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jazz-miester · 3 years

Text

Let's talk about this like adults.

I am. And I'm pissed. More so at myself than you.

Pairing: N/A

Characters: Y/N. Optimus Prime. Others mentioned in passing.

Reader type: gender neutral human

Song: why'd you only call me when you're high- Arctic monkeys.

Warnings: Angst. Manipulation. Mentions of past abuse.

An: This is a vent. And based on actual things this person has said to me and some of its quoted directly. I thought he was a friend and honestly. I'm a fucking idiot for thinking that. People change a lot in 11 years man.

But ya. This is entirely through text. This person and me.

And maybe this is a lot my fault as well. I accepted the damn compliments even after I told him I didn't want a relationship. Maybe I led him on.

Maybe I'm not as alone as I think I am.

It was late at night when the message came. Long after you should have been asleep. A ding! Chimed from your battered phone. It showed a name you haven't seen since you were ten.

:Hi! I know it's been a long time and you've probably have forgotten about me by now. But it's (redacted) From school?

Like a fool you smiled. Curled up a little tighter on the couch with your blanket. Heart pitter pattering with excitement. Old friends meeting! How great was that?

You stayed up for two hours. Talking. Catching up. It was nice. Even as sleep called to you and the sun begins it's rise over the horizon. Truly. It was. Until the next day.

:I had a crush on you. You know that? One of those kiddy, puppy love things.:

God. You just started talking. Was that a weird thing to lead off with? You didn't know.

"Are you alright y/n? Your heart rate has increased. " You glanced up from your phone. Caught Ratchets concerned look. Prime looking from behind him. Digits poised in the air. Normally that meant you were hurting. About to have a week long migraine.

You shook your head. Gave a smile. "It's nothing. Honestly. Just a weird text." Ratchet hummed. You felt more than saw him run another scan.

"Alright then."

June gives you a knowing look.

You type back. Brushed the message off. If you ignored it maybe it wouldn't happen again. And it didn't. At least not for a couple more days anyways.

Coffee. Sweet, dark, coffee. The smell surrounding you as you waited for it to finish brewing. Sitting in the counter impatiently as you scrolled through Pinterest. Trying to find some sort of inspiration on what you should draw next.

Your phone dinged. Buzzed in your hand.

:Wyd?:

You wanted to ignore it. Go on with your day. Have your morning in peace. You didn't want to have the dread bubbling in you. Simmering like a pt on the stove. This was your friend. You should be excited.

Right?

:Not much honestly. Making coffee.:

Speaking of which. You pulled your mug down. Black. Old. Had a few chips in it. You've had it since you were fifteen. You're twenty one now.

You two talk. Nothing abnormal. How's it going. Plans. Things that's happen since you've last talked.

Family.

The. He dropped a bomb. No warning. No reason. Nothing leading up to it outside the fact you were talking about parents.

:Ya. They were pretty abusive to me.:

I. You. What?

Your stomach turned and no longer did you want the blueberry muffin you had been so excited for the day before.

Pain pulls at your temples. The start of a headache as you begin to stress. How in the fresh fuck do you answer that? What in the fraggin pits do you say?

_Im sorry you went through that and had shitty parents_?

_Fuck. Hope you weren't tramatized_

You swallow thickly. Stare at your phone. Your hands shake. You take a breath and answer back.

Feel sorry for him .

Tell him it's ok.

Its fine. You're here.

He's forcing you to listen.

You go to work that day uneasy.

He texts you again later that day. Not a single word is mentioned about your last conversation. No thanks for listening. No sorry for just. Just venting unannounced.

:Can I tell you something?: You glanced up from your phone. Miko smiles at you from her spot on the couch. Curled up with a large chocolate milkshake and her notebook. Doodling away.

You agreed to watch her so Bulkhead could go on patrol.

: Sure. What do you need to tell me.: Your stomach turns. :As long as I don't end up in a documentary we're good lol.: Something funny. Please let it be something funny.

: I think I have a crush on you. Not one of those kiddy ones either. Like a real one. And you make me so happy. I'm glad I'm able to talked to you again.:

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"Y/n?" You glanced up at Optimus. Smile. He tilts his head. Studies you. Then goes back to decoding.

You let out a shaking breath. What to say what to say?

: Honestly man if I wasn't so awkward I'd know what to say lol. But I'm glad I was able to make you happy?:

:🥺 lmao I get that. I've been low-key flirting with you this entire time. And now? I'm gonna open up the flirt gate.:

"Shit." Please don't. God please don't all I want is a friend. Optimus glances up at you again. Despite not wanting to you ignore him. Pretend it didn't happen.

After going back and forward with him you go to Miko. Asking her if she did her homework. Looking for some sort of distraction.

The next conversation was better. For the most part. He wondered why you weren't talking as much. You explained you get migraines. Man went off about how he was always worried about you. "Even when we were little."

The conversation steered. Talked about x box's and games. About Skyrim and Dragon age. About how you were excited to start playing Halo after your sibling got you back I to it.

It was good. This conversation. You liked this one.

You talked like friends.

A couple days later. You're watching YouTube on your phone .

:So I may be getting jumped soon.:

:Gun.:

Your response is immediate. Your stomach whirls. Aches. Dread .

:Because I said it’s not my fault that this guys family in the past were slaves and shit like that. I said that was many years ago. And that my family wasn't slave owners. Like damn.:

Shit shit shit. You spill your coffee. Ice and creamer flowing over your wooden table top. You throw an old towel over the top of it. Cleaning as you typed back.

:If you're really worried you could tell the police?:

:Nah he's to much of a wimp to do anything. And besides. I've had knifes pulled in me before so I'm not worried.:

Not worried? No fucking worried.

You sit down in your chair. Phone landing in a mess of creamer. You lead over. Head between your knees. Try to breathe.

A migraine.

You had a fucking migraine.

He didn't get hurt. Thank fuck. Oh thank fucking God. The next day you were still hurting. Calling in to work and letting them know. Telling June to let the Bots and kids know it may be a few days.

Relief.

The two of you talked about games. Halo. Master Chief.

That's all you wanted with him. A friend. Platonic friendship.

Not.

Not everything else.

Was it you fault?

Did. You shake your head. Go on talking.

:Hey baby girl want to send pixs back and forth😉:

Your stomach turns. Anger flashes through you. All you fucking wanted was to cook dinner.

June and Jack talk in the living room. Miko and Raf go over homework at you kitchen table. Now stained by coffee.

:This better be a joke cus I will through hands.: Your phone clattered on the countertop. You go back to frying chicken and getting tofu ready for June.

He apologizes. Says his account got hacked. Tells you he changed the password.

Did you overreact? You feel bad. He's your friend. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

You joke with him. Tell him you've seen worse out of Tumblrs Bots. Finish up dinner. Tell June and the others goodnight. Send Miko off with the rest of the apple pie.

:If I ever find out some guys asks you for nudes let’s me know. I’ll fight their asses.: You roll yours eyes. Like it would be his problem or place.

:Assuming I wouldn't first?:

He laughs.

:Okay lol. Shit I’m actually kinda embarrassed to ask this. But what if I asked. I'm not asking for any. Just curious.:

You toss your sponge. Suds scatter to the floor. Anger. And something else you can't place. Guilt? Shame?

God you were overreacting again. Right? That had to be it.

:Hard pass. Not my cup of tea.:

:Ok good. That's the answer I wanna hear.:

What the fuck is that supposed too mean?

He thanks you for letting him know. You try to brush it all off. You two send gifs back and forth.

Then he asks.

And you wanted to scream.

: So. Question.What would you do if I accidentally sent you a pic of my you know what. Lol. What would you do. Laugh at it. Because of how small it is. 😂 because I laugh at it.:

:lol. I wouldn't scare you with it.:

And you ignore him.

:Since the weirdness is gone wyd?:

:hey.:

:Are you mad at me?:

A picture.

:Table for one.:

You were talking to Prime. Asking him if he'd be able to help you haul your old truck to the mechanics. Somethings busted in it and you can't figure out what.

Your phone dings.

:I might be getting fired tomorrow.:

You ignore it. Prime arches a brow.

"Should you not answer that? I have heard it is not polite to. What did Miko call it." He looks to the left. Then back. "Ahh. Ghosting. It is not polite to. Ghost. Someone."

You laugh.

"I think this one is unique Prime. I." You look down. Clutch your phone. It dings again.

A picture of a car. The corner of the fender busted. Despite not wanting to. Really. You wanted to make sure he was ok.

You stuck your phone in your back pocket. Turned your full attention on Prime.

"Will you though? I have the hitch for it and everything. If not it's fine. I think Fowler might have a pick up we can use to haul the damn thing." Your heart pitter patters at the look Optimus is giving you.

Intense. Concerned. Optics soft.

"You are stressed." He leans in closer. Helm a hairs breath from where you are standing. He pulls back. "You have been this way since "the weird message." Is something wrong?"

You swallow thickly. You want to tell him everything. Optimus has been your official-unofficial guardian since meeting the Bots.

And Adult you were.

But you were young. Still learning.

"Do. Do you know how to tell if someone truly wants to be your friend. Or if they're just using you to vent. To be a bouncing board for their emotions." You look up at him. You want to cry. "He. He says he likes me but. I just want a friend. Not a relationship."

You look down. Heat flooding your face.

"Y/n. I'd this person truly cares they would take your emotions and feeling into consideration." He bumps you with a finger. "What is wrong? Please. Tell me."

And you did. All the messages. You told him about the calls. Who he used to be to you.

Optimus was holding something back. You could tell. The tires at his legs whirling and spinning like when he was in battle. Vents hissing. Jaw tensed.

"This happened to Elita. Once." You tilt your head.

"Elita? Thats a pretty name." He smiles at this.

"A pretty femme as well." He softens. "She had a friend from her days in the academy. And he contacted her again at some point during the war. Long after me and her had bonded."

Bonded? Like married?

"Elita. Despite everything, and she is a very strong femme in her own right. Determined to do this on my own. But this mech would not take no for an answer. So I delt with it upon her asking." You fold your arms. Lean forward.

"I delt with him." He rumbled out again. "I do not condone violence. You know this. Words before action. Action before aggression. " He leaned close to you again.

"Do not allow this mechling to toy with your emotions. He is attempting to get you to feel sorry for him. To feel guilt for asking about such an intimate thing. Asking that is akin to asking a cybertronian to bare ones spark." Another brush from his finger. A tilt of his helm. "He is far away from here. Cut connections with him y/n. I do not wish to see you come under stress again. Not from a mechling."

You smile. Something lifts from your shoulders. "Thank you Optimus. Truly." You stop. "I hope I can meet this Elita one day. She sounds pretty cool." A soft smile. A far away look.

"I wish you could meet her one day as well. She is important to me. And so are you." He pauses. "Do not hesitate to ask me for help. I will talk with him if you wish me to." You laugh.

"I don't think that will be necessary Prime. But thank you. Truly."

Your heart pounds as you block him late at night. One social media then the next. Tik tok. Messenger.

It was late ok.

Your forgot one. And you hardly used t anyways except for the filters.

So. The next morning you got the message.

:Please. Before you block me here hear me out.:

:no. I made my choice. I would have blocked you here as well if I remembered we were mutuals here.:

More talking.

:Please. Let's talk about this like Adults.:

Pissed. Livid. God you were angry.

:I. Am. I'm more pissed at my self than you. I'm disappointed in myself for it going on this long.:

:I'm disappointed in myself to. I shouldn't have said that. I won't do it again. Promise.:

:You shouldn't have done that in the first place.:

Friends don't do that to friends.

More talking.

:Look. At least wait to block me again until after my surgery.:

You wanted to cry.

:No.: You breath in. Look at your tv screen. Master Chief idling as he waited for you to take control again. :Look. I'm a bitch but I. Nt an asshole. I truly hope that your surgery goes well. Ok. Truly I do. But I'm done. With this. With us.:

: Please. Your my only friend. I don't want to lose you.:

You wanted to throw up.

:no. I made my choice. I'm done.:

:Fine. Love you.:

(Redacted has unfriended you)

:Jesus man. :

And you block him.

Curled up in your couch you stare at the tv screen. Watching the landscape of Halo and Master Chief. You wanted to cry. Scream. Something.

Were you wrong for doing this?

Did you over react?

:Optimus are you busy?:

:I am not. I am merely helping Ratchet watch the children.:

:Can. Can we go an get ice cream?:

A pause. Then the sound of a ground bridge opening and closing. Then tires crunching over gravel.

He was here.

You walk out and he swings his door open.

"Would you like music?" You sniffle. Nod. Then swallow back the tears. You wouldn't cry. Not over this.

Welcome to the jungle sounds through the speakers and you laugh.

And you know what. That was the best God damn ice cream you ever had.

#maccadam #transformers #optimus prime #transformers prime #tfp optimus #vent

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king-bito · 3 years

Text

Vanta Black is a butt

I’m sorry, this is my first Drabble or whatever this is, I didn’t proof read it, I don’t really know what my intention was here.. I’m not a writer, I do digital art, but there’s so little Shihai smut out there I thought I would add my bad writing to the small pile xD

I’m SO SORRY.

Pairing: Shihai Kuroiro x Reader

Characters are in their mid twenties.

Rating: Explicit

MINORS DO NOT INTERRACT

Warnings: Dub-Con, Predator/Prey Dynamic, Quirk use, Smut

It’s been a long day, it’s 10pm and you just exited the cinema alone, your friend, who decided to make the whole movie about kissing, making out, and blowing their newly acquired boyfriend, ditched you early in favour of going home with him.

Oh how wonderful it felt to be a third wheel. You’d resigned and accepted your fate, opting to take your time, grabbing a coffee at concession before leaving.

It’s Friday night and there’s still a buzz of nightlife, just barely starting to pick up. Luckily you lived nearby so you wouldn’t have to suffer atrocious cab fares, and the awkward conversations that you always felt cornered into.

You take a deep breath, finishing off the last of your beverage and tossing it into the trash and beginning your walk home, pulling together your jacket to ward off the cold bite of the night air.

————

It’s only 2 blocks from your apartment when you hear what sounds like distressed meows coming from a dark alley. Was it a cat? Fuck, it’s too cold on a night like this to just ignore it. You aren’t the bravest person, and dimly lit alleyways threw up about a dozen warning signals, but these small, infantile kitten meows had you falter and pause.

Biting your lip, you decide to suck it up. You can’t abandon a little kitty out here..

Oh how wonderfully gullible you are.

As you near a filthy dumpster with so many tags on it you can’t even make out a single letter, a cold breeze makes you shiver, it travels up your spine making you feel unsettled. For some reason the meows stopped when you began to enter the alley, and as you pull your arms around yourself for comfort to try and quell the fear, you peer around some stray boxes and trash bags, hoping to locate the abandoned animal.

You let out a gasp as something moves, you suppress a scream and tumble back against the brick wall, panting, heart beating rapidly.

There is nothing.

You swallow, you must have imagined it right?

Suddenly you feel something warm grab your wrists from behind, instinctively you try to pull forward but whatever is holding you is like a vice. Looking down you see pitch black hands wrapped firmly around your dainty wrists and then a low, whispering voice hits your ear.

“Hello little mousy~” Out from the dark brick behind you, a mans face with charcoal pigmented skin is pushing out from the darkness, his deep, dangerous tone terrifying and a little too provocative. Your first reaction is to bolt, and as you yank yourself away (purely at the mercy of this strange man in a wall letting your wrists go), you fall to the ground, turning to back yourself up against the opposite wall, resting on your now scraped palms. “W-what the hell?!” You stammer, taking in the sight before you.

Oh how cute.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, hoping to draw the attention of someone, anyone, nearby.

...

A deep chuckle cuts through the cold silence between you, and you watch as the head moves forward, more of his body emerging from the wall, and now, you get the chance to fully drink in his features. He’s handsome, well, what little you can make out in the low light against impossibly dark skin. His eyes are hooded and seductive, they study you with each breath you take. His lips are lightly pursed into a small smirk, they look perfect on his sharp jawline. His face is framed by a mop of thick silver hair that flicks out in an unruly manner over his cheeks and the back of his neck. The man is clad in a black coat, grey denim jeans, and a low cut v-neck tee, where you can make out his defined collarbones disappearing beneath the lapels of his long coat.

“Aww.. did I scare the poor little thing?” The man coos out gently, and the twisted smile he wears tells you very clearly this was all just fun cruelty to him.

“O-Of course you did! Who the fuck does tha-“

“Shihai” he interrupts you.

“What?”

“My name is Shihai Kuroiro, but you may call me Kuro.”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is.” You blurt out, getting yourself back to your feet and pressing yourself against the cold brick as if it would get you any further away from this..thing.

“You should. You will. Pretty thing like you couldn’t help but come to the pitiful little meows of a kitten, you didn’t even think, did you?”

“I-I…”

“I’m not even very good at making those sounds.. and yet you wandered all the way down an unlit alley, where oh, I don’t know…” Shihai steps forward and places his palms either side of your shoulders. He’s taller than you, lean, but sturdy in build, and his every languid movement was filled with its own strength and purpose. “...anyone could take advantage of you."

"I saw you in the cinema," He continued."you and your so called friend, she certainly had a good time, didn’t she?” He muses, leaning down so his wild grey-ish locks tickle your temple, his breath fanning over your neck as he spoke.

You can’t help but go red at the closeness, there was no doubt he was hot, he was very much your type and when was the last time you had a good fuck? Too long, that was for sure. But this guy was being a real creep! Not to mention scaring you half to death like some sort of twisted predator…

“Such a shame they didn’t invite you along with them.. then again, if they had, I wouldn’t have been able to get you alone like this… so cute, so flushed.. and my.. so easy.” He growls darkly, carding his fingers through your hair, and slowly curling his hand into a fist to grab a handful and yank gently. “Have some fun with me…” You knew this wasn’t an offer, but an inevitable demand, and against your quickly disappearing better judgement, you nodded meekly. Fuck it.

———————

The next few minutes are a blur, as you find yourself naked beneath Shihai, panting and mewling as his mouth works your nipple, sucking and nibbling while his hand massages and kneads your other breast. “K-...Kuro…” You gasp, arching your back and grabbing a fistful of his hair. You throw your head back and pant to the pulsing in your core, deft fingers of Shihai’s free hand thrusting in and out of you while curling them expertly.

The man is ravenous as he attacks that spongey spot inside you, his mouth hotly working up your neck and leaving an all manner of marks in his wake. You let out a guttural moan, writhing underneath his frame, pressing your chest to his and rocking your hips against his fingers, chasing your orgasm like a woman starved.

So Shameless

You weren’t quite sure how he got you to this room so quickly from the city street, no doubt it had to be some weird quirk that came with his abnormal allearance but you were hardly complaining once he stripped you, and himself down and practically threw you onto the bed to jump you.

“So beautiful.. so good for me, little mouse…” he coos, growling shortly after as he notices your body giving him telltale signs of your impending release. “Kuro.. please.. I-I’m..” You whine loudly as he pulls his fingers out of you abruptly, ceasing his administrations in full and repositioning himself above you. “Uh-uh-uh..~” Shihai keens, tutting before capturing your mouth in a lust filled kiss and pressing his tongue to your lips, demanding access. Your pitiful whine of protest offers him the perfect opening as he slides his tongue into your mouth and dominates you entirely, a free hand pushing your hips down to stop your pitiful bucking. “Mmmphhh~” You moan into his mouth, running your hands up and down his chest and ribs, feeling the muscles move and tense and admiring each contraction as he moves to line himself up.

“You only get to cum on my dick, understand~?” His voice is smooth like butter when he breaks the kiss, bringing his hand up to lick your ample juices from his fingers in a lewd display. He nearly moans when he tastes you, eyes fluttering closed as he savours your taste, slowly and teasingly sucking every digit clean. “Oh.. so delicious, little one. I’ll be sure to clean you up properly when we’re done…” He grins, sliding his tongue out of his mouth provocatively, causing you to whimper.

It’s only when you feel his hips move do you realise he had slowly been lining himself up with your dripping entrance, rolling them to push the tip of his leaking cock into your stretched hole, the movement drawing a long, loud moan from you. Fuck, you didn’t even get a good look at it in the heat of things, but fuck if it didn’t feel massive as it slowly stretches you out around the sheer girth.

Shihai hums contently, clearly holding back his sounds in favour of composure and control as he slowly, smoothly, sheaths himself into your heat. The stretch hurts, and is taking a little too long to grow accustomed to as you look up at the stunningly biz are creature above you. You raise a hand to his cheek, admiring his smooth warm skin and slight changes in shade as he grows hotter and hotter from the workout, and you offer the first gentle touch of the night to him, as re-assurance he can move, yes, but also an attempt to connect, and as his eyes dart to you’s, you swear you could see his cheeks reddening a little.

Shihai shakes his head and lowers himself down to bite and nibble at your neck, slowly beginning to rock his hips back and forth. “So.. so tight, you really are a sweet little thing aren’t you” he manages between thrusts that grow in intensity. “Fuck, you’re practically sucking me in, beautiful.” he grunts, a shudder racking his spine as you continue to touch him tenderly.

“A-ahmmm… Kuro!” You groan, breaths becoming an uneven pant, you lean back to give him better access to your neck and guide his hand up to your breast again as you start to move your hips in time with his, lifting your knees to let him hit deeper and deeper inside of you. “I wanna… mmmmphhhh! Shit.. I need to…” you feel the tightness building in your stomach.

The pace quickens and the new angle has him hitting that perfect spot inside of you. He’s bracing himself on one hand, and with his other, he’s squeezing and gently teasing your pebbled nipple beneath his fingertips.

“Hahn… gonna cum? Go on… you can do it. Cum all over my cock.”

You throw your head back again and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust until your walls clench and contract around his dick, making it twitch and pulse as you both reach your high, coming undone at once.

—————————-

Kuroiro takes surprisingly good care of you after multiple rounds of intense orgasms, he cleans you up with a warm damp cloth, feeds you, and gives you water before you damn near pass out in his bed. As he settles in beside you, scooting up to try and make you roll over so he can spoon you, you reach up to cup his cheek in your hand, your sleepy expression sweet and lazy. “...You’re still a creep..” You murmur gently, causing him to look at you with a little shock. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you cut him off before he can get a stupid cocky remark in. “...but this was amazing. Do you think next time we could start…. with an actual date?”

His mouth opens again, this time he’s speechless. “Wait.. r-really? You’d.. you’d like to…?”

“Shhhh…” you nod, smiling gently as you roll over and shuffle back into him.

What you’re too tired to notice, is the heat coming from his cheeks, ears, and neck. Shit, he thought if he could just remain in control he wouldn’t become a stammering blushing mess. You weren’t supposed to like him! Nor ask him out!

But you had to be a cute little sweetheart and flip the tables on his plan.

#shihai kuroiro #Shihai Kuroiro x reader #lemon #smut #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #vanta black x reader #first time doing this please go easy on me

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

I literally JUST sat down, pt. 7

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

AN: Tick Tock goes the clock. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi.

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

---------------------------

The buzzing of his phone is what woke Spencer up. He grumbled, fumbling around his bedside table for the source of the noise.

“Hello?”

“Agent Reid?” A vaguely familiar voice asked, “I’m sorry to wake you but I didn’t know who to call and I-“

“What’s going on?” Spencer interrupted, sitting up quickly as he recognized the voice of one of Hotch’s cleared agents.

“I’m on watch at the park this morning and I think something’s wrong. There’s a note and a clear bag full of stuff but no body, and we’ve been here all night. Hotch took the others to meet the director. He said to call you if anything happened.”

“Are you alone?”

“No, my partner’s with me, she’s checking the bushes.” He explained. Vaguely, Spencer could hear the rustling of the partner in the background, “Agent Reid I don’t know what to do here….”

Doctor. The voice in his head corrected instinctively, but he kept quiet, already three steps ahead. Today was the day your stalker was supposed to drop off his next body. Everybody would be on high alert, especially you. If Hotch had gone to the director he must’ve been expecting a pretty serious escalation, and that made Spencer nervous. He glanced out into the lounge, to where he knew you were curled up on the couch, fast asleep.

“Okay, wait there. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He explained, pulling on the first clothes he could find and strapping on his firearm belt, “Just keep the perimeter clear and make sure no one gets in and out, alright?”

“Alright.”

Spencer got ready as fast as he could, running through every possible scenario in his head as the adrenaline started to slowly creep in. He slowly snuck through the living room, smiling softly as he noticed your sleeping form huddled under a pile of blankets. There was something tender about the way you looked then, something different to all the times he’d seen you fall asleep on the jet. Here, you were completely unguarded, comfortable and soft, and it made Spencer absurdly proud to know that he’d made you feel safe enough for that. For a moment he considered waking you up, but he remembered the dark bags under your eyes and the way your shoulders drooped with exhaustion and he decided against it. You’d been going through hell, and you deserved to sleep. Plus, he rationalized as he opened the door and snuck out, it’s not like you could come with him anyway. There was no need to worry you.

Spencer sighed, pushing all thoughts of you to the back of his mind as he forced himself to focus on the case.

——————————-

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you tried very hard to look busy, fiddling with a completed report as you walked through your master plan one last time. Your eyes flickered to Spencer as he talked animatedly with JJ about something you couldn’t really hear. He leaned back against the desk, casually tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his read sweater and shirt were rolled up above his elbows and you couldn’t help but glance at his exposed forearms and hands. Spencer’s hands were...unfairly attractive. Truly, truly unfairly attractive. The kind of attractive that made doing your job really difficult and made you wonder what exactly was going on with you. His hands, Y/N? You asked yourself, his hands? Really? Get it together man.

But it was too late, you were completely and utterly smitten. You knew it, your friends knew it, the lady at the coffee shop knew it. You were pretty sure every living person in Virginia knew it, except Spencer. Hopefully. Hopefully Spencer didn’t know, yet at least.

Just then you heard him laugh and your nerves intensified. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should just go home and forget this stupid plan and everything would go on as normal. You could do normal, right?

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Morgan greeted, “what’re you doing here so late?”

You flushed, “Oh I-you know-“ you let out a breathy laugh, “just finishing off some work.”

He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, but let the matter drop, pulling you into a right side hug, “Alright, Y/L/N, keep your secrets. You know I’ll find out, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re relentless, I know,” you smiled back, “seriously Morgs, I’m all good.”

He nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, “Okay. I’ll see you, kid.”

You waved him off, feeling a familiar pinch of guilt in the pit of your stomach as he vanished off into the elevator. Out of the corner of your eye you saw JJ step away from Spencer and you took a deep breath, steeling every last bit of nerve you had.

“Hey, Spence, can you wait for a minute?” You called, hoping you didn’t sound quite as nervous as you felt.

Spencer cocked his head to the side, but gave you a small smile, “Sure, Y/N/N, what’s up?”

You took another deep breath, fighting the urge to look away or fiddle with your bag, “I was-um-what’re you doing tomorrow?”

Spencer thought for the briefest moment before answering, “Tomorrow? I’ve got a report to do and some cold cases to go over and then I was just going to go home and read a few books. Why?”

You flushed. This was it. This was the moment you’d been hyping yourself up for all week.

“I was just wondering if you’d maybe want to go see a movie or something?” You asked all in one breath, forcing yourself to meet his eye.

Spencer frowned, “A movie? Y/N, you know I don’t have a DVD player.”

“No!” You quickly corrected with a nervous laugh, as your heart rate doubled, “No, Wise Guy, I meant with me, like at a cinema. There’s a foreign film festival in town I thought you might like.” You paused and then continued, “And maybe after we could get dinner, or coffee or something? If you’d like.

You waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming. For a long while Spencer just stared at you, opening and closing his mouth like a confused goldfish. Every second that he was silent, your heart sank just a little further and you felt your skin start to burn with embarrassment.

“Y/N-“ Spencer started.

Your eyes were pricking with tears of embarrassment, but you blinked them away, quickly shoving your last few possessions into your bag and forcing a smile.

“It’s cool. I get it,” you said quickly, “No hard feelings, but I had to try. See you, Reid.”

You vaguely heard him call your name again, just once, but you ignored him, rushing through the bullpen faster than you’d ever gone before. You wanted to scream, or rip your face off, or curl up in a ball and die, but you could do that here. Not with Spencer’s eyes still boring into your back like a drill. The elevator door closed and you slid to the ground, burying your face in your knees as the suppressed tears slid down your cheek.

You pulled out your phone and dialed the first number you could think, “Morgs? Are you and ‘Nel still at her apartment?” You asked, sniffing, “Can I come?”

————————————-

When you woke up you had the vague impression that you’d been sad recently. It was a fleeting impression, gone as soon as you registered it, but it confused you and set an odd tone for the day. You looked around, remembering the previous night and the conversation you’d had with Spencer, and smiled gently. You’d never thought that you’d be able to be friends with Spencer again, not after your disastrous attempt at asking him out. Ugh, just the thought made you cringe with embarrassment. But he’d forgiven you, it seemed. Or at least he hadn’t brought it up or acted weird and uncomfortable with you, which was a relief.

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” you called, “what’re you making me for breakfast?”

The only answer was silence. You sat up, letting your blanket fall away.

“Spencer?” You called again, “Are you home?”

Again, no answer. Just then, your phone rang and you answered.

“Hey, ‘Nel, is Spence with you?” You asked quickly.

“Sugar Plum!” She greeted, “You’re up.”

Despite yourself, you smiled, “I know, it’s miraculous. Is he at the office?”

“Nope,” Penelope answered, “he’s not on duty today. Well, he is but not like, FBI duty, he’s on Y/N duty. He’s not with you?”

“No,” you admitted, strolling through the apartment to double check, “looks like he left in a hurry.”

“Maybe he went to get breakfast or coffee or something,” Penelope suggested, “you know he doesn’t tend to keep actual people food in his lair.”

You worried at the inside of your cheek, a nagging worry still sitting in the pit of your stomach, but you pushed it down.

“You’re probably right,” you sighed, “can you ask Hotch if he’s seen him just in case?”

“Sure thing, hun. Him and Emily are right here.”

“Okay, thanks ‘Nel, let me know if you hear from him?” You asked.

“But of course, mon ami,” she agreed, “and if anything comes up in the case I’ll call.”

You put the phone down and shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of whatever funk you were in. It wasn’t abnormal for Spencer to leave to get coffee without telling anyone, and it was just like him to do something sweet like going to get breakfast for you both. But it wasn’t like him to leave without waking you, especially not with what was going on.

“Stop it,” you told yourself, “stop worrying. He’s fine. It’s fine.”

So you forced yourself to behave normally. You made coffee, brushed your teeth, pulled on a set of fresh clothes and perused Spencer’s extensive library, picking a book and settling onto the couch. More time passed. More time, the clock tick tick ticking away the minutes. Pretty soon it was obvious that Spencer wasn’t getting coffee, and then your anxiety spiked. For a long while you just stared at a random page in the book, not absorbing anything whatsoever as your mind raced.

Your phone beeped and you grabbed it frantically, relaxing when you saw Spencer’s name on the screen.

“Spence,” you sighed with relief as soon as you picked up the phone, “oh my god I was so worried. Where the hell are you?”

For a second there was just heavy breathing and then, frantically “Y/N don’t-“

“If you want to see Spencer Reid alive again, meet me at the address I’ve programmed into your car’s GPS,” a robotic voice said, “come alone. If you tell anyone where you’re going, I’ll kill him. If you bring back up, I’ll kill him. If you don’t show up, I’ll kill him. You have twenty minutes.”

You felt like the world had stopped spinning, like the floor had dropped out from under you and you were free falling into empty space. There were chills running up your spine and your heart pounded like an anvil in your fragile rib cage. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer, it pounded. Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. How had he gotten him? You were living your worst nightmare in real time. You saw the mutilated body in your bookstore, the gruesome crime scene photos on Rossi’s crime boards. Was that Spencer now? Was he dead because of you? You imagined him lying on the ground, helpless and bleeding out, his deep brown eyes lifeless and still and, without meaning to, a whimper ripped itself from your throat.

“He’s alive.” You told yourself firmly, “He’s still alive.”

You could barely think. You were in a kind of fugue state. Nothing but pure instinct and muscle memory got you into your car and onto the road and the first cognitive thought you had, as you got closer and closer to the destination, was that you would never be making this return trip. This type of stalker would never let you go, never. He’d never let Spencer go. He’d kill himself and both of you before he let you slip out of his grasp again. This was his endgame for some reason, and you were playing right into it. But what else could you do? He had you in the palm of his hand. The fact was, no matter what you wanted or thought or knew, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for Spencer Reid, nothing you wouldn’t risk. You would walk into hell and back for him, and that was that.

Somewhere along the drive you accepted your death. You would not make the return trip, and that was okay. You would die sometime soon, but so would this monster. He would kill you, and you’d use your last moments of strength to take the son of a bitch down with you. He wouldn’t get the chance to hurt anyone else, you promised yourself. No matter what happened, you would be his last victim. You would find a way to save Spencer too, you repeated to yourself again and again. You wouldn’t make the drive home, but Spencer would. You would do whatever it took to keep him alive.

The GPS announced that you had arrived at your destination, an old house on the outskirts of a quiet suburb. You took a moment in the car to breathe, tightening your knuckles on the steering wheel. You ached to just call Penelope, to tell her everything and let the team rescue you. Oh God, your friends. How would they feel when they found your body? After all the work they’d done to keep you safe, here you were throwing it all away. On a whim, you grabbed your phone and sent a quick group message.

From Y/N Y/L/N

Thank you for everything. I love you all so much

Short, sweet, not even nearly enough. You’d meant to say more, you’d always meant to say more, but you’d thought you had years. Two tears slipped down your cheek as you stepped out of the car, leaving your keys in the ignition so that Spencer would have a way to get away when it was all over. There was an FBI sedan parked in the driveway, but at this point you didn’t care much about the profile. All that mattered was getting this over with.

Luckily your stalker hadn’t specified that you couldn’t bring a gun. You drew your weapon, but didn’t bother with stealth, striding straight into the house with a single minded focus.

“I’m here,” you called, “where are you?”

You heard the sound of shuffling coming from a back room, a fist connecting with something solid and you bit back a whimper.

“We’re in here,” Spencer said, his voice tinged with pain.

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears but you kept your trigger finger steady. Despite the terror, you were trained for this. You would not fail. Before you stepped into the room, you felt a tinge of panic. You weren’t ready for this. You weren’t ready to face the man who’s caused all this, but you had to. You had to. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, calming yourself down and schooling your features into something serene. You had to focus on not escalating the situation, that was your best shot at keeping Spencer alive.

“You can do this,” you whispered, to yourself, “you can do this.”

And, with that, you stepped into the room, “FBI, put your hands in the air.”

—————————

“Y/N,” a familiar voice greeted with an almost breathless excitement, “I was worried that you wouldn’t come.”

You felt bile rise in your throat, “Agent Connolly?”

“I knew you remembered me!” Rick Connolly cheered, the barrel of a handgun pressed to Spencer’s temple.

Your heart pinched at the sight, but you tried not to let the fear show up in your face. Rick Connolly had worked at the BAU for longer than you had. It made a sick sort of sense, the worst kind. He’d been on cases with you, written up paperwork with you, helped with filing. His background checks were always clean, there’d never been any complaints against him. Never. He was a good agent, a reliable ally for the BAU. No matter what happened, Agent Rick Connolly was always close by.

“Of course I remember you, Connolly,” you said with a forced smile, “how could I possibly forget you?”

“Rick.” He insisted, “It’s Rick.”

“Rick, of course, sorry-“

“You call him Spencer,” Connolly interrupted, pressing the barrel of the gun into Spencer’s temple harder and snarling down at him, “not Reid, Spencer. I heard it when he called you.”

“Hey, hey hey,” you said quickly, lowering your gun and raising your hands, “I’m sorry. It was a mistake, of course I should call you Rick. I mean, Spencer is just a work colleague, right? But you’re so much more.”

His eyes lit up with a perverse hope, “I am. I love you more than any of them. I’ve done more for you than any of them. I did all of it, all of it!”

“I know, thank you,” you replied, forcing another gentle smile, “for doing all of that. For loving me like you do.”

You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, watching you like you were a lifeline, or like he was scared he’d never see you again, but you kept your eyes on Rick.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled back.

“But, now that I’m here,” you tried gently, “now that you’ve got my attention and I know how much you love me, why don’t you let Spencer go, hm? That way we can be alone.”

Rick frowned, “Let-let him-? No! No way!” He tightened his grip again and Spencer groaned with pain, “Don’t you see? He needs to die. He’s trying to keep us apart! He wants you gone for good.”

You shook his head, feeling the rising panic, “No he doesn’t, Rick. Reid is my friend, he would never try and keep us apart, right Reid?”

For a moment Spencer was silent, swaying on his feet, but he managed to nod his head and get out a small, “She’s right.”

“YOU’RE A LIAR!” Rick yelled, cocking the gun.

“No!” You screamed, forcing Rick’s attention back to you, “Rick, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why he needs to die. I understand the rest, but I’m still confused. Can-would you be able to explain it to me?”

Rick looked confused for a moment, his gaze jumping between you and Spencer. You held your breath, praying you hadn’t overplayed your hand, only relaxing when he turned back to face you.

“He,” he started, gesturing the gun at Spencer, “got you shot. He let you walk into an active bomber situation alone,” he explained, “he spent years nearly getting you killed and then, when he saw our love, he made you leave! He wants you to be alone and miserable! He wants me to be alone!”

You tried to process the rush of information as quickly as you could, latching onto the first advantage you could find.

“Spencer didn’t make me leave,” you said.

“He did! I saw it! You asked him to go out and he turned you down! He lead you on and then he rejected you, so you left!” Rick yelled, “You thought you were alone, you both did, but I was there, watching. I was always watching. I had to keep you safe, I had to make sure you were protected.”

Spencer whimpered, his shoulders slumping with defeat, as though he’d been found out, and you looked at them both, confused. What on earth were they on about?

You felt the realization click, and your eyes widened with surprise “Oh Rick, oh no you misunderstood.” You started. You stepped closer, keeping your hands raised to show that you weren’t a threat, “You’re right, Spencer did say no when I asked him out, but I’d already resigned by then. I was going to tell him that night but I didn’t get the chance. It wasn’t his fault, it was mine.”

———————————

Spencer was in pain. Deep, aching, throbbing pain. He was pretty sure he had at least one cracked rib, maybe more, and the swift punches to his stomach had knocked the wind right out of his chest. His head was heavy and thick with confusion and, without the strong arm holding him up, he would’ve collapsed onto the floor. Everything in Spencer’s body screamed for an end to the pain. But that was nothing compared to the sick, heavy weight of guilt that hit him when he saw your face. He’d brought you here, you’d come for him. He’d let himself get caught, he’d fucked up. He’d put you in danger when you’d trusted him, but God, he was relieved to see you. And he hated himself for that.

You were beautiful. So so so beautiful. Had he ever told you that? Even with your face set into a mask of calm and determination, you were radiant. Wait, what? He thought to himself, what’re you thinking? Your eyes flickered over to him with a subtle note of concern. Focus, Spencer, he told himself, what did she just say?

His captor seemed confused. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another, looking between the two of you like you were a particularly frustrating puzzle.

“What-what does that-why are you saying this?” Rick asked loudly, lifting the gun to point it at you, “Why’re you saying this?”

You flinched, but stayed calm, “Because it’s the truth. Spencer isn’t the reason I left, he had nothing to do with it. Spencer wants us to be together, that’s why he brought me here.”

You spoke to Rick in a low, soothing voice like he was a wild animal and, as you spoke you were creeping closer and closer. Spencer tracked your movement with his eyes, noticing that you’d shifted your gun belt to be on the side closer to Spencer. It wasn’t an accident.

“Rick, baby,” you crooned, “I’m so proud of you. You’ve accomplished so much, but you don’t need to do it anymore. I’m here now, I’m yours. Let’s get out of here, just you and me, before anyone else arrives.”

“You want that?” Rick asked.

“Of course I do,” you said, with a sweet laugh, “but that gun is scaring me. Can we put it away and let Spencer go so that we can go?”

There was a long pause. Rick looked like he was in a trance, staring at you like you were a walking daydream. Your eyes flickered to Spencer and softened for just a second. Just a brief moment of acknowledgment, almost as though you simply couldn’t help yourself. You were close enough now that Spencer could smell your perfume, which was lucky because, right then, Rick’s dreamy look vanished and he began lifting his gun and pointing it right at you.

“LIAR!” He yelled.

Spencer heard the unmistakable pop of a gunshot, but he had no time to check where it had landed. Instead he lunged forward, grabbed your gun and, in a moment of instinct, pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight into Rick’s right shoulder. Rick dropped his gun and, in an instant Spencer was on his back, immobilizing him with the pair of cuffs you handed him and rendering him harmless. For a long moment there was just silence as Spencer stared down at the man who had tricked him, savoring the moment of victory until it was broken by a pained gasp. His stomach sank. The bullet, the bullet, where was the bullet Rick had fired?

“Oh my God.” You said breathlessly, sinking down against the nearest wall as blood started to stain your crisp white button down, “Fuck.”

The blood was coming from your abdomen, from a hole just left of your naval that you were pressing your sleeve against in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Your cheeks glistened with tears as you fought not to tense up despite the pain and Spencer felt, for the first time that day, true unadulterated panic.

“No, no no no no,” he said quickly, rushing to your side and gripping your free hand with his, “hey, look at me, we’re gonna be alright. Just keep your eyes open. Stay with me.”

You breathed out slowly through your mouth, “Don’t worry, doc,” you replied through gritted teeth, “ ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

Spencer tried to assess the situation, but there was too much panic and adrenaline and fear in his system, and all he could see was the tender way you looked at him, and how you’d smiled the night before. His hands were shaking even where they held yours, and his eyes pricked with suppressed tears. You needed a hospital. You needed surgery and he couldn’t save you. He couldn’t carry you without making you bleed out, and he didn’t even know where you were. He was helpless.

“I’m so sorry, Spence,” you said softly, “I never-I never meant for you to get hurt.”

Spencer laughed incredulously, even though nothing had been less funny in his entire life, “You have nothing to be sorry about. You saved us,” he squeezed your hand and was rewarded with a weak smile from you, “you always save us,” he continued, even more gently, “Rick was right about that. You’ve been saving me for years.”

“And you've saved me right back,” you pointed out, your voice heavy with the effort of keeping your eyes open.

Spencer pressed his lips together, tears pouring down his cheek as he fought back sobs and silently prayed to a God he’d never believed in for some kind of miracle.

“But I can’t save you now,” he sobbed.

“No, but we can,” a third, familiar voice answered.

If Spencer had been any less shocked, he would have laughed at the timing of it all. As it was, he just stared into the eyes of his team as though he wasn’t sure they were real.

“MEDIC! We need a medic in here.” Derek Morgan continued, appearing in the doorway like the miracle he was and instantly taking control of the situation.

He scooped you up like you weighed nothing, carrying you out through the doorway just as Emily helped Spencer to his feet and slung his arm around her shoulders to help support his weight. Somewhere in the background Spencer could hear Hotch reading Connolly his rights, and Rossi making some comment about Rick wishing it had been a kill shot. Everything felt surreal, like some sort of fantasy or a hallucination he’d created to keep from having to lose you again, but he didn’t have the strength to fight it.

“Y/N,” he said softly as Emily handed him off to a nearby medic in the back of a waiting ambulance, “I need to see, Y/N. Please, is she alive?”

The medic gave him a sympathetic smile, bundling him onto a gurney, “I can’t let you see her, sir. They’re taking her straight to surgery.”

“But she’s alive?” Spencer insisted as the paramedics fussed and flitted around him.

The original medic nodded, “For now, she’s alive.”

-----------------------

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knchins · 4 years

Text

Come Back to Me - Junpei Y.

Summary: When you saw his world falling apart, you did your best to try and save him.

Pairing: Yoshino Junpei x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Major character death, Angst w/o a happy ending, Bullying

Notes: This is admittedly not my best work. I kept wanted to scrap it and start over (I did actually...but only once) because I was having a hard time articulating reader’s feelings. My first JJK piece, I plan on tackling the manga sooner rather than later. When requests open back up JJK will be one of the available fandoms you can choose from! Anyway I pulled a lot of inspo from recalling my teenage years and having heartbreaking crushes on unobtainable people lmfao.

Why did you do it? His words echoed in your mind as the two of you sat, bloodied, bruised, and burned against the chain link fence behind the high school you both attended. Why didn’t you run?

The words flowed from your lips so effortlessly, so easily, so without any care in the world, “Because you are my friend, Junpei. That is what friends do.”

Junpei had a simple view on life. People were evil. They were heartless. They were cruel. They hated anything that was out of the ordinary. That was different. They hated him. So when he was being beaten yet again by Ito Shouta and his cronies, he was utterly surprised when you picked up a rock that had been nearby and hurled it at the ring leader’s direction to get him to stop.

The broken off ball of concrete hit the center of Shouta’s back, causing a surprised yelp before making him see red. He turned seeing you standing there, fists clenched by your sides and eyes alight with fury. You had ordered them to leave him alone, to buzz off, to do anything but whatever it was that they were doing to your friend.

They did not spare you. No, instead they threw you down next to Junpei and used you as a second punching bag. You were outnumbered. Overpowered. Defeated. But the one thing you absolutely weren’t was regretful. Sure Junpei was a bit different and sometimes a little odd but he didn’t deserve to be abused for being abnormal. No one did. Shouta was just some douchebag rich kid that had nothing better to do than torment classmates he felt were beneath him.

“Never do that again.” Junpei said firmly, in a voice that caught you totally off guard. “Promise me, next time you’ll just run.” You couldn’t understand why he was upset with you for helping. Why he didn’t want your help. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest, the spark of rejection.

But seeing you hurt, hearing you cry out in pain, watching your beauty being marred by burns that would more than likely turn to scars…it was too much. His heart just couldn’t take it. It was better for him, for both of you, if you just stayed out of it. Junpei, who felt like the most hated person on all of planet Earth, couldn’t let you hate him too. And surely after being beaten up a couple times for him, you would start to.

His hands grasped your upper arms tightly, in a grip that was bound to bruise. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was even this upset. He’s never wanted to protect anyone other than himself ever in the entirety of his young life. He was shaking, pleading, begging you to please please never do something like this ever again. If you cared about him at all you wouldn’t.

And despite your confusion, despite your urgent need to help him, to wipe his tears away, to clean up his cuts, to treat his burns, despite your heart swelling with pain at the thought of just walking away as he cried out for help, you agreed. You told him you would get an adult next time. You wouldn’t take matters into your own hands. If that was truly what he wanted, then you would just stay away.

He hands loosened enough for you to move your arms again and you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him in for a hug. If you couldn’t stop it, if you couldn’t save him from the worst of them, then at least you’d be there for the aftermath. For the tears and the anger and despair. You could pick up the pieces of him left scattered on the ground by the bullies that had nothing better to do in their spare time than to tear others down. Because Junpei wasn’t just your friend, he was your first crush. Your only crush. The one that made your heart flutter whenever he noticed you or had a smile tugging at your lips when he spoke to you in the hallway. Junpei who was so sweet, so quiet, so gentle. Junpei who had absolutely no idea how you felt about him in any way whatsoever.

Over the following few weeks you had noticed him missing more and more school. You had volunteered to take his schoolwork to him after class so that he wouldn’t fall behind. This was more of an excuse to see him and make sure he was okay than to actually help him keep his grades up. That evening, you left him your notes and worksheets, and he seemed incredibly distant as he spoke with you. You knew in your heart that something was wrong. Something just wasn’t sitting right. Perhaps Shouta had gone too far, perhaps he just had no will to come back to class. Whatever it was, there was a sick feeling deep in your chest at the possibility that you wouldn’t get to see him every day ever again.

You left him your phone number, urged him to please stay in contact because you wanted to know that he was alright. That things were okay. That he’d come back to you someday. It was just a crush but being without him just hurt so much. School wasn’t easy for you either, you had your own bullies to handle. The thought of weathering their verbal abuse alone just had tears springing to your eyes as you laid in bed at night waiting for a text, an email, a call, anything.

Junpei did none of the above. He did not text you. He did not email you. And her most certainly did not call you. Had you read him wrong all this time? Were his feelings simply not the same? Did he detest you as much as he did all the others?

A few nights later you finally did receive a message from him. It was a simple five word phrase via text message. A warning that made your stomach churn with nauseating anxiety. Don’t come to school tomorrow.

What was he planning? Should you tell someone? The principal? The police? Your parents? Junpei wasn’t capable of something terrible like that, was he? There was no way he could hurt anyone, right? Was this why he had been absent? He was planning something terrible? On top of that, should you heed his warning and miss school?

You urgently messaged him back, asking why. Begging for him to come clean to you. However, there was no response. No other messages came. You attempted to call him but his phone had been turned off. Did you go to his apartment? Run there despite the setting sun to find out what was going through his head? Why wouldn’t he just talk to you? Let you help him?!

All night you tossed and turned, mind reeling with every possible scenario you could think of. Nothing made sense anymore. You couldn’t think of a single way to stop him besides to be there in person. Even if it puts you in danger. Even if you got hurt. It was worth it to save him, even if it was from himself. You’d go and you’d find him and you’d stop him.

When you arrived at school, sleep deprived and exhausted, you kept a sharp eye out for your friend. You sat down towards the back of the auditorium as the morning assembly began. It seemed as if Shouta was getting some sort of award today, some acknowledgment for an achievement that he likely paid for. You struggled to stay awake, the feeling only getting worse when you finally did see Junpei enter the back of the room. You attempted to call out for him, but something was wrong. You couldn’t move, your body slipping into unconsciousness.

When you awoke, the first thing you noticed was everyone around you sleeping and what sounded like a fight happening outside in the hallway. You stood, ignoring the shouts of Sotomura-sensei for you to stay down, and ran to try and figure out what was happening.

Once outside, you raced down the hall, skidding to a halt when you saw Junpei along with two men standing beside the stairwell. The odd looking one had an arm around Junpei, the other freakishly stretched to pin the other teenager to the wall. You couldn’t make out what they were saying. Whatever Junpei had done to make you fall asleep was affecting your senses. In fact you weren’t even sure that what you were seeing was real.

Junpei had morphed into some kind of monster, “Junpei!” You screamed for him as the other two started fighting, running to gather his misshapen body into your arms. “Junpei?” But he was gone.

Someone was telling you to run, but you couldn’t move. Your legs would not listen to your brain as you sobbed into the mop of black hair on top of the malformed Junpei’s head. Your grip on him would have no doubt been painful if he were still alive to feel any. You begged, begged, anyone who was listening to bring him back. You’d do anything, absolutely anything, just bring Junpei back! Just bring him back to you, safe and sound! Let you take care of him again like old times! Please! Please? Please…

No one answered your cries. Of course they didn’t. Why would they? In a world so cold and cruel, why would they bring your love back to you? You could feel your soul withering, shuddering with grief as your heart shrank more and more into your chest until you felt nothing. Nothing at all. Just complete and total numbness. He was gone. He was gone and he was never coming back. .

Tag lists are now on reblogs! You can join by filling out the form linked in my pinned navigation post!

#yoshino junpei #junpei yoshino #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #junpei x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #jjk angst #junpei imagine

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obxdrewseph · 4 years

Text

Tik Tok - Rafe Cameron

Description: Rafe Cameron falls for a girl he often sees in a cafe and is too nervous to talk to her, so his best friend, Topper, decides to take matters into his own hands and makes a tik tok asking if anyone can identify Rafe’s crush. Of course, she sees it and confronts him.

P.S. pretend covid doesnt exist in this LOL

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“Bro, just do it.”

“No.”

“Rafe, c’mon man. When did you become such a pussy?”

“Shut the hell up man, I’m not.”

“Then ask her out!”

“No!”

It was your typical Wednesday afternoon-- the college cafe was bustling with students coming in and out from classes and from students mingling with their friends.

Rafe and Topper sat in the midst of all the chaos, ignoring their econ homework to stare at Rafe Cameron’s current obsession.

“How is this girl different from any other you’ve liked? Just man up and ask for her number or something.”

Rafe Cameron.

Notorious player on campus. And douchebag. He was the type to sleep with a girl and kick her out of his room at 3 in the morning. He never had strong feelings for a girl, which is why Topper was baffled at the fact he kept staring at the dark haired, brown eyed plain Jane in the corner of the coffee shop.

“Look, she’s just a pretty girl. And she just looks... shy I guess.” Rafe lamely said. He didn’t know why he wasn’t just barging up to her like he normally did at parties. Of course, those girls were clawing to get to him. He didn’t have to work as hard.

Topper sighed loudly. “Fine, fine. If you’re gonna force my hand.”

Rafe raised a brow as Topper slowly pulled his phone from his pocket.

He then began to film the girl and zooming in on her face.

“Top, what are you--”

“Ssssh.”

After 30, long, agonizing seconds for Rafe Cameron, his best friend finally stopped filming the poor girl.

“Does anyone know this girl? This loser wants to ask her out...” He spoke as he typed.

“No wait--”

“Done. Just posted on tik tok.”

Rafe’s jaw dropped.

“What?”

“Now, we wait.”

-------

You had a long day of classes and all you wanted to do was fall in your bed.

But no, as a history major, you had to read 250 pages (the entire book needed to be read by the end of the week, but you were spacing), write detailed notes on them, and then start on your essay that is due next week.

You always liked to get ahead of schedule so that your work wouldn’t pile up.

After sitting in the cafe for an hour, you had to go home to cook dinner. You hated eating at cafes since bread just wasn’t your thing.

Once you hit your dorm room, you checked your phone that seemed to have hundreds of notifications.

"The fuck?” You whispered out loud. As an RA, you could say whatever you wanted to in your room, but you still felt weird swearing in front of others. Which is why you whispered the words to yourself.

You dropped your bag at the door and quickly opened your phone.

GIRL, CHECK TIK TOK

Congrats, you’re famous! don’t forget me lol

rafe cameron ?? honeyyy get itttttt

Confusion. That’s all you felt. You quickly clicked on the link on of your friends sent you.

You watched the video set in as Topper, the owner of the account, zoomed in on your face at the cafe you were just in. You didn’t think you looked pretty as your hair was a mess and you hadn’t showered in a couple of days.

Not to mention you were wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt-- the normal college attire.

As you read the caption, you felt your heart race at an abnormal rate.

The words became blurry fairly quickly as your stress started to build up. You set your phone down on the counter to avoid dropping it-- you were rational enough to do that.

You kept getting texts from your closest friends saying two words: Call me. But at this point, you couldn’t even think straight. What was a hot, popular guy like Rafe Cameron doing pining over you? And apparently being too afraid to ask you out?

Honestly, you had never been hit on in your first two years of college and you didn’t think it was going to start with Rafe Cameron, the richest guy at the school. And every straight college girl’s wet dream.

You heard your phone buzz on the counter and you checked caller ID. It was your best friend.

You took a deep breath and answered it.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were dating Rafe Cameron.” She joked.

“Shut up! Tell me what to do!!” You screamed.

“Ok, ok, I can tell you’re freaking out and nervous, but this is a good thing! A happy thing! A guy liked you so much that he put a video--”

“His best friend posted the video--”

“As I was saying, put a video out about YOU! This is your chance to finally have the romance you’ve always dreamed of, right? You’re always pining after those book boyfriends or whatever who AREN’T REAL.”

She emphasized the last part which made you cringe. Your obsession with fictional characters was justified-- if she read, she would know.

“Dude, this is Rafe. Rafe fucking Cameron.” She gasped at your swearing, a joke both of you had because you’ve known each other since you were children.

“Exactly, it’s Rafe motherfucking Cameron, meaning, you HAVE to go after him.”

“No, you’re wrong! He’s Rafe Cameron! If he was really into me, he would’ve asked me out already. Literally no one can say no to him nor does anyone want to.” You bit your lip, thinking of ways to get out of this. “You know what? I bet this is a prank or something.”

“A prank?”

“Yeah, like Topper trying to embarrass Rafe by making an ugly girl ask him out--”

“First of all, don’t talk about yourself like that. And second, no, tik tok is not the place to embarrass girls. They would get roasted so hard. And third, THIS IS YOUR CHANCE.”

Contrary to your best friend, you never seriously wanted a relationship. You were the type to fantasize about falling in love and hyped up all of your friends when they had crushes, but you never truly found someone you wanted to get to know or wanted to date.

It just seemed so outlandish to you.

Plus, you wrote off college boys when one followed all of your roommates on instagram besides you. That kinda knocked your ego down.

“Look, I’m just going to ignore this. I don’t think it’s going to be the love story you think so I’m gonna go.”

“Wait, y/n--”

You hung up before she could finish.

You just couldn’t deal with her hopeless romanticism right now.

You sighed and tied your hair into a messy bun. How could you finish your homework now?

--------

“I don’t think she saw it.”

Topper laughed at his nervous looking friend.

“Dude, she definitely saw it. It has thousands of likes the last time I checked and I’m pretty sure people were tagging her in the comments.”

Rafe fixed his hat so it covered his face. He definitely didn’t want his friend to notice it turning beet red.

“I hate you dude.”

“No you don’t.”

Once again, the two rich boys were sitting in the same cafe they were in yesterday. They had been sitting in there for two hours now, and there was no sign of the mysterious girl who did or did not know she was tik tok famous.

“I don’t think she’s coming.” Rafe commented. On one hand, he was relieved he wouldn’t have to talk to her. But on the bigger hand, he desperately wanted to see her again. He didn’t know why he was so captivated by her brightly dyed hair or the 10 pins stuck on her backpack. She seemed so normal, yet she stuck out with all the book stickers she had on her laptop. Rafe would never tell a living soul that he liked reading YA romance novels but he felt like he could confide in this mysterious girl.

“I don’t know. It’s still early.” Topper noted.

“Um, excuse me?”

The two boys’ heads shot up at the dainty voice.

You were wearing black ripped jeans with a white top; it was the most simple outfit Rafe had seen you in as you usually dressed in bright colors. He would never admit it, but he even noticed when you changed your nail polish.

What Rafe didn’t know was that your best friends held an intervention last night and told you to dress “more to his style” which included simple attire. Yet, you couldn’t fully immerse in the role and wore your favorite bucket hat that was covered in white daisies.

“Hey,” Rafe said lamely.

Topper immediately gathered his stuff and left you two alone. What a homie.

At Rafe’s bland answer, you smiled politely.

“Can I sit?” You asked. Rafe nodded and gestured towards the seat. He didn’t know why he was acting so weird, but you were just so much prettier up close.

He could see the bright red earrings you wore that matched your Nikes and noticed your clumsily applied makeup (which he knew because his sister was so good at it). It only made his heart race even faster.

“Um, so I saw the video... I’m sure you know which one I’m talking about.”

The boy blushed.

“Yeah?” He tried to act suave and calm, but his nerves were all over the place. He felt a bit calmer seeing the girl start to play with her hair: a nervous trait his sister said most girls had.

“Um, well, I... I was wondering...” The girl trailed off, her face turning a darker red. He almost felt bad for her, but she was so darn cute and wanted her to continue.

“Look, I’m really bad at this... and I know you’re good at it, so...”

The boy’s ego inflated slightly.

“So?”

This wasn’t going the way you wanted it to go. You felt frustrated that you couldn’t even get the words out that you practiced. Your eyes prickled with tears from embarrassment; you wanted to get out of the situation as soon as possible. You didn’t know what you were thinking approaching the hottest guy in campus and expect not to be tongue tied.

And his lack of words made you think he was just messing with you.

You felt a gentle hand on top of yours which burst your drama bubble. You looked up and saw Rafe’s bright blue eyes full of concern, and... something else.

Dammit, he probably thinks I’m a weirdo.

“Hey, it’s ok. Honestly, it was my friend, the one who left earlier, it was his idea to put the video up and he did it without my permission. If it were up to me, it would’ve taken a lot longer to pluck up the courage to approach you...” He confessed.

This shocked you. Rafe Cameron... tongue tied around you??

“Look, let’s start over. I’m Rafe Cameron, junior, business major, and fun fact: I’m on the hockey team.” You knew all of those details, but you let him give a formal introduction. You thought it was cute that he felt the need to explain all of this to you because there wasn’t anyone at your campus who didn’t know who he was.

You held out your hand.

“Y/N, a sophomore and a history major. Fun fact: I’m an RA.” His eyes brightened at your response and shook your hand with a smile.

He had to practice his stern handshake with businessmen his father forced him to meet, but your hands were gentle and soft, like they were afraid of hurting him. It’s been a while since someone has treated him so delicately. He liked it.

“Well, y/n, it’s a good thing I don’t live in the dorms because I definitely would’ve tried to act up to get your attention.” He teased.

You laughed at the response because you knew a couple of the young freshmen who made a ruckus in the lounges so that you had to come in and yell at them.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, we could’ve met sooner if you were.”

The flirty words flowed from you naturally and you wanted to take them back as soon as they left your mouth.

But they made Rafe Cameron blush, so you let it go.

Suddenly, his watch buzzed and he swore under his breath.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I have a business meeting to get to. Can I get your number for uhhh... for future purposes?”

His slight fumble of words made you grin.

“Of course.”

I guess tik tok is good for something.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron scenarios #rafe cameron imagines #outer banks #obx #obx scenarios #outer banks scenarios #drew starkey #drew starkey scenarios #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe #obx rafe cameron

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sunshinesukuna · 4 years

Text

lemon detergent

pairing: tsukishima x reader

tw: fighting, injuries (bruises), light swearing

wc: 1.7k

genre: angst to fluff

ayyy catch me plagiarizig my own work. eh, miya atsumu can rot anyways. im sorry if this is bad, i haven’t given you guys writing for over a week and my people-pleasing ass rushed to give you guys some content ahhhhh. éñÿwâÿś, enjoy <333

Three strikes and you’re out. For each of you, so technically that was six strikes, but the two of you never debated the technicalities of it. Not like you had time to, with a hectic schedule as third-year students and athletes. Him chucking volleyballs into the air, and you chucking yourself up in the air in the wondrous sport known as cheerleading.

He’s already waiting for you in your usual spot behind the gym. God forbid anyone see the two of you together unless it was a life-or-death situation. Hinata would grow at least a feet before that would ever happen. At least that was easy when you were dating someone like him. Being in different classes, different teams, houses on the opposite sides of town. You wondered when you would actually be close to him both emotionally, and physically.

Now that you’re closer, you can smell him for real. The tang of lemon detergent that his mom loves and clean sweat can only mean it’s Tsukishima. You stand in front of him wordlessly, eyes expectant for something. Well, something other than the forlorn look in his eyes that he’s giving you.

“I don’t think I can come to your house after school tomorrow,” he says. There it is. You were totally expecting that this would come at some point during the year, but you didn’t expect it to come this soon. You’re still disappointed anyways.

“It’s the third time you’ve bailed out on me this week alone, Kei,” you complain. He puts a finger to his lips at the sound of your quickly rising voice. “I barely see you at school outside of the gym!”

“And I told you, I’m practicing. It’s not like I’m cheating or anything.” Certainly feels like you are, you want to say. But it’s best if you keep those words in the back of your head.

“For what? Nationals aren’t for two more months!” He breaks eye contact with you, opting to stare at the tree at the edge of the road.

"Practice makes perfect.”

“But you shouldn’t overwork yourself this much! Even I take breaks from cheerleading every now and then to come to support you at your games!”

“(Y/N), I think you’re misjudging how important the Interhigh is to Karasuno. If we lose—”

“I know how important the match is, Kei. But there’s a difference between giving it your all and giving it too much.” You pause, taking a long breath. “Even cheerleaders don’t break our backs trying to reach new heights.”

Tsukishima sighs before putting his hands back into his pocket. He furrows his eyebrows.

“What would you know about it? Cheerleading isn’t a real sport anyway.”

Words cut deep like knives. Tsukishima’s don’t. They hit you like a bag of bricks all at once.

The pang in your chest isn’t just from his words, it’s from his indifference. His eyes giving you that blank stare as he brushes off everything important to you. His hands staying still in his pockets as he talks to you, like you’re not even worthy of his attention.

“What?”

And thus the standoff begins.

First is the lunch line. You think waiting for food while hungry is hard? Try waiting for food when you’re hungry and have Tsukishima Kei looming over behind you. You’re about to plant your feet down in the floor when you’re finished, waiting for him to finish up, but you remember that you have no one to wait for.

So you briskly pick up your tray and move to a table where you spot some of your friends from cheer sitting. His eyes twitch at your figure walking so easily away from him. But it’s not like you would notice.

Second is the hallway. Your heart clenches a bit when you spot Yamaguchi around the corner, because you know who’s going to be next to him. You can already smell the lemon detergent from here.

His eyes burn through his glasses when you walk by. The usual glance and smile is thrown out in exchange for… nothing. Your eyes look straight forward at the end of the hall, where your classroom is. Frustration rolls off of him in waves so intense you can practically smell them, like a disruption in his lemon detergent-scented aura.

No matter, that means it’s working, right? He’ll fess up sooner enough.

But what was it again? Three strikes and you’re out. The third strike comes later at practice.

You really should have thought this out even further. The damaged piping in the gym the cheerleading team usually used meant that they had to share with someone. And who else to share a gym with than the Karasuno Men’s Volleyball Team?

So here you are, stuck at one side of the gym while you can feel Tsukishima’s eyes on you from the other side. The routine starts off well. The first stunts all hit, with none of the same wobblings that was there in the first few weeks of learning it.

And there it was. The throw was already crooked from the beginning. If you couldn’t reach the other flyer’s hand, then you were done for. In a last attempt to save the pyramid, you flung out your legs, trying to land on your feet.

Bad move.

Your knee landed on something— but it wasn’t your teammates’ hands that were ready to catch you. A spike of pain shot up your foot. Suddenly the world was a blur as skin-coloured blobs that could only be your teammates rushed to help you. The lights above were reduced to sparkles that were just too bright.

The buzzing in your ears was enough to block out the sounds coming in, but you could hear snippets of conversation here and there.

“Was that (Y/N)?”

“She landed on her knee!”

“It looks bruised….”

On your knee, eh. So that was why the fire was all concentrated on your patella. The sweat on your hands wouldn’t let you regain your balance. You slump down with your back to the floor, hands over your face to block out what little pain you could, but the faucet of liquid fire trickled down your knee to no end.

“May I help?” someone asked in a low baritone voice. You assumed that your coach said yes because you felt yourself being lifted in the air off the mat. The nape of your neck was wet, either from your sweat or this person’s.

This person was strong too. They walked briskly and easily across the halls of Karasuno, even with a body in their hands. But their heart rate was abnormally fast. They probably had been exercising.

You dare to open your eyes. All you see are pools of purple and white, obscured by the residual tears in your eyes. It could be anyone. But as your senses focused, hints olive and green came into the image. Your sense of smell was also starting to refocus as well. Lemon detergent, deodorant, and rubber.

Lemon detergent…

You opened your eyes as widely as you could. It was Tsukishima. Face unmoving and eyes showing no sign of emotion, but anyone could feel a sense of emergency with his rushed steps and the way he clicked his tongue anytime anyone stood in his way.

The scent of sharp disinfectants replaced the lemon detergent as you were put down on a soft bed. You winced at the new position you were put in, your weight crashing down on your lower body yet again.

“It hurts...” you squeak out, every word another rope squeezing your chest flush out of air.

“It does. It hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

That’s enough to set your heart at ease, if only a little. No sappy words to shoo away the pain by pretending it isn’t real, just a concise confirmation that what you’re feeling is real. And somehow, that’s just enough.

Tsukishima works quickly and quietly, adjusting the ice packs where needed. Whenever you wince or gasp in pain, he’s quick to rub a long, lanky finger over the purple parts of the bruise that doesn’t have ice covering it. It still hurts like a bitch, but at least the pain is only physical.

The emotional ones are just beginning to heal.

The 10 by 10 room is sealed — door locked, windows bolted — but it still feels like the two of you are in front of a gargantuan stage, packed to the brim with people watching you. Or is it just because the only audience you have are one another?

“I’m sorry for saying cheerleading wasn’t a sport,” he mutters. Your hearing has started to sharpen again by now.

“What?”

“I’m sorry for brushing off your advice, and belittling something you love,” he says again, Tsukishima’s tone much clearer now. His words ring like a gong in your head.

The throbbing in your knee seems to lessen with every word he says. The longer he talks, the more the fire in your feet seem to subside. Were those his words going to your head, or the gentle massages he was giving your knees as he talked?

“You don’t have to accept my apology. I can wait until you do. But… I know I did something wrong. And I intend to fix it.”

“I’ll accept your apology,” you say. On several conditions.”

His head perks up, eager to hear what you’ll have him do in order to restore things back to the way they were. Scratch that, in order to make things better. Like hell he’ll ignore you again if it leads to something like this.

“What are they?” Tsukishima.

“I know you’re practicing really hard and all that, but can you spend some more time with me?” you ask. “You don’t have to spend that much time, just… enough so it actually feels like we’re dating?”

“Weren’t we already?”

“You know what I mean.”

Tsukishima takes a long breath. He stays silent for a long time, the only noise in the room the sound of ice against ice as he moves to take another icepack for your knee.

“Alright. Anything else?”

The idea you have is silly. But it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. What’s the worse that could happen?

“Buy me some of the detergent you use.”

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima angst #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima oneshots #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki #silent treatment

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kagsluvr · 4 years

Text

REACTING TO S/O WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY

↳ pairing: bokuto kotarou x gn!reader, iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader

↳ genre; fluff

↳ tw/cw: (social) anxiety, mention of insecurities

a/n: hiii omg first post ???!??!?//- kinda new to this “fic writing” scene so sorry if my writing seems inconsistent with the grammar n shit… anyway i love reading these types of scenarios/one-shots ahh it comforts me sm hahaha. social anxiety is something I personally deal with and I just felt like writing what i’d think the hq boys would do with a s/o also dealing with this. hope y'all like it! :)

Bokuto

He didn’t really find out about your social anxiety until a few months into your relationship.

While knowing you for about six years, you were pretty good at concealing your anxiety at school and other social events, so nobody could really tell.

His ass noticed you pursing your lips while nibbling on the inside of your cheeks while in a long ass line for the cafe you guys had been waiting in for over 15 minutes.

You noticed the street was extra crowded today for some reason, with many people walking past you guys and giving you weird stares.

You assumed it was probably of the short, flowy dress you were wearing that exposed a lot of your legs and thighs.

You were hesitant about wearing it out, but Bokuto claimed how it looked really good on you and eventually convinced you to wear it.

You started feeling a heavy sensation in your chest as your breathing became deeper.

You looked around nervously while starting to aggressively chew on the inside of your cheeks.

Bokuto thought you were trying to make the toddlers behind you laugh by making weird faces at them (himbo moment).

As you were about to explain to him what was on your mind, he eventually caught on.

“Ugh, I don’t know Bo…” you sighed hesitantly while examining yourself in the mirror.

“Babe! It looks so good on you! You look sooooo cute!” he cheered, walking up from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You didn’t struggle that often with body insecurities, but this dress seemed a bit off. As much as it did flatter you, you thought it was really short, since it had been a while since you wore it.

“You don’t think it shows too much of my legs?” you asked your boyfriend for reassurance.

“No!” Bokuto replied with no hesitance. “.. And if any guys end up staring.. Well.. sucks for them, cause’ I’ll be there to show' em that you already have a boyfriend!”

You looked up at the cheeky smile on his face which then made you smile.

“Okay babe” you chuckled and turned to kiss him on the cheek.

You guys get out of the car and fall in the line for the cafe that Akaashi had recommended to you guys. There were only three parties in front of you so you figured that the wait to get seated inside wouldn’t take too long.

Unfortunately there was a large gathering of people in the cafe that took up a lot of the chairs and tables. So, one of the hostess’ informed you guys that the wait was going to be a little longer.

You simply nodded your head and decided to patiently wait with your boyfriend.

Time was passing by slowly and it was nearing 3:30 pm, meaning that you guys were in the line for more than fifteen minutes. Bokuto had his arm around you just simply taking in the fresh Spring air, while you were just scrolling on your phone.

You started hearing footsteps on your right as more people were walking by the cafe. You noticed almost every person walking by took their time to meet your eyes and glance at your legs.

You shook it off and didn’t let it bother you. It was until a group of teenage boys walked by you and your boyfriend and looked you up and down in unison. One of them smirked and winked at you.

This made you very uncomfy and reached for Bokuto’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

He noticed that and took it as a random gesture. That was when you started sucking in your cheeks and chewing at your gums and lower lip, while constantly looking around you. Your breathing became fast and heavy, but you tried your best to calm it down to a regular pace.

Bokuto looked down at you as you were looking behind you. Bokuto then peered his eyes over at the two little kids that were in line behind you guys with their mom. His gaze shifted between the odd look on your face and the two toddlers gazing at you.

“Aw babe! That’s cute that you're entertaining the kids behind you!” he whispered to your ear.

You turned quickly to face him and relaxed the muscles on your face. “Oh. Babe. Um.. No, I wasn’t trying to make them laugh..” you awkwardly chuckled.

“Then what were you making that weird face for?”

His genuine confusion put a smile on your face, making you laugh.

“Uh.. it’s just that…” you hesitated, while looking down at your legs. “I-”

Right as you were about to explain the sudden self-consciousness and discomfort you were feeling, the hostess called the next four parties up to come inside, which included you guys.

You decided to drop the issue and followed the people in front of you inside the cafe. Bokuto followed, with a pondering look on his face. Until it finally hit him, remembering how hesitant you were to wear that dress today.

You followed the hostess to a table in the center of the seating area, indicating that that’s where you and Bokuto were going to dine at.

You thanked her as she walked off to get you guys glasses of water. You took note of how the cafe was packed to the brim and the surrounding tables were full of conversation and laughter, making you feel more anxious.

You became lightheaded and your heavy breathing picked itself up again. Even though no one was particularly staring at you, you felt every glance towards you was a piercing glare. You needed to sit down immediately to rest your head on the table.

As you were about to sit down, Bokuto pulls your head into his chest and whispers in your ear, “It’s okay babe. You’re alright, I’m here.” He kisses your temple and pulls out your chair for you to sit in.

Before you could even speak, he takes off his sweater and places it on your lap; large enough to cover your thighs and legs, leaving only your ankles exposed.

You gave him a soft smile and held his hand on the table. “Thank you, Bo.”

“Of course babe. Just let me know if you feel uncomfy again and we can leave right away. I love you.”

You wanted to tear up on the spot from his response, but resisted and just replied back. “I love you too.”

Iwaizumi

You absolutely dread public speaking. (more than anything)

Especially when it's in front of a class with over 30 students.

Today was the day, where you had to present your English poem analysis to the class.

You were lucky that presentations like this weren’t thrown at you all the time, but you unfortunately had a few projects that needed to be presented every now and then. This poem analysis being one of them.

You felt anxious from the moment you woke up to the second you sat down in class.

But before class, you met up with your boyfriend, Iwazumi.

He is very observant and will call you out on any strange behavior and that morning was one of those instances.

Then he saw the papers in your hands and remembered the English presentation that you had told him about a few weeks prior.

The day you had been fearing the most for the past few weeks had finally come. You sat up on your bed, already feeling queasy. The grumble noises your empty stomach made filled the entire room.

You cringed at that sound and started getting ready for school. Taking a quick shower, brushing your teeth, and putting on some light makeup all were things that you enjoyed since getting ready was one of your favorite things to do. But today, you couldn’t help but groan every minute that you were in the bathroom.

You went downstairs and looked inside the pantry. Normally, you’d easily go for a bowl of cereal or a banana and an oatmeal cookie. But, you were too nervous to eat something that morning.

So, you just grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water, stuffed it in your bag, then made your way to school.

As you were nearing the school front gates, you kept your head down, twiddling your fingers around. Your mind was occupied with all the ways your presentation could go wrong.

What if you stutter too much? What if you forget everything? What if you don’t speak loud enough?

Those overbearing thoughts were interrupted as your spiky-haired boyfriend stopped in your tracks with a small grin.

“Hey!” he said, arms out to pull you in for a hug.

His sudden appearance caught you off guard as you let out a hesitant “Oh.. hey”

His upturned smile immediately turned to a frown. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked while grabbing both of your hands that you had been previously fiddling with.

“Oh uh… nothing!” you said, putting up a fake smile to dismiss his follow up questions you felt coming. You pulled out your phone to check the time. 8:04 AM.

“Ooh, uh gotta go babe! Need to meet up with a friend!” you said as an excuse to ditch your boyfriend to head to the bathroom to hide.

You bolted from his sight so quickly that he wasn’t able to make out which direction you went. He walked inside the building, walking to your locker to hopefully find you there. But, you weren’t.

You sped-walked towards the girls bathroom on the second floor across from the library. Luckily, no one was in there except for two girls who were making their way out. You sighed in relief and walked to the empty stall in the corner of the bathroom. You locked yourself in and leaned your back against the wall. Your heart started beating at an abnormally fast rate and you felt the sudden urge to just bawl your eyes out right then and there. Then, your phone buzzed with a notification from your boyfriend.

Iwa-baby <3: babe! where are you? tried looking for you around your locker and your friend’s classroom but you weren’t there? what’s wrong???? you okay?

You stared at the text and realized that maybe your boyfriend could help you ease your mind if you explained what was up.

You: hey, could you meet me at the library?

Your complete disregard of his questions left him in a confused state. Nonetheless, he rushed through the crowded halls to get to the second floor. Once, he reached the final step, he saw you nervously pacing around outside the entrance of the library.

He rushed to you, tapping your shoulder. “Y/n? What’s up? Everything okay?” he said with a genuinely concerned look on his face.

You were unable to blurt any words out and instead you tightly wrapped your arms around his waist and lightly let your tears flow, face pressed up against his chest.

“Y/n…. What’s wrong baby?” he asked hugging you in return, one hand on your lower back and the other gently patting your head.

“I’m so fucking nervous for my presentation..” you sniffled. But you quickly lifted your head off his chest and wiped your tears away. You felt pathetic crying over a simple presentation, but you just couldn’t help but overthink the possibilities of everything going wrong. “I know it’ll last like five minutes max, but still I-”

“Baby. Hey… look at me.” he cut you off while lifting your chin up to face him. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you close, inches away from his.

You blink at him with watery eyes and a soft smile falls upon his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that? It’s okay to feel nervous. But, I got you okay…” he said while rubbing away your remaining tears with his thumb.

His comfort made you feel warm. But, that didn’t take away the fact that you were still tense about your presentation in 30 minutes.

You didn’t give an answer, but instead let out a sigh.

“Hey, you got this okay. If you want I’ll ask to use the bathroom during class, so I can just stand by the doorway of your class and watch you. Just look at me if you’re stuck” he suggested.

You met his eyes. “Would you, please?”

“Of course.” he replied, then kissing you on your forehead. “Then, after school I’ll take you out to eat. We have no practice today anyway. Sound good?”

Your eyes widened as you enjoyed the sound of that. “Yes! Thank you Haji” you said as you pulled him back for a hug.

You said goodbye to your boyfriend when the bell for class rang. You took a deep breath and entered your classroom. After about 25 minutes of watching others present, it was finally your turn. Your friend smiled and gave you a thumbs up.

You walked to the front of the class, palms sweating and shaky breathing. You clutched onto your papers as you began reading. You paused for a brief moment, swallowed to prep yourself for the next wave of words that you were going to read. You began to feel tense all over again, until you looked up from your papers to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorway of your classroom, along with Oikawa. They both gave you the brightest grins and lightly jumped up and down whilst silently cheering you on.

You resisted chuckling from this dorky act. You smiled at them and brought your attention back to the poem. Somehow, their support from a distance made you speak fluently, make proper eye contact with your teacher and fellow classmates as you explained your well-written analysis.

Once you finished, the class applauded as you quickly walked back to your seat. You finished in time to see Iwa and Oikawa waving you off and walking back to their classes. Your teacher complimented your analysis which gave you a small sigh of relief, that you had finally gotten over it.

You felt a silent buzz from your phone in your pocket and you pulled it out, trying not to make it obvious.

Iwa-baby <3: YUUHHH BABYY YOU DID THAT SHIT I'M SO PROUD OF U !!!!!!!!! sooo.. where do you wanna eat later?? :)

You were about to reply until you received another text notification from someone else.

Oikawaaa: you sounded so intelligent y/n…. that was really good!

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet praise you were receiving, this time not holding back.

---

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hq #hq x gender neutral reader #hq x y/n #bokuto #iwazumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu bokuto #hq fluff #omg first post asf #ahhh

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delicrieux · 5 years

Note

girl, not sure if you reblogging that prompt list means your requests are open but if they are, I would love to see "Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” with Peter P if you would be so kind. If they're not open, please feel free to ignore this, and know that I'm sending you lots of love and hope you're doing well 🥰💞

hey queen . yes requests are open 💛 love u lots!! cant wait for the new COA chapter!!!(even tho i know it will be extremely painful)

MJ, from her locker, can see you and Peter strolling in, heads close together, whispering, laughing, oblivious to the two pairs of eyes watching your every move.

“I bet ten bucks that Peter’s gonna crack first and ask her out.” Ned says, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug little smile. MJ raises a brow, rolling her eyes and shutting her locker.

“Yeah...No way. Peter I’m blushing Parker is not nearly brave enough to do that. It’s gonna be (Name).”

Ned stares at her, “He’s Spiderman.”

“Yea, and he’s also a dumbass that can’t talk to girls. It’s gonna be (Name).”

Ned hums, “When do you think?”

She shrugs, “...I give it a month.”

“Two weeks.”

MJ narrows her eyes at him, extending her hand, “Deal.”

They shake on it. The clock starts ticking.

—*—

Your friends have been... weird to say the least. You felt like some sort of cloud, a secret, a myth, a something, had been hanging over your head and your curiosity had clawed up from mild interest to straight up panic. You heard the whispers, saw the terrible smirks and the strange wiggling eyebrows. It was like middle school all over again: you missed some sort of hilarious joke or were a part of one. The thought made you a bit ill, but then again, you knew your friends well — all of them are considerate, conspicuous! but mostly harmless — and if it was something serious they would have told you.

You could have lived your life like that. Simply. Saying “Oh well!” and continuing with your daily duties, your curiosity gone, non-affected, absolutely tranquil. But that is not you. And you deem this an Avengers Level Threat.

A week of pondering and restless nights and texts to MJ, Ned, Liz, everyone. The best you got was from Liz that was but a string of emojis and a: When you know, you know!

It’s Monday and the bell had rung and you are, unlike everyone else, in no rush to class. You stand by Peter’s locker, ready to corner him and demand answers. You know cracking MJ is impossible. Ned is elusive. Liz is too sweet for interrogation. Peter is your only hope.

You spot him bee-lining to Science and swiftly make your way to him. He stops when he notices you, smiles a little breathless, holds his hand up to wave but you buzz past him, yanking onto the strap of his bag and dragging him along with you.

“Hey—! I need to go to cl—“

“You can go later.” You hiss.

The yard is silent, save for the far away shouts and groans from P.E. You two hide behind the school where the smokers usually hang out, though their resident spot on the steps is empty as so you sit down. Apparently 9 o’clock is too early for pot or cigarettes. It’s not an ideal setting. But it’s safe. No teachers wander around here and the worst that can happen is... well, nothing.

“So.” Peter starts, shifting from foot to foot, “Uhh—...What’s up?”

“Tell me.” You demand. He frowns.

“Tell you...what?”

“The secret. I’ve seen everyone conspiring.” You explain, glancing away, “I wanna conspire too...”

“Oh! That...” He releases a breathless laugh, not quite amused, more anxious. His cheeks bloom in red and you raise a brow, “It’s uhh...Nothing, really. Just uhh—“ He glances at you, uncertain, his tone shifting from small to loud in an abnormal rate, “They-They— our friends, they uhh— Apparently they have a bet going that we end up together.” He stutters out.

You take a moment to process this information. A deep breath to calm the butterflies and the nerves and the sudden fry of your cheeks. You gulp, throat dry, standing up suddenly, fist clenched in dignity, “And how—“ You clear your throat, “How... till when?” You hope he understand what you are trying to say. To be fair you aren’t even sure yourself. But his eyes light up with recognition and he gives you a crooked smile.

“To my knowledge, the shortest time is two weeks. Ned’s idea.” He adds, more as an afterthought. You nod. You have never been so embarrassed in your whole life. Your friends are...shipping you with Peter? Next time you see MJ you will look her dead in the eyes and say: Et tu, Brute?

That is, of course, not to say you haven’t thought about asking Peter out, but you were hoping he would be the one to take the first step. Does he even like you? You like him. You like your study dates and movie marathons and dragging him along to shop. You like sharing music and going to Coney Island or out for coffee. And you like doing the same things with all of your other friends but when with him it feels different. More special. More fun. What is it that they say in times like these?

When you know, you know!

And you think you know. Slowly, a smile pinches your cheeks, and you look at him, almost expectantly, but he says nothing, simply stares, confused at your sudden change in manner.

“Sooo...” You drag, kicking a pebble with your shoe, “Maybe you’d like to like...I dunno... go... out... somewhere ... sometime?” You finish, squinting.

“Oh.” He grins, “Like after school? Sure! I’ll tell Ned and the others, we can all go.” You face falls and you look at him, suddenly exhausted, as if to say: Seriously? It hits him then and his brows shoot upwards, “Oh! Oh you mean like a date!” He laughs again nervously, staring somewhere over your shoulder, too embarrassed to face you head on. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. If he says no then— “Yes. Yes that would be... that would be awesome.” He says with a grin. You feel a weight lift off of your shoulders.

“Oh thank God.” You mutter, “That’s... Wow. Cool!”

You extend your hand to him as an invitation and he doesn’t even hesitate to take it. Hand in hand the two of you stroll back into the building before he abruptly stops.

“Wait, since we didn’t go to class...What do we do now?”

You shrug, “...Starbucks?”

“I was thinking more on the lines of the Library, but Starbucks is fine too.”

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here4theheartbreak · 4 years

Text

Missing (TaeKeySeok)

AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: Jung Hoseok x Kim Kibum x Kim Taehyung ✩ Genre(s): Fluff/Angst

✩ Rating: General ✩ Tags: swearing, alcohol mention, established relationship, polyamory, fluff, angst ✩ Summary: After a fight, Taehyung refuses to answer one of his boyfriend's calls. But this one involves their other boyfriend, and might just change their whole world.

✩ Word Count: ~2.6k ✩ A/N: Written for @blink4jimin for the prompt #15 - Call me now. It’s urgent. Hope you enjoy!!

One thing that could never be said about Kim Taehyung was that he was a pushover. Rather, he was stubborn to a fault. Even in matters where, in the eyes of everyone else, the easiest thing to do would be to just let it slide. In hindsight, Taehyung knew that was what had gotten him into his current predicament.

He loved Hoseok and Kibum with his entire heart. They’d been together since he was nineteen, nearly seven years now. But they did have their disagreements. And, despite their love, sometimes those disagreements turned into full-blown arguments. Key was stubborn and blunt, and Taehyung’s sullen attitude often got to him. On the reverse, Key’s bluntness often came off harshly to Tae, and they ended up bickering worse. Hoseok was always their rock, the middleman, the one to soothe everyone’s tempers and get them back to a place where they were able to talk things through rationally. They all loved one another dearly, and the reactive arguments were just a part of their relationship. Despite them, there was never any ill will held after they finally made up, moving on as a solid trio through their lives.

That was where they were at the fateful Saturday mid-morning. Taehyung and Key had gotten into it over Tae’s messy shoe collection, which even Taehyung had to admit was getting a little out of control. But when Key had come at him, his response was, as per usual, more petulant than it should have been, resulting in an argument. Taehyung had stormed out of the apartment, opting to stay with his friend across the city instead.

What was strange, however, was that while Taehyung was playing video games with Jin the following morning, he received a call from Key. Key never called when they were arguing.

Taehyung scowled at the phone, watching it vibrate across the floor.

“You gonna answer it?” Jin asked.

“I… He doesn’t ever make the first move to apologize. No way am I going to answer it.”

“What if he realized he was in the wrong?”

“Not possible. Key-hyung’s ego is way too big for that.”

“Coming from you, those are strong words,” Jin teased, crying out when Taehyung slugged him in the bicep.

“Shut up and let’s play.” He muted the phone and turned his attention back to the television, starting up their game again.

Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed again. Taehyung scowled.

“It must be important,” Jin said softly. “He doesn’t call twice often, in my experience.”

“Well he can just fuck right off,” Taehyung snapped, ignoring the call again.

Jin shrugged, turning back to the television. This time, a text came through almost immediately. ‘Call me now. It’s urgent.’

“Tae, I know you’re mad at him… But he seems really desperate to get ahold of you.”

“He shouldn’t have been so mean.”

Another text came through. ‘Please Tae. It’s Hobi.’

Taehyung’s eyes widened at that. He grabbed his phone, opening it and dialing Key’s number immediately.

“What about Hobi-hyung?” He asked, rising and pacing through Jin’s apartment. Jin rose as well, watching him closely.

“He never came home, Tae. He’s not with you?”

“No, I’m at Jin-hyung’s. I have been since our fight. I left when he was working.”

“He was at the studio, right? With his class? He shoulda been home no later than five or six. You left at like four-thirty.”

“It’s almost noon. Have you called Yoongi-hyung?”

“Mhm, he hasn’t seen him or heard from him.”

“What about the main choreographer he’s working with?”

“I don’t have his number.”

“I do,” Taehyung said. “I’ll call him, see when Hobi-hyung left the studio yesterday. I’ll head home now.”

“Okay.”

Taehyung hung up, immediately scrolling through his phone as he went for his shoes.

“What’s wrong with Hoseok?” Jin asked.

“He’s missing. He hasn’t come home and Key-hyung can’t get ahold of him.”

“I’ll go by some of our friend’s places,” Jin offered, “to see if he holed up there, maybe he went out for a drink or something after work.”

Taehyung nodded. “Thank you.” He rushed out as he put the phone to his ear, digging his car keys from his pocket.

Hoseok wasn’t particularly famous – not idol level fame at least, but he did have a following big enough that they had recently upped security at their apartment. And worse – Hoseok was a creature of strict habit. He never changed his nightly routine without letting Key or Taehyung know that he’d be home late, where he was going. It wasn’t that they required it – Hoseok was a grown man and capable of caring for himself, but it was just a way they all showed affection. Even in the middle of their argument, Taehyung had informed Key he was going to Jin’s. He may have screamed it at him, but he still let him know. It was how the trio worked. And that was the frightening part of it. For Hoseok to be away nearly twenty-four hours without so much as a text to either boyfriend was abnormal even for their standards.

Taehyung rushed up to the apartment, rushing in. Key looked up, his eyes red rimmed though he’d never admit he’d been crying. He nodded at Taehyung.

“Yeah, thanks Jimin.” He hung up.

“Nobody’s seen him.”

“Jin-hyung is checking our common places too,” Taehyung said.

Key rose and hesitated. He shook his head. “I’m sorry for fighting with you yesterday, Tae. Going through this alone has been…” He stopped, his eyes welling. Taehyung circled the coffee table and hugged him tightly.

“I get it, you don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I shouldn’t have been so bratty.”

Key pushed Taehyung back a bit only to kiss him hard. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Taehyung whispered. He buried his face in the crook of Key’s neck. “What do we do?”

“Well, Jin-hyung will keep us updated I’m sure. We’ve already called everyone we know. I think the next step is to start calling hospitals.”

Taehyung’s stomach dropped at Key’s words, a cold chill coming over him. “You don’t think…”

“Why else wouldn’t he call us? An accident is better than a crazy fan, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” Taehyung rubbed his neck. “Okay. You take the hospitals on the west side of town, I’ll take the east.”

Key nodded. They sat close together on the couch, each searching up hospitals on their phones. When Key would dial a number, he reached over, setting his free hand on Taehyung’s leg. Taehyung did the same, squeezing gently as the phone rang. Again and again, they were told no, nobody here by that name, that description. As the hospitals dwindled, their panic began to increase.

“How many?” Key asked after hanging up once again.

“Two on my end.”

“One on mine,” Key whispered. Taehyung grabbed his hand.

“We’ll be okay. Hoseok will be okay.”

Key nodded. Taehyung could see him chewing the inside of his lip, and knew he was fighting back yelling or crying.

“Want me to make the last calls?”

“No, no. I’ll do it.” Key lifted his phone, scrolling through to find the last number. As he did, his phone began to buzz in his hand from an unknown number. Without hesitation, he answered it.

“Hobi?”

He hesitated, listening to the person on the other end. Taehyung nudged him, his face a question.

“One… One moment, ma’am.” He put the phone on speaker.

“Okay, sorry, yes, My name is Kim Kibum.”

“Oh, good, I’m Jisoon, a nurse at Asan Medical Center. Do you know a Jung Hoseok?”

“Yes, yes,” Key cried, his voice cracking. “That’s my partner, is he there? Is he okay? We’ve been going crazy looking for him.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Yes, he’s here. He’s fine, just recovering.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I’m not at liberty to say over the phone, but he is okay. He’s asking for you to come by.”

“Of course, tell him me and Taehyung will be right there.”

“Kim Taehyung?” She asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” Tae said. “Key put you on speaker, sorry – I’m… I’m a friend.” Taehyung stuttered, not wanting to out them to a stranger.

“Of course, thank you. I was going to call you next, he requested both of you. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” Key said. He hung up and Taehyung grabbed him in a hug.

“He’s okay.”

“He’s okay,” Key repeated. “But what the hell happened?”

“Guess we need to go find out.”

Key nodded. “I’ll drive.”

“No, I can, I’m faster on the roads,” Taehyung argued, rising and pulling his shoes on.

“Yeah, but my car is more comfortable and smaller, so I can get in between other cars easier.”

“Which does nothing when you drive like a grandpa,” Taehyung said.

“I do not drive like a grandpa! You drive like a maniac—” Key stopped short, his angry expression turning a little sheepish. At least one thing doesn’t change no matter what, does it?” He asked.

Taehyung scowled, ready to snap, then relaxed, chuckling. “I suppose it doesn’t. I’m still driving.”

Key rolled his eyes deeply enough that Taehyung only saw the whites of his eyes for a moment, but said nothing further. They pulled their shoes on and headed out silently.

On the way to the hospital, Taehyung tried to be mindful of the road, not wanting to panic Key further.

“Do you… Think we fight too much?” Key asked softly, picking at a spot on his pants.

Taehyung hesitated, unsure how to answer. His gut reaction was to say yes, but that’ wasn’t quite right. He sighed. “Yes.”

Key looked over, his expression gentle. “Are we good boyfriends?”

“Yes.”

“How can both be yesses?” He asked.

“Because I think that we do fight a lot, but there’s something about our fights. I can’t quite explain it. I love you and Hobi-hyung dearly. Even with our fights, even when I storm out or you shut yourself in your room. There’s never a time where being anything else but your boyfriend crosses my mind. Never that it would be easier to break up with you, never that we shouldn’t date. Even though we fight, I’m fully dedicated to you two. That’s why I think that we fight a lot, but we are good lovers. We are good together.”

“Being alone last night… I think I realized just how important you and Hobi are to me. Thinking that you two might not come home to me, I—” Key stopped, swallowing hard. Taehyung reached over and grabbed his hand.

“I don’t care how much we fight, Kim Kibum. I will always come home to you. I love you,” he said firmly.

Key nodded, drawing in a deep breath. Taehyung squeezed his hand. “We’re here.”

He parked and they got out, hurrying into the hospital and heading to the front desk.

“We’re here for Jung Hoseok,” Key said in a rush.

“Ho.. Oh! Yes, just one moment.” The nurse stepped away, tapping another on the shoulder and pointing to the two. She nodded and approached.

“Mr. Kim?”

Both Taehyung and Key nodded. “That’s us.”

“Great. Come on, Mr. Jung is waiting for you.”

“What happened?” Key pressed again as the nurse led them through the hall.

“Well, his friend brought him in last night. He’d had far too much to drink and wasn’t responding to his friend. He was concerned about alcohol poisoning.”

Key’s shoulders sagged. “What?”

“Does your friend have a drinking problem?” The nurse asked.

“No, not at all,” Taehyung defended. “He drinks a little, just like everyone, but he’s a lightweight.”

Key chuckled. “That’s true, two beers and he’s rosy cheeked singing love songs. Three and he’s out.”

“His blood alcohol was far higher, but he also assures me it’s not routine. But you know how it is, just being safe. Here he is.”

“When can he come home?” Taehyung asked before opening the door.

“He’s fine to be released this afternoon, just as long as some of his final blood work clears. We’re waiting on it from the lab, so it shouldn’t be too long. He said you two would be worried though, so he was pretty desperate for us to call you.”

Taehyung nodded. “Thank you.”

Key pushed open the door and the two stepped in. Hoseok was in the hospital bed, sipping some water and flipping through television channels. He looked over when the two entered and his eyes widened.

“Key-hyung! Tae, thank God you came.”

Key rushed up to him and punched him in the arm. “You had us worried sick, you asshole,” he snarled.

Hoseok winced, rubbing his arm. “I deserved that.”

“You deserve more than that,” Tae growled. “What were you thinking? You could’ve died. Why didn’t your friend call us?”

“He didn’t know to. It’s a guy from work, he’s never met you two, he’s relatively new. We went out for drinks and I got too drunk. My phone broke, so when I passed out he took me to the hospital. He probably didn’t even think to mention you guys to the nurse.”

“Why were you drinking so much?” Key asked. “You’re not a heavy drinker.”

“No, but I was stressed. I just wanted to relax and not have to worry.”

“About what?”

“My idiot boyfriends,” Hobi muttered.

Taehyung’s shoulder’s slumped. “You were mad about our fight?”

“I wasn’t mad. I love you both. But sometimes I get so tired of being the mediator. So I went out drinking with a friend and hoped you two would figure your bullshit out on your own. I know you two work different than other couples. The fighting seems to energize you and that’s fine. I love you and even though I don’t get it, I can handle it. It’s when you get me involved in them. The little stuff is fine but sometimes I just want a break, you know?”

“Hobi, we didn’t know,” Key whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I had no idea,” Taehyung said. “We never meant to make you feel that way.”

“I know you didn’t. And I planned on talking to you about it, once I had sorted myself out in my head. It’s not something that’s been bugging me for a very long time, just recently it’s been a lot. I just ended up drinking too much and…” He shrugged. “I’m sorry I worried you too. It wasn’t fair of me either.”

“I get it,” Key whispered. “You were stressed. We weren’t being good boyfriends. We’ll work harder to keep our fights between ourselves.”

“Or just have less of them,” Taehyung offered.

“Hey now, let’s not get crazy.” Key laughed as he spoke, and Hoseok laughed. He reached out and grabbed their hands.

“You two have made up?”

“It was a dumb fight,” Taehyung said. “I was being bratty and Key-hyung was right. I shouldn’t have stormed out anyways.”

“I’m glad you two figured it out. I should be getting out of here soon… Can we all go home together?”

“Of course, we’ll be here with you when you get out,” Taehyung promised. “I gotta call Jin and let him know everything’s okay.”

Hoseok nodded. He pulled Taehyung forward, kissing him gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too… No more drinking gallons though, okay? You are a lightweight.”

Hoseok laughed and nodded. “Deal,” he said, letting Taehyung go to make the call to Jin. Taehyung hesitated, watching him share a gentle kiss with Key.

He and Key would always bicker; it was their nature. And Hoseok would always be their mediator, as it was his nature as well. But as long as they worked together, as a trio, to make things a little more peaceful – or at least a little smoother, things would continue to look up for them. Those two had Taehyung’s heart, and he knew he’d do anything to make it last forever… Even if it meant eating his pride every now and then.

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #vhopenet #btswriterscollective #bangtanidx #boymeetsmxm #kwritersworldnet #taekeyseok #v x hoseok x key #fluff #angst #requests #taehyung x hoseok x kibum

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staycatcher · 5 years

Text

Cursed 001

Member: Kim Seungmin x Femme Reader (she/her) (Jisung is also in this, we love wingpeople)

Au: (Dorky/Pure) Frat Boy! Seungmin x Baddie! Reader + Unexpected Soulmate AU [in the same universe as Anguish, no need to read it though!]

Genre: Crack, Angst, Fluff? (she’s all over the place, partner🤠)

Rated 14? for too much swearing, kind-of-stranger danger, getting into mentioned kind-of-stranger’s car (don’t do what y/n did!!), suggestive themes & jokes, hangover & leftover tipsiness, cringe, promiscuous bisexual reader, nothing explicit though!! Also, Jisung is too much I’m sorry

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: special thanks to @staytion-nine for being a bro and reading & critiquing my full shitty drafts and @strayneoculturekids & @hyunjinssmile for thinking my crack parts were good & somewhat funny way back when I wrote them ilyssssm🤗💞💛

ps, I hope you readers liked/found my easter eggs!!🥴

“Your heart began to sing, sing triumphantly as if you broke some sort of curse- Curse? Wait, hold up. Hold the fuck up. I think he’s my soulmate?! But I can’t possibly have one-”

Cursed series 1/?- ~001~ 😈🤓😳~

Growing up, not a single day passed without your single mother reminding you that meeting your soulmate wasn't going to happen for you. The odds were not at all in your favor, not her’s, not your grandmother’s and not even your great grandmother’s mom; being the youngest girl of the youngest in the family made you carry such a burden. The streak that your family had going on for generations was too strong to break at this point. It’d be a miracle and a half if you ever heard of your soulmate for a fraction of a second. You started to accept by the time you learned how to read, that a life with a soulmate was frankly not in the cards for you.

To say you were completely and utterly blind-sighted when you met your soulmate, would be the understatement of the century. You lived your whole life with no fear or any expectations of long lasting relationships whether it’s with a soulmate or not. You lived the life you knew many people with soulmates or obsessions with commitment couldn’t live. You lived a life of freedom, focused on yourself.

Now, it's been three months at this university; three months, and you already have a reputation that precedes you. Contrary to popular belief, you don't like the attention. Yet somehow the spotlight seems to follow you. Though, you would argue you weren’t as charismatic as you were careless. Your carelessness seemed to be your charm and charming you seemed to be.

A groan tore out from your throat when as stretched over to snatch your boots. Jelly legs hobbling all over the place as you scrambled to tug them on, stubbornly not zipping down the zipper which only made it harder for you in the long run. Once on, you trudge on forward, not giving a shit if things were inside out or not, all that mattered to you was going back to sleep in your own bed. You have to remain careful though. You don’t want to go too fast and have stomach acid erupt out of you in aggravation, ruining the Sorority’s carpet and your morning. So, you watched each and every wobbly step as you did your best to navigate your way out of the crowded, trashed halls of the post-party filth. Fortunately, it seemed you’ve risen before anyone else, no conscious creatures for you to deal with.

The clock struck six o’clock as you strut down Greek row, your steps more firm now, waking you up more with each step. However, waking up meant more hangover symptoms, though you weren’t exactly sober. You made it about four more clumsy steps down the sidewalk before a car slows down next to you. This has happened to you more times than you can count, but never when the birds were fucking chirping. You huff out in irritation, walking faster, thus, less firm as you tried to remain calm.

Who the hell pulls up to you when it’s fucking sunrise?! Unbelievable.

You only make it two more steps before the right next to you. Even though you tell yourself not to, your head swivels to look at the driver on instinct. He looks vaguely familiar, you’ve seen those cheeks somewhere but his name is lost on you. You acknowledge him with a questioning look as he rolls down the window.

“Want a ride?” He offers like you’ve known him for ten years and your pets were best friends. You were expecting a catcall but his voice was full of awkward sincerity and a bit of reluctance that couldn’t be faked.

“I thought chivalry was de-ad.” You choked, giving a nudge with your words to test his sincerity.

“I thought you liked girls more and don’t believe in it anyway.” He dished back. Okay, fair. This guy’s a real one.

“Touché... Ohhh what the helll-” You huffed, “I’ll take it.” You vaguely recognize him and he seems to know you too so what can hurt; that’s at least how you look at it in the buzzed moment.

His unimpressive car comes to a smooth stop, you hear the doors unlock and you sluggishly yanked the door open and groan as you slide in, kindly ignoring the mess because you’re not much better.

“Did you not party last ni’?” You blurted, looking over at him with a dry smile. As you do, you can really take him in. His dark, messy hair and his cute over-expressive face, topped with a pair of doughy cheeks. Despite the cuteness, there’s not a doubt in your mind this is some frat boy on the college team, though you’re not even sure what team is in season right now. One thing was for sure though, his guns were proudly out of a cut out muscle-t like a living, breathing fuckboy starter pack. Infuriatingly, he pulled it off, he looked too attractive for this time, on the weekend especially. With all that being said, he seriously looks like the kind of guy that should be as fucked up as you are right now. And yet, here he is, behind the wheel looking as sober as a slice of bread.

“Nah,” He starts, getting his foot off the brake and turning back into the road, “me and my soulmate stayed in ‘cuz coach is making practice earlier than usual.”

Well, that train left the station. “Ahh, that-that's too bad.” You heard yourself pettily trail off.

“Nah, ‘zall good. I think coach is taking it out on us ‘cuz his wife found out he’s doin’ drugs and gambling again-“

“Do ya have any friends like you?” You blurted out again.

“Huh??”

“Do ya got any friends that do things like this?” You grumbled, resisting the urge to facepalm at yourself. Fucking hell, Y/n.

“That go to practice this early? Yehh. The whole fucking basketball te-“

“No!” You hiss, head pulsing, his voice is too goddamn loud. “Gentlemen!” clarifying and sulkily leaned your head against the cool window.

“Ohhh!!~” Then he belts out laughing like a blaring fire alarm, making your entire brain rattle.

“Shhhh!” As you turn to glare at him, you realize your turn was coming up. “Wait!! Turn here!!”

He hissed and stepped harshly on the breaks. “This one?”

“Yeah!!-“ it was already too late when you unnecessarily clarified, so he had to turn around and go turn in again. Thank god the streets were dead at this date and time. You’re sure he broke at least four traffic laws.

“Shit, man!! You can’t say that and then expect me to make the turn, I got too excited!!” He was beaming, far too excited for your dumb question and not at all concerned about his chaotic driving.

“What the fuuck?!?! You’ got a soulmate-“

“No, dumbass!!” He whines like you just missed the best play in the whole game, too bad there aren’t instant replies for day to day conversations. “I have a bro who we’ve been trying to get laid.~” And now he makes the turn, good job buddy.

“Okay, two stops from now you’re gonna turn left.” It is then that you realize the last part of what he just said. “Huh? Li-like frat bro?”

“Yeah, dude. He’s so pissy I don’t think his hand is doin’ it for him anymore.” The dude laughed at his own joke, elbowing you in the side. Normally you would have joined in and punched him but for some reason, your little fucked up heart started to warm up hearing about this cute frat boy.

“Ahhhh.” And then you laughed a little too late, his wingmanning ass didn’t notice.

“Yeah! And he says books are better than pussy so that’s how we know he’s becoming a lost cause. We’re placing our bets that he won’t get it on until he finds his soulmate.”

“What a swee-eetheart.~” You hiccupped with dazed eyes and chapped smile. You had to admit, you were endeared. You never heard about a dorky, innocent fraternity boy before, and you never would have thought that it would appeal to you.

“Is it this one or the next one?”

“This one. So whoo’z this friend of yours-“ Unfortunately you were caught off by a ringtone blasting at the fullest volume making your brain wail in pain, for the second fucking time this morning.

He just snickers. “Sorry, gotta answer this… Yuh~?” You just huffed and closed your eyes, deflating a little bit.

“Seungmin?!?”

For some unknown reason, that name made you jolt back up into your seat. ‘Seungmin’, why does that sound so familiar?!

“Well, speak of the devil!!~” He got too excited and looked at you, and gives you an over-enthused wink. You’re assuming this is the frat bro. “Your car won’t start??~~” This dude, you still don’t quite remember the name of, was really playing this up. For possibly the same unknown reason, him talking to this dude has your full attention. Normally you’d eavesdrop half-heartedly but this time your whole heart started to beat a way it never has before, begging you to soak up as much of this half conversation as possible.

“Of course I’ll drive my wittle brother!!~... -fuck off a few days totally does count!!- Whatever!! Anyway, fair warning, I became a fucking uber this morning, I’m driving this girl too so prepare yourself!!... Shhh, it’s not a joke! And she’s really hot; make sure your heart and dick are ready.”

You were about to beat this dude before you vaguely heard the muffled voice on the other line chew him out for you. You couldn’t hold in your smile before you realized; even though you were abnormally giddy, now is not the goddamn time to meet this kid. You looked like you were run over by three different military-grade vehicles and you’re more than sure you had lipstick marks from last night smeared in various places all over you. But most importantly, you were in a limbo of drunk and hungover. You needed way more rest and sustenance before you should interact with anyone of importance. You opened your mouth to scream at him but you were cut off yet again.

“...Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I’ll turn around now, just for you.~ I’m pretty sure we’re close to her dorm but who cares how late I’m gonna be for practice! I’m making shit happen! See ya in a sec, muah!�� If you weren’t high key starting to panic, you would’ve laughed at this dude’s unending ridiculousness. There is no way in hell you’re gonna meet this familiar stranger‘s friend that he’s setting you up with at six fucking a.m. in a frankly disgusting state.

“Do not turn around or I swear to fucking Rupaul-“

“No can do, bro. Besides, you seemed interested in him so why not!?! Be grateful! I’m gonna have to run double the fuckin laps cuz a’ this.”

‘“Why not’?!! I just got outta’ a stranger’s bed and I’m still drunk and somehow hungover too and my dorm is just around the corner-“

“Listen; bros before hoes. Frat legacy.” And with that, he chuckled as he turned the car around for the second time today. You take back the gentleman comment you gave him earlier, he’s a pile shit.

“I’m gonna fucking jump out of the car-“ you groaned with a bluff, tugging at your smeared face and he smugly locked the doors before you could finish. “Cmonnn!~ It’s too fucking early for this shit, man! Why didn’t I just keep walking or just stayed-“

“I'm doing you a favor!~”

“Dropping me off when and where I asked you to is doing me a favor! That’s literally why I’m in your messy ass car that smells like rancid fuckin’ cheesecake in the first place!!”

“Hey, now you’re just being mean!”

You groaned and glared out the window, opting to ignore him now. This argument had you sobering up. This just really wasn’t it. You resisted the urge to pull down the mirror and see how bad you really looked but, you would rather not know how bad it is. Knowing your past morning afters, you’ve looked a hell of a lot cuter every other time.

It seems like you’re just gonna have to grin and bear it and let this one go. There’s plenty of bitches in the sea. Bitches that never made you heart skipped like this before- and without you even meeting them-

All you could think about how embarrassing and fucked up this whole thing he’s pulling is as you glare at the passing sidewalks and cars parked at the side of the roads. You wish the passing textured and crumbly neighborhood sidewalks could swallow you up. It’s not often that you felt so burdened at an awaiting social encounter these days. You hated this.

“And we’re here!!” He stops and proudly puts the car into park. “Okay, Siri, call ‘Noodle Bitchass’.”

The fuck-

-“I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. Would you like me to search the web for ‘Nude space app’?”-

“Ughhhhh. Fuck you!! I said, ‘Call~ Nooo-DiLL BiiiiTCh AAAssss’~~!!!”

-“Okay. Calling Noodle Bitchass nerd emoji, middle finger emoji in medium tan’.”- You were about to cry in shocked laughter but the guy answered too soon so you had to snort into your hand and curl in on yourself.

“Yah!! Han Jisung!!” Holy mother almighty, his voice is pure sunshine and honey. Your body slowly uncurled back up on its own. Fuck, okay it’s on speaker. Shit, I can’t even breathe, can’t make a sound.

“We’re here, man.”

“Hhhhh… she’s not still with you is she?” Is it possible to be attracted to a voice? I think I’m attracted to a voice.

“Hell yeah, she is! Suck it up, bro. You’re already making me late and she’s fine~!!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jisung-“ Oh, good lord. Him swearing really just--

“Get in or I’ll leave you here and set her up with Innie instead.” You just heard the guy sigh and the sound of a facepalm, you’re guessing, before the line went dead. And finally. You could finally howl with laughter, or perhaps it was more like manic screaming in infatuation.

You have never, in all your years of living felt like this because of a person. Is this what it feels like to be whipped? Fuck, fuck, fuck- It’s like I’m at a concert- but not really and-

You were still in the thick of it when a door ripped open. When you reflexively looked over, all the air that was left in your lungs pathetically wheezed out of you like a sad balloon.

Then the sensations all hit you.

Wow, okay the drunkenness and hangover is gone? I feel good? I feel alive, I feel the cool late autumn air? I feel feelings; feelings I’ve never felt before? You were light as a mother fuckin’ feather and astounded as all burning hell. You were openly experiencing so many intense emotions, something that hasn’t happened in so many years.

At that moment your mouth and his gawk right open at the exact same time, not that the two of you noticed. Without any volition, your eyes immediately drown in the other. Okay, he’s actual artwork? He was dressed so cute like he was ready to take some cute aesthetic photos for a dumb little blog. Oh god, he smells like a cup of tea in the forest after it rained?! That’s so specific- but. He smells so lovely.

His hair was pure angelic fluff and his skin was a light, silky caramel. You watched before your tired, dry eyes, the caramel in his cheeks rise into the purest shade of pink and his eyes widening into adorable little saucers. When they met yours, they were sparklier than any ring on any finger; you swear to god herself, you felt electricity crackle in your veins like wood to the fire. Your eyes couldn’t pull away, you felt like a giddy little kid again. Whirling with excitement and curiosity as you looked at him all bundled up for the late fall weather. Your heart began to sing, sing triumphantly as if you broke some sort of curse-

Curse?

Wait, hold up.

Hold the fuck up.

I think he’s my soulmate?! But I can’t possibly have one-

That’s when your entire body began to heat up in question. None of this made sense to you.

How is this possible? How is this fucking possible?! The only thing your brain seems to produce in reaction is unending, spiraling questions. For each and every one of them, whether rhetorical or not, you didn’t have a sensical explanation or possible answer. This didn’t make any sense, it went against everything you ever knew to be true.

You couldn’t have a soulmate, your maternal lineage fucked that up for you, it was what you were born into without a choice. A perpetual heartbreak, something that started out as merely coincidental to grow into a family burden that carried on precariously. How can it be that for generations, the youngest daughter in the family never got to meet their soulmate until now, until you? You were on the brink of a fucking existential crisis.

Seungmin seemed shocked as well, though leagues and leagues below the ballgame you’re dealing with right now. He looked shocked; appearing delightfully surprised. Shocked as if he wasn’t expecting to be surprised with a present on a random and unimportant Wednesday, not shocked as if he just broke a generations-long family streak.

Before you can continue these heavy ass thoughts, Jisung blasts out an interruption yet again.

“I CAN’T FUCKIN’ BELIEVE THIS!! I THOUGHT I WAS JUST HOOKING UP MY BOY AT ASS CRACK IN THE MORNING!! BUT NO!! I FUCKIN’ FOUND HIM HIS SOULMATE!! AND IT’S Y/N OUTTA ALL PEOPLE!! Y/N?!? SEUNGMIN?!? THE UNIVERSE REALLY PAIRED THESE PEOPLE TOGETHER?!? OUT OF-”

“Jisung, shut the fuck up.” To your surprise, it was Seungmin who interrupts ‘Jisung’ and not you, as he gets the rest of the way into the messy car. His put-together ass looks completely out of place in this shitty car, it made you try to hold in a smile as closes the door with barely restrained enthusiasm.

Before he turns back, you force yourself to face forward and try to calm the hell down and calmly reassess the situation.

Alright... You met your not plausible-soulmate, out of all places in time and space, in the car of a kinda-stranger who offered you a ride home in the early-ass morning after getting laid at a sorority party.

Okay. Great. This is great.

You cleared your throat and tried to remain cool. “O-okay, awesome. Where ar-are we heading to first?” Okay, that wasn’t entirely cool but maybe you can blame it on literally everything else wrong with you in this situation.

“I don’t know, man. I deadass wanna just skip practice altogether and-” Jisung was interrupted by the sound of a camera’s shutter. You instinctively whip your head around towards the sound, only to be met with Seungmin camera-handed. He has the fucking nerve to take two more in the time it took for you to whip around.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?” Your voice ripped out of you, croaking out like an enraged toad. He then takes the final picture as you’re screeching at him. This just kept getting richer and richer. First, Jisung’s bullshit, then life-altering realizations that you broke some sort of generations long streak of not having a soulmate, and now your seemingly miraculous soulmate taking unexpected, embarrassing photographs of you in the worst state you’ve ever been in?

“Taking your picture.” He grinned with a shrug, no guilt or shame to be seen nor heard. You could not hold in squawks of disbelief. His pride and excitement seemed to only grow at your bewilderment, he had the nerve to do a precious ‘hehehe’, the kind that little kids do after they steal a cookie from the jar.

“Give me that!” You sneer as you go to savagely rip it right out of his perfect hands. However, the two of you seemed to be matched in more ways than one; neither of you would budge, equally as strong as the other.

“No way! You’ll delete them!!”

“Yeah, exactly!! ‘No way in hell will I let you keep pictures of me like this!”

“‘No fuckin’ way will I let you delete them!”

You gritted your teeth. “Then let me take pictures of you!!!” And then you can sneakily delete-

“Yeah and then you’ll delete yours.” How the fuck did he know-

“Seungmin, just give her the goddamn camera so I can drive and drop your hormonal asses off before coach murders me.”

There was a raging fire in Seungmin’s eyes as he slowly and painfully let go of his forsaken camera so you could tentatively take it. Upon retrieving the camera your fingers accidentally grab unto Seungmin’s. Resulting in a little static shock zap, startling you and heating up your cheeks immediately with a jerk and a hiss. Seungmin reacted similarly, blinking like pink dust blew into his eyes to land on his cheeks. Your hand yanks it back towards you before you even realize it. Jisung was far too excited to watch this drama unfold right before his wide eyes.

If this was a normal day for you you’d jump to delete those humiliating pictures of yourself immediately, looking nothing short of the cheshire cat. But this was evidently not a normal day in any sense of the word, so, what you did was unlike you. You huffed out a breath to encourage yourself before slowly raising the camera to your dominant eye and focused the lense as best you could.

At least I can photograph how irritatingly handsome he looks at this hour.

You took the first picture, zooming in on his now grouchy, but still stupidly handsome face. Then you zoom out as far as possible, hoping to take in this entire scene in front of you, his angry posture in an adorably preppy outfit, this messy, disgusting car and how out of place he looks in it.

“Only two more.” Seungmin huffs with an eyeroll and by some divine power (perhaps the same divine power that made this odd miracle happen in the first place), you clicked fast enough to get some of that petty behavior visually documented. You pressed down twice, sadly that was your limit you agreed upon.

You didn’t even look at the pictures you took nor the ones Seungmin took so that you wouldn’t be tempted to delete them. It felt like you were committing a saintly act; as if simply taking his picture like you said you would, without deleting anything made you pure and free of sin. Perhaps this twisted reality of somehow defeating the ancestral odds had you feeling undeservingly self-righteous.

“You better not delete yours either.” You sneered once more, before jabbing the camera back into his sweatered chest. This time you were determined not to turn around again, you couldn’t risk him taking any more pictures. You also aren’t entirely sure you could handle seeing his stupid perfect face once more. This was an outrage and this was your way of protest. Also, an unspoken miracle, but enough of that.

You swiveled your head away from Jisung and Seungmin, fully leaning into the cool window and began to count the street lights and stop signs. As the grueling seconds ticked by the more concentrated you tried to be. Soon enough the concentration turned sleepy and before you knew it, you were knocked out. All your adrenaline fueled energy depleted.

All through your protest-turned-snooze, Seungmin couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. He couldn’t help but find it endearing how you could be an absolute riot only to pass out three minutes later. It hurt how cute he found you, no matter how scandalous you seem to be. You seemed so genuinely shocked, it made him want to cry. And he’s also fairly certain that this isn’t new to you, you not only partied all night and regularly. And judging from the markings on your skin, you might’ve done a little bit more than party last night. In fact, it might’ve even enticed him, might’ve gotten him a little hot under the collar. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he already whipped and he hasn’t even caught your name.

78 notes · View notes

dvp95 · 5 years

Text

under my thumb

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: explicit tags: pwp, smut, d/s, power dynamics, established relationship, role reversal, dirty talk, mild degradation/humiliation (use of the word slut but like, fondly), rimming, kink exploration word count: 3.8k summary: Dan gets it. He understands why this turns Phil on every time. There’s nothing abnormal, really, about what they’re doing, but the idea of having Phil fall to pieces at his command is a dizzying one.

you can all blame @intoapuddle for requesting a role reversal sequel to good for you, good for you!

read on ao3 or here!

Dan is a bit of a control freak. He knows what he likes and his opinions don’t bend easily, but he doesn’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. He likes to be in complete control of his work, his public image, his own body. It’s hard for him to sit back and let other people do something that he knows he could do better.

Giving up control doesn’t always come easy for him, but sometimes he needs it.

He’s gone down the familiar rabbithole of research and given Phil the CliffsNotes version after his eyes started to glaze over. He knows the why and how of it - the release of endorphins that make his brain stop buzzing so fucking loudly, the bonelessness that comes afterwards helping him relax into sleep without overthinking everything he’s done in his life - but it’s still a comparatively new thing in their lives.

It’s not always about sex, although it tends to end in it often enough anyway. Sometimes Dan just needs to turn his brain off for a little while and do what Phil wants him to do.

Knowing when he needs it is easy enough - those times where he’s stuck in hazy listlessness and needs help pressing his reset button - and all he really has to do to instigate it is ask, “What do you want me to do right now?”

Phil always tells him. Sometimes he has to think about it first, takes a few moments to get his own head in the right space, and sometimes he’s got something on the tip of his tongue like he’s just been waiting for Dan to ask. Idle chores or self-care routines or sucking his dick, there’s always something that Phil wants done.

Today isn’t one of those days. Today, Dan comes out of the shower to find Phil laying on his stomach, face buried in Dan’s pillow. His fists are probably clenched under it and the muscles in his bare back are tense. Dan hesitates. Phil doesn’t always want company or touch when he’s having a bad morning, and he almost never wants to talk about it until he’s wrangled his thoughts into something he can put into compact words.

Dan doesn’t need to make the decision. Phil turns his face at the sound of the bathroom door closing, and he turns it towards Dan. His eyes are squeezed shut, but he wants Dan’s presence - he’d have turned away if he didn’t.

The room is quiet but for Phil’s deep, steadying breaths and the white noise of their fan. It’s a struggle for Dan not to open his mouth and break it. He could, anyway, could ask what’s wrong or tell him soothing comforts until they both fall back asleep, but Dan holds his tongue. They’ve seen enough of each other’s bad mornings to know when the time to ask is. Sometimes they slip up, and Phil hovers worriedly or Dan starts to ramble, but they don’t hold that against each other.

Dan hangs his towel up and sits on the edge of the bed. His own side of it, that Phil is encroaching upon - possibly to ground himself, possibly just to make it even more obvious that he doesn’t want Dan to leave the room this time. He brushes stray locks of hair off Phil’s forehead and leans down to press his lips to the expanse of it.

Maybe it’s silly to love the sight of a forehead so much. It’s more than just how Phil’s hair frames his face; it’s about everything that went into a decision that seems so much smaller in hindsight. It had felt gargantuan to Phil at the time, Dan knows.

He pulls back and runs his palm over Phil’s wide shoulders, wondering if it would be welcome to map the freckles on it right now.

Phil hums, and Dan can almost feel some of the tension seeping out of Phil’s skin and into his own. He drops his mouth to his favourite of Phil’s shoulder freckles and rubs his thumb in circles.

“Want a massage?” Dan asks, quiet enough that Phil could pretend not to hear him if he wanted to keep existing in silence.

“I dunno,” says Phil. The furrow between his eyebrows gets deeper and his closed eyes scrunch even more. Dan is about to ask if this is a migraine or a bad anxiety morning when Phil inhales again like he’s going to speak. Then, he hesitates. Dan isn’t always the most patient person, but he likes to think he’s got a handle on being what Phil needs in certain situations, so he keeps his mouth shut for the few beats that it takes Phil to say what he wants to.

Dan isn’t really sure what he’s expecting, but it still takes him by surprise when Phil finally cracks an eye open to look up at the general direction of Dan’s face and quietly ask, “Do you want to do that right now?”

He hasn’t asked Dan that before. They’ve joked about it in the handful of weeks that they’ve started to explore this, but Dan hadn’t been sure if Phil would actually want to take the opportunity. He suddenly understands why Phil went quiet for so long, that first time, because all of a sudden Dan has an added responsibility on his shoulders that he isn’t sure how to deal with.

It’s not a bad responsibility. Dan thinks his shoulders can probably handle it just fine.

“I think it would help you relax,” Dan says, digging his thumb into Phil’s lower back a little bit harder. “And I want to do that for you.”

Phil takes a shuddering sort of breath and nods, turning his face back into Dan’s pillow. Dan swings a leg over Phil’s hips and settles on them. The flannel of Phil’s pyjama pants feels a little strange against Dan’s naked lower half, but that’s nothing he isn’t used to. He thinks his balls will survive.

Neither of them are particularly good masseuses, but they know each other’s bodies almost as well as they know their own. It isn’t a hardship for Dan to start at Phil’s neck, where he holds so much tension, and slowly make his way down. He chances putting more pressure on Phil’s shoulders than he normally would, revelling in the muffled groan of a noise beneath him. Phil doesn’t always react well to pain, but Dan had a feeling - backed by some scientifically-dodgy articles he’d found linked in a 2013 kink forum - that he’d appreciate it now in a way he usually doesn’t. Something about the endorphins. Dan can’t remember, because his head is too full of Phil’s pale, freckled back arching into his hands as he works at the sore muscles with slightly more force than necessary.

Dan gets it. He understands why this turns Phil on every time. There’s nothing abnormal, really, about what they’re doing, but the idea of having Phil fall to pieces at his command is a dizzying one.

When Dan’s thumbs reach the base of Phil’s spine, he leans forward and presses his lips just under Phil’s ear. He feels rather than hears Phil’s breath hitch as Dan puts more weight and pressure on him. He bets that Phil can also feel Dan’s cock hardening against his lower back, considering the way he arches.

“Mm, isn’t that better?” Dan hums almost directly into Phil’s ear. He nips lightly at the lobe of it and huffs a laugh when Phil squeaks. “Nice and relaxed now, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.”

Dan digs his blunt nails into Phil’s waist and takes Phil’s earlobe between his teeth again. “Don’t think I heard you, babe,” he says. “Answer me properly when I ask you a question, yeah? It’s bad manners not to.”

A rush goes through Dan’s heady mind when Phil whines and shudders and turns his face to breathe, “Yeah, fuck, that’s. It’s better. Thank you.”

“Is this turning you on?” Dan asks. It’s not a real question. He knows the answer already.

Even if Phil weren’t literally pushing his ass up into Dan, Dan’s not stupid. He sees the flush up Phil’s neck, painting his shoulders pink with it; he knows the rattling inhales of a Phil who wants friction in any way possible and wants it impatiently. There’s just something that gets Dan’s heart rate kicking into high gear at being in a position to fully tease Phil without Phil attempting to wrestle the upper hand from him. So he has to ask.

“Dan,” Phil whines. That’s a gorgeous sound. Dan wants to hear it again as soon as it’s left Phil’s pretty mouth.

Dan lowers his own mouth to Phil’s shoulder and bites down as he holds Phil still under the weight of his body. He doesn’t remind Phil that he needs to answer the question, because Phil is a smart man.

“Ah -” Phil chokes out. His hips try to move under Dan’s, but Dan can’t tell if he’s grinding down or up. Either is unbelievably hot. “Fuck, okay, sorry, yes. Yeah. It turns me on, baby.”

It never ceases to amaze Dan how horny they still are for each other. It feels like some of it should have faded with time - and it has, sort of, in that they don’t need to jump each other every second of the day and showering together is routine and not always a prime groping opportunity - but ten years in and Dan pressing his semi against Phil still electrifies them both.

“I know,” Dan says, smug, as he kisses the shallow teeth marks in Phil’s skin. “That’s so good, saying it for me.”

Phil huffs a little laugh. For a moment, there’s a pause. Then Phil sighs. “I don’t want you to call me good,” he says, too quick like he’s got to get the words out before they run away. “Maybe another time, I dunno.”

“That’s okay. What do you want from me?” Dan asks. He noses into Phil’s neck again and just breathes with him while Phil thinks about the question.

“Just keep,” says Phil, lifting a hand from under Dan’s pillow to gesture vaguely, “doing what you’re doing.”

“Alright, lazy,” Dan teases.

Phil giggles, and Dan’s heart fucking swells at the sound. He tugs lightly at Phil’s hair to pull him up into a kiss. The angle and their smiles make it sloppier than Dan really intended it to be, but Phil is still trying to move his hips, so clearly it’s still working for him. Dan has the passive, fond thought that most things still work for Phil. When Phil makes a whiny sort of noise at Dan’s mouth leaving his, Dan decides he wants to share that thought.

“God, you’re so needy,” he says, letting affection coat his voice in the sort of sincere way he doesn’t usually like to. It feels important to do it, now, where what he’s saying might sound like a proper insult if he stays in his usual jokey sarcastic tone. “Look at you, huh? Can’t even decide what you want, but you know you want it.”

The shiver that goes through Phil’s body is much more telling than Phil’s huff of, “Shut up.”

“You like that?” Dan grins into Phil’s neck and rocks his hips to slide his cock over the heated skin of Phil’s lower back. “Course you do. Always so fucking horny, aren’t you?”

“N-not always -”

“Doesn’t matter how messy or awkward it is,” Dan continues like Phil hasn’t tried to interrupt. “You’ll still get all whiny and impatient and wet for me. I bet you’re dripping already, huh, all hard just from humping the mattress and having a naked guy on you.”

Personally, Dan thinks those are valid enough reasons to be turned on, but there’s something so satisfying about watching Phil squirm when he says it. He shifts off of Phil to work a hand into the front of his pyjama pants, feeling him up like he owns the place. Phil’s breath comes out forceful, almost like a laugh or a sob, as Dan fondles the head of his dick and hums happily.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, and Phil makes that laugh-sob sound again.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil whines. He sounds so desperate that Dan thinks it’s probably a little sadistic how much pleasure he’s getting from hearing it. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

“You got some nerve, talking back while you’re gagging for it like this,” says Dan. He lets go of Phil’s cock and tugs the flannels down, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder for one of them to trip on later. “Good thing you’re so pretty. Spread ‘em.”

Phil makes a noise of protest but does as he’s told, a juxtaposition that has Dan biting back a laugh as he idly plays with his own cock. He strokes with more purpose when Phil settles up on his knees and arches his back just right, still gripping Dan’s pillow like it’s a lifeline. He just looks so good like that, always does, but the fact that Dan is the one deciding when the tableau shifts is adding a layer that he didn’t know existed.

“Please,” Phil says, the word sounding a bit like it’s been punched out of him. His legs are trembling, and Dan knows it has very little to do with the fan blowing cooler air towards them.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Dan teases, settling low between Phil’s legs and nipping at the swell of one cheek. The way Phil’s muscles tense further tells him that Phil wasn’t expecting Dan to do it like this, but the cut-off whimper that comes from him is nothing but positive.

“God, Dan -”

“Look at you,” says Dan again. He spreads Phil open and licks a too-quick stripe over his hole to hear the needy noises that it elicits. “Such a slut for this, aren’t you?”

Phil groans and pushes back against him. “Yeah, fuck. Just for you, though.”

As if there was any doubt left in Dan’s mind. He chuckles and runs his tongue in circles over Phil’s hole until his shaky legs get even more unsteady. Then, Dan dips inside. The teasing, shallow ministrations have Phil practically keening, and Dan shivers.

They don’t do this nearly enough. Dan has that same thought every single time he eats Phil out - that he should really do it more - no matter how long ago the last time was. The noises that Phil always makes are breathy and slutty and usually pressed into a pillow or his own hand so Dan can’t be too smug about taking him apart so easily. Not that it actually stops Dan from being smug, of course. He thinks he’s earned the right to be smug about how good he makes Phil feel.

When Dan’s jaw needs a break from basically making out with Phil’s asshole, he trails his tongue down and gives Phil’s tight balls some much-needed attention. He can’t help but laugh at the way Phil’s whole body jerks, and he needs to pull back. He wants to watch Phil squirm at the loss - which of course he does, immediately, pushing back into nothing and whining like he’s bereft.

Dan laughs again, taking Phil’s hips in hand to roll him over bodily. He admires the way the flush has spread down Phil’s front, too, patchy and pink and beautiful, all the way to his dick. That’s got a pretty flush of its own, and Phil is so hard and dripping precome that Dan can practically feel his mouth watering.

He holds back, though, and smirks when his gaze reaches Phil’s eyes. Phil doesn’t have his contacts in, but some part of him must sense that Dan is smirking, because he groans and tries to cover his face with both hands.

“Shut up,” Phil says into his own palms.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. I can sense how fucking pleased you are with yourself.”

“Can you blame me?” Dan asks, running his hands over Phil’s thighs and grinning when the muscles there twitch. “You’re so fucking easy for me, babe. You’re all embarrassed and you’re still spreading your legs, because all you can think about right now is cock, huh? My cock,” he clarifies before Phil can do it for him, and affection spreads through his whole body when Phil giggles helplessly.

Phil peeks out between his fingers. He’s looking somewhere around Dan’s left ear, but the cuteness is still wildly effective.

“You gonna fuck me?” he asks, laughter lingering in his voice. “Or are you gonna make me beg?”

Dan can’t tell if Phil is joking or not, but the suggestion goes straight to his dick in any case. He bites his lip and reaches for Phil’s wrists, pulling them away from his face and pressing them against the mattress on either side of his head. He watches as Phil’s breath catches, eyes going wider at the shift in mood.

“Yeah,” Dan says, quiet. “I want to hear that.”

“Dan,” Phil breathes. He squeezes his eyes shut, like even the blurry image of Dan is too much right now. “Fuck, I wasn’t - I don’t know if I can do that. That’s, like, a lot.”

There’s a note in Phil’s voice that makes Dan soften his grip. He leans down and kisses Phil, lingering and sweet, as a reminder that this is still them, that Phil doesn’t have to perform for Dan when he doesn’t want to. He waits until Phil is relaxed and gazing up at him again before he speaks.

“That’s fine,” he says, as sincerely as he knows how. “You don’t have to.”

Phil smiles. It’s fond and familiar, and Dan can’t help but return it. This part is always a bit weird, figuring out the boundaries and sorting between what feels good because they’re horny and what feels good because they like it.

“Maybe another time,” says Phil. That’s sincere, too. Dan wants to say that Phil doesn’t need to do it for him, but this is a type of conversation that they’ve had before. Sometimes the things they do are for each other’s sake, and they have to trust that they’re not going to push themselves too far in the process.

“Sure, if you want to,” Dan settles on. He presses another kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth. “You still want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Yes,” Phil says, quick enough that it makes Dan snort.

There’s something Dan wants to say to that, because of course there is, but he holds his tongue. Somehow, Phil always knows when he’s doing that. He squints up at Dan and then turns his face to the side. Maybe it’s easier not to look at Dan to say, “And I like… the other stuff you were saying. If that wasn’t fucking obvious. I know it’s - but, I dunno. I kind of think it’s hot when you tease me like that. So you can keep doing… that. If you want to.”

“Aw,” says Dan, unable to help himself. He noses at Phil’s jaw with a grin. “You’re so cute. Don’t worry, I know what a cockslut you are.”

Phil’s whine turns into a giggle, and Dan has to swallow the noise with his mouth.

This part is the most familiar. Dan blindly grabs around his nightstand until he finds a bottle of lube and presses two slick fingers into Phil, slow, without tearing himself away from the kiss. Phil’s groan reverberates between their mouths, and he hitches a leg up on Dan’s hip to make it easier for both of them. Dan bets that he could do this part in his sleep.

What’s new is the things he murmurs between kisses, the quiet reverence of, “Can’t believe you’re already so desperate,” and, “God, look at you, such a fucking slut for it,” and, “Bet you’d come without even getting me inside you if I touched your dick.”

Phil nods a lot, either in agreement or encouragement, and shuts Dan up with kisses when he gets too flustered. Before long, he’s rocking his hips and demanding that Dan get on with it.

Dan laughs, but he’s too turned on to draw this out any longer as it is. And as hot as it would be to hear Phil beg for his cock, there’s something even hotter about Phil getting impatient and needy with horniness and just telling Dan to fuck him already, knowing damn well that Dan is in a position where he could say not yet and Phil would just have to deal with it.

It doesn’t take long, after that. They both fall apart completely as Dan finally sinks inside, and it’s too hard to focus on the things coming out of his mouth when Phil feels so good around him and makes such desperate little noises. Maybe Dan is rougher with his thrusts and his grip than he usually is for lazy morning sex, maybe Phil is blushing and shivering more than he has since he came in his jeans during a movie marathon at his parents’ old house, but it becomes less about the teasing words and more about how good it always feels to fuck into Phil’s tight body.

Phil comes first, jerking himself off and rocking into Dan’s thrusts, and he arches prettily off the bed as he splatters both of their stomachs with it.

“Fuck,” Dan breathes. “Look at you.”

Phil bites his lip and pulls Dan down into a searing kiss so that Dan can’t keep staring at him, and Dan finds that he’s more than content with that. His mind is still running a commentary about how hot Phil looks, how good he feels, how slutty it is that he’s still letting Dan fuck him until he gets his own.

He decides to save those words for another time. Because Phil’s eyes are glazing over with the floaty contentment that Dan is getting familiar with, and coming deep inside Phil with his teeth on Phil’s collarbone will never lose its magic.

They’re breathing hard and their limbs are loose with the strength of their orgasms when Phil huffs a laugh.

“I’m not washing the sheets,” he says. “Not even if you tell me to.”

“I know,” Dan laughs. He presses soft kisses up Phil’s neck until he meets his lips again. He’s softening, but he doesn’t want to pull out of Phil yet. It just feels nice to be inside him until one or both of them can’t handle it anymore. “I don’t mind washing up. If you still want me to tell you what to do, though, I think breakfast and a bubble bath are in your cards.”

Phil’s eyes crinkle with his fond grin, and he wraps both arms around Dan’s shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. “Mm. Knew I could count on you to be in charge.”

#words words words #phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic

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narcoleptic-drag-queen · 4 years

Note

45 with Witney would niceee 🥺👉👈🖤

I got this number with three different pairings, so here’s just one angle I could have taken! And goddamn was it cute

Courtney has gotten herself into a bit of a pickle.

She likes Willam. Butterflies appear in her stomach whenever Willam flips her hair over her shoulder, and her heart races every time Willam gets just a little too close. She’d been harboring a strong, strong crush already when they’d first fallen into bed together, and it hadn’t taken much to push her feelings into something a little stronger.

This is a problem. Not only is it a problem because Willam clearly doesn’t feel the same way, it’s a problem because Courtney still hasn’t ended the little arrangement that they have. Sleeping with a woman she’s in unrequited love with is hard, but ending the most intimate contact she has with her is harder.

It’s starting to do more harm than good, however, manifesting in short tempers and arguments when they should be just hanging out with Alaska and Sharon, Courtney’s jealousy at an all time high with Sharon and Alaska practically in each other’s laps constantly, and Willam’s impassivity absolutely infuriating.

She’s decided to end it tonight.

It’s a sudden decision, made as she watches old rom-coms alone on the couch and thinks I want that, and she barely remembers the text she sends Willam. She knows it’s something along the lines of ‘come over, we need to talk’, and she supposes that there’s room for interpretation there - the nature of their ‘I’m horny and want to fuck’ texts are similar, interrupting the string of goofy memes that had started long before Willam had kissed Courtney at Alaska’s 30th.

30th - Jesus. Courtney was too old for this the moment it started.

She gets a message from Willam around three minutes later.

already? damn, girl

be there in 5 ;)

Courtney’s stomach sinks - Willam obviously thinks this is another booty call. Courtney can’t blame her. As far as Willam knows, nothing is off about their arrangement. They’re just two friends looking for a safe way to get off, and nothing more.

Courtney’s heart twists at the thought.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell Willam she’s - for lack of a better word - breaking up with her over text, not when she’s likely already on her way over. She’ll just greet her at the door, as usual, lead her to the couch instead of the bedroom, and let her down then.

Courtney ignores the way her heart rate increases as she imagines the scenario, regret already pinching at her stomach. This was for the best.

Courtney jumps as someone knocks on the door, expecting Willam to buzz in first. She must have come in with someone else, which isn’t abnormal, but still has Courtney rolling her lips in agitation. Why didn’t Willam just buzz in, anyway? That wouldn’t be unheard of, either.

She’d been expecting to have a little more warning than this.

She gets up, nausea high in her throat, and opens the door. Willam stands, still in her day clothes, and Courtney takes a deep breath.

“Willam, before you com--”

Willam smashes their lips together, following Courtney as she stumbles back into her apartment, deepening the kiss quickly as she taps the door closed with her foot. Courtney can’t help the moan that leaves her throat, heat pooling almost instantaneously in her belly, and she tries to keep herself from completely melting. She can’t do this again. She has to--

“Sex now,” Willam breathes when they part for air, her pupils blown. “Talk later.”

Courtney melts.

She allows Willam to push her onto the couch, climbing on top of her with ease, straddling her. Courtney sighs into Willam’s mouth, relishing in the feeling of how close she is, the heat of their bodies pressed together. Willam undoes the first button of Courtney’s high waisted shorts, and Courtney squirms, anticipation curling in her stomach. Willam’s just moving her fingers to the next one when Courtney’s phone buzzes, vibrating the couch somewhere by her feet. Willam pauses, pulling away to look at Courtney’s face.

“Ignore it,” Courtney says, and Willam smirks.

“No problem,” she says, and she moves back to undo the button. She stops when Courtney’s phone buzzes again. And again, and again, and again.

“Actually, big problem,” Willam says, and panic shoots through Courtney as she reaches behind her, grabbing Courtney’s phone with a frown.

“No--” Courtney starts, her arousal gone in the face of pure adrenaline, but it’s too late. Willam’s pressed the ‘on’ button of her phone, and her finger is frozen in its mission towards the mute button, hovering as she stares down at the lock screen.

“Willam--”

“I’m your lock screen?”

“I--” Courtney starts, but Willam gives her a look that practically screams ‘no bullshit’. Courtney deflates, a little relieved to have everything out in the open, anyway. She’s never liked keeping secrets. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Why?” Willam asks, and her voice has a strange breathiness to it that Courtney’s never heard before. She can only hope that it’s not something horrible, like dread or apprehension.

“You’re my best friend!” Courtney tries, but Willam shakes her head.

“Alaska would be on here too, Court. Why is it just me?”

Courtney can’t bring herself to respond, her heart in her throat. Willam has to know. There’s no way she doesn’t - she just wants to make Courtney say it. She refuses, on principle.

They stare at each other in silence, unwavering.

“You really don’t know?” Courtney asks after around a minute, nearly bursting with nerves and frustration. “There’s only one other explanation, Willam! Just reject me and get on with it!”

Willam’s lips part in surprise. “What?” she asks. “I wouldn’t reject you. I’d be insane if I did.”

Shock jolts through Courtney, and she stares, wrinkling her brows. Hope is beginning to bubble in her chest. “Then why are you being an asshole?”

Willam shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “It’s hard to believe that this is real, I guess.”

Courtney sucks in a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They stare at each other for a while longer, before Willam lets out a nervous laugh. “So. Do you have something to ask me?”

Courtney giggles, feeling a little like she’s going to float away. “Willam Belli,” she says, “would you like to stop being fuckbuddies and start being girlfriends?”

“Courtney Act,” Willam says gravely, the goofy side that not many get to see coming out in full force, making Courtney giggle even harder. “I would like nothing more.”

“I thought that tonight was going to go a lot differently,” Courtney says, shifting closer. “Like, a lot.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Willam says. “And I kind of want to kiss you.”

“Kiss now, talk later?” Courtney laughs, and Willam smiles, tucking a strand of Courtney’s hair behind her ear. Butterflies flutter in Courtney’s belly.

Willam kisses her, and this time it’s slow, gentle, nothing like the hurried kisses they’d been exchanging for months.

Courtney feels like she could soar.

send me a pairing and a number!

#i love not proofreading things #witney #writing #ask game #prompts #apparently i'm doing one of these a day so that's fun (but also send more if you want... I love them)#(them being prompts)

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foxyninjabear · 5 years

Text

A Hacker’s Tale - Chapter 4

[CHAPTER 1] [PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

(Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!)

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!: This fic is rated as PG-14+, so read at your own risk! There’s swearsies, suggestive references, and LOTS of blood and gore! Be aware!

________________________________________________

Lucky

At first, he thought it was all a dream.

Lucky felt himself starting to wake up, his closed eyelids heavy and his head pounding with a massive headache.

“Nggh...”

He let out a tired whine, and lifted his hands to cover his face. He thought it was some nightmare that he had. How the mission started to go horribly wrong, how the man named Xisuma was revealed to be a terrifying hacker, how even Nightingale couldn’t stop him…

At least he was still in the Hive, right?

Lucky figured that he might as well get out of bed; he had to get his equipment started up. So he wiggled out of the covers and rolled onto his other side-

And unexpectedly rolled off the bed and crashed onto the floor with a harsh THUNK.

“GAH!!” The blonde cried out in pain as he landed flat on his back. Not again… He needed to stop doing that. Or just become better coordinated overall. He pressed his hands against the dirty tile to push himself up-

Wait, tile?

He lifted his slightly blurry vision up to meet his immediate surroundings. Even though he couldn't see clearly, he didn't recognize anything. His floor wasn't carpeted, his walls weren't painted grey, and it wasn't supposed to be so bright.

As Lucky got to his feet, he rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Maybe he was seeing things… But still, nothing changed.

So it wasn't a dream after all.

He was in what appeared to be a hastily thrown together bedroom. It was pretty bare; a bed and a small nightstand were the only pieces of furniture to be seen, both shoved into a corner. It almost appeared as if it were one of the storage rooms in that bunker he and the rest of the byte explored-

A scary realization suddenly fell upon Lucky. He was all alone in that room… and there was no sign of anybody. Sakura, Nix, Grey, Nightingale...

And Jazz. He had to find Jazz.

He scrambled over to the iron door and grabbed the handle. But once he tried to turn it, it didn't budge.

"Oh nononono…" Lucky muttered to himself, and he jiggled the handle harder. It still refused to turn and open the door. “Please open…! Please…!” Maybe it was just stuck… he couldn't have it be locked. He needed to find the others.

He kept trying and trying to turn the handle for what seemed like ages, but no matter how hard he twisted and pulled, the door wouldn't open. Before he knew it, he couldn't even keep his grip anymore, because his hands were shaking and sweating so much. The door was obviously locked… how was he going to get out now?

His mind began to race and panic at the possibilities of where Jazz might have been, or the rest of the team for that matter. But then a thought popped into his head, and he suddenly felt extremely stupid; he could just teleport out of there!

The hacker took a step back from the door, before closing his eyes in order to focus. He concentrated on activating a teleportation hack, waiting for that familiar buzzing in his chest to start…

Only nothing happened.

Lucky opened his eyes, confused. Why wasn't it working? Maybe he was too tired to teleport… perhaps a ghost hack would be easier on him. He could just pass through the door instead of teleporting past it. So he pressed his hands against the cold metal and began to focus again, waiting to feel his body become light as a feather and phase through the iron barrier…

But again, nothing happened. Not even the slightest hint of progress.

A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. What happened to his hacks? He didn't feel drained or fatigued; he felt totally normal. They should have been working-

It was the sound of distant voices and footsteps that made him freeze in place.

At first, they were barely noticeable, just as unimportant as the dust floating in the air or the faint dirty footprints scattered around the tile. But once he realized they were there, he couldn't forget that they were present. Although he didn't recognize them, he could tell there two; a man and a woman.

And they were getting closer by the second.

Lucky felt his heart start to pound against his ribcage. What was he going to do?! He was stuck in that little room! He whipped his head around and only saw two things; the nightstand and the bed.

He would have to make do.

He ran over towards the cot and quickly got onto his stomach, before sliding himself underneath as far as he could. For once, he was happy that he was tiny. Now he had a place to hide. Sure, it seemed somewhat childish, but he wasn't given much to work with in the first place.

The voices continued to echo and bounce off the corridor's walls, and Lucky edged himself further under the bed as they got closer. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, panicked thoughts buzzing in his mind. Every single one of his senses was in absolute overdrive as he tried to identify the two people talking.

He almost shrieked when the iron door to his room opened, and he saw two pairs of feet walk in. One person was wearing a pair of striped knee high socks and sneakers, probably the woman. The other, however, was familiar; sleek, almost robotic steel boots, painted a bright shade of yellow.

It was Biffa. The one Jazz had shot down. It had to be him.

"You… sure this is the right room?" The woman asked, obviously confused at how nobody appeared to be in the cell-like chamber.

The man's voice sounded after. "This is the one X said to go to…" His stanced shifted, a soft mechanical whirr sounding as he did so. "He couldn't have escaped, right? The door was locked. And Xisuma took his powers away, like the others."

Lucky shrunk further under the bed, further away from the two W.E.S. operatives. He silently begged that they’d stop looking and just leave. Maybe they would think that he was in a different room. Or that he escaped. Just as long as they were convinced that he wasn’t there.

But what did he mean by ‘Xisuma took his powers away’? He probably meant his hacks, and the grim realization of that statement explained why he couldn’t use them, and also hinted to the fact that the rest of the byte could no longer hack either. But how could Xisuma take away their powers? He wasn’t Ecryptos!

A moment of agonizing silence ensued. But then, Lucky saw the woman take a small step towards where he was hiding.

“I...think he’s under the bed, Biffa…” She said.

The blonde's heart stopped at her few words.

"What? You sure?" Biffa questioned.

"I think I see him, yeah…" She assured. "You mind helping me move it?"

“Not at all.”

The cyborg and the woman then stepped towards the bed and bent their knees. To Lucky’s horror, the two managed to lift it up with ease and lean it against the other wall. Now he was completely exposed.

“S-stay away…!” The blonde scooted back into a corner, pressing himself against the wall. He was even more horrified when he saw what Cleo looked like. Her freckled skin was greenish blue and sickly, her eyes were faded. There were even exposed bits of bones and rotting flesh, especially along her lower torso; half of her ribcage could be seen, partially hidden by the ragged crop top she wore. It was as if she had crawled out of the ground, out of the grave…

Like she was a zombie.

So many questions ran through his head, but he didn't have the chance to process the situation before he was pulled up off the floor by the woman and her colleague. “W-wait, please!” He begged. “P-please, no!!”

“C’mon, blondie,” Cleo replied, leading him out the door and down the long hallway with Biffa. “You and your friends got a lot of explaining to do.” A slight bit of venom dripped from the words of her last sentence.

Lucky tried his hardest to keep up with the people escorting him. He didn’t want to be dragged around like a ragdoll the entire time. But he couldn’t help but trip over his feet every now and then, only to be pulled back up by Biffa and Cleo. It wasn’t long before he felt his breathing quicken as he stumbled and scrambled around. Not another panic attack, not here-

He had to distance himself. Find a safe place inside his head. Something to focus on and escape into the depths of his mind. His blue gaze flickered to Cleo for a moment, before it went back to the floor. Thinking about how she looked like an undead creature sounded good enough.

She was obviously not a full on zombie, like the ones that crawled out from the darkness of caves or the ones that spawned in the dead of night. She was definitely sentient. The only way he could think of her looking like that was that her code must have been altered at some point in her life.

As far as his knowledge stretched, people were either born with their code abnormal, or were involved in some sort of event that changed it, whether accidental or intentional. The former was the most common way, for altering a living being’s code was more than risky; it was potentially lethal. Most who had their code altered wouldn’t even survive such a change, and even if they did, it was said to be an excruciatingly painful experience, physically, mentally, and emotionally. They never made it out alive without some sort of permanent trauma or physical change.

Thankfully for him (and pretty much everyone in the Shadowbyte Army), he was born with altered code, altered enough to where he could learn how to change the code around him. Ecryptos wasn’t willing to put anyone, especially the children taken into his care and guidance, through something as horrific as having their code altered and tweaked. If a potential recruit’s code wasn’t viable, then they would be released for their cooperation. It was a win-win for everyone!

So if his logic and knowledge was correct, Lucky could presume that Cleo could also be a hacker. The knowledge of Xisuma being a powerful hacker was scary enough; if she could also alter code, who knows what she would do.

The trio turned into another hallway, and new voices could be heard. Some were recognizable, others were completely new. Soon Lucky and the two others flanking him passed by a massive window that peered into a large room, and he felt his stomach twist and churn as he looked inside. Several people were sprawled out on beds, badly beaten and covered in bandages. There was Doc, who had his broken arm in a sling, False, who had a massive ice pack on her head, and several others. An older, bearded man in a plain white lab coat could be seen darting around, tending to the many injured.

But one person immediately caught Lucky's attention. In one of the beds, there was someone covered almost head to toe in gauze, to cover extensive and brutal injuries. Slight patches of ruby red scales could be seen through the bandages, stained with green blood. Creeper blood. He knew he recognized him… Python? Python. Python was his name, right?

Just the mere sight of what state the creeper was in made him feel the urge to barf where he stood. Half of his head was wrapped in the white gauze, with one of his eyes seemingly bleeding underneath. One of his arms was in a makeshift cast and sling. And... oh gosh, his leg was missing-

Lucky lost sight of the red creeper as soon as he gained it. But it wasn't like he could get his image out of his mind easily. It was all he could focus on as he continued to be escorted down the hall. How he barely even looked alive, how much trauma he had received from the battle. Maybe it was from the R.O.S.A. explosion? He could only mentally argue and debate with himself for what the cause was.

He didn’t know how far Cleo and Biffa had taken him. The constant twisting and turning through the countless halls made his head spin. However, before he knew it, they had arrived in one final stretch of hallway, where several figures stood, all of them men.

Two of the men he didn't recognize. One of them was a man with long brown hair tied back into a ponytail, a pair of sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. Another was a taller blonde who obviously had altered code, due to his eyes being nothing but pools of dark crimson. And...

Xisuma. Xisuma stood in the hallway, arms crossed and stance strong, chatting with the two men. Lucky’s blood went cold at the mere sight of him. What was he going to do? Was he going to hurt him?!

All of a sudden, the nearby door burst open, and a man with unruly brown hair and a cybernetic eye stumbled out, clutching his nose and cursing out loud. Lucky soon recognized him as another one of the potential threats that he identified before leaving the Hive. Iskall85.

“God damnit, ow!” Iskall cursed out. Once he took away his hand from his face, Lucky saw that his nose was crooked and gushing blood. Immediately, he became concerned, more for his own safety than Iskall’s health.

The man with crimson eyes, on the other hand, definitely showed concern for the brunette, and he rushed over to help him stay on his feet. “Woah, Iskall, what happened?!” He asked.

Iskall leaned against the wall and spat out blood, spraying crimson droplets onto the grey tile. "She headbutted me and broke my damn nose!" He growled, glaring back at the door where he came from.

A muffled female voice sounded from inside the room. Coda's voice. "That's cuz ya fuckin' deserved it, asshole!"

In an odd way, Lucky hearing somebody he knew was comforting. Even if he thought she was absolutely terrifying, he was more than happy that she was on his side.

But as quickly as he saw Iskall exiting the room, the brunette and the red-eyed blonde reentered, and came back out a moment later with their arms wrapped around Coda’s. Her wrists were restrained with green translucent cuffs, similar to the ones Lucky could make. No, exactly like the ones he could make. The only difference was the color.

“Aw, ya didn’t send the cute one back in to get me?~” She whined, sticking out her bottom lip. Her lips then formed into a flirtatious grin as her dark eyes locked on one of the people in the hallway; the brunette man with the red shirt and the sunglasses. “Yo! Red delicious!”

The man didn’t say anything at first, but the moment Coda finished speaking, he glanced down at his shirt and realized that she was talking to him. His face flared up bright red, and he began to visibly sweat. “Wh...wha…?” He struggled to make any full sentences, let alone words as he tugged on his shirt collar.

The creeper fell silent at his reaction, but soon her eyes filled with shining mischief. “Oh ho ho, so you’re a blushy one, huh?” Her sharp-toothed grin grew wider, so wide at it almost seemed too big to fit on her face. “This is gonna be fun!~”

Iskall’s mouth bent into a harsh frown, his bloodstained teeth gritted. “Oh no you don’t!” He then began to pull her down the hallway, the blonde next to him doing the same. “C’mon, you’re coming with us!”

Coda’s smile disappeared, and her entire demeanor changed in an instant. As if it was all a facade to hide what was really going on inside her head. She locked her obsidian gaze on Lucky as the two men started to roughly drag her down the hall. “Don’t give in, techie!” She called out, struggling against the green cuffs around her wrists. “Don’t give in! Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, gottit?!”

Lucky felt like a deer in the headlights. He was frozen in place, his feet glued to the floor. What did Coda mean by ‘don’t give in’...?!

Before he could mentally come up with an answer, Xisuma then spoke up. “Cleo, Biffa, you know the drill. Come on.” He then stepped through the entrance to the room, and Cleo and Biffa dragged Lucky inside with them.

Lucky's eyes darted around the room. Like his own 'bedroom', it appeared to be arranged in a hurry. A pair of dusty folding chairs and a table were the only pieces of any sort of furniture in the small space. A small splatter of blood stained the tile floor, slightly smeared from a footprint. He could easily presume who that was from.

"Sit down," Xisuma said, leading the timid blonde to one of the chairs. He followed the command instantly, shakily taking a seat, and felt somewhat relieved as the powerful hacker began to walk away towards his two W.E.S. coworkers. But it soon transformed back into fear as he heard Cleo speak again.

“Aren’t you going to restrain him? With the cuff things you can make?” She questioned, gesturing to a now even more terrified Lucky.

Xisuma shook his head. “He hasn’t been violent, Cleo. And even if he was, I honestly doubt he could harm anyone.”

Biffa tapped his chin. “You have a fair point...” He started, before glancing over at the blonde. “But are you sure that’s a smart decision, X? It could all be an act.”

X gave a nod to the cyborg. “Yes, I’m sure. And if something happens, we’ll be right outside.”

The zombie shifted her dull green gaze to his terrified figure. She pursed her lips, as if trying to form an argument against her colleague’s decision. But before long, she let out a small sigh. “Alright then... if you say so.”

“Great.“ Xisuma said, and he gestured to the door. “Cub will be here in a few minutes, so we can leave him as he is. C’mon.” He then opened the door again, letting Cleo and Biffa walk through, and keeping his gaze on Lucky the whole time, only breaking it as he walked out of the room himself.

Lucky remained glued to the chair, even as Xisuma closed the door behind him and his two companions. He was too scared to make a single move. His frightened eyes darted around the now empty room, mind racing at what was going to happen to him. Where was Jazz when he needed him?!

A shiver went up his spine, and he wrapped his arms around himself as his teeth chattered. The room was freezing! Even if he was underground, the hallway was much warmer than in there. But the temperature was the least of his worries. He was more concerned with what was going to happen to him, and even more so with where his brother was. He had already seen Coda… there had to be others, right?

After what felt like long hours of dreadful silence, so much so that his ears rang, the iron door opened with a long creak. Lucky jumped and snapped his head towards the entrance, and he was greeted with a taller man in a white lab coat. It was the man he had seen before, treating the many wounded. A large folder packed with papers, a pen, and a clipboard were gripped in his hands. It was obvious that he hadn’t slept in awhile, given the distinct, dark bags hanging under his bloodshot eyes. It made sense; from what Lucky had briefly seen, he was the only one able to give medical treatment to serious wounds and injuries.

The man rubbed his eyes as he shut the door behind him. “Hey,” He said, walking towards the chair opposite of Lucky and sitting down. “I have a few questions for you, alright?”

The blonde remained silent. He avoided meeting the other’s gaze, and couldn’t help but fidget in his seat. So this was an interrogation of some sort? Or something like it?

“I’m Cub,” The man said calmly, introducing himself and catching Lucky off guard. “What’s your name?”

Lucky kept quiet. Why was this guy being so… nice? And relaxed? Sure, he seemed tired, but he was pretty certain that it wouldn’t mean that he would give him leeway. Did he have some other ideas in store to get intel out of him? Something much more violent?!

“Are you gonna say anything?” Cub asked. “You’ve gotta have a name, huh?”

The blonde hung his head low. He felt so ashamed that he was giving in so quickly… but the thought of having information forced out of him was overwhelmingly scary. However, a thought then formed in his mind… perhaps he didn’t have to tell the whole story. “...y...you can call me Profit.” He mumbled out his code name.

“Profit?”

“Y-yes…”

Cub gave a nod and clicked his pen. “Alright, Profit…” He made a note on his piece of paper, before opening the file. "Now, first off, I want you to tell me who each of these people are. Names, descriptions, everything." He then pulled out a stack of papers and laid them out on the table. They were photographs of most of his teammates.

Lucky shifted his eyes to the collection of pictures. Most of them weren’t the best quality; he could assume that Cub (or somebody else) had thrown them all together in a hurry. Either that, or the ones being photographed weren’t exactly cooperative. He could immediately assume the latter with the picture of Coda; she was flipping off the camera and sneering at the photographer behind it.

He didn't want to give his colleagues identities away. He couldn't! He needed to be quiet...

But what would be the cost of his decision? Him staying in that room for hours on end? The operatives of W.E.S. threatening him? Or having the possibility of them using even harsher tactics to get him to talk?!

Too scared to keep his mouth shut, Lucky shamefully began to identify his colleagues in the photos. But like he did with himself, he only used their code names; he at least had a bit of dignity to spare.

Cub seemingly grew more and more intrigued with every word the blonde said. He scribbled illegible notes on his clipboard, almost filling up the entire first piece of paper once the hacker was done pointing out who was who.

It grew even worse when Cub asked Lucky to tell him what had actually happened. Their plans, their motive; he wanted to know it all, down to the last detail. And Lucky gave it to him, his feeling of shame growing with each word he spat out and every minute that passed.

But even somebody as timid as Lucky had some sliver of courage in him.

“Alright…” Cub wrote down a few more notes. At this point, he had filled another two sheets of paper. “And what happened after you, Zero, and Nightingale retreated?”

“W...we tried to get reinforcements…” Lucky whimpered. “But Nightingale couldn’t contact-"

He forced himself to stop talking. He said too much. He was willing to give up his team members' names, but he couldn't let Cub know about any others! Not to mention the whole Army!

“Contact who?” The older man asked. “Did you guys try to get in touch with reinforcements?”

Lucky stayed quiet.

“Profit… who did you try and contact?” Cub repeated.

Lucky bit the inside of his cheek, before letting out a sigh of defeat. “...the Shadowbyte Army…” He muttered.

Cub raised an eyebrow at his response. “The… Shadowbyte Army?”

Lucky nodded. “Y-yes… W-well, more of our main base of operations...”

The man scribbled down more on the paper. “So there are more of you? More hackers?”

“Mhmm…”

“How many?”

The blonde shrugged. “I-I don't know…” He admitted, glancing away. He could never keep track of the amount of people that would call him for assistance or information while they were out on missions.

"Is there anything else you can tell me? About this 'Army'?"

Lucky remained silent. He had to keep his mouth shut. For him and for the others. He had already given away so much information… why did he have to be such a-

“Well… I guess that’s it for us, then.”

Wait, what?

Cub then gathered up the photos on the table and put them back in his folder before standing. “You’ve actually been a good deal of help.” To Lucky’s surprise, he gave a small smile. “Thank you for that, Profit.”

The blonde was stunned at how the interrogation went. He wasn’t even threatened. All he did was tell the events of what happened and identify his colleagues… Except for one. The most important one of them all. At least to him, anyway.

Jazz.

Why wouldn’t the W.E.S. operatives have his photograph? Or even mention him at all? They had brought up everyone else...

Lucky needed an answer, and fast. He had to know where his brother was. So just as he saw Cub grasp the door handle, he sprang up from his seat. “W-wait!”

The man stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Hmm?” His fingers slid off the metal knob, a hint of curiosity to his voice. “You have something else to say?”

Lucky nodded. “Y-yeah… er, well, more of a question,” He began, before clearing his throat to speak. "Wh...where's Riff…?"

A look of confusion spread across his interrogator's face. “Riff...?”

“Y-yeah, Riff...” Lucky repeated. “H-he… he’s tall, has blue hair, blue eyes.” After a moment of quiet, he gulped. “L...looks like me, too…?”

Cub’s silence continued for a second as his brows furrowed. But it was quickly replaced with an expression of shock and… something else. Sadness? Guilt? Remorse? The blonde couldn’t tell.

“Uhh…” The grey-bearded man sounded uneasy as he opened the folder once again. “We did have one from your group…” He cleared his throat. “Die from his injuries in the battle. We tried to save him, but… we got there too late. We haven’t been able to make a positive identification, but from the description you gave, so far it sounds like him.”

Lucky felt his heart drop at the man’s words. One from his group? Killed? He had to be lying, right? Of course he was lying… they were the enemy. That’s what they did. They lied.

“And if you want to, there’s a picture of him in the file.” Cub’s next words made the blonde’s heart stop completely. He wasn’t lying. “You sound like you knew him well enough to make an official identification.”

Lucky’s mind raced. Should he agree? Was it really Jazz? There was a chance it wasn’t; maybe he was still alive. Maybe they just didn’t get his picture yet. The thought of not knowing was unbearable. So, taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Sh-show me.”

The older man nodded in return, not saying a word. He pinched the edge of a paper in his folder and carefully slid it out. But then he hesitated, his tired eyes glanced back between the blonde and the photo. A solemn expression passed over his face for just a moment, before he held out the picture for the blonde to take.

The moment Lucky grasped the photograph and flipped it over, he felt is stomach twist as he saw a sickly, still man laid out on a table, everything from the shoulders down covered with a sheet. He had never seen a dead body before, but it was somewhat like what he expected. His lips were blue, his skin was drained of any color or life, his hair was caked in dried blood from the disturbingly deep gash on his head.

But what stood out to him were his eyes. They were dead eyes. What used to be a bright shade of blue was now dull and clouded over with decay. And they were wide open, staring right back at him. Almost as if they knew exactly who he was...

It was Jazz. Dead.

“Profit…?” Cub asked, though his words didn’t stick into Lucky’s mind. “Is it Riff?”

The blonde’s response was, at first, nothing. He was too overwhelmed by shock to say anything. Involuntary squeaks sounded from his throat once he actually wanted to try and speak.

The older man’s mouth bent into a frown, and he gave a small nod back. “I’ll...put this away now,” He took the photograph of Jazz out of Lucky’s hands and brought it back into his folder. “If… if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he suffered for long…”

Lucky barely heard him speak. His mind buzzed with panic, and felt his hands and feet and lips go numb as his breathing got faster. His stomach churned at the image now burned into his brain. Jazz's lifeless body, all pale and beaten and cold… He wanted to throw up.

“Profit…?”

Lucky didn’t care about Cub’s words. Eyes wide and now on the verge of tears, he tried to wobble his way over to the chair, only to immediately collapse to the floor the moment he took a step, and fully started to break down. He felt like there was a massive anvil being pressed against his chest and he couldn’t get it off. He couldn’t breathe-

“Profit, Profit, hey!”

The blonde suddenly felt two hands on his shoulders. Cub’s. But he didn’t want him touching him. He didn’t even want to be in the same room as him. The very moment Cub came in contact with him, an overwhelming feeling of terror filled his chest, and he felt like he had no other way to release it except to scream at the top of his lungs.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!” He shoved the man’s arms away as hard as he could. “YOU LET MY BROTHER DIE! YOU COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!” Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and blurred his vision, but he didn’t care. He just wanted it to be over. To have this all be a dream. Jazz was his whole world… he couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t.

All Lucky heard from Cub was silence. Of course he wasn’t saying anything… he didn’t care about him one bit. He only cared about his other colleagues. The ones that didn’t have to raise and protect a younger brother from the age of four. The ones that weren't the guardian of the only family they had left.

The blonde soon felt that sudden panic in him transform into an immense sadness, and he looked back up at the man in the lab coat. “W-why didn’t you save him…?” He cried. “Why…?!”

Cub’s eyes were wide, and he was back on his feet. His mouth open and closed as he tried to speak, but nothing understandable could be heard. After what seemed like several long moments, he sputtered out a few words. “He...he was your brother…?”

Lucky couldn't respond. He was too busy sobbing and panicking on the floor. Jazz was dead. Dead. And he was never coming back.

...and Cub could have done something to prevent that.

The blonde was overwhelmed with all of the emotions going through him. Sorrow, terror, sadness… and now, to his own surprise, rage. A fiery hatred for Cub sparked and spread like wildfire through his body. He lifted his teary gaze to him, burning red anger shining in his blue eyes.

The man in the lab coat still had a shocked expression on his face. "P...Profit…" He began. "I-"

"SHUT UP!"

Lucky didn't want to hear him speak. He hated Cub. Rage was the only thing consuming his mind. And he had to let it out, to let it escape. So he then screamed and charged at Cub, his weak fists flying.

It was his fault that Jazz was dead. All his fault. If he had waited to heal his friends and went to treat Jazz sooner, he would have lived!

He didn't stop screaming in anger and trying to punch Cub, even as he heard the door burst open behind him and felt two sets of arms roughly grab him and drag him out of the makeshift interrogation room. He could see who had taken a hold of him out of the corners of his eyes; the brunette man that Coda had flirted with, and the red-eyed blonde that had dragged her away with the help of Iskall.

"LET ME GO!!" Lucky screeched and squirmed, eyes locked on a slightly battered and bruised Cub as he came out into the hallway, a worried Xisuma by his side. “You’re a MURDERER!” He cried out at Cub, catching his attention. “A COWARD!”

He kept screaming and struggling as he was dragged further away, long after he lost sight of the source of his anger. Before he knew it, he was shoved into another room and locked inside; his bedroom. Right where his day of hell started.

Lucky scrambled to his feet and pounded on the iron door with all his might. "LET ME OUT!!" He peered through the small window, and saw the two men that threw him back in his room. The blonde was set on walking away, but to Lucky's surprise, the brunette kept looking back and stopping.

The man with crimson eyes soon rested a hand on his colleague's shoulder. “Ren, just leave him… he needs his space.” He said, gesturing his head in the direction of where they came from.

The brunette opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. After a moment, he let out an audible sigh, glanced back at Lucky, and nodded, before following his friend back down the hallway.

Lucky's eyes widened. "Wait, HEY!" He cried out, starting to bang on the door again. "COME BACK HERE!" But soon his arms grew weary, and before he knew it, he had to lean his back against the door to rest.

He stood there, trying to catch his breath and absorb what had happened in the span of those five or so minutes. He had gotten thrown back in his dusty cell, he had managed to land a few punches on Cub, he gave away information to the enemy-

And Jazz was dead. Jazz was dead. Dead… And now Lucky was all alone.

With that last thought, Lucky finally broke. Before he knew it, he had slid down to the floor, buried his face in his knees, and began to sob. Loud, angry, distraught sobs. "Wh-why is this happening…?" He cried to himself and sniffed. "Why is this happening…?!"

The only answer he got was a grim silence. And it was all he needed to know that this wasn’t a nightmare he could wake up from.

~~~~~

Lucky lost track of how many hours had passed since he heard of Jazz’s death. His eyes were red, sore, and puffy from the countless tears he had shed. He had managed to get up off the floor and crawl into his bed some time before, but he hadn't moved since then.

Not that he wanted to, anyway.

In that time, he had tried distancing himself from his surroundings. He tried to imagine a happy place, somewhere he felt safe. He felt safe back at the Hive, back in his bunker, back with Jazz. Maybe he could just imagine he was just away on a trip-

It was the sound of his door opening that brought him back to reality. Who was it now…?

“Uhh… hey.”

Lucky recognized the familiar voice. It was one of the men that had to drag him back to his cell. What was his name again? Ren? Ren would have to do. He didn’t have to will to speak up and ask, let alone turn himself over to face him.

After a moment of silence, Ren cleared his throat. “I...I brought you some food. In case you were hungry.” He offered.

Lucky refused to move from his bed. Even though he was hungry, he didn’t have an appetite. The image of his dead brother’s face was the only thing consuming his thoughts.

A long moment of tense silence passed before Ren spoke again. “I’ll… just leave this here, then.” The sound of his footsteps approached the distraught blonde, followed by a couple soft clinks as something was set on the nightstand. The smell of warm food wafted into his nose, and another series of footfalls could be heard moving away from him soon afterwards.

Just as Lucky thought Ren was going to leave, however, his voice sounded one more time. “And… I’m sorry.” He said, catching him slightly off guard. “About your brother…”

The blonde didn't respond, but he couldn't help but shift slightly and wrap the blanket further around himself. He was sorry? Why? Ren didn't even know him… he didn't have to give condolences. Was this just another way to try and get inside his head?

He figured that his silence was enough to drive the man away, for a long creak and a soft click could be heard. Ren had locked his door and left. Finally, he could grieve in peace…

But the thought of somebody, especially an enemy, seemingly concerned for him after such a tragedy made Lucky feel extremely conflicted. He made him something to eat, gave his apologies… why would he do that?

After awhile, the smell of the food became too tempting to pass up, and he rolled onto his other side to see what was there. On the nightstand was a tray of food; a baked potato, bread, and a glass of water. Nothing fancy, but hey, it was something.

He threw his blankets off of him and sat up, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. It was at that moment that he noticed he wasn’t given a fork or a knife; just a spoon. It made sense though. He figured that nobody wanted him getting a hold of anything sharp.

Setting the tray on his lap, he scooped up some of the potatoes with his spoon and ate it. It was actually pretty tasty, despite it now being somewhat cold. But he didn’t really care. Before he knew it, he had scarfed down the whole entire meal, and realized just how long it had been since he had eaten anything.

Lucky grasped the edges of the empty tray and set it back on his nightstand, before climbing back under the covers of his bed. Maybe now that he ate something, he could finally fall asleep...

But every time he shut his eyes, he saw Jazz’s lifeless eyes staring right back at him.

~~~~~

“Profit? You awake?”

Lucky was still for a moment. He hadn’t been able to doze off in the entire time he had been alone. All he could do was stare at the wall, his thoughts being his only company. It's not that he wasn't tired; it was that he was too tired to fall asleep.

He rolled over onto his other side, craning his neck to the door. Ren was there, standing in the doorframe. At least it wasn't Cub or Xisuma.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ren said, and he gave a small smile as he saw the empty tray on the nightstand. “Was the food alright?”

Lucky nodded, staying under his covers. “Mhmm…”

“Good, good.” Ren sounded genuinely pleased at his response. He cleared his throat. “Erm, anyway, Xisuma wants me to take you somewhere. He said that you might need it… given what happened.”

The blonde was silent for a moment. Did he have to move? His bed was so warm… But if Xisuma wanted him to do something, he figured he might as well listen. What did he have to lose?

Sighing, he lifted the covers off of him and slid off the bed. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and dragging his feet across the floor.

Ren frowned a bit. “You get any sleep?”

Lucky answered with his silence.

"I'll… take that as a no, then."

The brunette let the Lucky out of his room and closed the door, before slowly leading him down the winding hallways. Maybe it was more to not get too far ahead; Lucky was practically half asleep, too drained to be up and about.

The young soldier didn't bother to pay attention to what Ren was saying or where he was taking him. Part of him felt numb, but the other half somehow kept on going. It was a strange feeling… he didn't like it. At all.

But he accepted the fact that this would be his new reality. One where he was no longer the person he used to be.

He barely noticed when Ren had finally stopped in front of a door. Several familiar muffled voices could be heard chattering away inside. And when Ren opened the door to let him in, he saw who it was...

It was the rest of the byte. If it could even be called that anymore, anyway. It could only officially be called a byte if there were eight members… now there were only seven, including him. But the sight of familiar faces was somewhat comforting.

"I'll be right outside, alright?" Ren said to Lucky.

Lucky gave a small nod back. The brunette smiled, before exiting the room and locking the door, leaving Lucky facing his six other teammates. He took a breath, and made his way to them. At least it wasn’t any of the other W.E.S. members.

The first one to speak was Sakura. She looked up at him, a deep sadness in her dark brown eyes. "We heard what happened to Jazz…" She said solemnly. "I'm so, so sorry, Lucky." Before he could respond, however, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

Lucky was surprised at the sudden embrace, but after a moment he took to process it, he accepted it nonetheless. He tightly wrapped his arms around Sakura, realizing how much he needed a hug. He had the desperate urge and want to cry, but no tears fell from his eyes. Maybe he had run out…

The blonde then felt a hand on his shoulder as he let go of the brunette. “Lucky.”

It was Nightingale. But this time, he was too overwhelmed by sadness to be nervous. He glanced up at his superior, eyes dull. “Yes ma’am…?”

“You know that Jazz was very proud of you, no?”

Lucky blinked. “Y...yeah…”

To his surprise, an almost unnoticeable smile started to tug at the corners of her lips, but soon straightened out. “Good,” She said. “Know that none of this is your fault, understand? It could have been any one of us that died.”

The blonde hung his head a bit. “I know, ma’am…” He knew it wasn’t his fault. His blame was set on Cub and his colleagues. They refused to help him until they were done with treating their wounded. And yet they were playing the innocent card. Maybe Nightingale and the others didn’t know what he knew…

“Your brother was a very brave man,” The woman continued. “One that I’m honored to have fought alongside.”

“Glorious in life, eternal in death.” Synth spoke up, stating the Shadowbyte Army’s famous motto.

Nightingale nodded. “Exactly. He lived as a glorious warrior, and now he will be remembered for many years to come.”

Many of the others gave some sort of a response in agreement, whether it be a simple nod or a word. But even if they were small, Lucky felt his heart lift. Jazz would be remembered fondly… as a fine soldier and brother.

Nightingale then removed her hand from his shoulder before speaking again. “But now we need to stay strong. More than ever. For Jazz’s sake.”

Lucky, as much as he knew he already failed that order, nodded anyway. "Yes ma'am…" He shifted his stance a bit, and winced as he felt something inside his boot rub against his ankle. Did he get a rock stuck in there somehow? He moved his foot again. The object was smooth, cold, and hard. Like metal.

Metal.

A sudden memory popped into his mind, and his eyes went wide. He still had the gun he had grabbed tucked inside his boot. How?

“Lucky?” Synth’s voice pierced his conscience, making him flinch a bit. “You in there?”

Lucky was still in shock at what he had discovered. “U-uhh…” As nervous as he was with everyone’s eyes now trained on him, he knew he had to say something. So he went down on one knee, stuck his hand down his boot, and, like a magician with a rabbit and a hat, yanked his pistol out. “I...I-I still have my gun…”

Coda’s eyes widened as he stood up. “Wait techie, you got a gun too? When the fuck did ya grab that?!”

Lucky shrunk back a bit at Coda’s voice loudening. “B-before we left the Hive… I didn’t use it though…” His voice trailed off as he realized one small but important detail she had dropped into her sentence. “...w-what do you mean by ‘you too’?”

The creeper grinned. “They might’ve taken away our hacks and main weapons…” She then knelt onto one knee and pulled up the hem of her pant leg. Tucked inside her boot was a sleek black and red pistol, just like Lucky’s. “But those fuckers didn’t bother to pat us down.”

Sakura’s eyes lit up with hope. “Does that mean we have a chance of going home?” She asked, leaning closer to the green-scaled woman.

“You know it, baby!” Coda answered confidently. "We're home free-"

Synth then spoke, cutting off his friend. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Coda," He said, lowering his voice slightly. "It won't work if you're screaming from the rooftops about it. And we need to make a plan."

“He’s right,” Grey replied. Nix nodded alongside him. “We need to be smart about this. This might be our only shot out of here.”

“Agreed.” Nightingale added. “We have one chance. There’s no margin for error.”

As the conversation buzzed around him, Lucky retreated back into his mind and gazed at the pistol in his hands. A chance at escape? It was wholeheartedly possible. He could go home to Fort Oblivion, go back to his bunker, with all of his high tech gear and a legitimate excuse to not leave-

But this time, he wouldn't have an older brother to turn to when he needed it.

Dark thoughts clouded Lucky's mind. Why should he bother? What was the point of leaving now? Jazz was his whole entire world, the only family he ever had, and now he was dead…

Maybe he could escape in a different way. Escape that hellhole and reunite with his brother. Put that gun against his head and fire it for the first and last time in his life.

Was it cowardly? Yes. Desperate? Most definitely. Stupid? Yup. But did he care?

Not one single bit.

20 notes · View notes

commonshawn · 5 years

Text

Beside you

Warnings: Angst?? Tiny fluff?? I don’t know.. I tried and I am not sure if I like it or not...

Word Count: 2.1K

Inspired by: Beside You by 5SOS

“Hey, Andrew?” Shawn walked into one of the backstage dressing room that Andrew left his stuff in.

“Yeah man?” Andrew packed his things away knowing they had to be on a flight soon since Shawn had another concert to perform in about a week.

Andrew noticed Shawn was scrolling frantically through his phone, “Have you heard from (y/n)?” Andrew gave a quizzical look and pulled out his phone to check.

“No, actually. You haven’t? Usually, if she can’t get a hold of you, she calls me to make sure everything is alright.”

“I know but now I can’t get a hold of her and she hasn’t texted or called me in almost 5 days. Something’s up-” Shawn shoved his phone into his sweatpants and rubbed his sweaty palms against his Givenchy black hoodie hoping it would stop the nervous, clammy feeling coming from them. “-I don’t know what it is, but I know its something and now I can’t-”

Andrew had to interrupt Shawn and put his hand on his shoulder to stop him from pacing and putting tracks into the carpet. “Okay, Shawn. First, breathe, and second, let me call her okay?” Shawn nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket again to pull up your mom’s phone number, just in case. “Damn it. Straight to voicemail” Andrew mutter to himself.

Once Andrew said Damn, Shawn hit the call button and waited for her mom to answer, and she did, causing Shawn's chest to release the breath he held in, “Hi, Miss (y/l/n), I am sorry to bother you but are you with (y/n) by chance?”

“I’m sorry Shawn but she just went back to her apartment. What's up, honey? You sound worried?”

“I just haven’t talked to her in more than a few days and that's abnormal for the both of us.”

“Oh, she hasn’t told you? Her nana passed away about almost a week ago. She’s been with the family for the past two weeks waiting for her to pass on. Just give her some time, she will come around and she seems to be taking it well. Don’t worry.” Shawn’s heart dropped at the start of the sentence and especially at the end because he knows, for a fact, you probably aren’t taking it well at all. Her Family barely knows her since her family stays closed off and they don’t know how to express their feelings for each other. It even took a while for her to trust Shawn because she hadn’t been in a single long relationship before. All she saw in love was divorce since it was strewn across her whole family and it took a very long time to change her mind.

Within a minute I was all packed up I've got a ticket to another world

“Thank you, I am sorry to bother you. Have a good night.” Once he hung up, he packed his bags without saying a word.

“Well? Is she okay?” Andrew helped Shawn pack up but he was doing it at an enormously faster rate than usual.

Shawn stopped and turned to look at Andrew. “How much time until the next concert?”

“About a week and a half but you have rehearsal and any exploring-”

He interrupted Andrew, “-no exploring this time. I have to go to her.” He swung his backpack around his shoulder.

“Shawn you can’t just leave, tell me what's going on.”

“She isn’t answering because of her nana passing away. Her mom thinks she's doing well but I know for a fact she isn’t. I need to go, please Andrew. I’ll be back in time for the rehearsal and the concert, please” Shawn was pleading his case to Andrew and Andrew also knew how important it was to go see you. When Shawn was performing or in the press, you hung out with Andrew most of the time so you two became just about best friends. So, Andrew nodded his head and pulled out his phone to call the airline company. “Yes, hi, this is extremely short notice but do you have any planes going out tonight? -Private is fine, its an emergency - oh my, thank you. Be there soon-” Andrew had hung up and Shawn was already out the door heading to a taxi as Andrew sent him the flight information.

I made a promise that I'll come home soon Bring me back, bring me back to you

_____________________

Andrew and the crew were walking into the airport towards the original flight. They all had been through TSA and were now waiting to board, then Andrews phone started buzzing. Pulling it out of his brown jacket pocket, he saw you come on his phone and he immediately hit answer and walked a few feet from the public. “Hey (y/n)! What's up?” He plugged his ear to mute the group that walked by.

“Andrew, where’s Shawn?” He could hear you trying to pull off a happy, content voice but he heard you sniffle.

“He's getting on a plane right now-” your heart dropped and Andrew lied knowing that Shawn should be halfway there already seeing as the location of them before and you now was an hour plane right away unlike the next concert destination, that was 6 hours.

“Oh okay...” you wiped away tears that were rolling over the ones that had already dried to your face from crying on the way home.

“(y/n), are you okay? Is there anything I can do?” The intercom called for Andrews plane that boards in 10 minutes,

“You sound busy Andrew, I’ll let you go.”

“Wait no! Tell me, what's bothering you?”

Sudden words are hard to speak When your thoughts are all I see

“I-um, I feel bad for burdening you with this but I lost my nana a couple of days ago, maybe even a week, I don’t remember and I know I haven’t talked to Shawn in a while and that's abnormal and I really just wanted to talk to him and now he's not answering. He probably hates me..” He could hear your slow sobs from the other side of the phone and it broke his heart.

“Hey, listen. First, you are not a burden and, if Shawn was right here, right now, he wouldn’t be mad. In fact, he would take the phone from me right now and talk to you the whole plane ride if he could.”

“Okayyyy-” you paused “- what’s the second thing?”

“Second, you are strong and you will get through this. Your nana is moving on to a beautiful place that no one can image and she isn’t in any pain anymore? She would probably be telling you the same thing too.”

You took in a deep breath trying to calm your small sobs. “Thank you” then you heard the intercom go off and bid Andrew, adieu.

Andrew scrambled to text Shawn knowing he would have Wifi on the plane and hoped he would get the message Get there as quick as possible Dude. She called me. - Andrew

_____________________

She sleeps alone

Your apartment was an empty void of silence compared to the foot traffic of your Nana’s house and the beeps of the monitors in her room. Two weeks being in and out of her house with pasties for visitors, helping make dinner, and sometimes you and your cousins needed to play some video games to let off some steam. By you and your cousins? You mean watching them play as you sat behind them in the spare bedroom. This was probably the closets your family has ever gotten, even your immediate family including your mom and dad. Sure, your mom gives you the supplies for your first period but she never helped you figure it out and instead, she boasted it to her co-workers. Your dad? Well, your parents split when you were like 10? You don’t even remember, all you do remember is your mom crying in her room and you being so young, you had no idea what this new emotion was because crying over an injury and the loss of a loved one is totally different. All of this was rambling in your mind as you laid on the ground of your bedroom, in the complete dark, tears rolling down the side of your face and hanging over your ear before hitting the carpet. Your family didn’t express their emotions so you were stone cold when you were at your Nana’s house, for two weeks. Then, you would go home and cry yourself to sleep. This happened every time and no one ever asked if you were okay, which you weren’t. They just said hi, how are you, and then proceeded to other family members, the only one that would stay next to you and talk to you for more than 2 minutes was your Nana, but not anymore. You rolled over and sobbed into your hands and your chest clenched almost feeling like your lungs were going to break off and fall into your gut. you couldn’t breath and your sobs were uncontrollable. Eventually, you had to get up to grab tissues because your nose was so clogged up.

My heart wants to come home

You were trying to clear your throat when a thud hit your door which scared the living crap out of you. “Please go away Mrs. Peters, I don’t need-” you yelled as the front door opened. The way your apartment was set up was that you could see the front door swing open from your bedroom if you had the door open. But, the apartment was pitch black so all you heard was the old door creek I should really grease that thing, it's annoying, you thought. So, you slowly got up and rushed to the edge of your doorway wondering who the hell was coming in and how they had a key. You couldn’t see this person since the door swung towards your room but you did hear a thud like they dropped a bag or something and they closed the door. Once they turned on a light, you hid behind your wall, not being seen by the intruder. “Damn it. I thought I heard her but I guess she isn’t home” Shawn’s voice sounded frustrated and he ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it a bit.

Beside you

Your eyes widened realizing who it was and you made an appearance in the bedroom doorway, “Sh-Shawn? What are you-” his head quickly turned in your direction and a smile grew on his face until it fell seeing your puffy eyes and a red nose from crying so he ran to you and picked you up, hugging you tightly. You wrapped your arms around him and shoving your head into his neck, crying both sad and happy tears. You were overwhelmed with emotions and he rubbed your back to calm you down. You took in his scent as he put you back on your feet and you leaned back to look up at him. He lifted his hand from your waist and pushed your hair out of your face and wiped a tear away from your cheek with his thumb. “What are you doing here?”

“When my girl needs me, I will always be by her side” he kept gently and ever so slowly rubbing your cheek taking in your bare and raw form, no matter if it was from you balling your eyes out.

“I didn’t even ask-”

“Doesn’t matter. I could tell something was up.”

“But Andrew said you were getting onto a plane when I called. That was like 20 minutes-” he noticed you were rambling and choking on your own air so he closed the gap between you two with a kiss to stop you from talking. Your lips were chapped and your nose was a mess and you could feel it but Shawn just deepened the kiss, even more, when he put both of his hands on the side of your face to hold it still. You whimpered but took in needed air when he let go, sad from the loss of contact.

“Andrew told you I was on a plane, but not which one. He understood that you needed me, so I am here” he moved his lips back to yours not caring about anything that was trying to come out of your nose and kissed you until you pulled away. You put a hand on his wrist and connected your foreheads, “thank you,” you whispered “you are the only one I can talk too who won’t shrug me off. So please, Don't ever leave.”

“I promise” he whispered and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and bringing you close. “I won’t ever leave.”

#shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes angst #angst #fluff?#I can't tell if I like it #commonshawn #fanfiction

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