he relented, pulling them out and licking them clean. You’d never seen something that made you feel so filthy but so so good.

He took off his boxers and encased you in his arms. He kissed your neck and you moaned again at the feeling. You spread yourself for him and he lined himself up and groaned. The stretch was something you weren’t ready for. It burned almost, you cried out as he put his whole length in you. He waited all of two seconds before he began thrusting into you. You weren’t ready but you were adjusting quickly with the way his cock hit that spot inside of you over and over.

You were holding onto his shoulders, nails digging in deep as he started to go harder and faster.

“I’m close” He panted into your ear.

Reaching down his fingers found your clit and started moving back and forth quickly, trying to match his thrusts. The tension was building again to a breaking point and you were getting close again. He worked you even harder until you broke, cumming for a second time. Your eyes were screwed shut in ecstasy as you cried again.

“Steve!”

That was all it took before he slammed into you a final time, you could feel his release and you’d never felt closer to him. His movements stopped and your noses touched. He kissed you hard before rolling off of you.

“That was… oh my god” you breathed.

“I know, me too” Steve chuckled. “So can I take you to dinner?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” You grinned wide and nodded.

You cleaned yourself up and redressed. You were taking in Steve’s room and found yourself smiling at the photos of him and Bucky, little knick-knacks on his dresser. You found a sticky note on the calendar at his desk. You squinted. Had you seen his handwriting before?

You shrugged and flopped yourself back on the bed. You checked the weather on your phone and frowned at the temperature, you let out a small groan.

“What is it?” Steve called from the bathroom as he cleaned up.

“It’s so coooold and I forgot my jacket” You pouted.

“Just take mine, it’s the brown leather one hanging in the living room” He was so sweet.

Gingerly, you made your way into the living room and found the jacket, slipping it on. You don’t know what was taking Steve so long but you shoved your hands in the pockets and waited for him. You felt something in the right pocket. Is this trash? You pulled out little wadded up pieces of paper and unfolded them.

They were parking stubs. They were from the same structure that Sean had fallen from. Your heart was pounding, upset just thinking of him. Looking closer one of them was stamped for 2:15 AM, 2/1, the night that he died. Okay...

1 AM 1/15, 11:57PM 1/28, They matched the timestamp on the photos that had been sent to you. Two others were from nights when Sean had games and had stayed out late. Your heart was in your throat and tears were forming in your eyes, trying to find some explanation. You thought again of the first time you’d received an envelope, those photos, that note. It had dawned on you why the note looked so familiar… The handwriting! Oh, God... Your whole world slowed down as you heard footsteps bound into the room. Slowly you turned, the stubs still in your shaking hands.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Steve took a step further, “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

#dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #college AU #librarian AU #steve rogers x reader #marvel x reader #dark!marvel #stalker!steve rogers #smut #angst #dark fic #dark marvel fics #dark mcu #twoyearsofdark

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Manager!Seijoh

a/n: im a seijoh stan and theyre my little plant babies

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

this is so long oml i hate myself

theyre an actual boy band istg

lets be honest, they probably thought you were just another oikawa fangirl

they thought you just wanted to be closer to their captain bc you were another delusional girl who wanted to live out her fantasies

lmao im not trying to be salty

but when you just stared blankly at oikawa tooru after he called you a beautiful flower,

stageplay hinata calling you a mugwort

the team just about threw themselves on your feet

tbh you werent really there to get a boyfriend or for oikawa

you just needed an after school club and the other teams already had managers

the only sport that didnt was the boys volleyball team

imagine why

you were actually a little wary, since you knew of oikawa, being a first year yourself, and you were aware of his psycho fangirls who could probably kill you

but you needed a club that would last you for the next 3 years to graduate

it was kunimi who actually recommended being a manager

you were in his class and you noticed him sleeping in the morning so you gave him your energy bar

‘thanks’

you shrugged and smiled

thats why he tolerated you more than others

you were nice and you were the only one who noticed his tiredness, even the teacher left him alone, and did something about it

sometimes, you even gave him an energy drink

‘can you tell me why youve been so tired lately? i dont think ive seen you wake up until lunch’

he opened the snack and started munching while replying

‘early morning practice for volleyball is still a big adjustment. our captain demands us to be there 6 in the morning sharp and if we’re even a minute late, we’d have to run laps. like for every minute youre late, you have to run those amount’

oh my why is kunimi talking so much

but i love kunimi and first year seijoh boys rights in this household is valid

you furrowed your eyebrows

‘but yall are still growing and you need all your sleep. if i were there, id yell at your captain’

he grinned slightly, imagining your short height beating up their captain

‘meh. you want to be our manager? i saw you looking at the clubs board yesterday and we dont have one so you could take the opportunity and beat him up then’

ofc you agreed bc kunimi was best boi and you just wanted him to have enough sleep for once

after class, he waited for you to finish packing up and when you finished, yall left the classroom

until another guy with a spiky hairstyle joined you and you noticed him as the guy who sometimes came over to eat lunch with kunimi

‘oh, hello l/n-san’

you smiled gently

‘drop the formalities, kindaichi-kun. its only fair.’

he nodded before walking beside kunimi

‘kindaichi, l/n might be our new manager’

the onion head excitedly looked at you

‘really?! yes! so we dont have to fill our bottles ourselves anymore!’

kunimi glared at him and slapped his stomach

‘shes our manager, not our maid’

you laughed but placed an arm on him

‘its okay. i was a manager for my middle school volleyball team so i know a little bit about being one’

the two shared a look

god, they really hit the jackpot

as yall walked closer to the gym, you noticed the big pile of girls huddling at the corner

kunimi sighed

‘l/n, ill warn you ahead of time of our captain. hes kinda,,,, too much’

but you flashed him a smile

‘hes not the first one ive handled’

oml player-chan!!!

so when you opened the door and entered the gym and oikawa hit you with his normal antics, you just stared at him

‘okay and?’

hanamaki and mattsun howled before rushing to you and grabbing you in a hug

‘girls like her really exist!!’

you gave kunimi and kindaichi a signal of help and they nodded before gently prying the senpais off of you

‘senpai, please’

you gave kunimi a grateful nod

coach irihata went up to you bc wow, kunimi has a friend with of another gender?

‘how can we help you, miss?’

‘im l/n y/n, first year, and id like to apply as the manager’

internally, the coach sighed bc you werent the first one to apply

the reason they havent had a manager for years was bc of oikawa’s fangirls hiding themselves under that false facade

but he saw you brush off that comment oikawa make with no hint of fluster or blush on your face so he decides to give you a trial run, in guise of seeing if you could handle these chaotic boys

‘do you have any experience as manager? or do we need to teach you the ropes?’

‘i was a manager for 3 years in my middle school volleyball’

he nodded

‘ill give you one month. a trial run of a month to test the waters’

you agreed and your trial run began

kunimi mentioned that morning practice starts at 6 am sharp so you set your alarm for 5 to get ready and get to school on time before the boys

you remembered how to set up the nets so you quickly put them out (using a step stool bc we short) and ran to get the basket of balls

their water bottles were filled and you were in the middle of lugging the big basket of towels when the third years entered

the 4 of them usually came earlier than the rest so they saw you dragging the basket of fresh towels and wipe your sweat before smiling at the work youve done

iwa was so happy bc it was usually him who did this stuff and now that he had someone do it for him, it was like a god-send

oikawa’s eyes shone and he waved at you

‘yohoo, y/n-chan!’

you cringed at the loud voice of the famous oikawa tooru

‘hello, oikawa-san’

he chuckled at your politeness before hugging you

‘you did all this for us? youre so cute, y/n-chan!’

instead of the normal blush and love-struck eyes, you were actually very uncomfortable of the sudden skinship and you quickly ran to the side when iwa hit him at the head

‘shittykawa! leave her alone!’

‘iwa-chan!’

makki and mattsun stood next to you as the boys did their usual fight

‘is this all an act or are you really not attracted to oikawa?’

mattsun shot him a surprised look bc why was he so straightforward

but you just shrugged

‘hes cute, i admit. but ive seen much cuter and the boys in my middle school team was basically full of him so,,, and i hate guys who think theyre all that just bc theyre blessed w a pretty face. if anything, ill probably go for iwaizumi-san’

pop off S I S T E R!!!

you just won the heart of these two

slowly but surely, they all came to accept you and iwa straight out loves you bc you maintained this routine for the whole month of your trial run

and you still remained indifferent of oikawa’s advances and he was even impressed and slightly agitated that you werent paying attention to him

‘y/n-chan, one date! just one!’

you huffed before looking up from your clipboard

‘i like men, oikawa-san. not boys’

that comment made the guys shriek

‘y/n-chan! youre just a first year! you dont need a man!’

‘youre not a man, oikawa!’

you left oikawa to be tormented by his teammates and went to go and hand over the report to the coach

he was impressed by the notes you made bc they were ones he even missed

like the split-second of hesitation that kindaichi usually has that goes unnoticed but you immediately saw

or the wince oikawa has whenever he so much as jumps an inch

you could even tell the difference between iwa’s spike and if he was being easy or he was going full-out

this added on to the fact that the boys loved you and irihata actually saw kunimi try more

but he thinks its only to earn your praises

‘y/n, youre officially the team manager’

yall celebrated at the normal hang-out spot which was the ramen shop and it truly shocked you at how much these boys ate

granted, this was the first time you ate together but you didnt expect them to eat nearly 5 bowls each

you could only finish 2 and you already feel like throwing up

‘honestly, how do you guys not gain weight after this?’

the table you sat at, iwa, kindaichi, mattsun, and kunimi, looked at you and shrugged

‘i work out’

‘i run’

‘i fast’

‘i poop it out’

lmao im sorry i cackled too hard at this

you stared blankly at mattsun’s answer who said it so seriously that you snorted a laugh

they watched you and your laughter bc you havent really expressed yourself as much

so they made it their goal to see you laugh more

‘y/n-chan! you need to eat more!’

oikawa shouted, clearly food drunk, but you shook your head aggressively

‘i only planned to eat one bowl but he just had to shove another down my throat’

‘but you need to grow, y/n-chan!’

‘i want to grow taller! not wider!!’

As a manager:

oh boy

you basically grew into kinda their mom

‘oikawa-san! you need to rest your knee or youre going to hurt yourself! i will drag you home myself!’

‘kunimi, if you try to get this one more spike, i’ll buy you a bag of those caramel bites you like’

‘iwa-san! if you hit oikawa-san too much, youll destroy the little braincells he has!’

‘yahaba-san, nice dump!’

‘is your knee okay, watari-san?’

yall really forget that watari and yahaba exist sometimes smh

it was part of the work

keeping up with seijoh

so to keep them encouraged, you gave them praises that they always demand for and they always turn to you whenever they did something good

mattsun gives you a look whenever he blocks iwa’s spikes and you give kindaichi a head pat whenever he blocks some too

bc of how you are with them, sometimes, they forget that you are actually just a first year

they get shocked whenever you walk in with kunimi and kindaichi and talk about the current homework bc it slips their mind that their hard-working manager was actually just a 15-year-old girl

so, they try to ease the burden whenever they can

like iwa offering to help you whenever you have to take their jerseys to the laundrymat

or offering to help you with your assignments since theyve only been through it once

more like watari, yahaba, and iwa bc the matsuhana are clueless and acts like they completely skipped that grade

also

!!!!

oikawa’s fangirls ltr dont leave you alone!!!

now, its known that youre the manager of the volleyball team bc oikawa has boasted about your efforts and such

this obvs ticked off a bunch of girls bc they were jealous that you got to spend more time in a single practice with their precious oikawa-senpai than they have their entire lives

more than once theyve cornered you to threaten you to stay away from their senpai or youll have something coming for you

you never take them seriously bc you can fight too and you just give them a look and push them away

but this one time

TRIGGER WARNING-START

okay tea

the self-proclaimed president of the oikawa tooru fanclub, kenta miyo, cornered you at the bathroom with her other minions

you were just washing your hands and drying them off when she marched up to you and grabbed your hair before tugging it back

obviously you were surprised and shouted

‘oi! what the hell?!’

‘you slut! you need to stay away from my tooru, got it?!’

ehm what

you hissed and wrenched her arm from your hair and pushed her away

your hair was now a mess and you were fuming, already sick and tired of the torture these girls put you through

‘he belongs to himself, not you! so stop being delusional and leave me alone already!’

she signalled for the girls to hold on to you which you slapped away but they forcefully grabbed your arm while you kicked at them and struggle to get out of their hold

jesus what do these girls eat

miyo watches you struggle with a smile and cackles

‘oh? no fight anymore, little kouhai?’

you glared at her

‘i dont want to beat yall up bc id get yelled at by tooru so you need to let me go or regret it’

at the mention of his first name, her eyes widened and her face twisted and she slapped you

‘oi! respect your senpai, you brat! dont you ever say oikawa’s first name!’

your lips curled

‘oh? thats funny, because he actually told me to call him that since he wants his cute little manager to be very comfortable with him’

you achieved a feat that she has been working to get her entire high school life and miyo was not happy

‘ive been with him for 3 years and you just suddenly show up out of nowhere and call him that?! i dont think so!’

she had her hands around your neck and you gripped her arms, making her wince

but you laughed at that comment

‘heh, thats pathetic, isn’t it? here you are, my senpai, who has been vying for his attention for 3 years only to be ignored yet a mere first year, who shows up out of nowhere, has been asked to a date nearly a million times every day. that must be tough’

she shrieked at that comment and threw you on the floor, making you accidentally hit your head at the edge of the sink

yall im actually so bothered by this scene and im wincing as im typing

you bit your lip to prevent any sound of pain to escape bc you knew thats what she wanted to hear from you

but you werent going to give her the satisfaction

instead, you looked up at her, hatred swirling in your eyes

‘youre freaking psycho, you know that? once tooru and hajime knows about this, theyre going to give you hell. they wont ever let this go bc im the manager of their prized team and their little baby sister. so go ahead, do what you want with me. bc i paid too much for these nails to be tainted by dirt like you’

saiyo, a girl you noticed to be watari’s classmate when you went and visited him, nervously tugged on miyo’s jacket

‘miyo, we should go-’

‘SHES BLUFFING. AND HERE, SINCE YOUR SOCCERFIELD FOREHEAD IS BLEEDING, LET ME HELP WASH IT OUT’

and she poured over a carton of banana milk over you, making you wince at the sticky and cold liquid

the tough facade was crumbling and you were now screaming for help in your head, hoping that stupid theory from yahaba about team telepathy to work

but it didnt

TRIGGER WARNING-END

when miyo and her girls left, you sat on the floor, soaked and sticky and bleeding

then you begin to cry angry tears

you were angry that you were being treated like this just bc you were a manager

you were angry that you let them do that to you

you were angry that you prized your nails more than punching her square in the nose

you were just angry

periodt

staggering on your own feet, you stood up and leaned on the sink, eyes widening at the dripping red liquid from the gash on your forehead, staining the porcelain sink

you were stupid and unconsciously touched it making you wince

‘shit, that hurts’

you whined quietly

there was little you can do with toilet paper and water to clean yourself up but you managed to at least stop the bleeding

you knew you had to be put on concussion protocol just in case bc you that hit was quite hard but at the moment, that wasnt your concern

practice has already started and this was the first time you werent present for daily practice

this was confirmed at the constant buzzing of your phone in your skirt pocket which you didnt listen to and instead, started thinking of ways to go to your locker and get your stuff and fake being sick but at the same time, not be seen and relayed to the team

time was ticking and you had to come up with a plan fast before oikawa will send the team to come looking around the building for you

once you looked at your reflection and smiled big, you decided it was enough to not show the pain you were in right now

girl im hurting for you

you peeked out of the bathroom door and saw the coast was clear so you quickly ran to your classroom, which was thankfully empty, and quickly grabbed your things

but as you were packing up, the tears just kept falling

it didnt stop as you bolted down the stairs, using your cardigan to hide your face from the public

once you were safely out of school grounds, you finally took out your phone and reviewed through all the worried and concerned texts from the team group chat

but you just replied, ‘im fine but i just feel really sick right now. girl stuff’

you smirked, knowing that would keep the boys away

but oikawa had to go and ask you to call him

‘y/n-chan! do you want oikawa-senpai to come over with chocolates and ice cream?! wings or no wings?!’

your jaw dropped at the question and clearly scandalized by the question

the team was too as shouting began and you could faintly hear iwa scream, ‘oh my god, shittykawa!’

‘im seriously okay, oikawa-san. i just need to be alone right now and ill try and get some sleep. good bye’

then you hung up

there was no way you could tell them

they were in their last year anyways so doing something about it wouldnt matter

and you were strong

but apparently not strong enough to fight them off though

you would cover the wound with concealer and continue on with practice tomorrow as if everything was normal

but there was only so much you could take

just yesterday, they trashed your locker and a week ago, they took your bento and threw it away

you even got into a fight with this one girl but she scampered away, too scared to do anything alone

so you were actually just tired and want everyone to leave you alone

believe me, youve thought of quitting sometimes

but youve actually created a bond with these boys

like when you take hanamaki to get cream puffs whenever he loses against iwa in arm wrestling

or when yahaba calls you at ungodly hours to express his worries for next year and to fill oikawa’s shoes

it was simple moments that you shared with each player that kept you from not leaving

soon, you found yourself crying again and the looks pedestrians were giving you was starting to make you uncomfortable

a girl, with her gross hair in a bun, puffy eyes with a bleeding wound and walking down the street

that was a sight

so you cut a corner to an alley by your house to escape from the judging eyes and you were too busy wiping your eyes to see a boy who was crouched down on the floor and ended up walking over him

omg my baby kyoken hello luv!!!!

you gasped and you were surprised and quickly apologized

kyotani was originally about to yell at you, no matter what, but he saw the state you were in and concluded you were either from a fight or was beaten up

he recognized that and decided to just glare at you and go back to feeding the stray dogs and cats

you breathed a sigh in relief when he didnt yell at you bc that wouldve been the last thing you needed today

‘sir, im sorry for hitting you. if there is something i could do for you, dont hesitate’

he ignored you and you focused on him paying attention to the strays

going into your backpack, you had a milk carton and a sausage stick from earlier

you used your thermos lid to serve as the milk bowl for the cats while you peeled open the meat and used your scissors to cut chunks of it for the dogs to have some

kyotani watched as you went into action to feeding the animals that people usually ignored

he knew you

well, he recognized you

when he watched from the top of the gym, he saw you as their manager who ran around and helped everyone

sure, he still didnt trust you

but he watched you grin and smile as the animals started to eat

‘im in a hurry right now so i have to go but ill feed you again tomorrow, okay? you too, stranger-san. ill bring food for you too’

then you stood up and ran away, probably in a hurry to fix that wound

he wouldve offered to treat it for you but he remained silent, watching the cats mewl at the now empty lid

the next day, oikawa was worried for you and when he saw you at early morning practice, he practically glomped to your side

‘y/n-chan! you okay?! oikawa-senpai was so worried for you!’

you cringed but nodded

‘im okay, oikawa-san’

‘senpai, y/n-chan! call me senpai!’

‘im not going to feed into your kink, oikawa-san’

*cue everyone busting a lung*

to this day, no one still knew what happened to you

you kept it quiet and you were sure you got everything handled

except for one person

kyotani was smart and for some reason he knew you got beat up by the fangirls and the perpetrators were easily found bc he saw them huddled around your locker, probably trashing it again, and lets just say,

no one is def going to mess w you now

back to manager moments!!

during practice matches, the boys rally around you to prevent other teams from sweet-talking you

they make sure no one gets past them and always have excuses to get your attention

you knew what they were doing but you pretended not to, heart warming at their protectiveness and hunger for your attention

even though you have your own jacket, the team gives you theirs all the time like oikawa has his special team jacket w his name at the back and when he feels threatened by schools like johzenji, he makes you wear it

‘youre mine, y/n-chan and i want that blondie to know’

‘ehm, no, oikawa-san. im iwaizumi-san’s’

oikawa screamed

lmao training camps w them is CHAOTIC

YOU WANT TO CRYYYYYY

OIKAWA IS CRYING BC IWAIZUMI IS BEATING HIM UP, MATSUHANA ARE FREAKING OUT THE FIRST YEARS ABOUT THE GHOSTS IN THE WOODS AND NOW KINDAICHI REFUSES TO LET GO OF YOU, WATARI GOT LOST GOING TO THE BATHROOM AND YAHABA IS SCREAMING ABOUT THE WEATHER MESSING UP HIS HAIR AND MAKING IT FRIZZY

reminder: threaten to quit everytime they get too much

your hugs are the best!!!!

you have a special hug for every player

oikawa gets his favorite which was the normal arm around the waist with your arms around his neck while he snuggles in your neck

iwa gets flustered easily so you hug him from behind so you cant see his flustered look

mattsun actually likes the jumping in the air so he catches you type of hug

makki is more tame and has his arms around your shoulder with his chin on your head

yahaba is the twirly kind where he just picks you up and swings you around

watari also gets flustered easily so he likes the one-arm hugs

kindaichi gets blushy at the slightest touch from you but he gives you a hug from behind you himself where he can bury his face in your hair while you caress his arms

kunimi, now he likes it when you squeeze him extremely tight bc it makes him feel loved and feel alive

kyo doesnt even talk to you what makes you think you can give him a hug

their lost for shiratorizawa really broke them though

you made them their own bentos for nearly a week to keep them encouraged and gave oikawa extra attention to keep him from sulking or practicing late

‘oikawa-senpai, lets go watch that new movie later’

‘S-S-SENPAI?!’

then the arrival of our baby kyoken

yahaba was moody the whole practice and you were currently trying to keep him from spiking a ball to someone

‘even just today, he’s late’

‘who?’

‘that stupid dog’

he just keeps mumbling and grunting

and then the said dog arrived

you peaked out from behind iwaizumi, who protectively went in front of you

shock ran through you and you pointed at him

‘puppy-kun!’

lmao puppy what

youve called him that since he refused to tell you his name, but you call him that bc he paid special attention to this one baby beagle

he raised a hand in greeting and you gave him a smile

‘youre a player here, too?!’

he ‘glared’ at you but nodded stiffly

the team really thought that he would lash out at you but he is surprisingly tolerant

the power of the manager

he still hasnt talked to you but he does respond to you and even helps you with chores, still not talking ofc

hes so tsun tsun and he deserves my heart yall

however, youve heard him talk to iwaizumi, and iwaizumi only, so youve heard his voice before

ngl, you were flustered by how gruff and deep it was

then their loss to karasuno

bruh, it was KARASUNO

the entire team fell apart and after the match, each of them ran away from you to stop lashing out

you were also on the verge of crying, seeing the broken look on your third years

your precious third years

you decided to give them their own space but you heard a loud banging sound from the bathroom

yahaba and watari were outside, clearly trying to talk to someone in there on coming out but it got louder

okay you were lowkey like, ‘hm, i should not be here’

but you recognized that voice

you knocked at the boys door to be respectful

‘kyo-san? its me, y/n’

he was silent but he did unlock it

you took this as a sign to enter and you gave yahaba and watari a smile

‘i’ll be fine. go to kindaichi and kunimi. they need your comfort right now’

tbh, you were surprised the bathroom was still intact but you saw the stall door at the very end being rattled and shaken

you remained by the door but you wanted to go to him

‘kyo-san, please come out so i can treat your injuries’

he expected you to say those words like ‘its okay’ or ‘theres always next year’ but you didnt

instead, you knew he was hurt and wanted to help him

he continued to give a few punches to the wall and the door before emerging

you wordlessly treated the wounds and offered your hand

‘im here, kyo-san. dont worry, im right here’

at the ramen shop, you told them to eat as much as they want and wordlessly gave them your card, slightly crying inside bc you know this was going to be like over a hundred dollars

but you were treating the boys bc they deserved it

you sat beside kindaichi, who was just sobbing and apologizing, so you were wiping his tears and holding his hand under the table

this precious babie

bruh i was sobbing when i watched this part like uuggghhhh

after dinner, you walked with the other third years, knowing they would go to the gym, so you gave everyone else your special hugs before sending them home

‘text me when you arrive safely, okay?’

‘yes, mom’

‘KINDAICHI WHAT’

oikawa’s speech made you cry bc despite only knowing them for not even a year, you already feel like a family

you didnt want your family to be broken but you knew they would all go their separate ways eventually

there was a big hug pile of third years on the side where you took a picture and sent it to the group chat

you had to eventually go home after helping them clean up and when you checked your phone, a fresh batch of tears rolled down

each from every person on the team but with the same sentence and same words

‘we love you, l/n y/n. thanks for everything.’

ngl i dont think this was that good and its like 8 in the morning and im extremely tired

i want to do karasuno, nekoma, and fukurodani but im so exhausted i cannot right now

2K notes · View notes

chimielie · 3 years

Note

heyyy CONGRATULATIONS ON 500 FOLLOWERS !! id like to request makki (if u dont write for him then oikawa pls) + fic + "i don't know whether i want to kill you or kiss you right now." + established relationship :DD thank u n congrats again !! <333

this got long. oops (and thank you so much!!! makki is so cool)

hanamaki takahiro + “i don’t know whether i want to kill you or kiss you right now.” + established relationship (fic)

Takahiro is a great liar. His tells aren’t obvious— his eyebrows come up a little, but if he keeps his face relaxed that problem goes away pretty easily. Sometimes, he lies just because he can. He once told the class president that he couldn’t stay behind to clean erasers because he was moving to America that day, and she’d believed him. When Takahiro lies to you, though, he giggles through his sentences and turns pinker than his hair and can’t look at you too long, especially when you call him on it.

You like the way he can’t seem to keep a straight face when it comes to you.

Today, though, it’s just damn frustrating.

“Ugh,” you growl, feeling him squirm beneath you. Personally, you’re pretty proud of the flying tackle you’d pulled on him before he could get away. “Stop moving around or I’ll punch you.”

“You already broke, like, all my bones, what more can you possibly do?” He groans. You can’t see his face, because he’s twisted to the side and hidden away as best he can, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Stop moving,” you say, pinning his right arm with one hand and grabbing his jaw with the other. “Look at— Takahiro, look at me.”

He doesn’t really have a choice, your fingers firm as they squish his cheeks and force him to face you. His hair is too short to hide behind (he wishes he had bangs right about now), so he just stares up at you, the same smile that comes out and gives his feelings up every time he sees you even after four whole years of being together spread over his face. For a second, you forget your mission to figure out why he’d blushed down to his neck and started stuttering with a stupid smile as soon as you’d asked how his day was going, and just look down at your boyfriend with all the affection you have.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, something daring peeking through in his expression. “What’s up?”

“Very funny,” you snap back into interrogation mode. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” he says, eyes sliding away from you immediately.

“You’re lying,” you accuse. You’re sure you’re going to extremes right now, but Makki has never gone so long without cracking, and anxiety is starting to bubble in your stomach. In the best case scenario, he’ll reveal that Mattsun talked him into trying to prank you (and thus fail). In the worst case scenario… you’re a little afraid to think about that.

“Ey, Y/N!” Makki’s friend Oikawa calls. “You’re in a public park, you know?” You don’t look at them, but you can hear the raucous laughter of your boyfriend’s friends approach. Really, they’re your friends too. Mattsun had introduced the two of you, all the way back in first year, and Takahiro’s total inability to lie to you, the object of the fattest crush he’d ever had, had gotten you dating. The rest was history; all four of you had graduated from Aoba Johsai together just a week ago, and you were still going strong.

Iwaizumi’s comment makes you realize the position you’re in— holding your boyfriend’s face, kneeling with your legs on either side of his lean body, the hand not occupied with squeezing his jaw intertwined with his. When had he finagled his way into holding your hand?

You huff out a sigh and crawl off of him, dusting crushed plant matter off your knees.

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” You ask softly, in the precious few seconds you have before your friends catch up to you. Takahiro shakes his head, his own attention focused on patting his pockets after he sits up himself. “It’s not… anything big, right? You don’t have to tell me what it is, it’s just starting to worry me.”

“It’s not a big deal, I don’t think,” his delivery is less than convincing. His eyes flick around, searching for anywhere to attach that’s not on you, his eyebrows are approaching his hairline, and most damningly, his voice breaks. He’s lying, and he knows it. He looks so repentant, you can feel sympathy tears already stinging your eyes. You press your lips together and look down, trying to control the way your heart drops.

“Okay,” you say unsteadily. “Cool.”

You don’t feel cool.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says. “Are you good?”

“Overheated,” you wave off the question, putting on a smile even though you know it probably looks gray and forced. “No worries.”

“Oh, shit, really? You should get some water.”

You protest, but find yourself being levered up and strong armed in the direction you came when you were chasing Makki. All your energy to fight off the attention has drained out of you.

The water really does make you feel a little better, more fortified to have whatever discussion Makki has in the works for you after your friends leave. He’s not the kind of guy to keep things from you, even if he could; he’d rather be blunt (if inappropriately humorous) than procrastinate a discussion.

It’s one of the many things you love about him.

You blow out a breath— you can handle whatever he throws at you. You can. The image of Takahiro telling you that “it’s been good, but that the two of you need to go your separate ways in your adult lives” pops unbidden into your head and makes you want to puke.

“Uh, Y/N?” You hear him say, and you turn. It’s just you and him and the water fountain, now. You’re not sure where the others went or how you didn’t hear them leave.

“Hi!” You say, your voice sounding far away and cheerful, if hollow. “Where did, uh, where did everyone else go?”

“I asked them to leave,” Makki says. “Just for a second, sorry, is that okay?”

You’ve been alone with him hundreds of times. You don’t think you’ve seen him this nervous about it since the day he asked you if you would accompany him to the store to buy a new video game. There wasn’t a new game; just a box of chocolates and a confession laden with apologies for spending so much time checking you out when you weren’t looking. You had laughed and told him that you knew he was looking, and then the two of you had split the chocolates. The memory makes something inside you feel like it’s shriveling up and dying. It’s probably just your heart, or some similarly unimportant organ.

“Yeah, of course,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “So, uh, what’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” his voice pitches up so it sounds more like a question than a statement. “About, I guess, like, we’ve talked about what we were gonna do after high school, right? And now high school’s over. Um, I don’t really know what I want to do, which I know you know, which is a super confusing sentence. And you’re— I should just get to the point.”

“Take your time.” There’s a long beat, and you don’t realize that you’ve squeezed your eyes shut until you hear Takahiro speak again.

“Can you look at me, please?” He sounds so uncharacteristically timid— has for almost the whole painful conversation— and another second passes before you do as he asks.

“Oh, shit,” you breathe, your heart lightening immediately. You understand how people who come back from the dead feel now, probably.

Takahiro’s not breaking up with you. Instead, he’s lowered himself to the ground in front of you, one knee on the ground, both hands shaking as he tries a couple times to open a little box. When he succeeds, it reveals a ring, shining prettily in the late afternoon light, multicolored facets forming the shape of a heart.

“Don’t worry, I’m not proposing!” He defends quickly. Your lips quirk up— you probably shouldn’t tell him that you would’ve thrown caution to the wind and said yes if he had been. “Like— like I was saying, we’ve talked about this a little bit, about how we don’t plan to break up after we graduate, even if we end up in separate places. I don’t know if your plans have changed— I seriously hope your plans haven’t changed. We’ve been amazing for the last four years. You’re amazing. I just, I don’t know, wanted to let you know how much this relationship means to me, and this is my way of saying I’m in it for as long as you’ll let me be, whether that’s the end of summer or the day I can actually propose to you.”

By the time he pauses to take a breath, your eyes are watering, your hand clasped over your mouth. You think if you speak, your voice will come out all teary and probably crack and you hate it when that happens.

“So?” He asks. “Whaddya say? I know this is a lot. It’s probably too much, actually—” he pulls the box back a little.

“Don’t move!” You blurt, and throw yourself on him.

For the second time that day, Takahiro finds himself on his back beneath you in the grass, although you’re far less composed now than you were. He wheezes a laugh as you take little sobbing breaths, your face buried in his shirt, his arms (stronger than they look) circling you. This time, it’s his legs spread out to accommodate you, his heart beating fast as he waits for an answer.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, of course, always, you asshole,” you say, lifting your head to look at him with bright eyes. “I hate you, you know that? Gosh, I don’t know whether I want to kill you or kiss you right now.”

“Kissing,” Makki says fervently. “Kissing is definitely the better option.” You slug him playfully in the chest and maneuver so you’re hovering over his face, his eyes focused on you, only you.

Kissing Takahiro is something familiar, soothing in its own way and exciting in others. You’ve heard other people fall into patterns of kissing in long term relationships, but if you have one, you’ve never caught onto it. He likes to hold your waist, so he does, likes to bite a little, so he does. He’s a jerk and a tease, so he pulls back when you push in deeper, whispers I love you against your lips so you can’t even blame him for it.

“I love you too,” you say on the next inhale, kiss-drunk and sun-warmed. “Can I put on the ring?”

“Yeah, that’s what it’s for,” Takahiro says, then lifts his hands off you. “Wait.”

“Takahiro,” you say, standing up and offering him a hand that he doesn’t take, too busy looking around him. “Did you drop my promise ring?”

“No,” he says. “I hid it, cunningly, for purposes that will be revealed to you eventually.”

“In the grass?” You ask, voice flat. He checks the box, which is empty. The ring must have come loose.

“I hid the ring in the grass, yes,” he answers, deadpan, and keeps looking, now squatting.

“Does this mean anything for our future?” You ponder out loud. “Is my future husband going to be like this all the time?”

“Don’t be like,” Takahiro looks up at you and sees you rolling the multicolored gem between your fingers. “That. God damn it. How did you get that while we were kissing?”

This time, he takes your hand up.

“I’m immune to you now, and it was payback for making me think you were gonna break up with me when you were proposing,” you say, wholly self-satisfied. He catches your lips on his again, and only stops when he feels he’s thoroughly proven your immunity is bullshit.

“Hope that made it up to you,” he says. “Can I put it on?”

“Yeah,” you say, and you’ve gone through such an emotional rollercoaster today, you’re not surprised when you find yourself swinging back to “soft”. “Yes, Takahiro, you can.”

#hanamaki takahiro x reader #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #lia’s love letters!

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wordsnwhiskey · 3 years

Text

As It Should Be | Chapter 4: Company

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: Whiskey gets a surprised call and he and Frankie have a long talk.

Rating: M

Warnings: Talks of drug use, alcohol, mentions of character death, mentions of canon typical violence, PTSD, violent nightmare

A/N: I really wanted this conversation to happen between these two given their respective histories. We all know that Whiskey needed therapy and in this verse he gets it. It’s also my HC, from what I vaguely know (I’m not an expert and I could be very wrong), that Whiskey was an officer in the Air Force where he flew/placed in jets and that’s how he knows how to fly an F-22 (The Silver Pony).

We are getting some angst and some fluff this time folks!

Also, yes I do have a specific soap in mind for Whiskey, it's Old Glory by Duke Cannon

Huge special thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the betas and encouragement!!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons | AO3

He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.

Frankie pulled his phone out, went to the recent number that was, as of yet, unsaved, and pressed ‘call’. His shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear as the line rang.

Whiskey’s hair was still wet from his shower, and his white t-shirt clung to his damp skin. Eyeing the take out on his counter, he sank into his couch and smiled at your texts:

Whiskey: Thai sound good, sweetheart?

Bourbon: God yes Jack, I’m starving!

Whiskey: I’ll let you know when I get outta the shower, see you soon sweetheart

He was just about to send you a message to come on over when his phone rang. Glancing at the clock on his stove, then back to the unfamiliar Texas number on his caller ID, he frowned.

“Whiskey.”

His greeting was curt. Who the hell would be calling at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday?

“H-hey Whiskey, it’s me, Frankie. Is… uh, is she there?”

Whiskey’s frown deepened, not that he minded Frankie calling him, far from it, but his voice was cracking like he’d been... crying?

“Oh, hey there, Flyboy. No she isn’t, do you need me to get her?”

“N-no, no… I, uh, I don’t want her to see me right now. I’m, uh,” Whiskey could hear Frankie take a deep breath on the other side of the line. “I’m having a bad night, Jack. Could you come get me? I’m at the hotel.”

Jack shot straight up, practically leaping to his feet.

“Did you…?”

The question clung to the air like lead, crushing both of their chests in the silence.

“No, I haven’t… I just… fuck.”

Jack was moving, grabbing his leather jacket, keys, and Stetson, practically sprinting out the door.

“Don’t worry about it, Flyboy. I’m headed your way.”

He shifted his weight while he waited for the elevator to take him to the parking garage, shooting off a quick text to you in apology. Frankie’s words, “I don’t want her to see me,” rung in his ears and he decided to hold off on telling you what had come up, at least until he could see you at the office tomorrow.

Whiskey: Hey sweetheart, sorry something came up and I can’t do dinner tonight. Everything’s fine, see you at the office, sugar. X

Your phone went off and you quickly unlocked it, eager to hear back from Jack so you could head over. A frown pulled the corners of your lips down at his text, but you knew he wouldn’t cancel on you without good reason.

You: See you tomorrow, cowboy. Better make it up to me ;)

Frankie had left the door slightly ajar and was pacing around his room, arms crossed in front of him when he heard a quick knock, then the handle was turning and Whiskey crossed the threshold. He took a cursory glance around the room: nothing but minibar booze bottles, thankfully. Whiskey let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived when he took in Frankie’s demeanor. Frankie’s face was taut with shame, and his gaze refused to rise any higher than Whiskey’s boots.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Frankie choked out, “ Pope, and Hawk… I can’t disappoint them again. I’ve been clean for three years, and I didn’t…”

Jack shook his head and beckoned Frankie over, wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, tight hug.

“C’mon, Flyboy, this is not the time nor the place to talk about this. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’re gonna have some whiskey that’s much better than what you’ve had here, and then we can talk.”

Frankie nodded and grabbed his hat, planting it on his head as Whiskey tugged him out of the hotel room. He was so deep in his thoughts and his guilt for having Whiskey come out that he didn’t realize where he was until the elevator dinged. Whiskey unlocked and opened the door to his condo, giving way to a view so incredible Frankie almost forgot to breathe. Across from the entryway, on the far side of the condo, the gorgeous New York night skyline twinkled back at them from beyond the wall of glass windows. Frankie marveled at the rustic elegance of Jack’s home. It had an entirely open floor plan, giving Frankie a view of the dark cherry butcher block island, the top-of-the-line range top, and other appliances, all immaculately clean. For a moment, he wondered if that was because Whiskey ordered out more than he cooked, but then he saw the bags of takeout on the counter and immediately felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, looks like I interrupted your dinner plans.”

Whiskey closed and locked the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the nearby hook. He glanced over at the takeout, then put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, partner. I just told her something came up. You hungry? I ordered her Drunken Noodles, be a shame to put them to waste.”

Frankie was about to decline when his stomach rumbled, and Whiskey chuckled.

“C’mon, Flyboy, go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring the food and some whiskey round.”

With a nod, he toed his dress shoes off (they were all he had without his go bag) and made for the brown leather couch. He sat down a bit stiffly, feeling awkward given the circumstances. Whiskey brought over the containers of food, handing one to Frankie and resting his own on the coffee table before grabbing them the promised drinks. He sat down, and Frankie took his drink in one hand, relishing in the smooth burn as he took a sip, then set it down to dive into his food.

They ate in a relaxed and cozy silence. Frankie finished first, which wasn’t a surprise. When Whiskey finished, he took Frankie’s empty container with him to toss in the garbage before he made his way back. An awkward silence replaced the previous comfortable one, and Frankie found himself having a hard time pulling his gaze from the amber liquid in his glass. Whiskey took a deep breath, then turned on the couch to face Frankie.

“Santiago said you’ve been clean for three years? That’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Yeah, thanks. Doesn’t really feel like it right now. I feel like I failed. I’m worried I’ll slip up.”

“I don’t think you will, Frankie. Neither do Pope or Bourbon.”

Jack didn’t know why, but the words rang true in his mind, even though he hadn’t known Frankie for very long.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to throw three years of hard work away, Flyboy.”

A small smile tugged at Frankie’s lips and he took a sip from his glass.

“Must’ve been weird for Halcón. Last time she saw me, fuck, I was barely with it. The suspension hit me hard. I had been getting my shit together before Colombia and the funeral. I just wanted to be able to fly. I couldn’t and still can’t stand the idea of being grounded. That, and I knew my fianceé would leave me if I didn’t get it together. But then, well, we all went to Colombia.”

“I couldn’t imagine being grounded. I don’t fly often, but to not have the option? I dunno what I’d do.”

Whiskey shook his head and grimaced. Frankie perked up, head snapping to meet Whiskey’s gaze.

“You fly?”

“Mmmhmm, was in the Air Force for a bit, did jets. Statesmen has an F-22, the Silver Pony, that I fly.”

A small buzz of excitement was washing over Frankie, and he subconsciously scooted closer to Whiskey. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about flying, even if helicopters and jets were two very different means of flying.

“What made you risk it, Flyboy? What happened in Colombia?”

Frankie frowned and let out a deep sigh.

“Pope had been down there for a few years, chasing a narco named Gabriel Martín Lorea. He finally got a break when his CI told him she knew where he was hiding out and where he was stashing his money. He showed up outta the blue asking us, our old team, to come down and do recon, $17k just for a week of recon. If we wanted to stay on after that, we’d be entitled to 25% of whatever we seized, and the rumour was that Lorea had $75M on him. I’m guessing Halcón was busy with a mission for you guys, and I’m glad she was. It ended up being a fucking shitshow.”

Whiskey noted the faraway look in Frankie’s eyes as he sighed and took another swig from his glass, shaking his head as Frankie recalled the events.

“After the recon, Pope said he thought we could do the job ourselves, take all the money and not tell the local governments. We found out that the local agency hadn’t been the ones to pay us the $17k. That had come out of Pope’s pocket. He was so sure that the locals were on Lorea’s payroll, and if he went to the local agency, Lorea would disappear with the money. At the end of the day, none of us could say no. Turned out the rumors of Lorea having $75M were wrong. The house was stuffed, literally, with cash. Tom, our captain, got greedy. He ignored our hard-out time and insisted we take more loads of cash. We ended up stealing close to $250M, then we burned the house down.”

Whiskey whistled. “$250M is a lot of money, partner…”

Frankie barked out a humorless laugh, his eyes rueful.

“Too much. Our helo couldn’t take it all and make it over the Andes. I knew it before take off, and I warned Tom and Pope, but all any of us could see was the money. Tom didn’t want to leave it on the runway. I almost had us over the Andes when a gearbox blew, and I had to get us back to flat. We had to cut the money net, and it was just our luck that it happened to be over a coke farm. It was a bad landing. I honestly don’t know how none of us were seriously injured, but Pope and Tom went to go and convince the farmers to get out of the money. Our comms were out, so we were going off of hand signals. Tom got too trigger happy, and he dropped a few of the villagers. I-I provided cover fire, too…”

Frankie hung his head, no matter how much Will, Benny, or Pope had tried to reassure him, he still held an enormous amount of guilt over what had happened. He felt Whiskey’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch.

“That’s what you were trained to do, Flyboy. You couldn’t have known any different, especially without comms.”

Frankie nodded, taking a large gulp of his whiskey, then continued on.

“A couple days later, we took fire in the mountains, and they got Tom. It ended up being a kid and another guy from the coke farm. We killed them, but there was nothing we could do for Tom. Headshot, he died instantly. 10 years we all served together, and then he was gone, leaving behind an ex and two daughters. It could have been any one of us though, Jack… we all took lives during that mission. Tom just took the wrong ones. It… it could have been me even, I shot some of those villagers, too.”

Frankie felt Whiskey’s grip on his shoulder tighten and looked up to see the empathetic sadness of someone who truly understood how he felt reflected back in Whiskey’s eyes. Frankie cleared his throat.

“We ended up bailing on a lot of the cash, taking only what we could carry in our daypacks and tossing the rest in a ravine so we could haul Tom’s body out with us. At the end of it, we made out with around $5M, but we all agreed it should go to Tom’s family. I got back to find my fianceé had left. She couldn’t stand my leaving with Pope. Looking back, my addiction is probably what really did us in, but I was devastated to come home to an empty house after everything that had happened. Things got… dark after that. I fell back on old habits, fuck, I had barely been clean a few months when we went to Colombia. I didn’t want to think about what we’d done there, didn’t want to feel the emptiness, didn’t want to sleep and deal with the nightmares. I was a mess, and I… uh, I took too much one day. Pope found me unconscious, lying on the ground, and got me to the hospital. When I came to, I realized I didn’t want to end up dead in my shitty apartment, once they discharged me, I checked into rehab.”

Frankie took another drink. No one other than Pope knew that knocking on death’s door had been the turning point for him. Whiskey chewed on his lip, taking a drink and debating whether he should share his past as well.

“Drugs are… a terrible thing to get hooked on. My high school sweetheart, carrying my unborn son, was murdered by two meth head freaks robbing a fucking convenience store. I was on leave from the Air Force, waiting for them to come home when I got the call. I didn’t realize how much it festered in me until about a year back when we were taking down the Golden Circle.”

Frankie nodded. He remembered that he had been glad he was clean by then.

“I’m sorry, Whiskey… I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-”

Jack’s hand moved from Frankie’s shoulder to rub his back reassuringly.

“Listen, the things you’ve done and seen for our country… and not, well, it’s a lot, and I know it’s not the same as the freaks who… it’s not the same. I almost sabotaged the mission. My hate-addled brain thought it would be justice… It was Bourbon who very literally knocked me on my ass and kept me from making a decision I’d regret. She encouraged me to see a Statesmen counselor, which has been a lot of work, but has been more helpful than I ever thought it would be. Have you thought about that?”

Frankie was distracted for a moment by Jack’s hand. It felt nice, reassuring, safe, things that had been sorely lacking for him today.

“I have and I did, well, I had to as part of the program, and I kept it up for a bit after. It helped, but… I couldn’t really talk about what happened with Tom. Sure there’s confidentiality and all that, but what we did is all kinds of illegal. I couldn’t exactly bring that to a session or group.”

Frankie snorted, a ghost of a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.

“Really though, aside from the program I was in after rehab to get my license back, I’ve gotten some hobbies and some other out-outlets. This was just a lot. I needed to not be alone.”

Jack cocked his head at the way Frankie stuttered and subconsciously fidgeted with the bandage on his right wrist. He had picked up from the night prior that Frankie had a thing for pain, and Frankie’s reaction when he had bandaged him up was further proof of that. But using it as his sole outlet or method of working through his issues was something he wouldn’t enable. His eyes narrowed, and before Frankie could blink, Jack snatched his left hand, mindful of the tender marks as he held fast and fixed Frankie with a hard stare. Frankie flinched at the sudden movement then his eyes widened a little.

“You know this ain’t a solution, Flyboy.”

Jack’s voice had an edge to it bordering on a growl. Frankie shook his head quickly.

“Shit, no, Whiskey, the i-impact p-play stuff, i-it’s an outlet, and it’s not my only outlet. I met my old partners, Sam and then later on her husband, a year and a half or two years ago. I was a year clean before I even had my first session with either of them. I met Sam when she booked a flight tour, and one thing led to another… She’d come back into town and sometimes her husband would come with, but we all kept everything pretty quiet. They helped me relax, and they had their fun.”

Frankie was doing his best to be nonchalant, but he couldn’t help the slight bitterness creeping into his voice. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Jack’s tone had thrown him off guard, unexpectedly stirring something in him. Whiskey, of course noticed on both counts, having been trained to do so. He could see through Frankie a mile away. Frankie nervously took another sip from his glass, shuddering as Whiskey’s thumb gingerly rubbed circles over the marks, seemingly accepting his explanation.

“You know, had I known about your… interests, I would have done things a bit differently last night, Flyboy.” He winked at Frankie, then smirked as he examined Frankie’s wrist more thoughtfully. “How are they doing?”

“G-good, thanks. And uh, well, you’re one of 3 people who know.” Frankie murmured.

Whiskey’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he nodded and released Frankie’s hand.

“Really? Not Pope or Bourbon?”

“Are you kidding me? Pope would never let me hear the end of it. There are some things he doesn’t need to know.” Frankie chuckled and shook his head. “And Halcón? Well, there was never any reason for her to know. We never did anything together before last night.”

“How long has it been since you last saw Sam or her husband?”

Frankie downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes far away for a moment, remembering their last session, the sharp pain followed by a rush of endorphins and the occasional soothing praise. He shook his head gently, blinking himself out of his memories at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his knee.

“It’s been a while, six months? They moved overseas.”

There was a beat of silence, Whiskey could sense there was something up, it was a subtle shadow flitting across Frankie’s face. He decided to push a little more.

“Did you have feelings for them?”

“It was complicated.”

The edge in Frankie’s voice was tinged with pain, and he tried to cover it up with a laugh that came out humorless.

“I guess it isn’t that complicated. After six months, things shifted, and they made it clear I wasn’t part of their long term plan. It became very transactional, which was fine, but there was less and less... care after.”

“Oh.”

The response slipped from Jack’s lips, and he was momentarily stunned quiet before his temper began to flare. His index finger and thumb gently gripped Frankie’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Listen carefully, Flyboy. What I did last night was the bare minimum of what someone should do in that kind of situation. Anything less is negligent. Christ, how was this ever stress relief for you if you were left to free fall afterwards?”

Whiskey’s voice was calm and even, but Frankie could see the fury raging in his eyes. Sensing Whiskey’s desire for understanding, he nodded then shrugged.

“I guess I’d try to go on a hike with one of the guys or go train at the gym.”

Silence fell between them, a muscle in Whiskey’s jaw clenching before he glanced at the clock and let out a deep sigh, willing himself to calm down.

“It’s already just about midnight, Flyboy. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll put on a clean bandage for you once you’re done. You can use my bathroom. There’s a clean towel hanging you can use. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll leave something for you to sleep in on my bed so you can change while I set up the guest room for you.”

Frankie was about to protest, saying he could do his own bandages, but Whiskey fixed him with a stare and shook his head.

“Go on Flyboy, get yourself in the shower. Head down the hall, second door on the left. Your room is across the hall. I’ll be waiting there with the medkit when you’re done.”

Whiskey took Frankie’s empty glass and stood, taking their glasses to the sink while Frankie got up and made his way to the shower. A pensive frown tugged at Whiskey’s lips. Tonight certainly explained a lot of things. The sharp fury that permeated Whiskey’s chest when they were talking about Frankie’s previous partners returned. How could someone not be bothered with aftercare? It was also clear that Frankie felt abandoned by them. On some level, the poor man was probably terrified of that happening again, if he even entertained the thought of something between the three of you. Whiskey waited a few moments until he heard the water running before heading into his room. He let out a sigh as he grabbed a white t-shirt and a pair of linen shorts for Frankie to wear, leaving them on the bed before he left to make sure the guest room was all set.

Frankie undressed quickly, folding his clothes and setting them down on the vanity in a neat pile crowned with his hat. Next, he made quick work of unwrapping the bandage around his wrist and tossing the materials in the garbage. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the shower and the hot water scoured the last two days from his skin. The relief was quickly replaced with a small whine of pain as the water hit his wrist. Closing his eyes and bracing himself against the wall with his forearm he breathed through the pain, acclimating to the sensation. Frankie took a minute to just exist, trying to enjoy the quiet that had slowly crept back into his mind. Taking a deep breath, he set to work getting himself clean. The steam made the air thick and heavy with the scent of Whiskey’s soap, something akin to leather and tobacco leaves. It clung to Frankie’s lungs, and he could have stayed there enjoying it for considerably longer. But, he didn’t want to keep Whiskey waiting, so he rinsed off and hopped out of the shower. He toweled off, smirking to himself when he saw it was monogrammed (because of course it was), then headed out and changed quickly into the shirt and shorts that had been left for him.

Whiskey looked up in time to see Frankie stride through the doorway wearing his shirt and shorts, smelling like him, his soap. He swallowed thickly and tried to recover with a smile.

“Feel better, Flyboy? C’mon, sit down. Let’s have a look.”

Frankie nodded, then took a seat next to Whiskey on the bed and gave him his right hand. Whiskey hummed his approval at the lack of resistance from Frankie, something the pilot felt tug at his chest.

“This is looking much better, Flyboy, should be completely healed in a few days.”

Whiskey smiled as he finished tending to and wrapping up Frankie’s wrist. Without prompting, Frankie offered his other wrist and Whiskey couldn’t bite back the smirk that followed. He was glad though, glad that Frankie was trusting him with this and was embracing these moments, even if it was for something small. Frankie’s left wrist was considerably better off, but even so, Whiskey was still gentle as he looked him over.

Frankie’s heart fluttered at the intimacy of what was happening. Here was Jack, a man he’d known for barely 48 hours, who was taking care of him, who had dropped everything to come get him, who had spent his evening letting Frankie talk. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him this way.

There was an overwhelming urge building in his chest, and without thinking, he acted on it.

He gripped the collar of Whiskey’s t-shirt with one hand, tugging him closer as Frankie leaned in and kissed him. Whiskey was shocked for a moment, it had been the last thing he had been expecting, but he quickly recovered when he felt Frankie’s tongue swipe at his lip. His hand rested along the column of Frankie’s throat, thumb grazing over the scruff along his jaw as he deepened the kiss, leaning into Frankie and tasting him.

A small moan pulled Jack back to his senses, resting his forehead against Frankie’s and cupping his jaw with this other hand. They both panted, trying to catch their breath, and Whiskey smiled as he gave Frankie another quick kiss. For a moment, Frankie was worried he had overstepped when Whiskey cut off their kiss, but looking into the other man’s eyes, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“You’ve had a long day, Flyboy, we’re not gonna do anything tonight. Tomorrow though, if you want, I could help you get rid of some of that stress and help you come down the right way. No rush, no pressure, you can say no and nothing changes. I don’t want an answer right now either, sleep on it.”

Frankie’s breath quickened and his pupils dilated at the thought, but one thing nagged at him.

“What about Halcón?”

Whiskey chuckled and patted Frankie’s shoulder.

“Well it’s what we both want, in a manner of speaking. She’d be onboard, but she doesn’t have to know exactly what we do for now unless you’re comfortable with it. A lot of this is stuff I know she wants to go over on Friday, but for now, when it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it, partner. If you want to do this tomorrow, then we can do it. If not, no harm, no foul, you’re still welcome to stay here and keep me company.”

Frankie nodded, still processing what Whiskey had said and more than a little surprised that Whiskey was inviting him back regardless of his decision. Whiskey stood up then, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder.

“G’night, Flyboy. Holler if you need anything.”

Frankie was back in Colombia. He felt sluggish, his feet refusing to respond the way he wanted them to. He saw the villager from the cocaine farm pop up from the rocky outcrop, but Frankie couldn’t move, couldn’t draw his gun to take him out. He cried out in anguish as the man fired.

“No! Tom!”

Then he was surrounded by Pope, Benny, Will, you, and Whiskey, statuesque as the man who killed Tom lined up and dropped Pope, moving his way down the line. Frankie was sobbing now, he was being swallowed up by the ground, sinking helplessly as the people he cared for were murdered.

Whiskey woke with a start to the sound of shouting.

Ripping the sheet and comforter off, Whiskey glanced at the clock. It read 01:30 and he sighed. Frankie just couldn’t catch a break.

“P-please, No! Po-Pope, God, n-no, Hal-Halcón! Whiskey!”

He really didn’t want to shake Frankie awake, worried as to how he might react waking up from that sort of dream, but Jack had to do something.

“Hey, Frankie, I’m right here, you gotta wake up. Wake up, Flyboy.”

Frankie shot up, feeling like ice water had been poured down his spine. He was wild-eyed and breathing heavily, but once again, Whiskey’s soothing words served to ground him, and he clung to them with all he had. He felt Whiskey pull him into a hug, and Frankie didn’t care about the awkward angle, he clung to the embrace as well.

Whiskey’s heart ached at the way Frankie clutched at him after hearing him call out Pope’s, his, and your names. He had a vague idea of what might have happened, he still had dreams where he couldn’t save his loved ones every now and then. Once Frankie’s breathing calmed a bit, Whiskey tugged him up out of bed.

“C’mon Flyboy, you’re coming with me.”

Frankie didn’t argue, he just followed, grateful that Whiskey was pulling him by his hand, needing that point of contact. Whiskey pulled back the covers on the side opposite of his and waited until Frankie crawled in before he pulled the covers over him, then slid in on his side of the bed. He scooted a bit closer, not wanting to crowd Frankie unless he wanted the contact, and was pleased when the other man scooted back until his back rested against Jack’s chest.

“Get some sleep, Flyboy. I’ve got you.”

Sooner than he expected, Whiskey heard soft snores coming from Frankie. He smiled then wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.

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randombtsprincessa · 3 years

Text

Brush His Picture

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me

Rating: General!

Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...

Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.

A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub for hosting the wonderful exchange!

Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.

Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.

You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.

Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.

You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.

***

Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.

“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”

You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.

Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.

As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.

The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.

This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.

“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.

“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”

We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.

***

As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.

After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.

Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…

…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…

The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.

“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”

We stared back dumbly.

“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.

“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”

“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”

There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.

To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.

You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.

“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.

“Until next time, people,”

When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.

Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.

If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…

“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”

“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.

“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.

***

Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.

HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.

You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.

You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?

According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.

Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.

Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.

You might have even passed a little park arena.

When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.

You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.

Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.

The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.

Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.

“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”

It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.

“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”

Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.

“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”

There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.

“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”

You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.

“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.

“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.

It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”

You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.

You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”

You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”

You were met with nods.

“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.

You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.

You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.

“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.

“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.

“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”

“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.

***

Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.

Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”

“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”

Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.

“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.

Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”

“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.

Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.

Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”

Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.

“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.

“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”

You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.

Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.

“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”

“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.

“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”

You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.

“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.

“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.

“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”

You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”

That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”

At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.

***

It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.

The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.

You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.

The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.

Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.

“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.

“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, Hyung just said.”

Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”

The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”

This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.

“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.

Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.

You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.

Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.

They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.

Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.

You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.

But…he was way beyond human leagues.

Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.

Maybe…maybe not…

And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.

Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.

***

If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.

The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.

Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.

“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”

You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…

“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”

The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.

You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…

You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.

The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.

If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.

Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.

You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.

You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.

Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.

Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.

And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.

Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.

After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.

You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…

As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.

The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.

He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.

Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.

“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.

“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.

The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.

You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.

Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.

He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.

You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.

“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.

“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”

You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.

“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.

“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.

“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.

“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”

You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.

“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”

“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.

Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.

As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.

Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.

You were worlds apart.

Maybe this could be a story someday.

But it would never be reality.

***

Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.

Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.

That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.

It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.

She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.

“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.

“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.

“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.

“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”

You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.

“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”

“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.

She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.

The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.

You needed a change of view.

***

Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.

You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?

No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.

When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.

He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.

They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.

“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.

“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”

You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”

“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”

Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.

“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.

Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.

“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”

You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.

“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.

“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.

What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?

They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.

You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.

***

You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.

Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.

“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“What happened?” she asked flatly.

I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.

“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”

Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.

“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”

“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”

You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.

She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.

Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”

“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”

Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.

“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”

You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.

“Can you just do me one last favor?”

“What?”

“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”

***

The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.

Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.

It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.

He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.

Are you ok? What’s going on?

Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.

Only…he decided to call you…

As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.

You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.

Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.

Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.

Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.

But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.

The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.

In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.

You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.

You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.

And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.

To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.

In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.

“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.

“He’s asking about you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”

“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.

“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.

“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”

You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.

You picked up your manuscript again.

***

The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.

It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.

Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.

So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.

When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,”

The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.

Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.

It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.

You guessed his IQ really did pay off.

When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.

And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.

“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.

“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.

“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”

“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”

“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”

They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”

“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”

“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”

He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.

The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.

***

You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.

Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.

Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.

The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.

He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.

What were you doing?

Why were you here?

You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?

There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.

When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.

Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.

Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...

“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.

It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.

You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.

It was...suspiciously quiet.

“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?”

The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”

What?

They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games?

“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.

Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.

“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”

What the hell was going on here exactly?

“We’re going to talk.”

You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”

You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.

“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.

You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms.

“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”

If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.

And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.

“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”

Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”

Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.

He laughed.

His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.

In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.

You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.

You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.

“Let me go.” You said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”

You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.

But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.

You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.

And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...

Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.

“That’s...that’s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.

“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.

“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.

“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”

You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?

“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”

You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.

“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”

What were you going to do, say no?

Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”

Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.

Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.

“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.

“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.

“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.

“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.

You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.

Then chaos erupted.

The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.

“Namjoonie finally got some!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

#thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #btshoneyhive #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts #namjoon x reader #namjoon

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all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years

Text

leaves

this started as a hc but turned into a long thing about geralt being a huge softie. enjoy.

___

jaskier collects leaves that he thinks are pretty during the fall and presses them in his song writing notebook so he can look at them during the winter when all the leaves are gone. and, he'd never admit this to anyone, but he knows exactly where each leaf came from, and what he and geralt were doing when he found them, so they help him stay close to geralt in the cold months when he's away at kaer morhen.

geralt doesnt understand the fascination cause “they're just leaves jaskier” and gets kinda grumpy when jaskier walks extra slow during the fall to admire and inspect the leaves. but he secretly enjoys the way that jaskiers face lights up in front of their camp fire at night as he shows geralt each leaf he collected that day and tucks them safely into the pages of his notebook.

jaskier used to show them to roach to inspect but after she ate a particularly beautiful one on accident he does not allow her anywhere near his precious leaves.

one year jaskier and geralt part ways a little earlier than normal, geralt deciding to begin the trek to kaer morhen sooner than he normally would due to a lack of contracts so jaskier goes to oxenfurt earlier as well. the leaves are just beginning to change color as they part ways.

a few nights into the journey geralt is making camp for himself and roach when he sees a bright red leaf sitting on the forest floor, exactly the kind of leaf that jaskier would pick up and admire and wax poetry about before tucking it into his notebook. but jaskier isn't there, and geralt feels a little pang. he glares at the leaf the entire time he's setting up camp.

the camp fire has burned down to the embers by the time geralt is ready to lay out his bed roll, but he can still see the leaf at the corner of his vision. he sighs and gets up, knowing that it will continue to bother him unless he does something about it. he picks up the leaf, brushes off the dirt far more lightly than he would ever care to admit, and goes to tuck it in to his saddle bag in the roll of parchment he keeps on the off chance he has to write a letter.

roach snorts at him. “shut up,” he mutters back. “its just a leaf.” roach nuzzles his arm. “no, i don't miss him. im just...bringing him a souvenir. we had to part early this year.” another snort. “yes, i know you know. but he didn't get to see the leaves this year. i don't want him to be disappointed.” roach headbuts him as if to say, you dumb witcher. geralt ignores this, but gives her some nice pats before retiring to his bedroll.

in the next town geralt buys a random book. he doesnt know what it is, he bought the cheapest one he could find. but he's not going to read it, he just needs something to keep jaskiers leaf in so it doesnt crumble to bits before the spring. he swears roach laughs at him for that.

throughout his trip up to kaer morhen, geralt finds himself progressively walking slower, taking time to admire the leaves as the bard had once done.

he picks up the second leaf a week later after a battle with some drowners. he’s heading back into the town, having come across his first contract in weeks, holding the head and covered in river muck and guts when he sees a perfectly yellow leaf on the ground in front of him. he picks it up gingerly, trying his very best not to get guts on it (and he nearly succeeds). if the alderman thinks its weird, a witcher coming back with a drowner head in one hand and a yellow maple leaf in the other, he doesnt say anything. roach does tho, whinnying the second she sees it in geralts hand. he ignores her, and presses the maple leaf into the book a few pages after the brilliant red one.

after that he adds to the collection more frequently. an reddish oak leaf he finds on the ground outside of a tavern, a brilliant orange leaf he finds at his campsite, a yellowish orange leaf the size of his face that he finds along the road and so on. roach makes fun of him every time he reaches for the book, but geralt ignores her. they're merely souvenirs for jaskier, nothing more.

collecting leaves slows him down considerably, but he cant bring himself to care. he's even disappointed when the last of the leaves disappear and the first snow sets in.

but that doesnt stop him from collecting things to add to his book. he gathers different small pine branches, holly leaves and other things that he knows jasper has never seen before because they grow too far north. he becomes so caught up in his hunt for interesting plants that the snow is already falling thickly by the time he reaches kaer morhe, despite him leaving for the keep so early. eskel and lambert chide him for being late, but he ignores them, happy that he managed to fill most of the book with leaves for jaskier.

that whole winter the book remains in the bottom of geralts pack, wrapped carefully in his spare shirt. he thinks about it often, but doesnt dare bring it out for fear that one of his brothers will catch him and make fun of him for being a sap. he's not a sap, he just found some leaves for his friend.

winter drags on far too long in geralts opinion and leaves as soon as the passes are clear, antsy to get back to his friend and give him the book. but on his way down he discovers yet another beautiful thing that jaskier would love: wildflowers. roach is slightly more appreciative of this because wildflowers are things that she is allowed to eat. geralt often feeds her them to see if she approves. if she spits it out or refuses to eat it, then it doesnt make it into the book.

in the space he has left in the book he fills it with wildflowers, sometimes going out of his way to collect them. there are buttercups, dandelions, little blue ones the color of jaskiers eyes, poppies, apple blossoms, daffodils, and even a few rose petals that he buys from a stall in a market. the book is brimming with nature now. he has to be careful not to lose any of his treasures.

finally, he arrives at his and jaskiers meeting spot. he stables roach who gives him a headbut of encouragement and he grabs the book carefully wrapped in his shirt before he makes his way to the tavern, suddenly very nervous.

jaskiers voice is already wafting out of the tavern as he draws closer, having beat geralt to the meeting spot for once, and geralt hesitantly steps inside, knowing jaskiers eyes will be on him the second he goes in. he’s overcome with thoughts, what if jaskier hates it? what if he thinks it's dumb? what if he laughs at him?

he enters anyway, because he's a witcher for fucks sake and he can handle his friends scrutiny. immediately he sees jaskier, sitting in the corner, working a crowd. as always, jaskiers eyes snap to him the second he steps foot in the tavern and he winks. geralt gives him the smallest nod and heads to his table in the corner after ordering an ale. he tucks the book out of sight on the bench next to him.

minutes later jaskier barrels over, eyes bright with the life of the crowd he had been entertaining.

“geralt!” he exclaims. “finally. i thought you stood me up, you big oaf. i never make it here before you do, i thought you may have been eaten! although im not sure by what exactly, i don't know what species has a taste for witches, dragons maybe? well never mind, youre here now and you better have a good excuse for being so late, even im starting to get bored of this town and you know how i love towns...”

geralt smiles into his ale, he missed this, but he'd never admit it. his eyes flick over to the book sitting on the seat beside him, unsure whether or not he should give it to him.

jaskier, being the observant fucker he is, notices. “geralt what do you have on the seat there? is it a monster head? you know what happened last time you tried to hide a monster head in a tavern, i thought the town would chase us out with pitchforks they were so angry! surely you wouldn't-”

“here.” geralt mutters, cutting him off, unwilling to listen to that horrible story.

jaskier stares at the lump of black fabric on the table. “geralt, why are you giving me your shirt? its not really my style, i’m not one for black really, makes my skin look too pale.”

“open it.” he says into his ale.

jaskier does, and stares at the book dumbfounded. “a history book? geralt you know that i am a master of the seven liberal arts, im a professor at oxenfurt! i have all these boring books in the library, i didn't need you to get me one, although it is very thoughtful of you to- oh”

geralt, tired of hearing jaskiers babbling, flips open the book, revealing the bits of nature he had spent their time apart collecting. jasper is silent, which geralt takes as a bad sign. maybe roach was right, maybe he didn't like it, maybe he'd wasted his time for nothing.

“cause you....you didn't get to see...the leaves this year,” he mutters, looking into the tavern, unable to see the inevitable disappointment on jaskiers face.

“oh, geralt,” jaskier whispers. “you collected all of these for me?”

geralt doesnt say anything, but his silence is enough.

“this is why you were late. you were collecting these, for me.”

“its okay if you don't..like them” geralt bites out.

“oh no no no no, geralt, they're wonderful.”

geralt looks at jaskier and sees him touching the pine branch he took form the trees outside kaer morhen, tears brimming in his eyes. “you don't hate it?”

“no, love.” jaskier smiles softly. “i adore it. and i adore you. and id love it if you tell me about all of them, please.”

for the first time in years geralt feels something like a smile tugging at his lips and he picks up the pine branch from jaskiers hand, telling him how it came from the tree outside his window, the one that he looked at everyday as a kid growing up. the same tree that lambert once dared him to climb and he nearly did before being spotted by vesemir and scolded at. jasper laughs and sniffs the pine carefully before placing the branch back in the book.

they pour over the book for hours at their table in the tavern. geralt cant remember the last time he's talked this much, much less about himself of all things, but jaskier is more than happy to listen.

if you want to be tagged in future works of mine shoot me an ask !!

#witcher #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #geraskier #greaskier fic #witcher fic #idk where this cam from but i vibe #if anyone wants to be tagged in my future rambings #please let me know #i hope you enjoyed this hc fic type thing #geralt is a huge softie and i love him #saph scribbles

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agustdakasuga · 4 years

Text

A Place Called Home | Chapter 7

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: vet!reader, Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook

Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

Everything seems to be going well. Taehyung and Namjoon are settling into the family nicely. After a night of busting an illegal fighting ring, a rare hybrid shows up at your hospital and you’re determined to try and heal him of his painful past.

*WARNING: This chapter may discuss some triggering topics such as PTSD, abuse and other psychological issues. Please read at your own discretion! :)

“I’ll drop you off, kitten.” Yoongi said as he grabbed the keys. You nodded and quickly ran upstairs to take your bag. As you walked past Taehyung’s room, you knocked on the door.

“Tae! Hurry up or we’ll be late.” You shouted and took your bag, as well as your coat, slinging it over your shoulder. Taehyung ran out of his room as well.

“Goodbye, boys. I’ll see you tonight.” You kissed Jin and Namjoon on the heads before rushing out the door.

After the adoption and settling down permanently, Taehyung and Namjoon were finally able to get jobs so they wouldn’t be bored at home. Namjoon worked at the plant nursery with Jin since he attended to the garden in your backyard. Taehyung worked at a library with a really nice old lady that adored your entire family. She took really good care of Taehyung.

“Thanks, Yoongs. Have a nice day, boys.” You said and got out of the car. You made it in time, scanning your ID and clocking in for your morning shift.

“Morning doctor.” The nurses greeted.

“Morning.” You smiled, standing by the nurses’ station, running through all the patient charts for your morning rounds. Someone cleared their throat and you turned to see your hospital director. Immediately, you and the nurses bowed to greet her.

“May I speak to you in my office?” She asked.

“Of course. I’ll be back for the rounds.” You told the nurse and followed the director. You headed up to her office together.

“How’s Namjoon?” She asked with a smile as she opened the door for you to enter. You bowed and entered the big office, hearing her close the door behind you.

“He’s doing well. He started working with Jin, my arctic fox hybrid, at the plant nursery and he’s enjoying himself. Director, is something wrong? You seem worried about something.” You bit your lip. She gestured for you to sit down as she took her own seat in her chair. You uneasily sat down opposite her, the desk separating the both of you.

“The hybrids your team brought in last night have all been checked and tagged.” She informed.

Last night, you and your team managed to bust a big illegal fighting ring. You rescued the hybrids and brought them to your hospital to get treated. It was a very successful bust and the whole gang was now in prison.

You didn’t even know everyone in your team, what they looked like or their real names since everyone had a NATO alphabet phonetic as their code name. Your code name was ‘Echo’. The only thing you knew about them was that they were all from different walks of life, with different jobs.

“Thank you, director.” You bowed your head.

“But out of all the predator hybrids you brought you, there was one domestic one. A calico cat. Now, you know calico cats are rare but never used for fighting. His injuries are not from fights but just abuse. The thing is, he is very mentally unstable.” She sighed.

“I see. There were a lot of hybrids so I don’t really remember.” You frowned. What was a calico cat doing at a fighting ring?

“He could be the leader’s own pet or something?” You guessed. The director shrugged, taking out his file and handing it to you. You opened it and browsed through.

“There’s so little information on him. And he’s so underweight!” You said in disbelief. The director nodded her head.

“I’m transferring him under your care. That’s all for now. You may go.” She said and you stood up, tucking the file under your arm as you bowed. You exited her office and began your morning rounds with your current patients first. The nurses helped you with updating all the files. You wanted to go see the calico cat but you were scheduled for two surgeries today.

“Good work today!” Your surgical team bowed to you and you waved, walking down the halls. With the file in your hand, you went to the floor with all the individual suites.

“W-Who are you?” He jumped the moment you entered. His eyes showed so much fear and apprehension.

“Hello. I’m doctor (y/l/n).” You kept your distance as you smiled at him.

“A doctor? A-Are you going to hurt me?” He whimpered.

“No no, sweetie. I would never. I’m here to help you. Can I come in?” You asked and he thought about it before nodding slowly. Keeping your soft smile, you stepped a little closer to him.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“J-Jimin.” He replied, nervously. You knew he was still really scared that you might do something to him so you didn’t get too close. If you got hurt again, you wouldn’t mind or blame anyone but you knew that Yoongi would definitely not let it go.

“Hi, Jimin. That’s such a nice name.” You complimented.

“I have to go home. The master will get mad if I’m not there to greet him when he comes home.” He cried,

“It’s okay, Jimin. No one will hurt you anymore, hmm? You’re safe here.” You hummed softly.

“No, you’re lying! They will always find me and then I’m going to get punished for running away!” Jimin began to shake as a full blown anxiety attack hit him. Just to be safe, you grabbed a sedative syringe from the nurse cart, you moved closer and Jimin jumped, moving back fearfully. He shook his head as tears continuously fell down his cheeks.

“Calm down, Jimin. Breathe. Follow my breathing.” You guided him, not wanting to sedate him just yet. He whimpered.

“Good job. You’re doing great.” You smiled as you encouraged him. He watched you, felt you and heard you, trying to even out his breathing to match your pace.

“Do you want some food or do you want to sleep?” You asked him.

“Please don’t leave me alone.” He whimpered.

“I’ll be right here.” You held your hand out. Looking at it, he moved a little closer to make sure you weren’t armed before grasping it urgently, as if you were his saving grace. With your other hand, you reached up to pet his head, watching as he flinched slightly, his ears moving.

“There we go.” You cooed. Looking up, you noticed one of his ears was clipped, making one less pointy than the other.

“Are you hungry?” You asked. Just then, Jimin’s stomach rumbled. He allowed you leave for a few minutes so you could grab him a tray of food. You watched him stare at it, almost drooling.

“Is this really for me?” He asked softly.

“Of course. It’s all yours.” You nodded. Jimin looked at you before picking up the spoon and wolfing down the food quickly. You stroked his back to slow him down as he was choking on the food at one point from not chewing. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You knew it was your boys, asking when you would come home.

‘I’ll be home late. Don’t worry. - (y/n)’

You sent a quick reply, not knowing that Yoongi was already on his way to find you. He had asked one of your colleagues where you were.

“Oh, I think I saw her on the 3rd floor?” He said. Yoongi nodded and bowed, going up. He peeked into each room, following your faint scent. When he stopped in front of the ward, he knocked and entered.

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” You stood up, confused. At the intrusion of a stranger, Jimin recoiled in defence and hissed, clawing and managing to get the back of your hand.

“(y/n)!” Seeing you hurt, Yoongi quickly grabbed at you, pulling you behind him protectively. You winced in slight pain as you watched the two hybrids hiss and growl at each other, showing their canines warningly. They could smell the scent of your blood in the air.

“Yoongi, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” You held his arm to calm him down.

“He. Hurt. You.” He growled.

“Calm down, Yoongi. Please.” You begged, pulling him out of there before he could actually jump on Jimin and attack him.

“(y/n), please don’t go.” You heard Jimin’s cries as you and Yoongi left the ward. Yoongi held your injured hand in his, pulling you to the nurse’s station to ask for a first aid kit. The nurses recognised him and handed it to him. Yoongi sat you down in the lounge and began patching up your scratches hand.

“Oww, gentle please.” You whimpered when he dabbed the antiseptic on the scratches.

“Yoongi... please don’t be mad.” You said softly. He refused to look up at you, throwing the bloody cotton into a pile and bandaging your hand. When he secured it, he kissed it.

“It’s not his fault.” You repeated. Yoongi grabbed you and pulled you into his lap.

“He still hurt you.” He said softly.

“Hey, it’s just a few scratches, part of the drop. They’ll be gone in a few days. Don’t worry.” You chuckled. You began to briefly tell him about the situation with Jimin and how he just was wary around strangers because he was just rescued. Yoongi listened attentively, knowing and feeling just how worried you were about Jimin.

“For now, I think it’s best you come back tomorrow. It’s not safe for you and him.” Yoongi told you.

“But he’s alone and scared. I’m afraid he runs away. He thinks his owner is going to find him and hurt him.” You sighed.

“You can’t do everything on your own, kitten. I’m sorry but I’m not risking you getting hurt again. We’re going home now.” Yoongi didn’t let you protest before going to your office to grab your bag and leaving.

“Nurse, Jimin in suite 12. Be careful, alright? He’s very wary of strangers. Let me know if you need anything tonight.” You told the nurse on night shift. She nodded and bowed her head before bidding you and Yoongi goodbye. You folded your arms and huffed.

“Stop pouting, kitten. You know your tantrums only work on Jin hyung.” Yoongi chuckled as he drove.

When you arrived home, the hybrids were all alerted to the scent of your blood before you could even enter the house. Jin was the first to rush to you.

“Why are you bleeding?” He fussed.

“A small incident at work. Don’t worry.” You rubbed his ears reassuringly. Taehyung was there to greet you with the usual hugs. Then you gave Namjoon a small greeting hug as well. After a quick meal and shower, you went to bed.

BEEP BEEP

You were woken up by your beeper on your nightstand. Yawning, you checked it and your eyes widened. There was a Code Yellow at the hospital, meaning that a patient is missing. Immediately, you wondered if the person that ran away was-

“Jagi, Namjoon smelled an intruder on the property. Stay here while we scout, alright?” You heard Jin’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Okay. Please be safe.” You replied. As you put your beeper down, your phone lit up, confirming your suspicions. The attending doctor for the night informed you that your patient, Park Jimin, was missing.

“Stay away!” You heard Yoongi growl and snuck out of your room.

“Please, I’m just looking for doctor (y/l/n).” A familiar voice made your head shoot up. You hurried down the stairs and saw the familiar set of ears with one clipped at the end. You stood between them, making your 4 call out your name in worry for your safety.

“It’s okay, guys. You’re scaring him.” You told them.

“Doctor (y/l/n).” Jimin called out.

“Hey, Jiminie.” You smiled softly, slowly moving towards him. The 4 hybrids behind you growled lowly and you held a hand up to stop them.

“It’s okay. They won’t hurt you, alright? I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.�� You assured. Jimin sniffled and broke down into more cries and whimpers, falling to the ground. Bending down in front of him, Jimin jumped into your arms, his orange, white and black tail securing itself around your waist. You comforted him, wiping his tears.

“Why did you run away, Jimin ah?” You asked softly.

“It’s scary and dark there. I don’t want to be alone.” He whispers. You nodded your head, understanding. Even if Jimin didn’t have a full psychiatric evaluation, you knew enough to say that he was clearly psychologically distraught.

“(y/n), there’s no way he’s staying here or at least, near you tonight.” Yoongi growled.

“Let her go before I call hybrid control.” Namjoon threatened. You closed your eyes, not knowing what to do. You were afraid that someone was going to get hurt. Suddenly, you were yanked back and fell on the ground as 4 of your hybrids stood in front of you, hissing and growling at Jimin.

“Doctor (y/l/n).” Jimin whimpered as he backed away fearfully.

“Jin, you have to help him. He’s traumatised.” You begged the arctic fox, knowing he would empathise the most.

“Jimin, we’re not going to hurt you but you can’t just break in and expect us to be okay with it. You even hurt (y/n) at the hospital. We’re her hybrids, it’s our job to protect her.” Jin spoke.

As you watched the exchange, you also alerted the medical staff at the hospital that Jimin had actually been able to make his way to your house.

“Everyone, let’s calm down and talk. We’re all scaring and stressing (y/n) by acting like this.” Jin commanded, showing his alpha side as the oldest. Taehyung, Yoongi and Namjoon immediately stopped, standing straight. Jimin still quivered in fear. You were so thankful that Jin had such authority over the hybrids and they, in turn, had such tremendous respect for him.

“Let’s go sit.” He nodded to the living room area.

“Tae, baby, can you get me two painkillers and a glass of water?” You held his hand with a smile. He nodded and ran off to the kitchen. Jimin watched the exchange, jealousy burning within him.

“Here.” Taehyung appeared in front of you. You popped the pills and gulped down the water, petting Taehyung’s head gratefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I don’t want to go back to my owner and Doctor (y/l/n) said she will protect me.” Jimin cried. The 4 empathised with him. They, too, never wanted to return to their previous owners. You just listened to the 4 of the interact.

“Where are you from?” Namjoon asked. Yoongi moved to your other side, his tail around you securely, still glaring at Jimin.

“I don’t know. But there was a bird cage with a feather tattoo on all of them.” Jimin said. You turned to Yoongi, who shook his head, meaning he didn’t know which ring Jimin was from.

“We would like to believe they’re all captured and in prison.” You sighed but of course, these illegal syndicates would always find a way to continue operating with other members that weren’t captured.

“But you’re a domestic breed. Calico cats are rare. No one would use them for fighting.” Taehyung stated.

“I never fought. I was just made to follow and sit next to my master.” He whispered. The thought made his entire being seize up as he remembered how horrible it was to the point that he wished he would be the one in the ring fighting to the death instead. Yoongi was in disbelief. He should have known that this kid was the ring master’s personal pet.

“There’s a spare room you can use for the night but you’re not getting near (y/n). And you’re going back to the hospital tomorrow.” Yoongi stood up and dragged you with him.

“(y/n)...” Jimin called softly.

“He won’t hurt me anymore, Yoongs.” You placed your hand over his.

“I’m sorry, kitten. I can’t risk it, not when your safety is concerned. I know it’s not his fault but he was the ring master’s pet. Namjoon and I know and have seen what those disgusting creatures do to their pets. Jimin is as good as a ticking time bomb.” Yoongi walked to the window.

“How bad?” You gulped.

“Well, he's 10 times worse than the old Jin hyung.” Yoongi rubbed his forehead. You were at a lost.

“Then what should I do? As his doctor, I have to do what’s best for him.” You buried your face into your hands. There was a knock on your door and your 3 other hybrids appeared. You nodded your head for them to come in.

“You do what you think is best. But all we ask is for you to think about your safety too. We’ll stand by whatever you decide.” Namjoon spoke, having heard your conversation.

“Thank you.” You sighed.

“He’s staying in one of the guest rooms. The windows are locked so he can’t leave.” Jin informed. As you settled on your bed, Taehyung curled up beside you, laying his head in your lap. Namjoon and Yoongi began to share with me more about what they knew Jimin possibly went through. There were so many forms of abuse just to mentally break the hybrid.

“How could they do that to him?” You shook your head.

“Not all humans are like you, (y/n). You’re one of the only ones that see us as equal.” Taehyung pouted.

“It’s not his fault that he is like this. He was a victim.” You lowered your head, feeling your heart ache for him. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what Jimin went through.

“We never said it was his fault. We’re all victims, none of us wanted the treatment we got. But I’m saying this because I know what they go through, he needs real help (y/n). Not just someone to coddle him like you do. He needs mental intervention and not from you.” Yoongi crossed his arms.

“If I can help him?”

“You shouldn’t. He is already formed such a strong connection with you, he’s not going to want to get better because he knows he can depend on you. If he suddenly sees you as a new master, I don’t want you both getting hurt.” Namjoon said.

“There’s really nothing I can do for him?” You said sadly. No doctor liked hearing that there was nothing they could do for their patient.

“I’m sorry, snowflake. I know it’s disappointing.” Jin patted your shoulder and you hugged him.

“I’ll call Dr Lee in the morning.”

“Maybe when he gets a little better, you can continue to care for him.” Yoongi comforted. The hybrids could all smell your tears that spilled onto Jin’s shirt as he held you. Taehyung whined, not liking the thought of you crying at all. He stood up and hugged you from the back. Namjoon and Yoongi joined the hug as well. The 5 of you stood there in your room, hugging each other.

That night, Taehyung slept next to you while Yoongi sat outside your door to guard you. You had refused but he insisted, worried Jimin might break in and Taehyung can’t fight him off.

Namjoon and Jin also slept lightly since their rooms were the nearest to Jimin. While the hybrids’ priority was your safety, they also wanted to make sure that Jimin was safe.

“Jimin is the same age as you.” You said as you ran your hand through Taehyung’s hair, a soft smile on your face.

“Really? He looked so small...” Taehyung frowned.

“Yeah, he is underweight and malnourished so he’s on the smaller side. He’s actually a few months older than you, Tae.” You gave a light chuckle. Taehyung wrapped his tail around your waist, snuggling closer to you. He placed his head on your chest, hearing your heart beat.

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