#I completely winged his face paint no reference sorry . | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justatinybunwriting · 1 year

Text

Haunted 10 (Final)

Chapter 10: Mist

Synopsis: After the dust has settled, Jac winds up back at the haunted house where this all began. Here she meets unexpected spirits both old and new.

Author's notes: This is the last installment of this side story, and my personal favorite chapter overall. If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This story is still near and dear to me and I appreciate anyone who has taken the time to go through it all ^^

<<Previous chapter

The atmosphere was eerily quiet, so much so that one could hear the light scurrying of a mouse; the heavy patch of mist blanketed the entire field, but unlike their previous visit to this plane, not a single sign of marble-like trees, grass, or shrubs could be found.

Jac slowly opened her eyes to find that she was laying on a cushion in what appeared to be a house, or rather, what was left of it. The flames had chewed out a large portion of the abandoned structure, which had allowed the heavy fog to seep inside. The first thing she saw as she looked up was the charred remnants of what appeared to be a mural painting that had been discolored and withered over time. It depicted a battle between a woman wearing white robes and a large, multi eyed black monster, and multiple people were scattered about on both sides cheering them on.

"Ah! Finally, you're awake!" The baritone voice shook Jac out of her laying position as she turned to find an older gentleman who was wearing a black cowboy hat.

"I found you and brought you over here to rest up. There was quite a commotion out there earlier. Destroyed this old place it did." The old man sighed.

He looked at the mural as he saw that Jac had shown interest. "And to think that this was one of the few things that survived the onslaught. Such an odd thing, that fate is."

"Am... I dead?" Jac said reluctantly.

"Oh no! You still have that cord that's chained to your body. You can't see it, but it's there. You'll live. Oh!" The gentleman recalled. "There's someone outside who is waiting to see you. He's been worried about you since you arrived, and he kept on apologizing--"

Without another word, Jac had gotten up, and while she was wobbling to maintain her footing, she managed to make her way past the burned up corridors until at last she had found an opening. There on the Veranda stood a lowly person who carried a large plumage of red and gold wings on his back; his arms were folded on the guardrail, and his face was completely sheltered in them as he hung his head low. Jac paused for a moment before she found her voice again.

"...Aiden?"

The familiar red head swung his head back the instant he heard her voice and immediately lunged himself forward to wrap his arms around her. The young woman was no less shocked than she was a second ago but she had none the less appreciated this moment, for she was, and still continued to be, worried about him as well.

"I'm so sorry Jac!" Tears was running down Aiden's face. "I didn't know what else to do to get rid of that witch, but I was so worried you might have--"

"It's alright. You... you saved me.. but..."

Jac looked down at the beautiful wings on his back, and upon further inspection discovered that they were transparent. Tears started to form in her eyes as she tightened her embrace on the puzzled Wile. Jac said nothing to alleviate his confusion but her crying became louder all the more.

"What's wrong?" Aiden sniffed.

"You're dead, that's what's wrong..."

"WHAT?!!"

Jac then brushed her fingers on the tip of his wings, and that's when he realized that was what she was referring to.

"OH! Oh no. This?" He then began to lightly swat at the wings while saying "Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!" And they in turn gradually faded out of sight.

"This is just what happens when I use my powers too much and wind up in, um... limbo, of sorts." Aiden placed a hand on Jac's shoulder and said. "I may be gone for a little bit, but I promise I'll be fine. Okay? I just need some time to recover, that's all."

"Are you an angel?" Jac asked with sadness in her voice.

"No.."

"Are you... satan?"

"No!" Aiden grumbled. "I'm just a regular Wile giant who just happens to have magic that's a little bit, stranger than everyone else."

"No kidding..."

Jac looked down and began to soak in everything that was said. "How long have I been here for? I hope it's not too late before I--"

"No need to worry about that." Said the older gentleman as he walked out to meet the two. "Even if you spend a long time here, it'll just be like a few seconds in your world. So you can take as long as you need to unwind. Or not. It's your choice."

"Oh, that's... convenient." Jac replied.

With a sense of calm that helped her to ease up a little, Jac turned her attention to the edge of the veranda, where she saw two bright lights that were perched on the railing. The young woman squinted her eyes before she decided to walk over to get a closer look. The glow of the two objects had cut through the mist, as if they were a beacon from a lighthouse, except of course, much smaller.

"Is that...?" Jac gasped, as she recognized the glowing butterfly, which was now laying on its side with a broken wing.

"Yeah, that's her." Aiden spoke with a slight crack in his voice. "I burned up her spirit, so her core is all that's left. I believe all of her magic is gone."

Jac breathed a sigh of relief. "Serves her right. Well, who's that firefly standing next to her?"

"I'm not sure. I found him inside of the collective demon's body, believe it or not. He actually helped me to get my head together and fight back."

"You're kidding!"

"Hold on just a minute!" The gentleman pulled out his monocle and began to look very closely at the small speck, and upon a thorough examination, he nearly dropped his glasses and gave out a loud gasp.

"Mr. Jones!" He said rather bitterly.

"Hello Reginald." The firefly replied after a brief moment of silence.

With that confirmation, the old man took out his leather wallet and swatted at the poor bug, which caused audible squeaks to be heard from the two youngsters behind him.

"I should have known you would show your face around here! Scoundrels like you never get Tickets!"

"Hey hey hey, no need to resort to violence, okay?" Aiden said as he stepped in between them. "He helped me out, so I brought him here. I had no idea he was...that guy..."

"It's alright." The white speck said with a strained voice, though he was otherwise unfazed. "I had it coming for awhile. When I was in the body of that beast I had about a hundred years to reflect on my past transgressions. I deserved every bit of punishment that I had received during that time, and I've accepted the fact that I won't be forgiven for most of them."

He then turned to the golden butterfly and paused. "I haven't overheard everything, but it seems as though my wife had done all of these things with the sole purpose of trying to summon me. If only she knew, that would have been impossible..."

"After what you've done to her I don't understand why she would go through all this trouble!" Reginald huffed.

"I knew of those rumors, and I understand why you don't see me as trustworthy. But mark my words, I've never cheated on her since we were together. I made a vow to her... I wanted to change because she became the light of my life... and now..."

The light of the firefly had grown to a mere flicker, and his voice began to well up uncontrollably. "Now she won't even speak. She's been unresponsive ever since she got here! It's as if she's dead, even though souls can't die... I expect some form of damnation. But not like this..."

"Now now. There's no need to go that extreme." Reginald sighed. "I could transfer a little bit of my energy to her, but I don't believe it'll be enough to revive her."

Nothing was said for the next few minutes as the room grew heavy with the Firefly's increasing grief. As much as it pained her to do so, Jac was also trying to come up with a solution despite her grudges against this woman.

"Are you absolutely sure she can't regain her magic?" She asked the Wile.

"Positive." Aiden replied. "Wait, why?"

"Does your regenerative powers work on others?"

"I... I never considered using it that way before. I don't think it's impossible, just... hard."

"I have a suggestion." The firefly said after giving it a bit of thought. "Perhaps, lad, I could ask you to give a little bit of your energy to me so that I may use it to try to revive her myself? We have what you folks call, a link- a contract of sorts. I can help her, but not if I'm trapped in this... pathetic state."

"Well, I can sure try. Sharing energy is a piece of cake. If you think you can use that to charge up your powers, then go for it." The shrunken Wile replied with a smile.

"I'm willing to try anything."

The firefly wasted no time getting on the shrunken Wile's hand as soon as he was prompted to do so. Aiden cupped him with his other hand and closed his eyes, and within moments his energy wings reappeared as he began to take on a gentle, yet otherworldly orange glow. Beams of light were absorbed into the small form underneath his fingers. Almost instantly after the Beta Wile had opened his palms, the firefly shot out and reemerged as a tall, dark man sporting a pompous suit and a tuft of hair on his chin.

"Great Scotts! I... I'm free...." Mr. Jones was nearly speechless.

"Wait... I thought you were a much older guy than ... this?" Jac questioned.

"You're looking at someone who is eternally 38 years young! Whoever gave you that impression?" The man said as he gave a teasing leer to his former butler, who only raised his arms coyingly in response.

Without further delay, Mr. Jones lifted the lifeless butterfly onto his open palms, and tried to imitate what was done to him just moments before. After a minute of no change, despite giving as much of his own light to her as he could muster, he immediately knelt down, and embraced the tiny insect in a pool of tears.

"I... I'm so sorry for what I've done to you..." He whimpered as softly as he could, "none of this would have happened if I hadn't... If I didn't... with my own..."

Just then, he heard the faintest whisper from between his palms.

"It... wasn't your fault..."

The man opened his hands and his expression melted as he looked down upon his wife. The former witch was now a tiny little thing, with small, white butterfly wings on her back. Her robe was a pure sheen of gold unlike the dusty white of her past self, and her expression was that of bewilderment and simultaneously of overwhelming relief.

"Bartleby...?" She gasped.

"Evangeline!" He cried.

"Why are you so big?"

"I don't know! Why are you so little?" He laughed while shedding tears of joy. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that I can't make you any taller..."

"I don't mind. So long as I'm with you, I don't care either way."

"Likewise."

The two shared in each other's warmth for some time, and everyone cried tears of joy for them, all except for Jac. Laughter was shared and formal introductions were made, and while the young woman was still incredibly salty about the former witch, this would change somewhat quickly after it became apparent that Evangeline couldn't recognize her or Aiden, and had seemingly forgotten everything that had happened since her reawakening. Jac thought 'If she was faking her amnesia, she was putting up a damn good act,' but she eventually dropped making any mention of it further.

Bartleby Jones called for a celebration, but Aiden and Jac felt that they had enough adventures for one day.

"Time for you two to be heading home then?" Reginald asked.

Aiden looked at his friend for confirmation and got it with a nod.

"I want to rest up in my own body I think. Aches and all." She said.

"Well, that's understandable. Feel free to come by and visit any..."

The realization settled in that the ghosts didn't have any home to return to, for their mansion had been left in shambles.

"I'm sorry..." Aiden felt guilty.

"It was an accident." Reginald replied, and with a long sigh he had the fraction of a smile. "I guess this means it's about time for me to get a move on. Got a Ticket for a train I've been meaning to ride for quite some time. I heard the destination is nice."

"I wish you the best of luck on your journey." Mr. Jones said. "Unfortunately, due to my... horrible actions, I was never gifted a Ticket."

"Heck, almost everyone gets one eventually. Even scoundrels like the two of you!" Reginald chuckled. "You may just have to earn yours over time. May take a millennium or two, but it'll happen."

"Well, that's plenty of time for us to explore the world in our own pace, isn't that right, Bart?" Eva announced.

Bartleby smiled at his wife on his left shoulder. "I'll be glad to go anywhere if it's with you, my love."

With one last goodbye, Aiden took Jac's hand, and with the lift of his magical wings he brought her back into reality. When he finally sets her back down to the spot where she laid, the Beta Wile would too part ways.

"I have to go build my nest now. I'll be on standby if you need me. Catch you later."

"Wait!" Jac exclaimed. Aiden turned around and saw that Jac was on the verge of tears.

"Thank you.... For everything... for saving everyone!"

Aiden didn't feel like a hero, but he accepted that form of sincerity nonetheless.

"No problem, Jac. I'll see you around!"

And with that he took off into the air, heading off to who knows where.

.....

"Jac... Jac...! Please... wake up..."

Jac slowly opened her eyes to the sound of a familiar Wile giant's voice, and the first thing she saw is his face overtaking her entire view with his nose propped up against her cheek.

"Richard...?" She said weakly. "Y...you're alright..."

"I'm the one who should be telling you that!" Richard cried excessively, though the volume of his voice remained low. "I thought I lost you for real this time!...I can't!... I just want to..."

Jac saw the Wile giant's lips part and she immediately reacted with a sharp "NO!" But the smaller human instead got a series of wet kisses, gentle licks, and cheek rubs back to back. Jac had no energy to make a fake protest against it, for the overwhelming relief of surviving all of this had finally settled in, and she released a cascade of tears of her own.

"I'll be ok Richard... don't worry! We don't have to worry about that witch or the curse anymore!"

Jac held onto Richard in a tight hug for a good, long time.

A new dawn approached, and this meant that that frightful hallow eve had finally come to a close. The friends would take it easy for many months thereafter, and Aiden would reunite with the gang shortly enough. After that much excitement, everyone deserved a little break.

The End

#still love this #oc: jac #oc: richard #sfw giant #jac in the beanstalk society #bun writes #oc: aiden #haunted #gtfluff

1 note · View note

craptsukii · 3 years

Text

genshin boys and terms of endearment they'd use

a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons and ngl i found them quite difficult to format :( i’m liking this style for now, but things might change later on teehee anyway, lemon cake update next week, i promise!

♡༚࿐ 🇩‌🇮‌🇱‌🇺‌🇨‌

let’s get something out of the way first

diluc is not a jerk

sure, he might have tsundere tendencies but he’s definitely not as cold as people make him seem

in my opinion anyway

i like to call him a classy, but also a very private, softie

i can totally see him as someone who’d use terms such as darling, love, doll

a major factor here is the time and place

in public, he tries to seem more indifferent and will most likely refer to you by your name

however, in a more private setting, he has no inhibitions and actually prefers using nicknames!

I feel like diluc would want to really reassure their partner he truly cares about them, but in a direct yet indirect way

and calling you sweet things seems to get the message across.

listen to this while reading!

If only time could pass faster. Who knew waiting could be such an agonising activity? Such a simple but repetitive thing. Waiting for your cake to finish baking, waiting for the morning to arrive and even waiting for your lover to come home turned out to be much more of a challenge. It wasn’t unusual for Diluc to spend hours on end at Angel’s Share, but it was rather odd of him to break his promises.

A sad smile took over your features, remembering last night. Remembering his words, so sweet and benign, promising to dedicate you all of him and his time. His crimson red eyes, full of love and admiration for the person he held so dearly to his heart. His voice, so demure and nothing but a soft whisper, as if raising it would ruin the moment. The moment he shared with you in a little dark corner of Mondstadt, away from curious eyes and sharp ears. The moment he so desperately wanted to hold onto. Yet, the darknight hero was nowhere to be found.

By the time he finally arrived, your eyes were already closing. It was a gloved hand that pulled you out of your somnolent state. Yet again those same red eyes were looking into yours with the same devotion, if not stronger than the night he made his promise.

“Forgive me, love,” he pleaded in a shushed tone, “Kaeya came in and started causing a commotion and I couldn’t just leave.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your cheek delicately.

Too tired to say anything, you placed your hand over his, silently asking him to join you in bed. You had all the time in the world to discuss tomorrow... Hopefully. After discarding his black coat on one of the chairs and taking off his shoes, Diluc plopped in your shared bed, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable. Soon his arms were around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. His smell reminded you of grapes and it completely enveloped you as you nestled into him.

“If only I could turn back time…” Diluc murmured to himself, kissing the top of your head. “Nothing will come in between us and our time together tomorrow. I promise you, darling.”

Turns out that, in the end, he does keep his promises.

♡༚࿐ 🇽‌🇮‌🇦‌🇴‌

listen to this while reading!

my very polite baby

like sure, he’s straightforward

but he be treating everyone with respect

you might be wondering why that matters

well that's because i think xiao would see it as a little rude to not refer to someone important to him by their name

names play a major part in xiao’s past

with rex lapis re-naming him after taking him under his wing and such

so, in my opinion, xiao finds calling out your name way more meaningful than nicknames

although if he were to use one it would probably be dear

it’s short and he can still address you as “dear (name)”

it does sound quite formal at times though

Moments like this were rare. Usually, sleep doesn’t concern your lover in the slightest, as it rarely comes to him. Although you couldn’t help but admit how much you loved it when he did come and sleep. Cuddled up next to you was the vigilant yaksha, the well known protector of Liyue. And dare you say, it was truly a divine sight. In the wash of the morning light, his face took the appearance of an old photograph, so nostalgic, so at peace. Slowly, one of your hands brushed past his face, placing the few rebel aquamarine strands that were cascading down his cheek behind his ear. For a moment, you find yourself in perfect silence, Xiao’s soft breaths being the only sounds that could be discerned. Without realising, you started softly rubbing his back, your heart leaping at the content purr that followed shortly after.

It was almost impossible to put into words the joy this brought you. Although it was such a simple, mundane thing, seeing Xiao so at ease was by far your favourite memory with him. The more you studied his features the more your sight fell upon his lips. The sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, wanting nothing more than to cherish and show your lover the affection he deserves.

If only the sudden chirping of birds didn’t scare you, barely a few inches away from his face.

Curse those birds and their awful timing! And so, you backed away, laughing to yourself in self-consciousness, thankful that no one was aware of your little mishap.

Or so you thought.

You felt your face get warmer the moment you saw Xiao looking at you, drowsiness still coating his eyes. Yet again, for another short moment, no sound could be heard.

“____ my dear” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, snaking his arms around you as he brought you closer to him, “if you won’t do it, I will.” it was then the flush across his cheeks became apparent to you. Shame you didn’t have time to savour it, his lips immediately finding yours in a sweet, dream like kiss.

Moments like this were truly worth treasuring.

♡༚࿐ 🇨‌🇭‌🇮‌🇱‌🇩‌🇪‌

in contrast with xiao, childe loves calling you cute nicknames

in fact, he barely uses your name!

sometimes he likes to tease you and pretend he forgot your actual name

of course that’s not true,he could never do such a thing

I can totally see him use pet names such as comrade, girlie, cutie, shawty, sweetness, princess/prince, baby

ok i know shawty is kind of random, but i think he’d use kind of ironically?

I think he’d also use big sister/brother just to tease you, even if you’re younger than him

he heard teucer refer to you as such one time and it honestly melted his heart a little bit

as a side note, seeing his siblings get along you makes him genuinely happy.

listen to this while reading!

Spring was such a beautiful time. Especially in Liyue. Especially on a date with the one and only Childe, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers. For someone with such a fearsome title and reputation, it wowed you to no end just how charming, just plain adorable, Tartaglia can be. Albeit, it was only your second date, it was expected of him to at least try to be nice.

And on time.

As you waited, under that beautiful sky, a hue so gentle between cloud and baby blue, you watched each bird upon wing. It was one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightened the warm rays of the sun. You paused to admire the flowers, to sense their aromas, to be in the moment with their transient beauty.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” asked Childe from behind you, a shy, perhaps slightly embarrassed, smile painted on his lips. “Sorry I’m late, I really overestimated my juniors’ capabilities and I had to step in.” he continued, gingerly taking hold of your hand, kissing the back of it.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his gentlemanly antics, although you enjoyed them nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.” you reassured him, as you took a hold of his hand, already leading him towards nowhere in particular.

Another thing you liked about him. Things were so casual, so easy-going. One might call this date nothing but a hangout, but not every date has to be a luxurious five star dinner or a fancy show. Sometimes just a simple walk along the Liyue port was enough. Enough for you to get to know Childe, enough for you to like him even more.

Suddenly, Tartaglia was in front of you, his hands lightly taking hold of your face.

“Hold on cutie, there’s something on your face,” he answered your silent question, seeing as you looked a little confused. The next thing you knew, his lips descended upon yours. It was a sudden but very much welcomed kiss. A kiss that unfortunately ended just as abruptly, “it was me.”

♡༚࿐ 🇿‌🇭‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌🇱‌🇮‌

favourite peepaw

also prefers using your name rather than nicknames

but he’s not completely against them

he finds them quite nice actually

and he actually enjoys being referred by one!

like imagine going for a stroll with him and all of a sudden you go "darling, look!"

he'd look so content oh my lord

in my opinion anyway

he’d usually call you honey, my beloved or even my one and only!

you could be doing the simplest of things like reading with him under a tree

and he'd go "you're my one and only love"

no, he isn’t aware of how cheesy it sounds.

listen to this while reading!

Who knew the God of contracts could be such a romantic? Usually, Zhongli wasn’t a big fan of fancy, elaborate dates. He’d usually say something along the lines that “spending time with you was enough for him to feel like the richest man in the world”, which he technically was even without your presence. But, quite frankly, it was because he lacked the funds to do so that he didn’t pamper you every moment of the day.

So when you found yourself face to face with an array of different foods, meticulously prepared and arranged on a soft picnic blanket, you couldn’t help but wonder —

“Why the sudden change?” you asked, sitting down on the plush cover, to which Zhongli only chuckled.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” he replied in a teasing tone, flopping next to you.

“Oh, you are more than welcome to do so,” you winked, pouring some tea for both of you. It smelled like chamomile, “I was just trying to say it’s a nice change.” you continued, taking a few sips of your tea.

Zhongli only hummed, content with your response. Sometimes, sitting in silence, all while eating delicious brunch foods and drinking sweet tea, was much more enjoyable than small talk.

And so, you spend the rest of the day with your lover, basking in the sunshine and each other’s company. In his embrace, there was something so right, something that felt right, smelt right. You let your body sag, your muscle become loose. In that embrace you felt your worries loose their keen sting and your optimism raise its head from the dirt.

“You’re so beautiful, my beloved,” he whispered, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

♡༚࿐ 🇰‌🇦‌🇪‌🇾‌🇦‌

avid user of nicknames

partially because he finds them cute

and partially because he loves teasing you

he’d use them in public and try to get a reaction out of you

like let’s say all of a sudden kaeya is back hugging you, pampering your neck with kisses

saying something like “what’s wrong, baby?”

he’d also use hot stuff, sweet cheeks, gorgeous, handsome, cutie pie, treasure

sometimes they’re really sweet, other times they’re really silly

side note, i feel like this one got a little out of hand sorry yall i lowkey can’t take kaeya seriously

listen to this while reading!

There was something so heavenly about a kiss in the rain, a tender moment that just wouldn’t wait. It was that burst of love that is expressed, not caring if the water soaked through to chill the skin. You felt yourself gasping for air as Kaeya’s lips left yours, doe like eyes searching for his. Behind that brilliant shade of blue sparkled a glacial attraction. So complex and mysterious, it was magnetic. It made you want him even more.

Upon seeing your dazed state Kaeya smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands found yours. “Let’s get you of here before you catch a cold.” he said, leading you down the streets of Mondstadt. It was the middle of August, and you got caught in nothing more than a summer rain. You weren’t even cold, but alas you let it slide, enjoying seeing Kaeya worry about you, even if it wasn’t as serious as he made it seem.

There is something about a rain-washed pathway that invites playful feet, that says each new step will be rewarded with a splash. And soon, you found yourself splashing around, making the most out of this accidental rain shower.

The moment you finally reached your home, Kaeya wasted no time, his arms already wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Yet again, a gasp escaped your mouth, Kaeya’s cold lips leaving goosebumps behind each carefully placed kiss on your neck.

“You know what’s the best way to get warmed up, treasure?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your hips.

You shook your head softly, awaiting his answer.

“A good old dance party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around as he started humming a cheerful. “Nothing gets the blood going like a little movement!” it was obvious he found great pleasure in seeing your more than confused, if not disappointed, expression. Still, he paid you no mind and continued dancing with you all while singing a cheery melody.

It was quite save to assume there was never a boring moment with this man.

♡༚࿐ 🇦‌🇱‌🇧‌🇪‌🇩‌🇴‌

my favourite elevator boy

doesn’t love nicknames but doesn’t hate them either

i see him as an action speak louder than words guy

and although he’s aware that, as his partner, you know that

he still feels sorry for not being as vocal as other people when it comes to talking about his emotions??

so cute terms like these are a simple way he can show his appreciation for you

for some reason, i think he would really like using diminutives??

he’d call you things like little star

or baby or lovebug

i think it really matches his vibe ngl

listen to this while reading!

The breeze blew warm announcing the coming of summer's hottest days. The aroma of the tall grasses were an intoxicating perfume and the starry night above was a painting more sublime than any man could create. The clarity above became reflected in your mind.

Being with Albedo meant putting up with the unholy amount of hours he’d spend on whatever research he’d be conducting at the time. And luckily for you, his next big discovery involved the stars. On the black sky above you, there were a multitude of stars and there were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years.

As you enjoyed your little midnight snack, your gaze fell upon the chief alchemist. His eyes were fixated on the landscape above him, utterly fascinated by the world’s mystic beauty. Seeing him so consumed by his studies made your heart feel warm. It was adorable to see him like this.

Your sudden yawn made both you look at each other. Albedo’s gaze was filled with compassion, and perhaps a little remorse for making you come with him so late in the night just to stare blankly at the sky.

But you knew this wasn’t such a trivial thing.

You pet the spot next to you, silently asking him to sit down with you, to which he immediately obliged. As his head found its place on your shoulder a little sad smile made its appearance on his face.

“Sorry for making you come here with me, baby.” he said, his hand drawing patterns along your thigh. “I know this isn’t your idea of quality time.”

“Any time spent with you is quality time, silly.” you giggled, kissing the top of his head. “And besides, who doesn’t enjoy a little bit of stargazing?”

♡༚࿐ 🇻‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌

ok now for venti

i feel like with him the tone he uses is very important??

i mean this also applies to the rest of the guys

but for venti even more so

he could simply refer to you by your name and it would still feel all special and bubbly

nonetheless, he loves using pet names!

i mean as a bard, he can come up with poems and such on a whim ( flashback to the signora moment :) )

so his nicknames for you always have a certain meaning or funny story behind them

oh, you love pumpkins or had an unfortunate accident involving one? now he calls you pumpkin all the time

he’d also call you things like sunshine because to him you bring so much joy and you warm his heart just like the sun.

with that being said, good luck to those pulling for him! <3

listen to this while reading!

“There you go! You’re really good at this!” Venti complimented you, observing in great detail the way your fingers touched the strings of his lyre.

Judging by the curious stares and even odd looks you’d get from time to time, that wasn’t really the case. What was supposed to be a simple walk around the city turned out to be a full concert. Although Venti couldn’t find it in his heart to tell you, who asked him so eagerly just a few moments ago if he could teach how to play a song, just how… Poor was your attempt.

A relieved sigh could be heard the moment your fingers left the strings, although Venti’s reassuring smile never left his face. “Don’t let a few strangers discourage you! Even the greatest geniuses had to start somewhere!”

“Are you saying I’m a genius?” you asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow, laughing at his flustered face.

“Let’s not go that far…” he murmured, winking cheekily.

“And here I was, thinking I could wow you with my insane musical skills…” you whined sarcastically, handing him his lyre as you continued your stroll. It was then Venti stopped in his tracks. Upon his face, shock was written all over, his expression soon turning sympathetic. For a moment, he left you alone, diving into the crowd of people, only to return to you with a single cecilia flower. Its fragrance was sweet and fresh and its color a perfect white. Shortly after, he gently placed it behind your ear, smiling to himself while looking at you.

“You don’t need fancy tricks to win over what you already have,” Venti said, kissing your cheek lightly. A cheerful tune could be heard across the street, Venti’s soft melody attracting a lot of attention, “I’m all yours, sunshine.” he said loud enough for more than a few people to hear.

He has such a way with words, doesn’t he?

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #soft hours #fluff #genshin xiao #genshin Childe #genshin diluc #genshin headcanons #genshin zhongli #genshin kaeya #genshin albedo #genshin venti #genshin one shots #i’m sorry kaeya stans #i love him but i deadass cant take him seriously 😭😭#kaeya supremacy nonetheless

958 notes · View notes

tobi-momo · 3 years

Text

Your Cupid

a/n: hihihihihidihgl;df im finally posting again!! so sorry to take so long! also- im so so so sorry if this is bad i really wanted to post so i kninda rushed the end, and ik its long im so sorry😭 also i hope you find out soon in the fic and interpret yourself but just to let you know the title is referring to Oikawa, not Iwa.

Pairing(s): Iwaizumi Hajime x reader | Oikawa x reader (PLATONIC)

Genre: Slowburn!!! Romance, Fluff, Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Cursing, i think that's it?

Word Count: 4k

Synopsis: Being childhood best friends with Oikawa meant you weren't going to hear the end of it when it came to volleyball, when you finally agreed to become the Seijoh manager, he suddenly started to regret introducing you to his other best friend, Iwaizumi.

It wasn’t your choice, being here. You were forced to come, Tooru practically dragging you to the gym while you whine and complain, his cocky smile and fake charm trying it’s best to convince you to stop resisting. You barely know a thing about volleyball, even though always going to Tooru’s games and helping him practice when you were little, you never really caught the whole jist of the sport. He vowed to help you, to always be there when you have questions about it.

So with an elongated sigh, and a pinch to the bridge of your nose, you agree. You would become the manager of the Seijoh Volleyball Club.

~.~.~.~

The first practice you had attended consisted of balls flying, smacking aggressively on the ground; your eyes not being able to keep up with them, instead finding entertainment in the players instead. Tooru had introduced you to them, each of them holding their hand out for you to grab and shake gently before letting go and subtly wiping your hands on your uniform. He had mentioned another best friend, one that he had been trying so hard to get you to meet, wanting to complete his holy trinity. When you refused to go anywhere he would moan in defeat, collapsing on your bed while fake pouting and turning around to pretend that “y/n doesn’t love me anymore”. You would always just hit him with a pillow after that, resulting in an all out war. You had assumed the other guy refused as well, as Tooru never mentioned if his poor friend desired to meet you.

You guessed even after the ace met you for the first time the desire still never came up, his nonchalant nod and monotone greeting of his name showing proof of that, even before he turned around to walk away without a care in the world. He never took your hand, he never even looked at you; must have been too busy, throwing the ball in the air before running and leaping upwards, smacking the ball on the other side of the court, a loud grunt bleeding through his throat when he misses his target, running to and under the net to receive the ball. You watched him, pupils stuck on the way his body moved so flawlessly through the air, the way his rough, calloused hand hits the ball, making it mold around his palm and forcing it through the air without resistance, the loud slap that echoed throughout the gym when the ball made contact with the polished floors, the annoyed glare he made when the ball didn’t go where it was supposed to.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

“Y/nnnnnnn,” Tooru mewled, his fingers waving in front of your face, his fingers snapping together to grab your attention. His head turns, eyes widening dramatically when he finds what you were so distracted by.

Only regret ran through his mind at that moment.

~.~.~.~

You had attended most of Tooru’s games, but you had never really paid attention, as your eyes kept drifting towards the scoreboard and the clock, impatiently waiting for the final whistle to be blown. This game however, was different. Your attention was nailed to this game, your hair pulled back and your hands gripping the rotation sheet ever so tightly, your breath coming in hitches when the score rises, the atmosphere becoming so much more intense than you remember.

Awe was painted all over your face as you gaze at your best friend setting the ball so beautifully among the court, it flying towards the wing spiker just in time for him to strike it down on the other side of the net, gusts of wind following after- the hair of the libero on the other team fluffing up as they stare at the number four player. You watch him smirk in victory and his hands balling up in congratulating fists. The rest of his teammates whooped and cheered, patting him harshly on the back, a shared smile between him and Tooru before their knuckles joined in a tiny bump before returning to their sides.

Then, his eyes went to yours. The sweat dripping down his heated face and his heaving chest disappeared after you caught a glimpse of his green iris’. They were piercing; cutting into your brain and engraving themselves in your memory. How were you ever going to get them out of your mind?

You didn’t notice him walking towards you, his arms slightly swaying back and forth as he walked, his quiet footsteps picking up speed only a tad towards you. Then, as your mouth opens in an attempt to speak, the light of his green eyes floods your pupils when the words catch in your throat. “I- you were-”

“Y/n-chan! How’d you think of the game? Being so up close and personal like that has to make a difference from the stands, right?” Tooru’s voice bleeds straight into your hearing, interrupting your stutter. This was one thing you’d have to thank him for later.

~.~.~.~

“Wait, I’m confused, what’s that for?” You point to an arrow on your clipboard, looking up in confusion towards anyone who would listen. The captain was busy announcing whatever he wanted to the team, making them groan in annoyance and roll their eyes, Tooru only continuing with his story.

“What’s what for?” You heard from beside you, the low grumble of his voice seeping into your ears, making you jump backwards. The palms of his hands move to grip your arms firmly so as to not let you lose balance, his rough fingers wrapping around the flesh of your arm to pull you back up. He only stares, more of a glare, if you were being honest. He looked madly confused, or it may have been his resting bitch face, you don’t know. It wasn’t until you were back on your feet when you decided to speak up again, subtly avoiding eye contact by letting your eyes zip from random item to item, finding purchase on the metal clip of the plastic board you were holding.

“Uhm, I’m just confused about what play this is,” you say, your finger pointing towards the specific circle and arrow you were questioning. His head tilts downward, his eyebrows furrowing as he narrows in towards your problem, a hand on his chin.

“That’s a back row attack.”

“A what?” You question, looking up towards him for an explanation, only finding his eyes still stuck on the paper.

“A back row attack. It’s when a hitter from the back row jumps up towards the ten-foot line and hits the ball on the other side,” he abbreviates, a little hand gesture making its way through the air.

“Oh, really? How would that work? Why wouldn’t the setter just toss the ball to a front row player?” Volleyball gets more confusing everytime you think about it. He glimpsed up at you, took a short breath, then shifted his feet, like he was getting ready for a long conversation; you just stood there, waiting for him to explain a little bit more before taking a quick look around the gym, the cart of balls standing out to your line of vision. You hold a smirk, his head following your movements as you turn around to set the clipboard on the bench and walk towards the cart full of balls, picking one up and bouncing it on the floor.

A single eyebrow raises, but he still follows you to the court. “So, if I were to toss...to,” you put a finger on your chin, pondering, “back there,” you point to middle-back, taking a step towards the spot, “where would I be over here?”

He understood immediately, nodding his head as his legs made their way to you, scaling the court with narrow eyes once he halts beside you. “Well, depending on the play and the rotation, you could be anywhere on the court, so you could toss to them from pretty much any position.” His explanation sounded brief, vague. It was just enough for you to get the idea, though.

“Uh, go stand over there,” he urges, pointing to the middle back position. “Do you know how to hit a ball?” You look at him incredulously, feeling a little embarrassed to say you barely know how to do your approach.

“Not...really?” You compromise, shrugging as you backpedal to the back row position.

“Here,” he jogs up to you, handing you the ball, “take this and go to where I was just now.” You comply, heading over to that position, shifting the ball between your hands. “Give me one.”

“What?” You question him as he pulls his ankle back up towards his back, stretching his quad.

“Toss me one and watch me.” Oh.

You do as told, under-handingly tossing the ball up towards the ten foot line, studying his footwork. His form was perfect, you thought, his right foot leading his approach until he jumps into the air, practically flying flawlessly as his arm comes up behind him at a perfect angle to shoot the ball straight down one of the back corners.

The setter on the other side of the court could see the sparkle in your eyes, the glistening of awe in your face as you admire his best friend. He had a feeling you would like him once you met him, but not like this. The idea of you two suddenly being fond of each other ate away at him, like he was about to lose someone. Maybe two.

~.~.~.~

Away games were the worst. You hated sharing a small bus with smelly boys who don’t know a thing called “boundaries”. They hover over you, their arms flailing and their mouths running. You were annoyed, to say the least, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes at the boy's antics, crossing your arms to separate yourself from them. You didn’t even get the chance to sit next to Tooru, who got stuck on the inside of Kindaichi, messing around with Matsukawa and Makki.

You were uncoincidentally stuck with the captain’s best friend, Iwaizumi. You didn’t mind him of course, as he would put Tooru’s ego in place and tell everyone to shut up before you explode on them. You didn’t know if he noticed your irritation, your bugged eyes staring out the window, your head leaning against the glass. His head was also turned your way, you guessed to doze off to the moving trees outside, but you didn’t notice the way his eyes focused on your hair, subconsciously trying to count the strands while you look away, your eyelids drooping downwards ever so often.

Your dreary state was interrupted by a plastic water bottle being caught in the air, your nose coming face to face with a hand- the hand of the man sitting next to you, you infer.

“Guys, what the hell did I just say? Stop throwing shit around!” He yells towards his teammates, their playful demeanor turning pensive, their heads rotating away guiltily.

“Thanks,” you mutter, the words barely leaving your throat when he pulls away.

“No problem,” he dismisses, forcing himself to not glance up at you when he shoves the bottle in Makki’s hands.

“Hey- what the hell?” Makki whines.

“It’s yours, dumbass, take it.”

~.~.~.~

The red marker covering the white page gawked at you, showing you how you weren’t good enough for anything better. You couldn’t look at it any longer, the bottom lip of your frown quivering before you bring the inside of your elbow up to your mouth, muffling your sniffles and absorbing the steamy tears that scurry down your raw cheeks. You were better than this, what the hell is wrong with you?

Hiding in the storage closet wasn’t a good idea, The initial plan was clever, sneaking in there to calm yourself down before practice, needing to keep an optimistic mindset. That plan was ruined as soon as you broke down though, slow, and quiet but clear footsteps closing in on the door, like they were leaning their ear in to listen. Your mind hadn’t kept up with the time, as you hiccupped and sobbed even after the door was opened and light shined through the dark.

“Y/n?” You whipped your head away, refusing to look at them as you deal with your mortification. They scoot in, shutting the door until only a little line of light cracked through. “Y/n, what happened?” They sat next to you, closely you may add, dipping their head down to try and see your face. You avoid them, trying your hardest not to cry in front of them. “Don’t turn away from me, look at me,” they hush, placing their fingertips on your forearms, gently pulling them towards their direction, your head hanging down as your arms are removed from your mouth. “Look at me.”

You sniffle with exhaustion as you drag your head up, finally letting them inspect your glassy eyes, tears continuing to run down without fail. They had felt the hot liquid stream down their thumb as they wiped it away from your face, caressing your cheek as you fret.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head.

“Do you want my help?”

You nod. And you don’t move away when you find the vice captain’s hand reaching behind your head to cradle it as you whimper in his shoulder.

~.~.~.~

Study sessions with Iwaizumi became a regular thing. Whether it was him coming to your house and staying for dinner, or it was you falling asleep on his desk, you two never stopped doing it. Even after your grades went back up, the red marker leaving your memory almost completely when you get your new tests back. He gave you a look of approval, nodding his head a single time to show his acknowledgement. He wasn’t surprised when you came up to him and tugged him into a tight embrace, his large hands coming to hold your figure like second nature. He was used to this, your excited hugs and your bursts of energy and your lack of an attention span and your bright and sunny nature. It was funny to him how much other people burn you out, like a dying fire that needs more gasoline.

The second your body hit his, a breath slipped out, creating a little chuckle that filled your ears, the cozy warmth of his chest slightly leaning into you.

“Finally! I finally did it. Proud ‘a me?” You smirk at him, feeling a little full of yourself at the moment.

“Sure, sure, yeah,” he replies, slowly shoving your body off his, your feet stumbling as you let go of him, struggling to find balance. The hands wrapped around your arms keep you firmly planted on the ground, gently letting go the moment you stop moving around. They dive straight into his pockets, his head lifting to see your cheery expression. “You did good.”

You only smile in response, opening your mouth before a hand was planted on your shoulder.

“Y/n-chan! How’d you do? I heard trusty Iwa-chan helped you study!”

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

“I did really well, thanks to trusty Iwa-chan,” you emphasize, a glare shooting your way once the sound of your voice finds Iwaizumi’s ears. He didn’t like that. Tooru giggled, his hand half-covering his mouth to ‘try’ and stifle his laugh.

“Well, I did amazing too, in case you guys wanted to know.” A cocky grin made its way through Tooru’s face.

“We didn’t.”

“That’s awesome, Tooru!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m amazing.”

“Shut up, Crappykawa,” you and Iwa both chant in unison.

“Aw, c’mon, you guys!”

~.~.~.~

“I have to admit something, Y/n,” Tooru blurts in your room while he sits on your bed, his head hanging low while his fingers trace the thread patterns of your blanket. You spin your chair to face him, the atmosphere brought down when you see his quiet expression. Oikawa Tooru was never quiet.

“I thought letting you two meet was a good idea, I wanted us to be the power trio,” he strained a chuckle. “I just didn’t know that you two would become more than friends.” Your eyes expand, your breath immediately slowed and your movements coming to a full stop.

‘What do you mean by that, Tooru?”

“You know what I mean,” he waves you off dismissively. “I see the way you look at him, Y/n. I see the way he looks at you. I’m like the biggest third wheel in the world.”

You were confused, shocked. Was what was coming out of his mouth true? Did you really have different feelings about him than anyone else? Did he have them for you?

“I was mad, at first.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Like, really mad. I didn’t want you guys to have all that lovey-dovey stuff together when I’m right here, you know,” he gestures to himself; your head tilts in understanding, nodding. “I guess you could say I was jealous. It just irked me that you two never wanted to meet and then when you do you immediately fall head over heels for each other, completely ignoring the fact that I was the one to bring you two together.” He didn’t feel left out, like he did before, though. He had watched you two for a while, realizing that you two need him just as much as he needs you and you two need each other. He felt as if this was really who he belonged with. You guys.

You just stared at him, the cogs in your brain trying their best to process his words, your fingers coming together into a fidget. Your wide eyes landed on his, and although his pupils were nailed to the bed, you could see the sadness that didn’t belong. His eyebrows were furrowed in a way that made him look like he was worried, regretful, yet his lips stayed thinned together as his hair dangled in front of him. You could tell he was trying really hard to say this. Even if it was The Oikawa Tooru, he wasn’t invincible.

You try to recall all the times you’ve met with Iwaizumi, all the conversations you had, all the tiny contact you made when your fingers had mistaken each other’s arm or fingers for the textbook, all the times he caught your lingering gaze, but refused to let it go, the times he caught up with you after practice, slightly jogging towards you and stopping once he reaches the same spot as you- you naturally having to speed up every once in a while as his legs were much longer than yours.

“You’re right,” you mumble, your words coming out slow and smooth, your eyes focusing back on him from the blurry space you just dropped yourself in. His eyes have a double-take on your face, moving back and forth from the blanket to your face of realization. “I do like him more than a friend. And it’s because of you.” His back stretches upwards, sitting up straight. “So, thank you, Tooru.” It was now his turn to be utterly stunned- thank...you? “I’m glad you convinced me to join the volleyball club, to meet Iwaizumi, to allow us to have these experiences together, thank you.”

What could he say? “Your welcome”? It seemed unfit for the situation, he figured. So instead of plastering on a confident smirk and showing his “Great King”, he exhales deeply, looking straight into the holes in your eyes. “Just don’t break his heart, yeah?”

You nod in assurance, returning a determined eye. “I can do that.”

~.~.~.~

The next few weeks passed slowly, like the clock gave an extra two minutes with every second that went by. You had barely seen him, as he walked away from you every time he noticed your presence. He refused to look at you, the back of his head being the only thing to face you during practice. Why was he avoiding you?

“Iwa.” He doesn’t look up at you from putting a ball back in the cart, shutting his eyes before turning around. He stops when your hand grasps his arm, pulling him into a stop. He tugs his arm back, your grip hardening on his flesh, your sharp glare not letting him leave. “Iwaizumi.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while screwing his eyes shut. “What.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” You bring your hand up in the air with question.

“Why have I been what?”

“You heard me. Now answer me.” Your tone was strict, firm. It annoyed the hell out of him that it made him want to confess.

“I haven’t been doing shit. Stop following me like a lost puppy,” he growls, side eyeing you.

“Excuse me?” Your head bucks back, surprised. With one last tug, his arm is out of your reach as he walks away with his dark demeanor.

Then, he was gone.

~.~.~.~

You had spent a couple days thinking about it. How the conversations were so short, how he just completely dismissed you. Tooru watched you two go back and forth between bickering, you usually being the one to start the conversation before he tells you to fuck off. He was curious as well. You mean, that’s what you assumed from the conversation they were having in the gym before practice, ceasing your stroll when you hear their voices echo throughout the room, your body hiding behind the door so they wouldn’t notice.

“Iwa-chan, we talked about this, she just wants to be your friend, stop being so mean to her!”

“Whatever.”

“Iwaizumi, I’m serious. Stop being so cold to her,” the captain’s voice changes, his playful attitude gone in a swift motion, replaced with a scowl when Iwaizumi’s wide eyes find him. “What did she do to make you like this, huh? Such a meanie, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not,” the number four defends, looking Oikawa up and down before taking a step back.

“Oh, I think you are,” he taunts, “you too were getting along so beautifully, it looked like. What happened? Scared?” He smirks.

“Of what?” Iwa’s eyes twitched, his face flushed.

“Of her not liking you back.”

The ace stammers, his mouth not knowing what words to spit out as he looks his best friend in the face.

He was serious, wasn’t he.

Iwa stood there, gaping at Oikawa’s satisfied expression while stumbling on his words, trying to find the best one to respond with. But he couldn’t. There was nothing he could say at this moment that would change the way Oikawa thinks, because Iwa knows he’s right. He knows.

~.~.~.~

You were frozen in place, your heart seemed to stop working, you couldn’t tell. Your nerves had stuttered a couple times- you weren’t sure you were even alive at this point. The hand that placed itself on your mouth had fallen to your side, leaving your silent gasps less silent now. Thankfully, they hadn’t heard you, but once you rushed inside with purpose and resolution, the gym door slamming shut, their heads had whipped your way.

“You’re telling me you liked me this whole time?!” You shout to him, walking closer and closer until you arrive right in front of him. His eyes stayed glued to you, confusion stirring back and forth throughout his whole system. He was scared. “Is that why you’ve been a dick to me?”

“I didn’t-”

“Now, now, Iwa-chan, let her talk.”

“Tooru,” you lour, “stop talking.”

“I’ve liked you since I saw that jump serve you did at my first practice, and you’re telling me that you like me too? Even though you’ve been avoiding me and pushing me away and telling me to leave you alone and-”

“You what?”

“What? I like you? Yes! I do! Now can you finally stop acting like an asshole?”

Silence.

“Uh…”

“He means yes, Y/n,” Tooru cuts in while patting the vice captain on the shoulder, laughing it off.

You take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair as you sigh. “Okay,” you exhale, “well, then...are we? Do you-”

“Mhm! He would love to,” Oikawa answers again.

You look at Tooru once more, biting your lip to hide your smile before nodding once towards him.

Thank you, Tooru.

im so sorry for this mess oh my god

general taglist: @combat-wombatus @toosharkinternet @alpha3113 @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @solar3lunar @hitosushi @zerohawks @katsuhera @awmahleebkg @thisnoodlewritesao3 @realcube @f0leysgurl

haikyuu taglist: @pies-writes-and-more @luvrboykento

REQUESTS: OPEN

227 notes · View notes

inkblotsandpapertrails · 3 years

Text

Unstoppable Force, Immovable Object [K.O]

Tags: Enemies to lovers, slow burn,

Pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Description: For reasons you don’t care to express, you find yourself in need of sanctuary. It’s a shame you have to share that sanctuary with Kyoya Ootori, of all people.

A/N: i had an idea and i needed to run with it. also can yall tell i have a small grudge against bubbly reader personas?

“I want a job.”

Ootori Kyoya was way more intimidating in person.

You’d seen him around school, with Suoh Tamaki at his side and a notebook permanently in his hands. He had an air of mystery that you couldn’t deny was intriguing - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about approaching him. But those thoughts were quickly extinguished whenever you got a good look at his eyes. They were pretty eyes, certainly - dark and intense and piercing. But no matter what was happening, he always looked like he had something better to do. He could wear as many polite smiles as he wanted, but the message in his eyes was clear – there were about a hundred things more important for him to do than stand here and talk to you. And now you were experiencing it first-hand.

“You want to be a host?” He said, more statement than question, as he gave you a quick look up and down. Whatever he was looking for, he definitely didn’t find it, as he simply turned back to his notebook and continued his constant scribbling. “I’m sorry, but Tamaki handles all host applications, and he has a very strict process.”

You furrowed your brow, just enough so that he wouldn’t think you were glaring at him (despite how much you wanted to).

“I don’t want to be a host. I want a job.”

Kyoya raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your stubbornness.

“And what jobs do you expect the Host Club to give out, other than host itself?” He asked, not even bothering to look up from his notebook.

“Fujioka-san started as your errand-boy.” You said firmly, refusing to be brushed aside. “I can do that. I’m fast, I have an old cell I can use if you want to send me orders when I’m not around, I can even pay for all the supplies myself!”

Kyoya finally looked up from his book with his eyebrows ever so slightly knitted, a tiny sign that you’d gotten past his icy façade.

“May I ask why you’re so desperate to be an errand runner, of all things?”

“I am not desperate.” You seethed through gritted teeth. “I just need a place to stay after school and during lunch hours. No other club would let me join unless I took part in their activities – at least this way I don’t have to break my back building sets for the Drama Club.”

You decided to leave out your extra argument that the Host Club was one of the smallest clubs at Ouran, thus limiting the possibility of people annoying you while you were there. You knew it wasn’t really an insult, but it wasn’t exactly a compliment, either, and as mysterious as Kyoya was, you knew his pride was not to be trifled with.

“And why are you so in need of a place to stay?” Kyoya asked, a flickering flame of curiosity in his eyes, as if you were some abstract painting he couldn’t decipher the meaning behind. You frowned, suddenly feeling bare. You’re not entirely sure what he was trying to find, but nevertheless, you felt exposed.

“I don’t think that has anything to do with whether you should give me a job or not.” You said firmly, trying not to clench your fists. “If anything, this set up would be in your favour. If you have more time to spend in the club, you’ll bring in more clients, and therefore bring in more interest. I know you use that weird auction-point system on your website – more interested clients means more money. I don’t even have to spend time in the actual club room – you have a back rooms and supply closets, right? Your guests won’t even notice that I’m there.”

Kyoya frowned for a moment, before snapping his book shut and sighing heavily.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” He muttered as he opened the door to Music Room Three. “Tamaki! How do you feel about getting a new dog?”

Before you could yell indignantly at his ‘dog’ comment, Suoh Tamaki burst through the door, as eager and starry-eyed as ever.

“I knew you’d listen to my id-!” He paused once his eyes landed on you, his eager grin falling into a pout. “Kyoya, that’s not a dog!”

“I should’ve known you were too idiotic to remember that reference.” Kyoya sighed. “This is...” He trailed off, blinking behind his glasses. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever asked for your name?”

You fought the urge to punch the rich bastard in his smug face. He clearly had never intended on even giving you a chance – you had no idea what had changed his mind, but he obviously didn’t think it would be changed at all from the start. You decided to just be grateful that you did change his mind and leave it at that.

“My name is [Y/N] [L/N].” You said as politely as you could muster, tilting your body forward in a respectful bow. “I want to be your errand-runner. You don’t have to pay me, I just want a place to stay during lunch hours and after school. I promise to be quiet and respectful, and to not disturb your club activities or your guests. I hope you will at least consider it.”

You stepped out of your bow, making sure to keep your shoulders square and your chin up; the last thing you wanted was for the Host Club President to think you were too sloppy to set foot in their club room. Tamaki stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide, but unreadable, and holding his chin in his hand. You tried not to fidget under his gaze – he always looked so carefree around school, so this moment of strange seriousness was starting to get under your skin. Just as you were about to say ‘forget it’ and turn the other way, he broke out in a wide grin and tackled you into a hug.

“Kyoya, they’re so cute!” Tamaki squealed as you gasped for air in his grip. “Where did you even find this kid?! They’re so serious, I can barely handle it! Adorable, just adorable!”

“Let go of me!” You yelped as he began to spin you around. “What the hell’s up with you, I just wanted a job-!”

“Sempai, what are you doing?!”

A fist shot out from the corner of your eye and slammed into Tamaki’s head. He yelped and finally stopped that godforsaken spinning, but he kept you tight in his grip, holding you high enough that your feet didn’t touch the floor and you hung in his arms like a stuffed animal.

“Haruhiii!” Tamaki whined, rubbing his head with one arm. You immediately perked up at the opening and tried to wriggle your way out of his grip, but he wouldn’t budge. “That was so mean! I was just saying hi our newest member!”

“Newest member?”

You finally stopped searching for an escape from Tamaki’s death grip and landed your gaze on the person in front of you. They were of average height and build, with a short mop of tousled brown hair, and an evenly toned voice – it was basically impossible to decipher what gender they were. Still, they looked kind enough, with concerned eyes and a small, approachable smile, looking at you like you were a spooked animal they needed to calm.

“Hi.” The person said gently. “I’m Haruhi Fujioka. I hope Tamaki isn’t bothering you too much?”

You blinked in surprise. So this was the famous commoner that had taken the girls of Ouran Academy by storm. They were far kinder than you expected – you had kind of assumed everyone in the host club would be perfectly polished into some fake persona, but Haruhi seemed totally genuine.

“[Y/N] [L/N].” You said as politely as you could while being held like a ragdoll. You held out your hand and tried to smile. “It’s nice to meet you?”

Tamaki squealed from above you, tightening his grip around your waist.

“Aren’t they just adorable, Haruhi? I’m taking them under my wing, right this second! Don’t worry, you’re still daddy’s favourite, but-“

“[Y/N] here is going to be our new errand runner.” Kyoya interrupted. “Since you were the first to have that title, perhaps you could show them the ropes.”

“Errand runner?” A babyish voice asked. A small boy, probably the smallest out of all the club, came running up to you with wide, child-like eyes. You frowned in confusion – this boy looked like he was at least ten years younger than you, yet he wore an high school uniform? Not to mention you hadn’t seen him in any of the first year classes. Perhaps he skipped a grade? Or five?

“Yes, Hani-sempai.” Kyoya nodded patiently, ignoring your strangled splutter at the word ‘sempai’. “However, while they are technically a member of the club now, they are not a host. Meaning you are not to be distracted by them, understood?”

The boy pouted, his eyes beginning to shimmer with tears. You tried not to scream – how did he start crying so quickly? Who the hell was this kid?!

“But they look so cute, Kyo-chan!” He whined. “They look just like Usa-chan, being held like that!”

“Believe me, I do not want to be.” You grumbled. The boy cocked his head sympathetically and turned around with a wide smile.

“Takashi! [Y/N]-chan wants to come down.”

Before you could ask just who the hell this kid was calling [Y/N]-chan, a pair of hands grabbed you by the shoulders and hauled you out of Tamaki’s grip. You squeaked pitifully when you came eye-level with quite possibly the tallest man you’d ever met, taller than any of the men in your family. His face was stone-blank and his eyes were practically unreadable – combine that with how he had you lifted several feet off the ground, he was pretty intimidating.

“Hi?” You said meekly. The man smiled and set you down carefully on the floor before patting you once on the head.

“Mori.” He said gruffly. You paused for a moment, waiting for him to continue. He did not.

“Oh.” You smiled awkwardly when you realized that was all he had to say. “Well, um. I’m [Y/N].”

“Mori-sempai, how could you!” Tamaki cried from the doorway. “Don’t you know you’re intimidating them, grabbing them like that?”

“Then how is what you did any different?!” Haruhi snapped.

“It is completely different!” Tamaki huffed as he began marching to where you and Mori were stood. “I’m the father!”

Before you could snap that he definitely wasn’t your father, Mori was shoving you away from Tamaki’s warpath and sending you hurtling across the club room, only to be caught by two pairs of hands.

“Seriously, boss?” One of the boys holding you sighed. You recognized the fluffy orange hair from a few of your classes, but you couldn’t quite place his name. Nevertheless, he looked entirely bored with this whole ordeal. “You couldn’t at least find us someone fun for our new hire?”

“Excuse me?!”

“That’s true.” You blanched when you noticed that the other boy you’d collapsed into was identical to the first. Twins? You remembered seeing two shocks of orange hair in your classes, but you always tended to keep your head down and stay quiet in classes, so you’d never really given them a second look. “[Y/N]’s been in our classes for two months now, and they never say anything to anyone! Unless it’s to yell, that is.”

“Tamaki’s the president and his decision is final.” Kyoya shrugged and made his way to an armchair in the middle of the club room, clearly done with this interaction.

“I – what?!” You yelped. “But he didn’t even make a decision! You just dragged me in here and everyone started going crazy!”

Kyoya shot you a tired look.

“Fine.” He said simply. “You said you wanted a job here. Tamaki, are they hired?”

Tamaki grinned and nodded eagerly.

“Then consider your application accepted. You can start by fetching us some coffee, we’re out.”

He opened a sleek silver laptop and began to type, not waiting for you to respond. The twins groaned, still not letting go of your arms.

“Well, I suppose we’re stuck with them.”

“I don’t know about that, Hikaru.” The other shrugged – you made a mental note that his voice was a lot less snarkier than his brother’s. “This might be a great opportunity for some new games! After all, we’ve never had a tsundere in the club before!”

“Tsundere?!” You squawked indignantly. You pulled yourself out of their grasp and onto your feet, stumbling away and putting as many steps between you and them as you could manage. “Okay, yeah, I think this might have been a mistake. I’m sorry for wasting your-“

“Not so fast, [Y/N].” Kyoya said from where he was sat, his eyes still fixed on his laptop screen. “A verbal contract is binding in Japan. You can leave if you’d like, but I warn you, my family’s lawyers are the best in the country.”

“You’d take me to court for this?!” You cried. “But you didn’t even want me here!”

“It’s the principle of the matter. You offered your services, and we accepted. You can’t just back out now.” He reached into his pocket and fished out a gold credit card. “I’ll print you a card you can use for the club’s expenses by the end of the day. For now, you can use mine, but I will have you know that any unauthorized purchases will have consequences. And I want the number for that cell you mentioned.”

You gritted your teeth and snatched the card from his hands. You grabbed the cell from your pocket and practically threw it at his smug face. He caught it with ease. Asshole.

“Alright...” He murmured as he added your phone to his contacts. “I’ll send you all the number.”

You took your phone back and shoved it into your pocket.

“Anything else, Ootori-sempai?” You growled. He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“Coffee. As I just said.”

You were going to kill him.

#ohshc #ouran highschool host club #ohshc x reader #kyoya x reader #kyoya ootori x reader

437 notes · View notes

misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later)

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary: Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words ��Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

#My story #Mirror's Edge #Original Work #original story

46 notes · View notes

shutupanddance · 3 years

Text

“I can’t believe you don’t like hugs.”

@girloncorneliastreet requested more Sam Seaborn and who am I to turn that down? Sorry if this is super choppy. I had a great first draft, and then lost it to the post editor, so this is the best I could salvage. I also have a Sherlock request that is next on my to-do list!

Meeting an old friend at a charity event was a mistake.

It wasn’t like you planned it, anyway, but still a mistake because your coworkers were there. And no one is nosier than the West Wing of the Whitehouse.

She had run up, excited to see you, and squeezed your arm.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hug you!” She said, and you both laughed. The conversation went on about other things for awhile, but as soon as she left, your colleagues pounced on you. They wanted to know why she wouldn’t hug you.

After some relentless questions, you said that you didn’t like hugs, and your friend was just respecting that. That’s when the West Wing really blew up.

You’d think you had announced you were becoming a Republican with how people talked about it. They were completely offended that you didn’t like hugs.

You finally managed to escape into your office, and were putting work together so you could finish at home, when you heard Sam Seaborn at your door.

“I can’t believe you don’t like hugs.”

You groaned.

“Can we do this some other time?”

He didn’t respond, just looked at you through furrowed brows. He was standing in your way of making an exit.

“Alright, move, Socrates.”

He smiled, just like he always did when you called him that. But thankfully, he moved. You took your coat off the hanger and made a break for it.

You got about four steps away before Sam started following you.

“What is it about hugs that you don’t like?”

You tried to ignore him. The only problem was, the man can talk an ear off.

“Is it the warmth? The squish? Do you just hate people?”

You got as far as the lobby before you blew a gasket. You whirled on him.

“Just drop it, okay!?”

He looked shocked. A little hurt. But mostly regretful. That sad puppy look in his baby blue eyes…

“I’m sorry.” He swallowed.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you nodded. You left him standing there.

You felt bad for yelling at Sam. Even if he deserved it a little. But you really didn’t know how to bring it up, and you HAD asked him to drop it, so you decided to drop it as well.

Lucky for you (but not so lucky for the cleaning staff), some kid had projectile vomited near the Oval Office, and the West Wing was crashed, meaning everyone was more concerned about the crash than your “I don’t like hugs” statement of last night. Business went on with everyone navigating their jobs around the crash.

You saw Sam several times during the day, but you pretended nothing ever happened. Sam must’ve felt pretty bad, because he went along with it.

“Hey, Plato!” He called, and you turned from your spot in the bullpen. Once you had started calling Sam “Socrates”, he decided to refer to you almost solely as “Plato”.

“What?”

“Leo wants us to run these down to Legal in the basement. Says we need to be briefed by Ainsley about something?” He shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

You nodded, took some from the stack he was carrying, and followed him downstairs.

There wasn’t much talking involved, not like you could be distracted while navigating the Whitehouse. It takes an individual’s entire brain power to figure this maze out.

You were almost to Ainsley’s office when the halls were flooded by Secret Service agents. They were like a swarm of bees. One of them, Agent Daniels, grabbed you and Sam.

“Mr. Seaborn, Mx Y/L/N, we need you to step into this office and not leave. The crash has escalated a level.”

He shoved you roughly into an abandoned office.

“Hey-” you began, but the door was shut quickly. You huffed. “What, did the vomit kid try and assassinate the President now?”

Sam laughed, and you smiled, making eye contact for probably the first time since last night. It felt good to be normal friends again. You surveyed the office, with its empty boxes, a desk, and a couple chairs. You strolled over to one and sat down with a sigh, knowing that this crash could last for awhile. Sam joined you.

“So, what do you think it is this time?” He asked. “Biohazard, fire, maybe someone jumped the fence again?”

You leaned back, staring at the yellowing ceiling. “Who knows.”

It was then that Sam’s cell began to rang. He answered it, but all you could hear from the conversation was a few yes and no’s.

“So?” You asked, raising your head.

“Biohazard it is. Apparently the vomit kid had some sort of respiratory infection on top of whatever stomach bug made him turn the office into a postmodern art gallery.”

You laughed, but scrunched your nose in a disgusted expression. You could vividly remember the puke painted on the walls.

It wasn’t much longer until Agent Daniels came to retrieve you both, saying the crash had been resolved. This was business as usual at the West Wing, but you were glad it happened. It had given you a chance to repair your relationship with Sam. You went on your way to Ainsley’s office, but she wasn’t there. She must’ve been stuck in some other corner of the Whitehouse.

Unfortunately, it was freezing down here. You hugged your arms close and shivered. Ainsley’s office was notorious for being either jungle-hot or tundra-cold, with very little imbetween. Of course, Sam noticed you shivering.

“Aw, would a hug help?” He joked, and you could tell he was trying to make light of what happened last night. But you saw your chance.

“Actually, yes. A hug would help,” you said through chattering teeth, and he nearly did a double-take.

“What?”

“I said I’d like a hug.”

Sam looked a little confused, but he took a few cautious steps forward, and you met him in the middle. You leaned up against his broad chest, head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you tentatively.

You snuggled just a little closer, and he took that as his cue to hold tighter. Sam Seaborn was a great hugger, you realized.

“So, you DO like hugs?” He asked.

You sighed.

“When I was in college, I got a lot of creepy guys who would try and hug me in a *friendly* way. I had a really hard time telling them ‘No’, so I just started saying to people that I really didn’t like physical contact. I kept the story because it made it easier to avoid being too close to people I don’t like.” You chuckled. ““I like hugs as long as they’re from a person I also happen to like.”

Sam let his face rest in your hair, and you could feel him smile and his arms pull you just a little tighter.

“Okay.” He said.

It was a silly answer, but you were enjoying being so close to him, so you didn’t care. You just hoped he cut his answer short because he was enjoying being so close to you as well.

Just then, Ainsley returned.

“Do y’all need a room or something? Cause there’s an empty office just down the hall.”

#sam seaborn #sam seaborn imagine #sam seaborn x reader #The West Wing #the west wing fanfiction #the west wing reader insert #rob lowe #masterlist

61 notes · View notes

pregnant-piggy · 4 years

Text

Star-crossed

Draco Malfoy x reader

Request: can you please write something angsty but with a happy ending? Draco and the reader are in secret relationship because her family is muggle. How he can never publicly be with her whether when she get hurt physically or when she get insulted or when someone is flirting with her. Maybe one day he can’t pretend anymore and finally go help her when she get hurt badly (anon)

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: a bit of angst. then a little more. and then just a little bit more

A/N: I know you asked for a happy ending, but I kinda changed that... I hope you don’t mind and who knows, maybe I’ll write a part two...

- - - - - -

In the dark of the night, you reached over to find the other side of the bed empty. A hollow feeling filled your chest as you pulled yourself up and pushed the curtains around your bed aside to look around the room. It was a common sight; your roommates deep asleep, some with the curtains closed. There was no one else in the room, why would there be?

It had been like this for months, but every time you stretched your arm and found nothing you were a little disappointed. You knew you had to be careful and keep in mind that there were others in your room.

Careful.

That was the word that you had been hearing for the past months.

‘We have to be careful,’ Draco whispered, holding your hand tightly in his as he looked around the corner to see if there was anyone there. ‘Come on.’

You were pulled along by him, your footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. The school was different at night, you had noticed in the past week. As the windows were paintings of black and most candles had burned out, there was something creepy in the space. Like those haunted houses you used to go to when you were younger.

When the world had been around magic yet. When you had just been a simple muggle. Just like your family.

And that was the reason you were sneaking around the school at night now. A week prior the most wonderful thing had happened. Wonderful yet restricting.

With your background and Draco’s family, your relationship with him was everything but easy. It meant sneaking around in the school after curfew, lying to your friends, so-called ‘study sessions’ and a whole lot of nerves and adrenalin. But it was worth it, because you got the best moments with him.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked, but Draco didn’t answer. Instead he just tightened his grip on your hand and pulled you along in the dark to another adventure.

Draco opened the door softly, not wanting to wake his roommates up. He slid into his bed and wrapped the sheets around himself, blocking out the cold of the room. Or the cold that had been taking over his body since he had let go of you.

As he lied in bed he thought back of the last moment you shared with him. It had been sweet, but everything that was said was hurried, as if there wasn’t enough time. Because there was never enough time. Every time you’d be interrupted by someone or one of you had to go. Your shared moments were a secret to everyone in the world and though Draco liked to have you all to himself, he also wanted to be able to walk with you in public, to kiss you in front of his friends and to take care of you when you got hurt.

He couldn’t catch sleep, no matter how hard he tried. His eyelids only closed when the sun was rising on the horizon and before he could even properly fall asleep, Blaise shook him awake, announcing that it was already time for breakfast.

Draco’s head hurt as he sat down in the Great Hall and poured himself some coffee. His eyes were heavy and his limbs were too tired to even move. It wasn’t that he couldn’t function if he had one night of little sleep, but he hadn’t been able to sleep for the whole week. His lack of sleep was now slowly building up and showing its consequences.

From across the hall Draco met eyes with you. You were sitting with your friends and when your eyes locked with Draco’s, your smile faltered a little. With a nod of your head, invisible to your friends, you made it clear to Draco that you wanted to talk to him. He excused himself to his friends, muttering something about haven forgotten his books and then left the Great Hall in a hurry.

You stood against the wall next to the door opening to the hall, waiting for Draco. After making sure no one was around, you took his hand and pulled him along with you to a hallway hidden from sight.

With your hand in his, Draco relaxed. It was so nice to be with you, that it hurt even more when he wasn’t. You brought something to Draco’s world that he had never seen before. He felt things that were completely new to him and it scared him a little. But he knew that you would help him through it. That this journey would be easier with you by his side.

‘What’s wrong?’ you asked in a soft whisper, placing a hand on his cheek.

‘Nothing, just haven’t been sleeping so well,’ Draco muttered, avoiding your eyes.

You and him both knew the reason for that. It wasn’t exactly very relaxing to sneak out of your dorm in the middle of the night without being seen or heard by anyone. You dropped your hand and shook your head.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said with a sad voice. ‘Maybe… Maybe we should just not sleep together for a while. Maybe that’s better.’

It was as if someone was hitting Draco in his chest. All the air was pushed out of his longs and what he got in place was a stinging liquid that filled his organs, making him feeling like he was drowning.

Draco didn’t know what to say and you took his silence as affirmation of what you had said. You smiled sadly at Draco and pressed a kiss to his cheek as you walked past him, back to the Great Hall, back to your friends who knew nothing about this.

Alone in the corridor, Draco recollected his thoughts. He wanted to punch the walls and scream or to cry and hide from the world. But Draco couldn’t do either of those things. Instead he turned around and walked to his class, swallowing every tear that came up.

The moon lit up a stroke of the wooden floor. It was silent but for your soft giggles and Draco’s whispering words. The both of you were lying on the floor in the empty Slytherin common room, heads close and feet away from each other. Your ear rested against Draco’s and you could hear his heartbeat as you weren’t talking.

‘I like you a lot,’ Draco whispered.

‘I like you too,’ you said back.

‘But-’

‘I know, I know,’ you mumbled. ‘We can’t be together. My family is muggle, your family is pureblood. Everything is against us.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Draco said and he sat up. You crawled into his lap and pulled his arms over your stomach, resting the back of your head against his chest as you looked out of the window to the stars.

A silence fell over you and Draco listened to your breath. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and pulled you closer, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

He didn’t just like you, he knew he loved you. But it was impossible for you two to be together. Not only didn’t his family approve, they might hurt you. And Draco didn’t want that; he wanted to protect you from the horrible world out there. You were something so precious.

‘We’re star-crossed lovers,’ you sighed, placing your hands over Draco’s.

‘Yeah, star-crossed lovers...’

A hand brushed along your back as you stood in the hallway waiting for the class to start. You looked over your shoulder and saw Draco standing with his back to you, his hand behind his back, fingers moving lightly. A smile formed on your lips as you turned back to your friends, trying to ignore the small fire in your stomach that always was there when Draco was near.

‘Are you coming with us?’ one of your friends asked, referring to the subject of the party that was tonight in the Slytherin common room. ‘I heard Sean might want to ask you.’

‘Sean?’ you asked surprised. ‘Oh, I don’t know...’

Someone scoffed behind you and when you and your friends turned around, you were faced with an annoyed Draco, who was looking at your little group. He quickly looked away when he noticed you and your friends. Your friend turned you back and held their hand on your shoulder as they shot Draco a final glare before focussing on you.

‘I don’t want to worry you, but Malfoy's been looking at you all day,’ your friend whispered.

You looked over your shoulder at Dragon’s back. You had noticed it too; Draco had been staring at you all day. It had been a week since he stopped sleeping in your bed and things were a bit different. There were still secret kisses in the dark and the moments spend together when your friends thought you were at the library, but it was weird to lie in bed at night and not have Draco's arms around you and his voice lulling you to sleep.

Draco had your hand tightly in his as he sat next to the hospital bed you were in. You were asleep and your eyes moved behind your eyelids as you were dreaming. Draco stared at the edge of the sheets that lied on your shoulders.

Your right shoulder was turning purple and blue, now it had been a little time since you had been injured. You’d get hurt more often, you weren’t exactly one to be called ‘not clumsy’, but this time had been worse than other times. Draco didn’t know how it happened, but as soon as he had heard some students talk about how you were in the hospital wing, he had dropped his stuff and ran there to where he was now; next to you.

There was no one else in the room, but for madam Pomfrey in her office. Draco knew he had to be careful, because he didn’t want anyone to see him here next to you. His relationship with you was everything but easy and the more time passed, the harder it got. Draco just wanted to be with you in front of the whole school, he wanted to hold your hand while he was walking you to your class, he wanted to kiss you goodnight after dinner, to study with you under the big tree by the lake when the sun was shining. But he couldn’t do those things. If his family would find out he was dating a muggleborn…

Draco didn’t even want to think of all the things that might happen.

You shifted in your bed and Draco watched you as you opened your eyes slowly. A smile spread on your face as you found Draco sitting next to you and you pressed a kiss to his hand, that was still holding yours.

‘How long have I been here?’ you asked, as you lifted yourself up and rested your back against your pillow.

‘I don’t know,’ Draco answered. ‘I have been here for an hour now.’

‘Did anyone see you?’

Draco shook his head before he leaned in to kiss you softly. ‘Don’t worry, darling. I am careful.’

Draco stared out of the window in the common room, while his friends were talking. Either to him or about him, but Draco didn’t listen to it. He was too busy thinking about you. It bugged him to know that there was another boy that wanted to ask you out and that there was nothing he could to about it.

When you started dating, everything had seemed so simple. But time had shown that it was not. The dilemma formed itself; staying with you and enjoying the light that you brought to Draco’s life, while having the constant fear that anyone would find out, or taking the easy way and break up with you.

‘Draco, are you even listening?’ Pansy asked and Draco snapped his head to her.

‘What?’

‘I asked if you were listening, but there’s no need for an answer anymore now,’ Pansy shot back at him. ‘What is on your mind?’

You.

‘Nothing,’ Draco said. ‘I just haven’t been sleeping so well. Guess I’m just tired.’

Pansy only smiled at Draco before she turned back to talk to her friend. Draco was left to himself and his mind drifted off to you again, as his fingers played with the cover of his book on his lap.

It was a book you had given Draco a week ago. Romeo and Juliet. Apparently it was a famous muggle book about two lovers from different families who couldn’t be with each other.

‘It’s our story,’ you said giving Draco the book. ‘Only without the sad ending.’

Draco turned the book in his hands, looking at the weary cover. It had obvious that you had read the book a dozen times already and probably knew a lot of it by heart. There were dog-ears throughout all the pages and when Draco flickered through it, he saw little notes and scribbled next to the text.

‘I think you’ll like it. I know it’s not what you typically read, but I would really appreciate it if you read it,’ you said with a smile.

Draco looked from the book to you. He kissed you on your cheek. ‘Of course I’ll read it, darling.’

It took Draco two nights to finish the book. And then he read it again and again. The story was mesmerizing and your little notes gave inside to what you thought while reading and maybe Draco loved those more than the book itself.

Draco was pulled from his thoughts when Crabbe came to sit opposite of him. His face was shining from sweat and there was a happy glint in his eyes.

Though Draco had grown more to Pansy and Blaise over the course of the years, he had been friends with Crabbe and Goyle for two years and, unlike Draco, they had not changed much. Draco could still, whether he liked or not, with just one glance see what emotion they were feeling. And Crabbe’s face was telling Draco that he had done something he was proud of.

‘What did you do?’ Draco asked, not really curious about the answer, but just being polite.

‘After dinner, Goyle and I were walking back,’ Crabbe said and Draco already lost interest in the conversation. ‘We were thinking of going past the kitchens, when Goyle heard someone talk. Turns out that it was that mudblood… what’re they called again? y/n or something?’

Draco’s head snapped towards the boy in front of him and he fixated his eyes on Crabbe’s face. ‘What did you do them?’

‘We both screamed something, I don’t even know what, but we hit them good, because they fell on the floor and didn’t move when we walked away,’ Crabbe chuckled and he leaned back into his chair as if he had done something good.

Draco got up from his chair and cursed at Crabbe as he walked past him. Draco held your book tightly in his hand as he left the common room in a hurry, on his way to find you. He ran through the empty corridors and found you after a few minutes. You were sitting with your back against the wall, panting lightly. Your face was paler than normal and your cheeks were wet from the tears.

‘y/n! Are you alright? I heard what hap-’

‘Shut it, Draco.’ Though you looked weak, your voice was loud and clear. You got up from the wall and stood in front of Draco. ‘I’m so done with this, Draco. I am done getting hurt by your friends, only because my parents are muggles. Only because I am a mudblood. I am so done.’

‘Darling, I am so sorry, really. He wasn’t thinking about what he was doing. I will-’

‘I don’t need you to do anything, Draco,’ you hissed. ‘How could you defend him? Look at what he did to me! How can you take his side?’

‘I am not taking his side,’ Draco sputtered. ‘I am just saying that it wasn’t to hurt you. Crabbe and Goyle are more stupid than a pig’s ass. They just thought it was fun.’

‘Don’t you hear what you’re saying? Don’t you fucking hear? Just fun? They hurt me, Draco,’ you lifted your shirt and showed Draco the big purple bruise on your ribs, ‘and you say they just did it for fun.’

‘y/n, listen to me…’

‘No! I don’t want to listen! I don’t want to hear how you’re going to say that they didn’t do it to hurt me. I don’t want to hear you apologise for them. I am done with this, Draco,’ you said and your voice turned to a watery whisper. ‘I can’t continue, it’s too much secrecy. I can’t lie to my friends anymore. I can’t lie awake at night, waiting for my roommates to fall asleep so I can leave. I can’t live my life in fear anymore, only because I love someone who thinks my blood matters. I can’t.’

Draco stood frozen in his place. The words washed over him like water when he was in the shower. His worry changed for anger and sadness within a second. His stomach turned and acid flowed to his throat.

‘What do you mean?’ he whispered.

‘We’re done, Draco. It’s over.’

- - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @bloodblossom73 @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always

let me know if you want to be added/removed!

MASTERLIST

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy x you #hary potter x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction

480 notes · View notes

sukiglycerin · 3 years

Text

starless fairy tales || keigo takami, katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: keigo takami (hawks) x reader x katsuki bakugou (gender neutral!)

* genre: it’s a sandwich: angst on the top, fluff in the middle, and angst at the end :) not fantasy DLKFSF IM SORRY

* words: 5.2k, somehow

* warnings: angsty, reader is wary of hawks at first, tokyo skytree!! so don’t read if you’re terribly afraid of heights, a reference to blood for a small metaphor, a reference to the league of villains ;P, cliffhanger ending that i’m not sure i’ll resolve

* original request from @bien-sur: hey, saw you wanted requests and I read through some of your work, really loved the Hawks one shot!! i’m a sucker for enemies who make out. i’m feeling angsty so uh maybe, if you want, a bakugo one-shot where he kind of uh cheats on the reader...? or maybe just hurts her feelings very badly? maybe the reader feels numb for a while but is comforted by Keigo, and the reader realizes they deserve better? so sorry if this is out of your comfort zone or it’s dark content(?) anyways I like your writing so i’ll read a few more of your works before going to bed :)) thank you, i appreciate u taking the time to do requests regardless of whether you do mine :)

* a/n: ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS SUPERIOR!! i was so excited to write an enemies piece with hawks. this showcases the soft, kind side of hawks so i hope you enjoy it !! thank you sooo much for being so kind in your request! this request is completely fine. i added much more plot than i’d expected, and learned sooo much about tokyo skytree. i couldn’t do infidelity because it hurts me too much and i love bakugou too much. i tried to keep the angst.,., but happy birb..,., this might become a multi-chap fic, as i do have a plot jumbled in my head because of the cliffhanger, and i’d like to develop more aspects of your request! for now, it’s up to your interpretation! biggest thing i got out of this: i now really, really want to go to tokyo skytree.

* synopsis: you had a fairy tale love with bakugou until your prince became the villain for vague reasons. in a moment of serendipity, you find a new prince, hawks, who just might take you high enough to reach the stars you’d so longed for. sometimes your dreams are only a train ride and a couple elevator trips away.

love was like a fairy tale. at least, that’s what you’d believed. love, with its ornate leather cover and soft golden embellishments. the pages would be worn but so cherished; the black ink printed in a pretty font, telling of charming words and whispered promises under the shining moonlight and twinkling stars. it was supposed to be your security, a castle hidden in the lush forest away from the horrors of the world. your castle would hold you and bakugou for an eternity, kept away in the pages of a pretty love story.

alas, even the strongest of castles fall, and the most beautiful of forests mangle. yours just happened to be a bit quicker. contrary to the illusion bakugou had painted in your fairy tale, your castle was not of stone nor brick nor iron. it was not of anything but sand, waiting for its turn to be washed away by the sea. your castle slipped through your fingers; the once elaborate stronghold now swept into the depths of the cerulean sea. what had once been painted seashells of wondrous hues and crystals that illuminated the night were now pebbles and corroded versions of things that had once been. it had slipped through your fingers so easily without a passing thought; now here you were, in your deserted kingdom, playing the fool.

like the sand past your fingers, love had once come easy for you and bakugou. it was always there, drifting in the air as you walked or swirling above your heads while you bickered. love was supposed to be easy, like how your hand just fit in bakugou's as if sculpted after many lives with him. love was supposed to be easy, like how bakugou aced his tests in school and nonchalantly taught you math so you wouldn't have to attend cram school. love was supposed to be easy, like how it had been for forever with bakugou. but your fairy tale was now coming to a close, velvet curtains falling and pages turning to dust.

you wondered if there were any fairy tales on the shelves of books bakugou had. contrary to popular belief at ua, bakugou was an avid reader. it was clear by the shelves that lined the wall in his dorm and the stacks of unread books on his nightstand. you never touched them, though bakugou had said you were free to pick them up whenever you wanted. the only time you’d touched a book from his bookshelf was when he pushed a book of yosano akiko’s to you.

the colored spines of the books on his shelf in your shared apartment all blurred like paint on a palette as you stared at them, bakugou’s voice becoming a fading afterthought.

“y/n? y/n, please…” the voice which had so held you in its tight warmth went cold and unfamiliar. a light flickered out in your castle, and so started the crumbling.

“say…” you started, your throat clogged with disbelief, “it again.”

“please, don’t make me…” his voice trailed off. you could feel his deep scarlet eyes trained on you. “i just…. i’m not in love with you anymore, y/n.” his voice cracked. “you’ve got to understand. please.”

your hand trembled in your lap, your vision shifting out of focus like a faulty camera.

“i tried to feel something, i really did. but…. i can’t.”

“how- how long?” your voice shook.

he paused. “a month… or two, by now?” he reached out to take your hand in his, but it no longer felt right. it was as if his hand was no longer yours to hold. you tensed, moving your hand away.

a light went out in his eyes as he understood and receded his hand. a tower fell in your castle.

“okay,” you said, turning away from him. tears dripped down your face silently and you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve. you stood up from the couch. “i’ll get my things,” you hollowly said, walking toward your shared room with him.

“you don’t need to,” bakugou said. the voice emitted from his throat was no longer his, but the shadow of a stranger’s. “not this fast, at least. don’t force yourself.”

“what makes you say that?” you snapped a bit too harshly. “sorry,” you added quietly.

packing your things was a numbing process. you left the photos of him and you on his nightstand, on top of his pile of unread books. you shoved it all in a backpack you had lying around; your clothes, your phone, your books. you took one last glance around the room and left. bakugou was still sitting on the couch wordlessly, not bothering to say farewell to you as you opened the door and walked out. not that you would’ve responded anyway.

you realized you may have made a miscalculation as you stood cluelessly in the lobby of the apartment building. you had nowhere to go. you fumbled with your phone in your backpack and pulled up your contacts. you knew of no one in your contacts who’d let you stay; they were either on vacation or far away. in truth, bakugou was your closest friend since childhood. he was your map, your guide, your destination; where were you without him?

the wind brushed your cheek as you stood outside the entrance, watching cars pass. the world felt so big compared to the mere side character of you, who buildings loomed over like menacing shadows. it was a somewhat comforting moment, being an alone speck in the grand scheme of things. like this, it was for only a moment you’d forgotten why you were out here in the first place. you’d forgotten the warm feeling that once nestled itself in your heart, instead enraptured by the freeing breeze that rustled in it.

red. then a breeze. that’s all you saw, eyes widening and stepping back. a man no older than you stood in front of you, hands in his pockets. vermillion wings protruded from somewhere on his back, arcing slightly over the man.

“heyyy….” he said lazily, shadows falling on his face. you started walking backward, hands discreetly feeling for the door behind you. “wait! i’m a pro-hero, i swear! i’m hawks, look it up!” he lifted his hands up in surrender, backing away from you.

“who…. what do you want?” you asked cautiously, hand on the doorknob behind you.

he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “i, uh…. got lost…. tokyo’s such a big place, y’know?”

“where are you from?” you couldn’t really discern anything of an accent on him, other than a slightly rougher tone of speaking.

“kyushu, fukuoka…” he gestured vaguely. that explained the slight accent. “i’m in tokyo for a bit of work. business trip, y’know how it goes. haven’t visited tokyo in a while, honestly. what’s a good place for a bite? a bird is starving.”

“uh… there’s a place down the street to the right…” off the top of your head, you pointed out a cafe you and bakugou had frequented.

“it doesn’t have chicken wings, does it?” hawks asked.

“chicken…?” you looked from him to his wings. “no, sorry.”

“don’t sweat it! ‘s fine. hey, i might as well treat you for wasting your time. where’re you heading off to? i could pay for a cab, if you gotta go.”

“ah, thank you....” you said bashfully. “i’m not really in a rush anywhere.”

“really?” he looked excited, innocently so, almost like a puppy. “can i treat you to something?”

“uh… sure,” you replied, strengthening your grip on your backpack. “sure.”

“great! off we go, m’liege!” he pointed toward the cafe and started marching. he was a sight to behold on the street, red wings standing out a mile away. you followed somewhat reluctantly, grabbing your phone to google exactly who the pro-hero “hawks” was. the name sounded vaguely familiar, but you weren’t one who knew their heroes. yeah, it was definitely him; what was your luck, meeting such a famous pro-hero on the street after being dumped by the love of your life?

he hummed a tuneless melody, turning to the cafe. he held the doorknob waiting for you, opening the door for you first. the homey cafe was decently packed for lunchtime, the quiet chatter of people filling the atmosphere. the scene reminded you of so many other times you'd gone here with bakugou; it gave you chills as you stood next to hawks.

"hey," hawks said quietly. "you okay? you seem tense."

you gulped and shook your head. "nah, i'm fine. just thinking about what to eat," you lied.

he nodded, seeming to buy into the lie. stepping toward the menu, he said, "the toasted sandwiches look good."

"uh huh," you agreed absentmindedly. your attention was on the bout of people who'd turned to look at hawks, some snapping pictures on their phones. he did stand out pretty well with his wings.

"'scuse me-!" a little girl, no more than 6 or 7, approached the hero. she had a distinctive accent; it was slightly hard to understand her. "can i 'ave a photo with ya?" her eyes got all round. "yer my big brother's favorite hero!"

"'course, darlin'," hawks smiled. his voice somewhat mimicked hers, his dialect becoming apparent.

once he'd taken a photo with her, more and more people started following suit, crowding him. you stood awkwardly to the side. some people didn't even know who he was, from what you could tell. you debated ordering a latte and leaving, but decided it'd be unfair to hawks. he was kind to everyone he interacted with, unlike most celebrities who just wanted fame and disregarded others.

after some time, the crowd finally dispersed, leaving you and hawks together.

he glanced at his watch. “ah, sorry, that took a while…” he apologized. “do you have somewhere to be? i must’ve held you up…”

“nah, don’t worry about it.” you waved him off. “i, uh, actually… was just dumped by my boyfriend…” you nervously shuffled your feet. “i don’t really have a place to stay at the moment… so i’m free the entire day, i guess.” you laughed nervously.

he blinked at you, bird-like eyes wide. “you must be starving.”

you felt your face warm and you laughed - this time, a real, genuine laugh that was a missed sensation against your tongue. “yeah. yeah, i am.”

“hey, dove.” his voice suddenly got close to you, gentler. “you’re crying.”

“oh…?” you felt your cheek with the pad of your thumb. “sorry. i have tissues in my backpack, hang on…” you unzipped the front pocket and started to rummage blindly through your belongings, groping for something vaguely feeling like a packet of tissues.

“here,” he said, handing you a tissue. you turned to him gratefully, accepting the tissue and wiping your face.

“it’s just… weird,” you said after a pause. “he’s been there all my life - my ex, i mean.” ex. such a strange name for the man you so adored; ex, crossing off the relationship you thought you’d built with him.

hawks nodded, guiding you to a booth in the cafe.

you continued, “sorry. you probably didn’t want to hear this today… you’re busy with your hero duties and whatnot.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it, feather,” he reassured you. “he didn’t kick you out, did he?”

“oh, no,” you clarified quickly. “i… left,” you said, abashed. “i shouldn’t’ve been so sudden, but… it was an instinct thing.”

“why’d he do it so suddenly?” hawks asked. “you didn’t see it coming, right?”

“no, i didn’t… but maybe i should’ve…” you think about the part couple months with bakugou. nothing seemed different - you’d gone on dates like normal and spent time together like a couple that loved each other. his interest in you never faltered and nor did the sparkle in his eyes dull; what had happened? what had gone so wrong?

you realize the silence that’s fallen between you and hawks. the hero was looking at the menu behind you intently.

“ham and cheese…” he muttered to himself. “no, teriyaki… so yummy… with coffee…” he suddenly seemed aware of your eyes staring at him. “oh, what did you want to eat?”

“i’ll probably have the teriyaki,” you said. it was your go-to sandwich choice at the cafe. you reached for your backpack to retrieve your wallet, but hawks stopped you.

“let me,” he said. “i already caused you so much inconvenience.”

“ah, okay…” you said meekly. “thank you.”

he shrugged. “what wouldja like to drink?”

“uh… orange juice,” you said.

“alright!” he saluted you. “your wish is my command.” he got up to order, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. the cashier was particularly animated talking to him, initiating a conversation about aerodynamics with the pro-hero from what you could hear.

he returned with the sandwiches (made at the fastest time you swore you’d seen them prepare food) and set yours in front of you.

“let’s dig in!” hawks said, biting into his sandwich. you agreed, taking a bite of yours as well.

“what’s your name, by the way?” he said in between bites. “i don’t think i ever asked.”

“y/n,” you said.

“pretty,” he commented. “i’m hawks.”

“i know,” you blurted. “i googled it.”

“you did?” his pupils widened. “what’d it say??”

“uhh…” you pulled out your phone, finding the tab you used to google hawks. you turned your screen to him.

he studied the screen. “not fond of that angle,” he mused to himself. “so, why’d your boyfriend dump you?”

you were taken aback by his candor. “he… said he didn’t love me anymore,” you admitted.

“all of a sudden? out of the blue?”

you shook your head. “he said he’d tried to endure it for a while.”

“how long?”

“a month or two,” you sighed, thinking about the sight of him sitting dejectedly on the couch this morning.

“he didn’t say anything before that?” hawks gasped. “the nerve. how long have you been together?”

“four… or five years now?” you’d been dating him since your days at ua, even when most high school romances - between childhood friends, no less - were especially rocky. he was your promised forever.

“and he gives up after two months?” hawks set his sandwich down. “wow. some boyfriend.”

“i think there was something more to it,” you said thoughtfully. “we’ve known each other for a long…”

“you still love him, don’t you?”

“i mean… yeah….” you hadn’t given it much thought; bakugou was a habit your heart couldn’t stop thinking about. it was like depriving your heart of oxygen: foreign and wrong. “i do.”

“i’m sorry, dove,” he said.

“your sandwich will get cold,” you said in an attempt to divert the conversation topic.

“you’re right.” he picked up his sandwich and started eating again, eyes still on you. “this place has good food.”

you hummed in agreement, distracted by the cars going by outside the window.

“where will you stay?” he asked, halfway done with his sandwich.

hawks voiced the concern plaguing your subconscious from the moment you stepped out of bakugou’s apartment building. it was definitely not the most thoroughly well-thought out plan, and you didn’t want to come back knocking on his door in the night. besides, you weren’t sure if you could stand being there again, in the presence of a liar and someone who felt so foreign to you. you wondered how much you truly didn’t know about bakugou; were there any other lies he’d blossomed behind your back?

you knew you might be able to stay at a hotel for a couple nights, but not for long. going back to bakugou’s place… as much as you so dreaded the mere thought, you knew it might be your absolute last resort.

“i’m not sure,” you finally replied truthfully. hawks appeared to have come to a conclusion of sorts.

“tell ya what,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “explore tokyo with me.” he took a bite of his sandwich. continuing, he said, “‘s not often the commission puts me in the big city. i’m off today, so…”

the offer was somewhat bizarre, but what did you have to lose? you agreed, under the terms you wouldn’t be out too late. as you walked out the door, you greeted the cool outside breeze with the hope this would help you put the past behind you.

walking through tokyo with a pro-hero proved harder than it sounded. for one, people kept approaching hawks; after all, he was like a walking light-up sign that said “LOOK AT ME!” with the size and color of his wings. after every time a fan asked hawks for an autograph, he sheepishly apologized to you, and offered two autographs to you. you always laughed and declined; the trip was a reward in itself, you supposed. each acquaintance made you appreciate all the responsibilities of a pro-hero. he was charming, though. he really was, so you didn’t mind.

“skytree! let’s go there!” was the first thing hawks had said walking out of the cafe. you’d been to the skytree a couple of times in your childhood, and it was a nice memory; the tall building stretching, touching the tip of the sky. your parents had told you that stardust flecked the very top of the skytree, for it was so tall. you’d never actually reached the highest floor; it felt like a distant fantasy, as you’d always get tired before reaching the top or circumstance would interfere.

it was a five minute walk to the nearest station, and it’d be another forty or so to skytree. hawks didn’t seem to mind, though, happily promenading down the street like a kid in a candy shop. he pointed excitedly to random buildings that you hadn’t given a second thought about and rambled about the facts he knew about skytree with an accent tingeing his words more than usual. he reminded you very much so of a child going on a field trip, and his giddiness only boosted yours.

“we’re here!” his eyes glistened with anticipation when you reached the station. you’d visited the station dozens of times, but looked at it with a new light when you realized how excited hawks was. “i’ll pay; i dragged you here,” he said immediately when you started to pay for tickets.

“really, i can’t-” you started, but he cut you off.

“let me. it’s my off day! please.” he took the two tickets he paid for. “here.”

“i don’t really have a choice, do i?”

“nope!” he was already walking away, smiling back at you and waving his ticket.

“hey- wait!” you started running after him. “wrong way!”

forty minutes later, two transfers, and one circle around the station in pursuit of skytree, you stood at the entrance of the tokyo skytree. hawks’ mouth watered at the sight of the line of restaurants in the breezeway you’d passed prior, and you had to stop him from ordering the seasonal special from mcdonald’s before turning to skytree.

“but you just ate!” you exclaimed as he stared longingly at the ice cream being advertised on a poster.

he pouted. “but i’m hungry…”

you took his hand (which momentarily shocked him) and guided him to the entrance. it was a bit crowded, but not overtly so. hawks was looking everywhere once you’d entered; darting from here to there, sometimes carrying small souvenirs or drinks when returning to you. you were out of energy by the time you’d reached floor 340, though hawks told you there were only 29 floors total and the name was referencing the height. it certainly didn’t feel like an exaggeration, your feet dragging on the ground as you stepped out of the oddly fast elevator.

you begged hawks to let you rest at the cafe you saw. the cafe felt like a little oasis of tranquility, uncrowded on contrary to the other floors. it was relaxing as you stared outside the window and up at the sky. it brought you to your parents words of stars and magic, though something as modern as the skytree must be strange to intermingle with magic. in the moment you were suspended; the still sky surrounding you and the ever-moving cars below. you swore you could just reach the clouds in front of you and float, so serenely in an eternal bubble of quietude to yourself. everything else was forgotten in that moment; things were the way they always were. it was always you, in the end.

after leaving the cafe, you watched people stand on glass flooring overlooking everything below. some jumped on the glass, while some frightenedly stuck a foot on the glass and jumped back.

“quite the view, huh?” hawks mumbled with a mouth stuffed full with chocolate cake. “i usually have to fly so far to get this view.”

you nodded. “it’s amazing...”

“so… where d’you wanna go after this?” he asked you.

“actually…” your thoughts went back to the stories your parents told you. “can we go up to floor 455?”

he showed a hint of surprise on his face. “really? i know we bought the tickets to do it, but if you’re tired, we can just go down.”

“no…” you cleared your throat. “it’s been something i really wanted to do.”

he took this answer and smiled, grasping your hand. “let’s walk into the sky!”

the train ride back did not go as smoothly as you hoped. the adrenaline of being 450 meters in the air had worn itself out, and the pitting realization that bakugou was no longer yours dawned on you. the sapphire sky in your fairy tale story seemed so far now, stars shattering and crumbling. you reached for a piece of a star, but each piece dissolved above your head, light that would never reach you.

“feather,” hawks said quietly. the intense look in his eyes looked like he was building up to something important.

“yeah?” you asked. you fixated on him.

“do you want… a badtz-maru eraser?”

you stared at the spiky-haired penguin in the palm of hawks’ hand.

“sure…?” you said. hawks happily plopped the eraser into your hand.

“feather,” he said again in the same tone. “you should visit bakugou, you know. tonight, to make things straight with him.”

that was what he was building up to. bakugou. you hadn’t dwelled much on the thought of the man; the skytree filling most of your thoughts for the day. but it was still light out.

“i know,” you replied softly, looking down at your fingers. these were the hands that held your heart as you gave it to bakugou, the hands that bakugou held tenderly for so many days and nights. they were the same hands that held your heart now, returned by bakugou shattered and clinking to the ground. the rest of the train ride was silent.

you could now hear your thoughts echoing around the train compartment, deflecting off walls and still making their way to your heart. you wondered what words were left unsaid by bakugou, painful truths untold hidden in the recesses of his heart. you wondered if he remembered how he’d first nervously asked you on a date in high school, words rough but fingers softly fidgeting with each other. it was in may, near the end of the day. he shoved a small box of chocolates towards you, muttering something about “weird hair” making him do it. he’d aggressively stuttered his way through a confession, barely making eye contact with you. the memory brought a fluttering to your heart, but with it came a sore pain for the first time. you wondered if he felt the same or if he was just numb, like how he now felt about you. what did it feel like to fall out of love?

you wondered if he remembered the many times he’d walked you home (only for your sake, of course, not anything else). you wondered if he remembered how fondly he looked at you then. his heart was on his sleeve during those times, the perpetual blush on his cheeks disclosing his very vulnerable feelings towards you.

even on the most draining of days, bakugou would always be there for you. even if his eyelids were closing upon their own accord and legs were sore from a day’s work, he made it a point to be there for you. while children might’ve had their security blankets, you had bakugou. your heart dropped realizing those days of coming home to bakugou were gone.

what had happened? now, you were alone on a train that felt so cold and without the love that had so warmed your heart. why had things ended up like this? why did you numb bakugou’s feelings so? the wave was slow at first, but once it had reached the shore, your tears fell hot and unyielding as you toppled off the edge of being okay.

hawks was by your side wordlessly, a wing around you and leaning you close to him. the feathers were soft. you cried unabashedly in his embrace, sniffling as he soothed you. you tried to say thank you, but all that came out was another sob.

your feet, on instinct, took you to bakugou's apartment without any problem. it could’ve been any other day; you, coming back to the apartment after running errands. it was your hand that hesitated as it hovered an inch away from the wood of the door, the only sign that something had changed. you liked to pretend it hadn’t. you wished that when you’d open the door, you’d hear a light chatter from the tv and a familiar voice saying, “welcome home, idiot.” you wished that the air that enveloped you as soon as you opened the door was that of liveliness and comfort, of warm orange and yellow hues. you wished that the atmosphere didn’t feel so dead, dull, and musty; you wish it hadn’t drowned in shades of blue and gray. you wished you didn’t have the key to the apartment still.

you wished that bakugou would say something, anything, rather than sit on the couch with his head bowed. you wished that you didn’t miss him so much and that you had him, all at the same time. you wished you turned back as soon as you heard the knob click and pushed open the door; you wished not to see all that you had in what was once your apartment.

you wished you didn’t revel in his presence next to you on the couch. you wished you didn’t almost lean into his touch because he was your home, and you wished your eyes didn’t well up the way they had. you wished to have sat in that silence for a while then up and gone; you wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“hey, idiot,” was a cracky and raspy thing coming out of his mouth, words familiar but so foreign at the same time.

“hey,” was what you whispered back, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“where’d you go?” but it wasn’t a question, just a fragile plea devoid of hope.

“skytree,” and you felt you’d break the mood.

“did you reach the top?” his response surprised and killed you at the same time.

“yeah,” you said quietly. “i did.”

“alone?”

“i could never alone.”

“who…?”

“met a pro-hero by chance.”

“your true hero, huh?” it was a bitter tone, venom biting you.

“no,” and your heart sunk because it was the truth.

he scoffed. getting up from the couch, he said, “you forgot something.”

your eyes followed him as he disappeared into your once shared room. he returned quite fast, as if you’d left it on the dresser, carrying a decorated shoebox. you’d almost forgotten about it entirely, eyes wide as nostalgia hit you.

it was a memory box you’d made the last year of high school. it was supposed to be for school memories, but it really just became a box of mementos of bakugou. you could barely see the contents inside, too busy trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. you thumbed through photos and polaroids of you and him, some with his friends and some with yours. oh, what you’d give to have those times back. though it was all blurred, you could feel the moments so vividly: feel the cool summer breeze and hear the sound of people conversing with each other at a festival; hear mina’s excited ramblings and bakugou’s grumbling at the supermarket; smell caramel and vanilla at a movie night, pressed against bakugou’s body warmth. you dropped the photos back into the box and picked up a scorched pencil. a pressed rose. a neatly folded sheet of notes you’d sent back and forth with bakugou during class.

and then it was all gone, shutting the box.

“keep it.” you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips, but you wouldn’t take them back. you handed him the box, staring at the floor and wiping your wet eyes. the memories were no longer yours to keep.

bakugou was silent, taking the box and leaving to his room to put it away.

“is that all?” you tried to make your voice sound strong, impatient. like you had better places to be without him. you hoped he couldn’t tell how it was more of a beg to stay.

“yeah.” cold. emotionless.

you stood for another second, looking around. everything seemed different, as if the glass which surrounded your universe had shattered. “bye, katsuki.”

“bye.”

your footsteps were light, but each step felt weighed by metal weights. you wished he stopped you from leaving. you wished you looked back at him. you wished you weren’t crying.

you shut the door quietly, weakly, behind you. it all came out in the hallway, tears and desperate sobs. you prayed he couldn’t hear you; but you knew, even if he did, he wouldn’t care anymore. he was numbed, no longer the firework you’d known.

“hawks,” it came as a quiet plea as you felt for your phone and dialed his number. he gave it to you right before you walked into bakugou’s apartment.

“please pick up, please pick up,” you muttered, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they came.

“hey, birdie? are you okay?”

“hawks,” you sobbed. “hawks, no, i’m not.”

“hey, are you still at the apartment building? i’ll be right there, chickadee, alright?”

you nodded, sniffed, then said meekly, “yeah.”

“stay on the line. talk to me, birdie.” his voice was soothing.

“hawks, it hurts, everything.” you felt as though you were pouring out your heart, spilling scarlet on the carpet. “hawks.” tears dropped onto the carpet. “hawks.” your knees almost gave in.

“what floor are you on, dove?”

“third,” you hiccupped.

“i’m right there, feather.” you saw hawks emerge from the stairwell. his hair looked windblown. he looked relieved to see you at first, then his face fell to that of sympathy. “oh, birdie,” he said softly, running up to you. “i’m here now.’

you weren’t aware bakugou was listening to you cry on the other side of the door as you sobbed into someone else’s shoulder, not his. with dark eyes and trembling hands he couldn’t calm, he dialed a number on his phone.

“well, tomura? i did it.”

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #hawks fluff #bnha fluff #hawks imagines #hawks scenarios #keigo takami fluff #keigo takami imagines #keigo takami scenarios #katsuki bakugou #keigo takami #luna's writing

229 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 3 years

Text

IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud.

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again.

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

“She was one of a kind.”

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses.

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

Steve��s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay. “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.”

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.”

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

#marvel #stucky #stucky x reader #pacific rim au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #fanfiction #reader insert #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

233 notes · View notes

little-mad · 3 years

Note

“Stop looking at me like that.” With Sebastian saying it?

I had absolutely nothing to do today so I was glad to spend the day working on this!

From this list of prompts here

And for anyone who doesn’t know, more details about these two can be found on my oc masterlist

___________________________________________________________

It had been exactly two weeks since Sebastian had gained a new roommate in his pixie companion, Ambry. He’d offered to let her live with him rather than move into a human sized house all by herself. He had his logical reasons for making the decision, like the convenience of having his companion readily at hand. However, Sebastian also secretly felt the need to keep an eye on the pixie. Prior to moving in with him, she had apparently had no experience with the human world. He had to assume it was all very overwhelming for such a tiny creature.

During the first couple of days she had been so skittish, flinching whenever he made the slightest move. It was obvious she was intimidated by the vast disparity in their sizes. The reaction was understandable, but that didn’t change the fact that it made Sebastian incredibly uncomfortable. As a witch, it wasn’t uncommon for even other humans to view him with a level of trepidation. But next to Ambry, it was difficult not to feel completely monstrous.

Of course, Sebastian did his best to ignore the moments when the pixie would react fearfully to something he did. He could tell by the way she always tried to play the reactions off that she was embarrassed by them. For that reason, he pretended as if he didn’t notice and that it didn’t faze him.

Over the past couple weeks, Ambry had seemed to progressively get more comfortable with Sebastian’s presence. At the very least, the startled yelps and winces had become less frequent. He hoped she was really getting used to the human world and not just putting on a brave face.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his white bangs. He had never been particularly great with people beyond surface level niceties. The bond between a witch and their companion was meant to be something special, he didn’t want to screw it up by making Ambry afraid of him.

That had been a big reason Sebastian had decided she needed her own private, appropriately portioned space. For the past two weeks she’d been sleeping in a doll’s bed on his bedside table. From the start he had known it would be a temporary set-up, but he hadn’t known what to replace it with until a friend from his coven informed him of a local witch that specialized in shrinking magic. The witch owned a shop that crafted incredibly detailed miniature houses, and when Sebastian had informed her that the house would be inhabited by a pixie, she had eagerly offered to equip it with working electricity and running water.

The finished house was now set up on a table in the corner of Sebastian’s room, and while it had come with a set of furniture, Ambry had insisted she wanted to decorate the place herself. It was for that reason that the pixie was currently standing on a spread of newspapers atop the kitchen table, painting intricate designs on a tiny wooden wardrobe.

Sebastian was determined to give her space, he didn’t want to loom over her while she was trying to work. So instead of sitting at the table with her, he had taken to busying himself with cooking dinner. Originally, he’d been planning on ordering out tonight, but considering he needed something to keep himself out of Ambry’s way, he decided to whip something up instead.

The vegetable and chicken medley had just gone into the oven to cook when Sebastian heard a frustrated grunt come from the table. Glancing across the peninsula, he caught sight of Ambry attempting to move the now finished wardrobe. She didn’t seriously plan on attempting to carry that thing all the way to the bedroom by herself, did she? Of course, she had demonstrated somewhat of a reluctance to accept too much physical help from Sebastian. It wasn’t completely far-fetched to imagine that she was trying to avoid requesting human assistance.

Letting out a soft sigh, Sebastian set down the knife he had been rinsing off and made his way over to the kitchen table. It was impossible for him not to notice the way Ambry froze as soon as he began to approach. As he stepped up beside the table, the pixie backed away from the wardrobe and turned to stare up at him.

First, Sebastian took a moment to appreciate Ambry’s handiwork. The once plain wooden piece of furniture was now covered in intricate vines and flowers of various colors. It definitely matched Ambry’s personality much better now. “It looks good,” he noted. “I can take that to your house for you.” Without hesitating, Sebastian reached down and plucked up the wardrobe in one hand. As he lifted it up from the table, he couldn’t help but notice the wide eyed look Ambry was suddenly giving him.

Sebastian stiffened as the pixie’s vibrant yellow eyes looked up at him in what almost seemed like awe. Looks of simple fear or anxiety he was used to, but this wasn’t that. Although, whatever this reaction was also made him uncomfortable, just in a different way. “Stop looking at me like that,” Sebastian found himself saying before he could stop himself.

As if his words had shattered a spell she’d been under, Ambry’s stare broke as she shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” she apologized with a chuckle. With a seemingly effortless flutter of her wings, Ambry lifted up into the air so that she hovered closer to Sebastian’s eye level. “It’s just wild seeing you pick up something so heavy like that.”

While Ambry seemed to be very determined not to appear too intimidated by everything around her, that didn’t mean she was afraid to talk about the subject of size disparity altogether. After only a couple days of knowing each other, Ambry had taken to playfully referring to humans as “giants.” She’d even marveled at how big his bed was the first time she had seen it. It was almost like she was fine talking about size so long as it was in a lighthearted manner.

Glancing at the miniature wardrobe he held in his hand, Sebastian took note of its weight. Because it was made from real wood, the thing was fairly hefty relative to its size. Still, there was no muscular strain from holding it. To him, it wasn’t heavy. Of course, Ambry had a completely different perspective. She’d just been struggling to move it even a couple inches across the surface of the table.

Sebastian gave a shrug. “You act impressed by that as you’re flying.” Being able to fly was as natural as breathing to pixies, but Sebastian still found himself wowed by it whenever he saw Ambry do it. He’d encountered other flying creatures before meeting Ambry, like griffins and harpies, but they lacked the aerial grace that pixies possessed. It was easy for Sebastian to feel big and clunky around someone so lithe and agile.

Ambry looked slightly taken aback by Sebastian’s comment at first, but her expression quickly shifted into a smirk. “I don’t blame you for being jealous, I am a top-notch flier,” she teased.

“I don’t have any other pixies to compare you to so I guess I’m forced to believe you,” Sebastian remarked. He allowed the corners of his mouth to pull up in a small smile.

“Exactly,” Ambry declared, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Now be careful with that wardrobe. I wouldn’t want all my hardwork getting ruined by a big clumsy human.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, the slight smile still on his face. “Right,” he responded before turning to make his way to the bedroom. It was funny how such a small interaction could have the power to improve his mood so much.

#thanks for the prompt!#g/t prompt #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #trahb #oc: Sebastian Altalune #oc: Ambry

34 notes · View notes

writer1 · 3 years

Text

A Wolf’s Sugar Rush

Warnings: Death, past death, death of children referenced, overindulgence of candy, belly aches, body horror, transformation, Vomit, trauma, intense sugar rush, craziness, self hate, guilt, lots of guilt.

A/N: This is a collab between me and @ahsokatano-thetogruta, we both hope you like it. This is in our One Big Family AU. Rebel bad batch designs are based on this art by @d-does-art

Stutter sneaks quietly into the Havoc Marauder, smiling to himself. He has been smelling a sweet smell from Wrecker’s room for the whole month since his chip was removed, and he’s ready for some candy. Stutter quietly sneaks into Wreckers room, and sniffs. Once… twice... Bingo. He goes under the bed and pulls out a giant bag of candy and chocolates! Stutter’s eyes light up for the first time in about fifteen years. He then freezes when he hears a squawk, turning to see Mrs Clucky staring at him. His eyes narrow. “Wh-What are you loo-looking at?” He then walks out of the marauder and runs to his room, hiding in there.

He reaches in and pulls out a piece of chocolate, he places it in his mouth and hums, then he starts digging in. He knows he’s probably overindulging, but he doesn’t care, it’s been too long since he’s had the sweet delicious taste of candy.

xxx

Kanan and Ezra walk through chopper base, they are heading to training when-- “Whooo!!!” They both freeze as they see Stutter go running by with a bucket of paint. “What the--” Kanan whispers, as both him and Ezra go running. They turn round the corner, running into the landing bay, seeing Stutter splattering purple paint all over an Y-Wing. Everyone is confused. They’ve never seen this much energy in an old clone before. Stutter is unable to paint right, making a mess everywhere. Ezra can’t help but hold back laughter, while Kanan just raises an eyebrow.

Stutter lets his craziness run wild, messily painting Tookas all over the ship, creating, what he thinks in his mind, a masterpiece. “Fin-Finished!!! Wh-What d’you g-g-guys think?!” Stutter gestures to the purple massacred ship. Ezra takes a moment to compose himself, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “I think it looks great, Stutter! What do you think, Kanan?” Ezra smiles widely at Kanan, making the Jedi look down at him with a slightly scrunched up face, turning to Stutter with a smile “It’s, uh...very expressive and colourful.”

Stutter smiles, lips twitch slightly, so does his eye. Kanan and Ezra both get concerned looks, but before they can ask what’s wrong, Stutter runs past them, yelling-- “NYOOOM!!” and running off. Kanan and Ezra go running after him, chasing him around the base. “How much energy does an old man have?!” Ezra yells, Kanan shrugging and sighing. “Usually, not this much.” Stutter has run pretty far ahead, but he slows down a little, almost to a jogging pace.

Kanan and Ezra catch up a little, seeing Stutter transforming as he limps along, not stopping. Though he should, because his legs are rearranging and cracking into haunches, making him stumble a little, but regains his balance. Fur has sprouted all over his much larger body, civilian clothes ripping to shreds, save for his pants. A tail grows long and swishy as his face elongates into a snout.

He growls a bit, but then once it finishes he goes running, Kanan and Ezra’s eyes both widen, and they look at eachother. “I think we might need help.” Ezra whispers, and Kanan nods, then he pulls out his comlink. “Hera, come in.” It’s only a few seconds when he gets an answer. “Yes, Kanan. What is it?” “We need help, something’s wrong with Stutter, and he’s transformed and is running all over the base!”

“What! Is he hurting anyone?” Hera asks, but Kanan sighs. “No, of course not, he just seems to be… I don’t know, full of energy.” Hera hums. “I’m not sure, but me, Sabine and Zeb can come help catch him.” Kanan smiles and breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks Hera, I just… He seems happy right now. I’m just not sure what is going on.” “We’ll figure it out, Rex and the others should also be back soon, so they can help.” Kanan nods. “Roger that, we’re still near the landing bay, but I’m not sure how long till we’re far away.” Kanan turns the comm off as he continues to run after Stutter, followed by Ezra.

xxx

Rex and the others all get off the ship, happy to have completed the mission. “Yeah!! Another mission completed!!” Wrecker yells Excitedly, making everyone smile, even Crosshair. “Calm down, Wrecker. This isn’t by far our first--” Everyone freezes as they see the massacred Y-wing. “What the kriff.” Hunter whispers, then he and the others notice the Tooka. “Stutter did this?” Jesse asks, and Rex’s eyes get a confused look, then Fives pales. “Hey, Wrecker. Did you not have a stash of candy hidden in your bunk? A large stash?” Wrecker laughs excitedly. “Yeah, why--” He freezes as the realization dawns on everyone. “Uh oh, that is not good.” Tech says, as Rex facepalms.

“Shit, come on, let's go find him.” Rex tells them, and they all sigh. “Wrecker, you know how Stutter is with candy.” Hunter scolds, but Wrecker shrugs. “It's been in there since before we rescued him, I forgot.” Hunter sighs, but Rex smiles. “Hey, it’s not your fault, Wrecker. At least he might have had some fun, this is the first time he’s drawn since…” Everyone nods in understanding, knowing that Rex is referring back to order 66--

“INCOMING!!” The sound of Ezra yelling makes them turn to see a giant blur of grey and brown charging towards them. Their eyes widen and Rex suddenly shouts-- “Move!!!” They all do so, jumping out of the way as far as they can, hearing the heavy footsteps run past them, Stutter laugher and acting downright crazy.

Rex lets out a groan as he stands up, hearing Fives laughing his ass off as he floats above them, whispering under his breath. “I’m getting too old for this.” The rest of the bad batch get up, Crosshair laughing at his baby brother. “Aren’t we all.” “Well, I’m not.” They all glare at Fives, who shrinks down, “Sorry.” He whispers, getting a sad and almost scared look. He floats down and both Jesse and Echo pat him on the back. “It’s okay, we know ya didn’t mean it.” Echo tells him, making Fives smile at them, almost sadly as the others nod as well.

A moment later, the ghost crew runs up to them, Ezra stops right next to Rex, out of breath. Rex chuckles and pats the sixteen year old’s head “You alright there, kiddo?” Ezra holds his ribs, obviously fighting a stitch. “We--....We’ve been... chasing him…. for an hour. How is he so fast? He’s nearly as old as you, right? Like, you’re fifty years old aren’t you?” Ezra is so out of breath, but soon recovers, so do the others.

Rex laughs and rubs the back of his neck “Well, we make look old, but we are actually only half our age. Stutter is only twenty five years old.” Ezra’s eyes widen, then his face heats up in embarrassment “Oh, sorry, I-I didn’t mean to call you old.” Rex smiles sweetly, about to talk, but Tech starts talking “No need to be sorry, us clones all have accelerated aging, so it is very often that we are mistaken to be older than we actually are. Studies say that--” “Shut up, Nerd. we know, you love to spout out facts. But now’s not the time.” Crosshair says, nudging Tech’s shoulder and then signalling in the direction that Stutter ran off to.

Rex sighs as Kanan looks over at him. “What is wrong with Stutter?” Rex barks out a laugh, as the others smile. “Stutter can’t handle sugar very well, and it seems that he ate Wreckers stash, so he’s just on a sugar rush. It’s happened a few times before.” Kanan internally facepalms, how was he so dumb not to think of that. “How did I not think of that? So this has happened before?” Rex nods as Crosshair chuckles. “Yep, the first time our poor Vod threw up on Kix’s shoes, as we were told. We..uh..weren’t there.” Crosshair frowns, trying to forget about what they had missed while they were separated from their Vod’e. Jesse smirks. “I was, it was hilarious, Kix was so grossed out, ha.” Everyone gets sad looks when he s[eaks about their missing Vod, but they brush them away for now.

Kanan chuckles. “He is fast, even when he was in his human form.” Rex nods. “Yeah, Stutter seems to get inhuman speed when he has a sugar rush, we still don’t understand it.” He then turns in the direction Stutter had gone. “Hey, Stutter! We’re back!!” They all wait a few minutes, as Sabine and Zeb leave. Then-- “R-Rex!!!” Stutter comes bolting around the corner, making Rex’s eyes widen. “Stutter! Wait, no--” Stutter slams into Rex, unable to stop and he falls on top of him, Then he quickly jumps up and starts running again. Rex sits up and rubs his head as the others bust a gut laughing.

“How long until he’s going to crash?” Hera asks, making Rex groan. “Matters how much candy he ate, it could be a bit though. Usually he’ll slow down a lot, then crash on the nearest person sitting. It’s pretty cute actually.” Rex tells them, and Echo nods. “Yeah, although it’s also a bit sad, when he gets a stomach ache in the end, but he’s always okay.” Rex smiles at Echo as he stands up as he stretches. “Lets go look for him, I can also transform so at least one of us can keep up with him.” They all nod, but Ezra looks up at Rex, frowning a little.”Are you comfortable with transforming in front of us?” Rex nods his head, returning the smile.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind at all.” Then follow Rex as he walks to Stutter’s room. They find all sorts of candy wrappers on the floor as Rex starts peeling off his armor. “Jeez, how much candy did you have Wrecker?” Kanan asks, and Wrecker shrugs. “I had saved credits for a long time to buy that big stash, so a lot.” Everyone groans, then Rex sighs. “I’m going to transform now, do you guys want to leave?” Everyone shakes their heads. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen before, Ori’Vod.” Hunter reassures him, then Kanan looks over with a smile. “As long as you’re comfortable.” Rex nods then he groans as he starts to transform.

Cracking is heard as he grows bigger, ears moving to the top of his head and becoming more pointed. Grey fur grows everywhere as his face elongates, white fur growing where his beard once was, and his bones rearrange. A long, fluffy tail grows from his backside, and swishes as he stands up straight and stretches. “It’s been a bit.” He whispers sadly, he hadn’t transformed since… since he had to fight a chip controlled Stutter, it’s bringing back the memories now. He feels a pat on his side, as he looks down to see Hunter. “How ya doing Rex.” Rex smiles back with sharp teeth. “Good, Hunter. I’m good.”

Rex stretches again and looks around, then he sees Ezra staring straight at him. Rex then realises that he has never seen him transform up close before. “It’s a little scarier up close.” He says quietly, not wanting to offend Rex or make him feel bad. Rex lets out a small nervous laugh. “Y-Yeah, I guess it is.” Rex understands what he means, but because he himself is a werewolf, he’s never really been freaked out or afraid of when Stutter has transformed right next to him while he’s still human. Though the first few times that he ever transformed, he was afraid-- no, terrified of himself.

A moment later, Stutter pokes his head around the corner in search of more candy, but when he can’t find any, he just whines but then starts laughing straight after, letting out a “N-Nope.” as he runs off again. Rex sighs, facepalming “This’ll be fun.” He says, making the others chuckle. “Go and do what you need to do, Rex. We’ll stay here and clean up.” Hunter pats Rex’s back with a smile and Rex nods. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be back soon, hopefully…” Rex sighs again before running out of the room and following Stutter’s scent.

He finds that Stutter has run back to the landing bay to where the purple Y-Wing is once again being attacked with paint. Rex shakes his head and laughs, watching as the twenty five year old goes absolutely wild and hyperactive. Rex swears that Stutter must be getting more paint on himself than the ship. He watches for a few moments more before he calls over to Stutter. “Stut’ika!”

The grey and brown wolf immediately stops at the sound of his nickname, turning around and smiling widely. “R-R-Rex!!” He yells back, running towards his Ori’Vod, almost tripping over when his mind races ahead of his body, unable to process the few crates that are lying around. Stutter reaches Rex and immediately slams himself into him. Rex chuckles, feeling Stutter lean into him. The poor Vod’ika feels so heavy in his arms, body falling almost completely limp into him, so Rex sits down against a wall, pulling Stutter up into his lap and into a more comfortable position.

Stutter starts to subconsciously play with the fur on Rex’s chest, making Rex hum and Stutter smiles at the comforting vibrations. “Y-You’re so f-fluffy, Ori-Ori’Vod.” Rex holds back laughter, instead he rubs the fluffier fur on Stutter’s head, making Stutter hum at the nice feeling, but he immediately whines. Rex’s eyes widen, not sure what has just caused him to sound in pain--

Stutter gags once before puking onto Rex, trickling down his torso and into his lap. Rex runs a hand up and down Stutter’s back. “R-Rex, I-I-I d-don’t fe-feel well.” He’s cut off by a whimper, throwing up a little more. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay.” Rex says comfortingly as Stutter chokes out the last bit of puke. Stutter looks at Rex, an apologetic and groggy look in his yellow eyes. “S-Sorry, R-Rex.” He whines a little, feeling bad for throwing up, but then everything goes black.

xxx

Rex hears a whimper as Stutter wakes up again, he’s only been sleeping for ten minutes. Rex smiles softly at him, as Stutter looks up. “You want to get cleaned up now?” Stutter nods, and Rex slowly stands up, holding Stutter bridal style in his arms, he starts heading to the refresher nearest to them. Stutter smiles softly. “Y-You car-carried me like th-this when we first m-m-met, ‘member.” He mumbles, making Rex smile. “Yeah, I remember. You were much easier to carry back then.” Stutter huffs, then whimpers softly as he clutches his stomach and nuzzles into Rex.

Rex sighs softly as he stops at the chopper base communal showers, it’s the only shower big enough for both their werewolf forms. He opens the door and ducks in, gently sitting Stutter down against a wall, right next to a shower. Then he gets it started and makes sure the water is warm, just how Stutter likes it. “There, ready?” He asks, and Stutter nods as Rex gently lifts him up, then he sets them both down in the shower.

Stutter hums as the warm water wets his fur, and Rex smiles as he starts scrubbing the puke out of Stutter’s fur. He grabs a small bottle of shampoo, it’s made for fur. They have some in every shower on Chopper base, just in case. He scrubs it into Stutter’s fur, making sure to be gentle near his head, where it’s still healing.

Stutter sighs as he clutches his stomach. “M’sorry for hur-hurting you… last time w-we were like th-this.” Rex freezes, then he sighs as the soap rinses out of Stutters fur. “Don’t be sorry, you had no control over the situation. I know you wouldn’t have hurt me if you were in control.” Stutter sighs and looks down, making Rex frown as he starts on his own fur.

Stutter starts to fall asleep again, and Rex smiles softly as he finishes washing himself, getting as much of the puke off of his pants as he can before turning the shower off. “Ready to get back to the others?” He asks as he carries Stutter over to a dryer spot, setting him down and grabbing some towels. “Y-Yeah… are th-they mad? Bec-Because I did th-this?” Rex sighs as he starts drying Stutter off, his fur poofing up quite a bit.

“No, no ones mad. We know it’s been a long time since you’ve had candy, and Wrecker’s stash had tempted you.” Stutter nods, and then Rex chuckles. “It was actually really nice to see you so happy, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen you like that.” Stutter chuckles hoursely. “Cr-Crazy?” He asks, and Rex nods. “Yeah, there was a long time we thought we would never get the chance to chase after you on a sugar rush again. So it’s nice. Reminds me of back then.” Stutter nods as Rex starts drying himself off, and he whimpers and clutches his stomach.

Rex feels worried and frowns. “Everything alright? Do you feel sick again?” Stutter nods, whimpering and leaning over to the side, away from Rex this time. Stutter pukes some more, feeling a comforting hand rub his back soothingly until he is dry heaving. “S-Sorry.” Stutter sits back against the wall, rubbing one side of his face with his hand, feeling so exhausted. Rex crouches down and wipes the puke off of Stutter’s snout. “It’s alright, Stut’ika. You don’t need to apologise for something that you can’t control.”

Stutter laughs dryly, wincing at the pain in his stomach “W-Well I was th-the one who got us in this pred-pred-predicament in the fi-first place, s-since I ate Wr-Wrecker’s entire st-stash of candy all i-in one go.” Rex smiles sadly, nuzzling the side of Stutter’s face and licking it a little, an affectionate gesture. “It’s not a problem at all. Like I said, it’s been years since you’ve had candy, so it’s okay that you’ve over indulged. And as long as you enjoyed it in the moment, then that is all that matters.”

Stutter nods, knowing that what Rex is saying is right, but he still feels so bad for letting himself get so sick. He gives Rex a hug, nuzzling into his fur and letting out a yawn. “Shall we go back to the others now?” Rex asks softly and Stutter nods, already wrapping his arms around Rex’s neck, letting Rex know that he’s ready to be picked up and carried back to his room. Rex scoops him up bridal style, then walks out of the showers and heads towards Stutter’s room.

He sees other rebels staring at the both of them, more in shock rather than fear or disgust. It makes a nice change for Stutter though, he was always being bullied by stormtroopers. It was bad enough having a stutter, but being a werewolf too? It was horrible, and he’s glad that he’s no longer a part of that stupid empire.

They both finally get to his room and walk in, seeing the blankets and pillows around all over the floor, creating a giant bed for them to all have-- “A c-cuddle p-pile?” Stutter’s eyes light up, happy that they are going to have a big cuddle pile. It’s been a long time since he’s had one. “Do y-you guys re-really w-want to? A-A-After...A-After all th-that I-I d-d-id.” Stutter’s nervousness is making him stutter more, his ears pressing back when he looks at everyone. They all frown, knowing that he’s talking about when he was unwillingly serving the empire.

Rex lays him down, then he sighs. “We already told you, it’s not your fault. It was the chip.” Stutter frowns, then he growls. “I st-still did i-it.” Rex sighs as the others do as well, they know that the can’t possibly understand what Stutter ws going through, none of the bad batch’s chips worked except for Wrecker’s and Crosshairs, Fives was a ghost, Jesse’s, Rex’s and Wrecker’s only worked for a little while, and even Crosshair wasn’t chipped for half as long as Stutter was. “Look, Stutter. None of us know exactly what you’re going through, but you need to believe us, none of what you did was your fault.” Hunter walks over and sits down beside Stutter, rubbing his back.

“We should have known you were alive, we should have figured it out somehow--” “We might have if I hadn’t of guessed you were dead because of your armor! It was dumb, just because they were throwing out your armor.” Crosshair growls, making Stutter flinch, and Rex and the others sigh. “Alright, it’s no one's fault, so please just stop blaming yourself, Crosshair. I could blame myself too, since I knew about the chips, but didn’t remember until too late.” Crosshair nods, then Fives flies closer to Stutter.

“It wasn’t your fault, the chip completely takes over your mind. Shit, when we found you, you didn’t even remember your name, Stut’ika. And we all know how much you treasure your name, you did nothing wro--” “I kil-killed kids, Fives! Inno-Inno-Innocent children no ol-older than ten, so-some as young as thr-three years o-old.” Stutter completely breaks down, crying into his hand as he clutches his stomach with the other, that feels like it’s trying to kill him. He feels like throwing up again, but he has already rid everything from his stomach, so he ends up breathing quickly as his body fights him to make him throw up again.

Rex feels like crying too. He can’t believe that he went through what he did for so long. He hates that the empire forced his Stut’ika to do things against his will. Rex knows what it's like, to be controlled by the chip and follow orders that are wrong. The worst part is...he knew they were wrong but he couldn’t stop. Rex sees Hunter sitting a little too close to Stutter, so he gently taps his shoulder, gesturing for Hunter to shuffle away.

Werewolves tend to lash out in one way or another when someone invades their personal space and gets too close. They only do this when they feel strong emotions such as intense sadness, stress, worry, fear, anxiety or pain. Rex knows this because he bit Kix. He knows that Kix was only trying to patch up his wounds, but he whipped his head to the side and clamped his jaw down on Kix’s arm. They thought that nothing would happen, but an hour later, Kix drops his datapad and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain. That’s when he grew bigger, brown fur sprouted out as his armour burst off and blacks ripped.

Rex and Stutter are always careful not to let that happen again, and they hope Kix won’t let that happen either, wherever he may be… Rex is quickly brought out of his thoughts when Stutter launches himself into Rex, hugging him tightly and sobbing. It’s a sign that they don’t mind being touched, so Rex puts his arms around Stutter and holds him close, laying down and nuzzling Stutter’s head as he continues to cry.

Stutter hates that he’s so weak. It brings back all of his horrible memories of his batchmates and the things that he was told by the empire. He lets the tears fall and soak into Rex’s fur, knowing that he doesn’t mind. He feels like the entire weight of the galaxy has been put on his shoulders, bringing him down and imprinting all of his horrible memories permanently into his mind. It’s just… all too...much, and--

xxx

Stutter hums softly as he starts to wake up, his eyes fluttering open as he feels soft fur under him. He groans as his back and legs ache, and so does his stomach, he’s definitely feeling the effects of that sugar rush now. He sees that he’s laying on top of Rex, who’s still in his werewolf form, sleeping.

Stutter smiles softly as he looks around to see that his brothers are all in a cuddle pile, they must have arranged it once he fell asleep. Stutter carefully moves off of Rex and to the blankets, laying between him and Crosshair, he whimpers softly as he clutches at his stomach, it’s not in as much pain as it was before, but he still has a pretty big stomach ache. He doesn’t dare wake any of his brothers though, he had already caused enough trouble during his sugar rush, and then freaking out and breaking down after.

He curls up and closes his eyes, trying to get some more sleep when-- “Stutter? You awake Vod’ika?” Stutter opens his eyes and turns over, seeing Crosshair looking at him. Stutter flinches. “So-Sorry, did I wa-wake you?” Stutter asks quietly, as not to wake the rest of his brothers, getting a guilty look. But Crosshair shakes his head, ruffling Stutters hair like he always used to. “No, I was already awake when you moved off of Rex. Are you okay?” Crosshair has a soft tone, one he always reserves for the people he cares about most, his brothers.

Stutter frowns and shakes his head. “N-No, I’m so so-sorry for last ni-night, the sug-sugar rush then frea-freaking ou--” “Don’t apologize, It’s perfectly fine.” Stutter nods, running a hand through his grey hair, it still has speckles of brown in it. “I still sh-shouldn’t have bro-broken down like th-that, I’m not a ch-child any-anymore.” Crosshair lets out a quiet laugh, making Stutter raise an eyebrow at him. “Stut’ika, no matter how old you get, you are going to act like a kid, it’s just your personality.” Stutter glares, but smiles softly. “Y-Yeah, prob-probably also me being mes-messed up from my batch-batchmates, and the em-empire.” Crosshair frowns. “We’re all messed up, there’s nothing wrong with you though, as I have said many times before. You are perfect just the way you are.” Stutter frowns and looks away.

“Not any-anymore, I killed ki-kids. I’m D-Duse like my batch-batchmates had said.” Stutter whispers, but then Crosshair growls. “No! Never, ever call yourself that, you are not a waste! Not at all, and I don’t want to ever hear you call yourself that ever again, understood!” Stutter flinches, but nods, and Crosshair sighs. “Have I told you about what I did in the empire?” Stutter shakes his head. “N-No.” Crosshair sighs. “My chip partly activated, and I almost killed Caleb when he was a padawan.” Stutter’s eyes widen as he looks at Crosshair, who sighs.

“Then they caught me and my brothers, and they took me and strengthened my chip. I shot Wrecker when they were escaping, and almost killed our baby sister, Omega, you haven’t met her yet. She’s a female clone, no double aging. She works on the other base with Organa.” Stutter nods. “Y-You… you al-almost kill-killed her, and shot Wr-Wrecker?” Crosshair nods then he continues. “I killed innocent Civilians, and almost disintegrated the boys. Don’t ask.” Crosshair sighs, trying to push the memories away, but then he looks over at Stutter. He smiles softly, reaching over and pulling Stutter close. “My point is that I did bad things too, and I’m the closest to knowing how you feel, even if I wasn’t chipped as long as you, or killed kids. I know it’s hard, but just like me, you have us. Always and forever, we will stand beside you.”

Stutter tears up, cuddling into Crosshair and lets out a happy hum of relief. Sometimes, a lot of times, he needs to hear those words, to be told that. “Th-Thank you, i-it’s hard to believe it th-though, after all I’ve be-been thr-through. But it’s ni-nice to hear som-someone telling m-me that.” Stutter hugs Crosshair a little tighter, feeling Crosshair place his forehead against his. “And we’ll tell you as many times as you want. Just remember, you are you. Stutter. Our Vod’ika. No one else, just you.”

Stutter pulls away and feels his lips form into a smile, but then he grimaces and makes a small noise of discomfort, placing a hand on his stomach again. Crosshair frowns with worry “What’s wrong? Do you have a belly ache?” Stutter nods, forcing a smile onto his face. “Y-Yeah, I’m fi-fine.” That’s a lie and Crosshair can tell when Stutter curls up in pain.

Crosshair pulls him close and gently massages his stomach, something they’ve had to do in the past. Stutter feels a little embarrassed that he’s in so much pain that Crosshair is comforting him in the same way he did when they were younger. He won’t lie, it does feel nice, but he doesn’t want to burden Crosshair with his needs “I’m a b-bit too old for th-this Cross.” He says and Crosshair shrugs, continuing. “I don’t think that you are too old for anything. Wrecker still has his Lula, despite him being a fully grown adult now.” Crosshair says, making Stutter softly chuckle, then hum as he feels the effect of Crosshair rubbing his stomach getting to work in making him feel better.

There’s suddenly a shuffling right next to him, making him look to the side to see Rex waking up, who lets out a big yawn. He groggily opens his yellow eyes, which look at Stutter with pure gentleness and kindness. “Mornin’, Stut’ika. You’re human again, how’re you feeling? Still got a stomach ache?” He asks, seeing Crosshair rubbing Stutter’s stomach comfortingly. Stutter nods. “Y-Yeah, but not as ba-bad as y-yesterday.” Stutter smiles as he runs a hand along the fur on Rex’s arm, humming contently “Yo-You haven’t tran-transformed back y-yet?”

Rex looks at Stutter and then down at himself “Ah, yeah. I must’ve just been so subconsciously worried about you that I haven’t been able to transform back yet.” Stutter feels bad when Rex tells him that “S-Sorry, Rex. I-I didn’t mean to w-worry you.” Rex shakes his head and ruffles Stutter’s hair. “No need to apologise, Stut’ika. As long as you are okay now, that is all that matters.” Rex tells him, nuzzling his hair and licking it a few times.

Some moments pass before Rex starts to shrink and transform back to normal. His bones rearrange and fur disappears until he is left bare chested, only wearing his torn pants. The others wake up too, stretching as they sit up and smile, seeing Rex and Stutter both back to human. There’s going to be many times like these, they all know that, but they’ll be there for him, no matter what.

Taglist: @haloangel391 @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @lightning-wolffe @captainrexisboo

21 notes · View notes

i-stan-nct-and-satan · 4 years

Text

Not Broken Part 15 (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Jaehyun X Reader

Not Broken Masterlist

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten’s a cross-dressing madam so….. yeah read it ya freaks.

This chapter is dedicated to @rinzennie who designed a lovely banner for the Not Broken Masterlist. Thank you so much for your support!

Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse. Light depictions of self harm and suicide

Taeyong led us into the parlor room where Jeno was already waiting for us along with two other staff members.

Mere moments after we arrived, we heard the sounds of an approaching car engine. Jeno nodded at Taeyong and then towards the two staff members who quickly positioned themselves in front of the two large entrance doors.

Taeyong leaned in before whispering, “Don’t look so nervous. You’ll be fine.”

I nodded, grateful for his words of encouragement though my nerves were anything but soothed.

As the two men opened the doors, bright ribbons of light began to shine violently through the increasing gap. After having spent several days cooped up inside, my eyes were more irritated than appreciative towards the unanticipated blast of vitamin d.

Before my eyes could fully adjust to the light, both Taeyong and Haechan were gone from my side. Once I caught a glimpse of their vanishing figures, I began to follow shortly behind.

“Mrs. Lee! What a pleasure it is to see you!” Taeyong greeted, opening the door of the sleek black Hyundai.

Despite it being bright out, I was unable to even see anything except darkness stirring from within the car. When Taeyong extended his hand out, I realized why that was the case. A black glove covered hand reached out towards Taeyong’s, only instead of accepting the gesture, it handed him a large black leather bag. Taeyong was caught off guard by the action and almost fell forward from the abrupt weight he had been entrusted with holding. I instinctively took a step forward, intent on helping him out but Haechan held me in place by my arm.

“Watch, you’re not gonna wanna miss this,” He chuckled, a wicked grin etched on his face.

A thin figure dressed head to toe in black slowly emerged from the expensive car which sported a similar hue.

I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn’t expecting this.

Her outfit looked like that of a 19th century widower still mourning the loss of her husband... but sexy?

Crushed velvet wrapped itself around her curvy frame. The dress’s hovered only a few inches above the pavement. Every inch of her skin was covered, but by a fabric so tight I could easily see the Madam owning such an ensemble. Everything except for the hat at least, which was draped in a loose charcoal colored netting that covered the wearer’s face completely.

I watched as she pulled the netting away from her face, lifting it to reveal a face much younger than I had been expecting. From the looks of it, she couldn’t have been older than 36, even though that couldn’t be the case as Jaehyun was 22. That’s when I remembered that Jaehyun was adopted when he was eight years old, so it wasn’t impossible for her to only be in her mid-thirties.

She looked around, paying no mind to Taeyong as he continued to greet her. When her eyes caught sight of Jeno unloading her bags, she cried out his name.

“Jeno!”

Jeno had just finished setting down a rather large suitcase when he was ambushed by the former lady of the house. I watched her pull the taller towards her, causing him to stumble into her embrace.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you!” She squealed, only allowing him to withdraw from her arms so she could get a good look at him.

“Goodness, Jeno! You’ve lost so much weight! Your cheeks are practically concave!”

Her hands reached out to grab at the fleshy tissue which was painted red with embarrassment. I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. I wondered how anyone could ever look at Jeno and see someone who was slowly withering away.

Despite his flustered state, Jeno smiled at the woman, his eyes disappearing into little crescents.

“How are you Mrs. Lee? It’s been quite a while since we last spoke.”

“Mrs. Lee?! Jeno, I needn’t remind you again. I will not be referred to by my former title, especially not by you. I am no longer the lady of the house and nor is my late husband the current master. Thus, I shall not be referred to by hisfamily name. Let the staff know that I shall only be addressed with my given name, Ho. You, however, are family. You may call me by either of my first names.”

“Ah. Yes, Hyun-ju.” Jeno corrected himself.

There was something off about her voice, something I couldn’t quite place. While her manner of speaking wasrefined in nature, her nasally accent made her sound more thuggish in a way. Despite the apparent roughness in her tone, I found it almost comforting in a way I didn’t understand. It felt familiar.

“How are things going with that that boyfriend of yours? Is he adjusting well to working with the children?” She whispered to Jeno.

Jeno nodded.

“I had yours and Mr. Lee’s old bedroom prepared for your arrival,” Taeyong announced, interrupting their reunion.

“Why on earth would you think I’d want to sleep in a room filled with reminders of my late husband? I mean really, Taeyong. Use your head for once!”

“Ah. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Taeyong apologized sheepishly.

“I will be staying in one of the guest rooms in the north wing so that I can be near my daughter-in-law. Now, where is she?”

Haechan’s elbow dug into my side reinforcing that I had been summoned.

To say that I was nervous would have been an understatement. If I wanted Jaehyun to keep his word, I’d have to make as good of an impression as I could on.

“Hello,” I quietly greeted, drawing her attention to my presence.

The woman slowly strutted towards me, pausing to take in my appearance I as I had done with hers. Her cold eyes were somehow more frightening than even her son’s. I didn’t know that such a stare could be passed down from parent to child, especially those who lacked common blood.

I held my breath, sure that I had already somehow managed to spoil her first impression of me. I braced myself for whatever cold response was coming my way when her eyes began to crinkle.

She was smiling. No, not just smiling; she was laughing.

“Oh sweetie, don’t look so scared! I don’t bite! And speak up, will you? I know you can, us being cut from the same cloth and all.”

Suddenly, it became clear as to why her voice sounded so familiar.

“You’re American?” I asked, making sure to speak clearly.

“Born in N’York but grew up on the streets of Jersey. At least till’ I got a nice gig here in Seoul. H’bout you? Where ya from?”

I was taken aback when Mrs. Ho’s formal Korean was suddenly replaced with crass English. I was so caught off guard that I could only gawk at her in response.

“What’s wrong with ya? Cat got ya tongue?”

I swallowed before responding in English.

“Oh, umm. I moved around a lot, but I guess you could say I grew up in Colorado.”

I became aware that Mrs. Ho was smacking her gum as she listened. I explained the states that I had lived in, heronly interjecting to say, “uh huh,” “yeah,” or “I see.” When I was done, she looked at me expectantly.

“Yes?” I asked, still nervous.

“Well, go on then.”

I stared blankly.

Mrs. Ho rolled her eyes, though telling from the smirk on her face, she seemed more amused than annoyed.

“Introduce ya’self. Tell me ya name.”

“Oh! Umm.”

“Come on now, spit it out. I ain’t got all day.”

“Y/N,” I finally answered.

“Y/N, huh? Well, you can call me by my English name, Jessi.”

I hesitated, unsure whether it was really okay for me to refer to her so casually.

“Why? What’s the matter? Don't tell me ya surprised. We’re family now after all.”

“Oh, okay.”

Wow she really has a lot of names.

“Great, now that that’s settled.”

Jessi turned back towards the car where Jeno and Taeyong were standing idly by.

“Taeyong, bring my bags to my room,” She ordered, switching back to Korean.

“Mrs. Lee- I mean, Hyun-ju, I can bring your bags in,” Jeno vocalized.

A relieved look spread across Taeyong’s features.

“Nonesense! Jeno, honey, you and I need to go over the plans for this week. Let Taeyong do it, he could use a bit of weight training.”

“PFFFFT!”

Haechan struggled to maintain his composure as a string of muffled giggles escaped from the short male.

“This is going to be a hell of a week, isn’t it, Y/N?”

<><><>

Haechan led me back to my room while Mrs. Ho, or Jessi as she told me to call her, got settled in. A few hours later Jeno came by to inform me that I had been summoned to her room. As we walked, Jeno took the time to give me advice on how to get along with the former lady of the house and also to quiz me on my backstory.

“She says that she wants to get to know you before jumping straight into matters regarding the wedding,” Jeno informed me.

When we got to the door, Jeno knocked a few times before entering.

The room was smaller than what I had anticipated. It was still much larger than the bedroom I was staying in, but I couldn’t imagine that Jaehyun’s mother would turn down the master bedroom in favor of more modest accommodations. The bed was littered in neatly folded clothing, which Jessi was currently organizing into drawers. Though she was well aware that we had entered the room, Jessi continued to place the articles one by one into the dresser as we stood and watched.

Once the top drawer was closed shut, she turned to face us.

“Sorry about that, I guess I still had a bit more unpacking to do when I asked you to come.”

“It’s no bother,” I replied humbly.

Jessi hummed in approval before switching her focus onto Jeno.

“Jeno, do be a sweetheart and leave us ladies to engage in a bit of gossip.”

She smiled sweetly at Jeno who nodded before making a swift exit from the room.

It was just us now.

Jessi gestured towards a nearby chair which I promptly sat in. Instead of sitting in the chair across mine, she began to walk away.

“Now I know that you were probably nervous to meet me and that you probably just as nervous now,” She spoke using the same formal manner she used earlier,

She paused, glancing back at me expectantly.

“Oh, um I-” I couldn’t help but stutter.

“Oh, no. I understand completely. It can be a daunting thing, meeting your mother-in-law. Let me assure you that I am very much impressed with what I’ve seen so far. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? You’re beautiful, polite although a bit tense, and anyone who can manage to win my Jaehyun’s heart has to be interesting. Plus, I heard from Taeyong, that you’re more than willing to challenge him when you see fit.”

I allowed myself to relax a bit.

“That’s always a good thing in my book,” She chuckled.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling more at ease with myself.

“But...”

My eyes widened; my relief short-lived.

Uh oh.

“But I must say that I find performative niceties to be more tiring than charming.”

Jessi pulled her purse from the ground and began walking back towards me.

“If you plan on putting on a façade to earn my approval, then you won’t get it. Agreeable people bore me.”

Jessi pushed the open chair closer to mine so that when she finally sat down, her knees were mere inches away from mine.

“I want to get to know who’s really marrying my Jaehyun, not who you think I want marrying him.”

My heart felt like it was sinking deeper and deeper into my wounded ribcage. She opened her bag, reached inside,and grabbed onto something choosing to not yet free it from its leather confines.

“So, I guess what I’m asking is...” She began pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Are ya gonna waste my time? Or are we gonna have a real honest drink?”

<><><><>

“Wait really?!”

“Really! I swear it’s true! When Louis died, none of us had the heart to tell him, so we just adopted a new cat and told Jaehyun that Louis had a rare condition that made his fur change color.”

I guess that’s why Taeyong told me not to pick the name Loius when he offered to get me a cat.

“Wait so did he ever figure it out?”

Jessi took another swig from the Jack bottle before bursting into laughter.

“That’s the thing. The first time we did it, Jaehyun was 9 years old,” She revealed.

“The first time?” I gawked, unable to keep myself from joining in on the laughter.

“Louis number two got into a scrap with a stray dog and lost. Damn, I shouldn’t be laughing. That’s not the funny part, the funny part was that after three days after Louis went missing, Jaehyun came rushing into the kitchen shouting ‘I found Louis, his fur changed color again!’ The boy was 13!”

The two of us toppled over one another drowning in our own laughter. As the conversation went on and the liquor bottle became lighter, Jessi and I found ourselves entangled in each other on the floor. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I never thought meeting my future mother-in-law would go like this.

“So, what happened then?” I asked, pleading for her to go on.

“We kept the cat for a week before missing cat posters starting poppin’ up all over the neighborhood. Ji-eun and I considered buying a new cat and just telling him that his fur changed again, but Sooman decided that it was time for Jaehyun to grow up. The poor boy, he was always a sensitive one, but ya could tell he was holding back in front of his father.“

“Sensitive? Jaehyun? Please, there isn’t a sensitive bone in-”

I stopped myself, worried about what possible reaction she could have to me badmouthing her son, the man I was supposed to be “in love with,” but when I looked at her, she had on a soft smile.

“I know that Jaehyun can be a hardass sometimes, but would you believe me if I told you he wasn’t always like this?”

Without waiting for my response, Jessi stood up from the floor, leaving the Jack bottle behind. She walked over to the nightstand and picked up a small picture frame.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this, but from the moment we signed the adoption papers, Jaehyun’s fate was sealed. He was to be the future of NCT. Although Sooman was already thirty-four at that point, I was only twenty-four years old, not much older than you. I tried to give him as much love as a mother could give, but Sooman was focused more on being his mentor than on being his father.” She explained, switching back to formal Korean

She lifted the frame in order to get a better look at it, smiling as she did so.

“You know, sometimes Ji-eun seemed more suited for the role of successor than he was, not that it mattered. You see the Mobb world is one ruled by outdated values,” She continued, handing me the frame.

“This was before Jisung and Chenle joined our family.”

It was a simple family portrait, the picture itself was no bigger than a postcard. There were four people in the photo. I recognized one of the subjects to be Sooman. I only knew what he looked like because of the few pictures of him I came across within the estate. Nothing about him particularly stood out to me. He looked like a normal middle-aged Korean man. His hair wasn’t dyed an unnatural color like his son’s was, nor did he have the most handsome features.

Also, in the picture was a younger looking Jessi and a much younger looking Jaehyun holding in his arms what I assumed to be Louis number two. I took notice of the small divots that centered his cheeks. His face was much chubbier than it was now and his body much less developed. From what I could tell he must have been around thirteen years old at the time the photo was taken. Standing next to him was a young girl much taller than he but seemed to be only a few years older.

IU.

Despite hearing about IU from a few of the members, I hadn’t ever seen any pictures of her around the house. The only time I had ever seen her face was after it had been bloodied and beaten, the night I met Lucas.

She was a very beautiful young girl. She wrapped one of her arms around her brother’s shoulder in a manner that seemed protective in nature. They all smiled in the picture, but her smile was the brightest.

They looked happy.

“Jaehyun was a sweet child, although he was quite the troublemaker. Ji-eun on the other hand was so well behaved, it was almost heartbreaking. She was well aware that her adoption was a product of Sooman’s wishes to find an heir so she did whatever she could to keep from being a bother. I wish she would have acted out just a little bit though, just so that I could have shown that my love for her wasn’t conditional.”

Jessi pressed her back against the wall and slid back down to the floor where I was sitting. We both leaned against the wall staring off into space. She continued to speak, while I continued to quietly listen.

“Her and Jaehyun were inseparable at first. He relied on her to communicate for him since he still struggled with his speech. We hired speech therapists, language teachers, psychologists, you name it, but he still wouldn’t say a word unless he was whispering it into his Ji-eun's ear. In the end, it was her who got him to start speaking. I don’t know how she did it, but she did. After that, he slowly became more independent. Even then, they were still closer than twins. He was a bit of a crybaby if you can believe it, which obviously didn’t please my husband. He wanted nothing more than for Jaehyun to be the cold-hearted fighter that he was at that age but Jaehyun had no interest in the family business; he wanted to be an idol.”

I felt more confused than surprised. Were we really talking about the same Jaehyun? It seemed like every time Jaehyun’s childhood was brought up, young Jaehyun was described as the total antithesis to the man I knew.

“An idol? Like a Kpop star?”

“Yes, exactly. Jaehyun always had an interest in music. I used to catch him sneaking out at night to go busking in Hongdae. Luckily his father never found out about that.”

Jessi let out a long drawn out sigh as she stared at the Jack bottle. Although we both made a significant dent in it, neither of us were more than a tipsy at most. Probably for the best since Jeno came by to remind us that there was going to be a formal dinner to welcome the former lady of the house.

“When Jaehyun had just turned 14, he asked Ji-eun to give him idol makeup. Sooman was furious when he walked in on them. I told him that it was harmless fun, but all he could focus on was the fact that the future of his organization was playing makeup. After that, Sooman practically threw him into the family business, forcing him on his first mission just a few weeks later.”

Jessi laughed.

“Men, right?” She joked in English, giving me a glance.

“He thought the mission would toughen him up a bit, ya know, teach him some responsibility. The mission was different from what NCT was used to. Basically, they were trying to in smuggle guns using fishermen’s boats. Jaehyun was supposed to stand watch by the docks. Sooman gave him a tranquilizer gun and a walkie talkie, told him to stun anyone who might be poking their nose in the wrong place then to let everyone know.”

I quirked my head to the side wondering why her story sounded so familiar, like I had somehow heard it before.

“Well, you might have guessed it, but someone did come by. Instead of doing what he was instructed, Jaehyun got scared and hid under a table. The poor boy was scared beyond belief. He didn’t want to give away his position by talking into the walkie talkie, so the guy ended up walking into the middle of everything and the whole mission blew up. A few men were killed either by the dock guards themselves or the police who came shortly after. Over twenty of our men were arrested, most of which were from Wayv.”

“Oh my god!”

Surprised by my outburst, Jessi’s eyes shot from the liquor bottle back to mine.

“It was Jaehyun? He’s the one who got Lucas’s dad locked up?”

Jessi’s surprised expression melted away as she let out a dry chuckle.

“Guess someone already told you this story. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you that little detail.”

“Lucas told me the night he...”

I paused, not sure if I wanted to finish my sentence.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin,” She hummed reaching a hand out to cup my cheek.

“We don’t have to talk about that anymore.“

She spoke in English, but it wasn’t in her usual tone. It was somehow softer.

I felt strangely comforted by the gesture. It had been so long since anyone spoke that softly to me. I unconsciously placed my hand over hers, not wanting her to let go.

“My mother used to call me that,” I choked out.

My stomach clenched as her face contorted in confusion. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but the wave of emotion that washed over me was almost too much to bear. I felt relief when, instead of pulling away, Jessi brought her other hand to my face, wiping away a stream of tears I didn’t realize were staining my cheeks.

She smiled.

“Jeno told me about your parents. I’m sure they would be so proud of you if they were able to see the fine young woman you’ve become.”

The tears only fell faster after hearing her kind words.

I had no idea what my parents would think if they saw me today. Would they be embarrassed that their only daughter became a burlesque dancer? Would they feel shame hearing how badly my life has gone since their deaths?

My worries were instantly vanquished as I felt strong arms pulling me into their embrace.

“Just knowing that their little girl is alive and healthy would be enough for them,” She cooed.

Jessi held me, allowing me to cry in her arms until the tears had run out. When she released me, I became mortified at the sight of the snot and tears that stained her dress sleeve. She merely laughed it off and changed into a dress that seemed to be an exact copy of the first. When she finished changing, she sat me down in front of her vanity and began fixing my braid which had become messy from my crying.

“I still can’t believe that Jaehyun stepped in to save you from that customer,” Jessi laughed.

“Yeah... I can’t really believe it either,” I replied, forcing the words out with an equally forced smile.

Jessi smiled but I could tell that she had a lot on her mind.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

I made eye contact with her reflection.

“That obvious, huh?” She chuckled.

I looked down at my lap.

“If I’m honest, hearing the story of how you two met gave me quite the bit of relief.”

I lifted my head back up to look at her.

“After Ji-eun died, Jaehyun didn’t have anyone left who could fully understand him. The mistakes he made during that mission weighed heavily on him. Sooman sent the both of them to America to wait until things blew over. His father was the one to push him into a role he wasn’t ready for, but he could only blame himself for the lives that were lost due to his actions. He began to take his role as his father’s successor more seriously even changing his name from Yoon-oh to Jaehyun in an attempt to distance himself from his past self. He only allowed himself to be his honest self when he was with Ji-eun, and sometimes not even with her. When Sooman died, everyone thought he was still too young, too inexperienced, so he had to become a colder, more hardened version of himself. I remember even Ji-eun struggled to break down his walls at that point. He blamed himself for her death thinking he was the reason Lucas’s dad died and why Wayv betrayed NCT in the first place, but that wasn’t the only reason he blamed himself.”

Jessi paused the story to wrap a hair tie around my newly braided locks.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, a few months after Jaehyun took over his father’s role as leader, he held a ball here at the estate.”

“A ball? Like some Cinderella type shit?”

Jessi let out a snicker at my crudeness.

“I guess you could say that. Balls are commonplace in the mob world. They’re often used as political tools. Host a ball, seal connections, earn trust. This ball was meant to keep up the appearance of a strong front. To show that even after Sooman’s death, that NCT was in good hands. That’s why, when Ji-eun said she didn’t want to attend, Jaehyun wasn’t pleased.”

“Why didn’t she want to go?”

“Who knows? She wouldn’t say. Jaehyun practically had to force her to attend. That’s when-”

“That’s when she was taken, right?” I chimed in.

Jessi could only stare back at me.

“Oh. Sorry,” I apologized, aware that my interruption was insensitive.

“Don’t apologize. You’re right after all.”

The two of us stayed in silence for several moments. Me sitting down, her standing up. I racked my brain, desperately trying to find a way to change the subject without it sounding forced. Luckily, I didn’t have to.

“Y/N?” Jessi voiced.

“Yes?”

“Promise me that no matter what, you’ll try to be understanding of Jaehyun. I know that he can be a bonehead sometimes, but he really is a good man.”

I was caught off guard by the sudden request.

“Hearing the story of how you two met, it made me hopeful for the future. Jaehyun isn’t one to poke his nose in other people’s business, but the mere fact that he intervened to save you from that man brings me great comfort. It’s been years since I’ve seen a glimmer of the old Jaehyun, but from what it sounds like, you’ve been able to get him to open up, even if just a bit.”

Jessi scootched out from behind me and took a seat on the vanity table.

“He obviously wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t care for you. I just hope that you’re able to keep chipping away at the walls he built around himself. He could use a friend now that Ji-eun is gone.”

Jessi stared back at me.

How was I supposed to tell her that the story of how Jaehyun was all an elaborate lie made up to keep her from know the truth? That her son wasn’t the one who had saved me but the man I needed saving from. The man who kidnapped me, beat me and was still holding me captive in order to further his own self-interest. How was I supposed to tell this woman that her son was a monster?

That was it though. I wasn’t supposed to tell her any of that.

My only role was to keep up this deranged façade in the hopes that it would get me out of this mess, so keep it up I would.

“I promise.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Jaehyun might have Taeyong, but I’m glad that he’ll have someone like you to keep him in check as well.”

I was ridden with guilt. Here Jessi was, comforting me and treating me like her own daughter and yet all I could do was lie to her, not only about who her son was, but about who I was as well. I could barely stand myself right now.

“Hey, Jessi?”

“Yes?”

“Since you brought him up, I wanted to ask. Who is Taeyong to Jaehyun?””

“Oh, you don’t know?”

I shook my head.

“Jaehyun and Taeyong have been friend since Jaehyun and Ji-eun came to live with us.”

“Really? That long?” I asked.

“Well, Taeyong’s lived here at the estate since he was a little boy. Even longer than Jaehyun and Ji-eun. His parents were actually members of our staff.”

“Oh, so do the staff’s children often live at the estate?” I asked.

“No, never. Taeyong was a special case. His father, Jong-in, was one of Jaehyun’s guards while his mother, Jennie, was head of staff. When Taeyong was only five years old, there was an attack on the manor and his father died after taking a bullet for my husband. To repay Taeyong’s father for his sacrifice, Sooman covered all of their family's expenses and allowed them to move into the estate. Sooman always makes a point to repay his debts, but if we’re being honest, I’m pretty sure he just didn’t want to lose her as a staff member. Like Jeno, she was very good at her job.”

I nodded as she continued to talk about Taeyong. I knew that he and Jaehyun were close, but I had no idea they grew up together.

“Besides, Ji-eun, Taeyong was Jaehyun’s closest companion although they didn’t get along at first. Taeyong was a bit rebellious growing up but he wasn’t a bad kid. He got into fights nearly every week and even got kicked out of school. We ended up having to send him to the same private school as Jaehyun. When Jaehyun started talking, he’d always try to play with Taeyong but I think Taeyong saw him as more of a nuisance than anything else. The only reason they got close was because of Ji-eun. Taeyong had such an obvious crush on her, it was adorable, really. He’d follow her around all day like a puppy dog, asking if she needed anything or if anyone was bothering her at school. Instead of asking anything for herself, she’d ask him to take care of Jaehyun when they were at school. Since Jaehyun was the sensitive type, he was often picked on by his peers. Ji-eun was in high school so she couldn’t do anything while Jaehyun was at the middle school. So, despite him being the same age as Jaehyun, Taeyong became Jaehyun’s protector. Now that Jaehyun’s become so much larger than Taeyong, it’s hard to believe that he was ever the one who needed protecting.”

Jessi stood up from the vanity to head to the nearby dresser.

“Taeyong and Ji-eun.” Jessi hummed their names.

"I always thought they’d end up together. It’s too bad. I know I’m hard on the kid, but you really couldn’t ask for a better son-in-law.”

Jessi picked up a pair of earrings, taking special care to put them on.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking but what type of man was his father?” I asked.

“To say that he was a kind man would make even the devil laugh He did have his moments though. You might have heard already but our marriage to one another wasn’t out of love, or at least not out of mutual love. I apparently caught his fancy at an event meant to celebrate my parent’s gang joining EXO. He asked them for my hand before even asking me. Despite my wishes, they agreed. I tried to get out of it, but you can probably guess how that worked out. It was hard at first, but I eventually accepted my new life. It wasn’t all bad. Sooman was a fair man who respected my boundaries and he never made me feel guilty for my inability to have children.”

“Ah.” I reacted, not knowing what to say back.

“As you’ve probably already guessed it, we didn’t adopt Jaehyun and Ji-eun simply out of the kindness of our hearts. Finding out about my condition was extremely hard for the two of us but Sooman never showed me any resentment. If anything, he was more worried about me and my feelings about it than about his lack of an heir. After we found Jaehyun and Ji-eun, we had no need for any more children, but we adopted them out of respect for their fathers.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” I asked, genuinely curious.

You see, after the mission failed and several NCT member’s lives were lost, Sooman did everything he could to make up for his apparent negligence. While most of his reparations came in the form of financial assistance, for two of his men, repaying his debt wasn’t so easy. Both of the men had sons. Jisung’s father, Taemin, ran away from his family when he was only 12 years old and his wife died during childbirth so there was no one to take care of his son when he died. That’s why Sooman and I decided to adopt him.”

“And Chenle?”

“Chenle’s father had a similar situation. He was one of the Wayv members that ended up in jail following the mission. He was killed in the prison yard by a rival gang. Unlike Jisung, Chenle had an older sibling, but the two had never met. His father had an affair with a woman outside of his marriage and had gotten her pregnant. He rented out an apartment for them in Itaewon so he could keep their existence a secret from his main family. Sooman only found out about this when he received a call from the man’s lawyer. The lawyer gave him an unofficial version of his last will and testament which specified where to find the son and mother. It requested that the two of them be taken care of if anything were to happen to him. He also requested that Chenle be kept away from anything relating to NCT or gang activity in general.”

“Wait so Chenle’s mother is still alive?”

Jessi noticeably hesitated before going on.

“Sadly, no.” She answered.

“Oh.”

“Instead of calling, Sooman immediately went to the address listed on the document and thank god he did. Nobody answered the door when he knocked but he could clearly hear a child crying on the other side. He ended up breaking the door down to find Chenle lying beside his mother’s body.”

“Holy shit. What?” I blurted out.

“She must have found out about her lover’s death and decided life wasn’t worth living. At first, Sooman wasn’t even planning to support the two. He thought that the will had been a scam and that the woman was trying to get a free lunch or something. Once he realized that he was responsible for not only the father’s death, but the mother’s too, he accepted Chenle as his own son. Jisung was six and Chenle was seven when we adopted them, so they were old enough to remember some details regarding their past lives but thankfully Chenle wasn’t old enough to understand what happened to his mother that day.

“Does he ever ask about his parents?”

“A few questions here and there. He knows that they died but he doesn’t know how. We told him it was a car accident. Apparently, his father must not have visited often since he wasn’t able to recognize him from any of the photos we showed him. He doesn’t even know that his father worked with NCT and I’d like to keep it that way. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“I won’t say anything.” I promised.

Jessi stared at me as if gauging her trust in me.

“Good, Let’s head down to the dining room. We don’t want to keep everybody waiting now, do we?”

<><><>

Jessi and I made our way downstairs where we were greeted by a staff member who escorted us towards the dining room. When we entered, I was surprised to see that all the members were already seated and cheerfully conversing among themselves. Well, almost all of them.

Johnny was the first to notice our presence. He cleared his throat, catching the attention of those around him and thus towards us as well. The only thing keeping the room from falling silent was the sudden chorus of soft scraping sounds emitted from the men’s chairs as they all stood up to greet us.

Jeno pulled out a chair for Jessi to sit in next to the head of the table while the staff member who escorted us did the same for me. As we sat down, so did everyone else. There was only one empty chair remaining next to where Jessi and I sat across from one another. I didn’t have to look around the room to know who the empty chair belonged to.

I kept my head forwards unsure of what to do. Nobody was speaking and I didn’t want to be the one to break the silence.

I quickly looked around the table. A mixture of concerned and bored faces stared back.

Next to Jessi was a very anxious red head who greatly juxtaposed the disinterested medic sitting next to me. I turned towards him expectantly yet Winwin only continued to look forward.

I didn’t know what I was hoping for, “Are you okay?” “How are you feeling?” or even just a simple “Hello,” would have sufficed. Anything that would let me know whether I could consider him an ally. What I was met with instead was apathetic indifference.

“If I wanted to attend a funeral setting, I would have visited my husband’s grave. Seriously, what’s with this solemn mood?” Jessi marveled, poking fun at the intensity that dominated the room’s aura.

“I’m sure they’re all just waiting for you to tell them one of your stories, mother.”

Everyone turned towards the sudden voice to see the head of the estate as he approached the table. Once again, the members of NCT stood up. Even I was about to stand up until Winwin placed a hand on my shoulder queuing that it was not my place to stand. I felt a tinge of reassurance from the unanticipated gesture though it didn’t do much to ease me otherwise.

“You may be seated,” The man announced.

I felt an alarming amount of anxiety from the room’s newest occupant, but that didn’t stop me from blatantly staring at him as he made his way towards the head of the table.

His rose gold locks, which had been fading more and more with each day, had been replaced by a light shade of natural brown similar to that of a chestnut. It was styled in its usual fashion; pushed back and out of his eyes, with not a strand out of place. His attire, while not as formal as it was the night of the performance, still gave off an air of aristocratic poshness. A black button up tucked into black slacks held up by a black belt. Not exactly something the average son would wear to have dinner with his mother, though this was far from the average family get together and Jaehyun was far from the average man.

Jaehyun smirked, aware of the eyes that were on him.

“It’s good to see you, mother.” He asked as he bent down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s good to see you too, especially since you’ve finally gotten rid of that ridiculous pink hair of yours.”

Jaehyun gave an honest laugh in response to his mother’s words.

“Please excuse me for not being able to welcome you myself. I had some business I needed to attend to.”

"Oh no, it’s fine. It gave me a chance to spend some alone time with the lovely Y/N, here.” She responded, gesturing towards me from across the table.

Jaehyun hummed in response, having fixed his gaze onto me.

“Am I to assume that your first meeting was a pleasant one?” He asked, flashing his charming smile.

Though his expression was what one would expect from that of a loving fiancé, I knew the true meaning of his words.

“I’d say it was more than pleasant. Y/N is a well-rounded young lady with the kind of spark you don’t see much of nowadays. I must say I’m a little suspicious.”

“Hm? What on earth do you mean?” Jaehyun asked, keeping his cool.

“You’re not being held hostage are you, dear?” Jessi asked as she turned towards me.

My breathing hitched and I instinctively looked up at Jaehyun who seemed just as surprised by the question as I was.

I opened my mouth to reply but Jessi beat me to the cut.

“I mean how else could you find someone to put up with your snappy temperament,” She snickered.

Several of the table’s occupants, began to laugh awkwardly, Jaehyun and I included.

“As always, mother, your humor is second to none,” Jaehyun said, leaving his mother’s side to take his place at the table.

“And how is my little mouse?” He asked reaching a hand towards mine.

Before I could think better of it, I quickly withdrew my hand from his.

Big mistake.

Realizing what I had done, my eyes flickered between Jessi’s furrowed brows and Jaehyun’s menacing glare.

“Honey, not in front of everyone.” I whined, doing my best to make a cute but bashful expression.

Jaehyun’s threatening stare swiftly turned into one of bewilderment. His eyes only left mine once Jessi began to laugh whole heartedly.

“Oh, you don’t have to act shy in front of me, dear. I know how kids are when they’re engaged,” Jessi insisted.

I smiled at her and looked to Jaehyun who nodded in approval. He held his hand over the lower half of his face to hide the smirk that wouldn’t seem to leave his lips.

<><><>

Dinner lasted around an hour. Jessi took turns asking each of the members questions and simply catching up with one another. I was happy to listen to them all talk about things not having to do with me since it meant less chances for me to mess up. The liquor that lingered in my bloodstream granted me a bit of comfort though it did little to protect me from the unease that came from Jaehyun’s constant stare.

When dinner was finished and everyone was dismissed, I stood up only to be pulled back down by an abrupt hand. I turned towards the hand’s owner.

Jaehyun didn’t say anything. He instead waited for everyone to leave the dining room including the staff whom he waved away.

Once it was just the two of us, Jaehyun stood up, throwing his napkin onto his plate.

“Training starts at 5 a.m. Get there early if you have to, just don’t be late. I don’t think you want to know what will happen if you make me wait.”

He began to walk away from the table, leaving me behind. Once he reached the door, he paused.

“You should wear something blue. The color suits you.”

I stared blankly at the now empty doorframe.

“Something blue?” I echoed, staring down at the baby blue dress.

183 notes · View notes

honeytea8 · 4 years

Text

Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

#JJBA #jojo’s bizarre adventure #Dio Brando #Dio x Reader #Dio Brando x Reader #Masquerade AU #jojo #Dio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #3D Renders

164 notes · View notes