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sanddusted-wisteria · 4 months

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A Builder, a Researcher, and a Rooftop, Ch. 27: Perjury

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Qi nodded, and his entire body seemed to deflate a little. His shoulders sagged, and he looked away with a dim gaze. “I want to trust you,” he whispered. “And…I want you to be able to trust me as well.” All the stiff formality in his voice had vanished. No roundabout ways of explaining things, no lengthy words to shield the raw meaning. This was his heart, speaking directly to them.

Also on AO3

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Qi opened his fridge. He had some leftovers in there. How old were they? Good question.

He sighed. Nothing looked appetizing. Even preparing something simple felt like too much energy expenditure at that moment. Saloon for dinner it was, then.

His mind felt blank as he walked out into the evening light, all the way to the saloon. Even after a full night’s rest, he’d woken up still in that emotionless haze. He had no idea how much work he’d gotten done that day, if at all. No amount of tea helped his constant, vague fatigue.

The barkeep and the frycook were chatting with the sheriff at the bar as Qi entered the saloon. Owen noticed him first, waving as Qi approached. “Hey, Director Qi! How are ya?” The others looked over and gave short, polite greetings of their own.

“Erm…” Qi wasn’t quite sure how to respond. If he answered honestly, he would inevitably be thrown into an intolerable conversation full of pitying glances. “F-fine.” That was his best bet.

Unfortunately, Owen’s face fell anyway. “You sure? I know we’re all a bit shaken up over what went down today. We’re talkin’ about it right now, if you’d like to join us.”

Qi blinked. “W…what?”

The sheriff’s brow raised. “You…did hear ‘bout what happened, right? Was just about to ask you if the builder’s doin’ okay…they went down to the clinic after it all went down and nobody’s seen ‘em since…”

Qi felt his stomach drop.

All three at the bar exchanged a concerned look at his silence. “W-well,” said Owen finally. “Why don’t you have a seat? We’ll…we’ll fill you in.”

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Qi burst out of the saloon. His head instinctively whipped in the direction of the builder’s workshop, shrouded with bright, golden twilight. He could see them in the yard, back to him, hunched over some machine.

He almost felt tempted to rush over and demand answers, but he stopped himself at the last second. If he wanted real, honest answers, he needed to have a rational, level-headed conversation with them. And he was not feeling very rational or level-headed.

His feet began moving. Not in the direction of the builder, though. He needed to gather his thoughts. They were racing like never before.

A battle in town square, a Boxing-Jack-aroo court, Logan, Haru, the pastor, the homunculus man, the builder—

Why?

Why hadn’t they told him about something so dire? Every single time something significant happened to them, even when they almost died, Qi was always the first to know. And even ignoring himself altogether, what about them? They were still recovering from their old injuries. Not to mention the emotional toll that the battle must have taken on them. Why were they hiding from him? What were they hiding from him? What was Qi supposed to do now? He had to— They weren’t—

…

Qi sat down on the cushion next to his dining table. He put the kettle onto the burner and turned it on.

The flames flickered, dancing to and fro. The fire rumbled quietly in its nooks in the burner.

Qi’s eyes followed the tip of one particular flame, before grazing across the tiny blemishes on the copper surface of the kettle.

He kept every inch of him deathly still, except for the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional blink, and the thump of his heart, gradually quieting down.

The kettle whistled. Qi eyed the wisps of steam shooting out from the kettle’s spout for a moment before shutting the burner off. He picked up the tea strainer, dropped it into his cup, then poured out some hot water from the kettle. It made his glasses fog over a little bit.

Five minutes.

Qi put the kettle down and kept staring into the cup, watching as the tea’s color bloomed outward into the water.

Four minutes.

This was what Qi did when he felt overwhelmed. Whenever he hit too many roadblocks in his work, or when he was dealing with a particularly finicky reviewer, he would stop and brew a cup of tea.

Three minutes.

It wasn’t just for the caffeine boost, even though it was rather helpful in most cases. It was an opportunity to step away from whatever was causing his stress.

Two minutes.

Honing in on the physicality, the sensory experience of brewing tea…it was very effective at calming racing thoughts.

One minute.

A chance to retake control of his stream of consciousness. To give himself a clean slate for evaluating what to do next.

Qi took out the strainer, bobbing it above the surface of the tea a few times to shake off any lingering drops, before putting it aside. He brought the cup up to his face and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes as the grassy aroma filled his nose. He let out the breath through his mouth, blowing ripples across the surface of the tea.

Then he did it again. In…and out.

Then he took a sip, careful not to burn his tongue. The tea washed over every corner of his mouth, warming his throat as it went down.

His eyes fluttered open. His head felt a lot clearer now. He still felt confused and saddened and worried and a little angry, but he could push that to the peripherals of his mind for now.

After he finished the tea, Qi stood up slowly and picked up the kettle to give it a rinse. He froze when he realized that it still had water in it. He sighed. He’d boiled enough for two people again. He’d done it so many times at this point that it was practically instinct over brewing for one.

Qi paused, weighing his options. There was really only one thing to do now. He grabbed the thermos from the cabinet and poured the rest of the water in. Then he dropped the strainer inside, grabbed another cup, and set out for the builder’s workshop.

Time to get some answers.

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The builder huffed a sigh as they cut out the last sheet of canvas from the tailoring machine. It slipped onto the top of the small, messy pile of other finished canvases sitting at their feet.

They made no move to bend down and pick it up. They just stared at it, tracing their eyes along every fold glowing yellow in the setting sun.

It didn’t feel like the end of the day. It felt like three days had suddenly gone by, and the builder was wide awake through all of it.

Day One: The builder woke up and heard a commotion. They grabbed their weapon and ran into town to see Haru in handcuffs, getting interrogated by Miguel. Then Logan showed up suddenly and dropped the bomb on everyone about the water theft. And suddenly, still recovering from stitches and fractured ribs, the builder was in an all-out brawl. They hardly remembered anything, just striking at Pen whenever they saw the smallest opening, frantically dodging out of the way of punch after punch, trying their hardest not to break their stitches, seeing the shocked faces of the retreating crowd. The fight suddenly ended through the craftiness of Andy and a decisive shovel blow from Elsie. Handcuffs were dealt out again, this time to the right people.

Day Two: There was one last sprint to get to Yan, and then came one satisfying punch. Just the most wonderful meeting of bone against flesh. That part they remember the best. It’s fuzzy from there. The builder vaguely remembered some hemming and hawing between the new jailbirds as they and the rest of the crew shoved them towards the Civil Corps building. They exchanged some brief words with Justice, Grace, and Logan before excusing themself to go to the clinic. They felt one of their stitched knife wounds break open during the fight. Logan gave them a genuine thank you and a pat on the back as they left.

Day Three: The builder slowly trekked to the clinic and got their stitches redone and a touchup on their newest injuries. Then they slowly trekked their way back home, stopping at the empty, leaderless Commerce Guild on the way to pick up a commission or two. And then they got right back to work, trying to pretend like nothing just happened.

The builder’s eyes suddenly felt heavy. It was only then that they realized that they hadn’t even thought of the Research Center at all that day. They had passed it twice and they didn’t even register it was there, nor that Qi was inevitably inside.

Should they have gone in? Should they have talked to him? Who the hell knew when the news would reach him and he’d wonder—

A hand fell onto the builder’s shoulder.

The builder gasped sharply, flinching away. It was only after a moment that they noticed that it was Qi, eyes widened with worry. His hands were up, one of which was holding the tea thermos.

“S-sorry,” he stammered. “I called out to you several times, but you weren’t responding.”

“Oh…” the builder said dumbly, still registering that he was there in front of them. “Why…are you here?”

A stupid question. They knew exactly why.

Qi glanced away. Golden twilight glared off of the lenses of his glasses, hiding his eyes. “…I heard what happened.”

He said nothing about where he heard it from, or who, or when.

“I…I know that I’m technically violating our agreement, but…” He shook his head, and his eyes snapped back up theirs. “Are you alright?”

The builder took a deep breath. “Still…processing.”

Qi nodded. “I imagine so.”

A breeze stirred the sands at their feet as they stood stark still.

The builder’s eye fixated on the thermos in Qi’s hand. Even when he came all the way out to their home, rightfully seeking answers, he was willing to share some tea with them. “Have you eaten yet?” they said before they could think.

Qi’s brow raised. “Er—no, b-but you don’t need to trouble yourself—”

A snort escaped the builder’s throat, some clarity finally returning to their mind. “You came all the way out here, silly. And with tea, too. It’s not a problem at all.”

“If…if you insist,” Qi mumbled.

The builder jabbed a thumb over their shoulder in the direction of their outdoor table. “Have a seat. I’ll fix up something quick for us.” Qi nodded and brushed past them.

Heading inside, they pulled out the nearest meat and veggies they had in the fridge and the large bag of sandrice from the pantry. They set the rice to boil, and heated oil in the frying pan for an easy stir fry. The aroma and the sizzling sound of the food, combined with the easy motions of stirring and tossing, helped to ground themselves in the present a little more. It was something to focus on besides all the questions that still lingered about the fate of the town…and everyone in it.

They shut the stove off and plated everything. Walking back outside, they saw Qi waiting at the table, staring into the sunset with his chin propped up on his hand. He nodded as they set their plates down, and twisted the thermos open to pour tea into the already-waiting cups.

They ate in silence. Qi’s presence was normally so soothing for the builder. Spending afternoons with each other in silence like this would usually be fun and relaxing. But having him here in front of them now was weighing down on their stomach with every swallow.

They had been lying to him. No matter how much they excused themselves or explained it away in their head, they couldn’t escape that simple truth. Matters of national security aside.

It hadn’t escaped their notice that Qi had been fretting over them ever since that night on the roof, more than they thought would even be possible for him. Both his voice and his eyes softened whenever they drew near. They found him reaching for their hands a lot more, even for just a brief hold. He’d try to find excuses for them to stay. It was like he knew they would die again tomorrow, and wanted to spend every last minute he had with them. As much as it made their heart swell, it gnawed at their stomach to know that he was still in the dark. To know that they were keeping him in the dark.

The kiss on the rooftop that night was out of desperation. For comfort too, certainly. They didn’t feel truly safe until they laid their eyes on him. But after Qi pressed such a gentle, careful kiss to their lips, aching with the tenderness that he always thought he couldn’t express, it was also a preemptive, heartrending apology, one that they couldn’t give him with words, but they hoped the touch of their lips could convey just as well.

I’m sorry, Qi.

I’m sorry for lying to you.

I’m sorry for worrying you.

I’m sorry for everything to come.

“I’m sorry.”

Qi shifted. The builder only saw it on the edge of their vision as they stared dead on at a knot in the table’s wood. When Qi didn’t say anything, they looked up. His expression was flat. His gaze, somehow knowing and hurt and nonplussed and bewildered all at once, scanned the builder’s solemn face.

The builder held Qi’s gaze as firmly as they could, despite how it made their stomach curl. Shrinking away now wouldn’t solve anything.

Qi’s mouth opened, but for a second, nothing came out. He took a breath and tried again. “Tell me everything. Please.”

The builder slowly nodded. Through the last bites of their dinner and the occasional sip of tea, they told him the story as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. How their “death” was all an elaborate plan. How Logan was never an enemy of Sandrock. How Duvoswas somehow involved in all this. How some of their neighbors really weren’t who they said they were. What this “Jewel of the Eufaula” actually was. What the true meaning of “conserve water” was.

The only thing they left out was Grace’s name for the sake of privacy, though they hoped the secret agent explanation would suffice instead of a specific name.

There was really only one true thing about the fake explanation that they gave him before: they really, truly thought they were going to die falling over that cliff. Their free-fall only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like minutes as their screams echoed in their own ears. They could still feel how the terror seized every one of their muscles.

Qi nodded along silently as he listened, not interrupting them once. His expression was still unreadably flat, made even harder to read with the dark of night.

“I see,” he said simply when their story trailed off.

The builder felt a twinge in their stomach. Qi closed his eyes and slowly took a long sip of tea. “I had my suspicions,” he said after he set his cup down. “The nature of your injuries wasn’t really corroborating with your cover story.”

The builder looked away. “And you didn’t say anything…?”

“My partner has a near-death experience and the first thing I do when they return is doubt them?” Qi murmured.

They had no answer to that.

“I’m… To be completely honest, I’m a bit conflicted,” continued Qi, one hand rubbing his temple. The builder felt another twist in their gut. “While I understand why you would logically want to withhold this information from me, I…I can’t honestly say that I’m not at least a little upset.”

“And…I don’t blame you for that. I—”

“No, no,” Qi groaned, both hands this time reaching under his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I-it’s…asinine. Illogical. I’m putting petty emotions over basic rationale. Your secrecy could be what upholds our entire city’s safety. No, not even that. Potentially for the entire Alliance. And how do I react? I…I…”

“Qi, I lied to you,” the builder cut in, clenched hands bunching the fabric of their clothes. “It wasn’t just me keeping things from you, I downright lied to your face about what happened. Y-you were an emotional wreck that night and I just…took advantage of you. You probably would’ve believed anything I told you.”

“Your entire performance was a part of maintaining your secrecy—”

“It’s okay to feel upset—”

“How I feel isn’t what matters—!”

“It does if it involves us—!”

“What does—?!”

Qi suddenly froze, panting a few times. “What…why…” His voice lowered. It was only then that the builder realized how loud they both were a second ago.

Qi looked down at his hands, which were gripping the edge of the table tight. With each breath, the tension in his fingers eased. The builder felt their hands unclench along with his, and they wiped off the sheen of sweat that had built up on their palms.

“Why…” Qi muttered finally. “Why on earth are we both trying to argue that we're in the wrong?”

That was very true. Why were they?

“Usually the position people take in arguments is that they’re right. Why are we trying to prove ourselves wrong?”

“Well, if put it that way…” the builder said with a mirthless smile. “…I guess we’re both trying to say that we’re right in that…we’re…wrong.” They frowned. “Uh, we’re…we’re trying to prove that we were wrong, and that…that’s the thing that we’re right about. That being…being wrong…ugh.”

Qi let out a light chuckle. “Right, right. We both are aiming to prove to each other that we are right in saying that our previous actions were wrong, so that we may work to right whatever wrongs one or both of us have committed.”

“Right.”

“Okay.”

Qi and the builder stared at each other for a moment before bursting out into laughter. The weight on the builder’s shoulders seemed to lift, and a familiar sense of ease slipped back in. Even with the circumstances, Qi was still himself, goofy rambling and all.

“Well, in any case…” Qi said as their laughter died down. “The point is that this argument is getting cyclical fast. Trying to determine who’s more ‘wrong’ in this situation will get us nowhere. The outcome will either be endless self-flagellation or one of us making an unnecessary accusation against the other.”

The builder hummed, lips pulling into a thin line. “What do we do, then? Can’t really just leave it at that.”

Qi glanced around, eyes distant as he was lost in thought. “Perhaps…for this particular scenario, we can indeed ‘leave it at that,’” he said. “Taking into account every factor in it, from our relationship to the…unique threat to our city… I think it’s best we rule this instance as an exception for our expected behaviors and focus on how we act in the future.”

The builder blinked. That was a lot of words for such a simple idea. But they understood nonetheless. “Maybe that’d be for the best.”

All the stiff formality in his voice had vanished. No roundabout ways of explaining things, no lengthy words to shield the raw meaning. This was his heart, speaking directly to them.

“If the circumstances are not dire…then please, tell me if something arises,” Qi continued. “If you wish for it to remain a secret between us, then I will absolutely honor that.”

“I’ll…do my best,” the builder murmured honestly, leg bouncing nervously. “I don’t know if I can tell you absolutely everything, but…”

“N-not absolutely everything,” Qi stammered, shaking his head. “Not only is that practically impossible, y-you’re still allowed your own privacy. Even from me. Just… I…”

He slowly reached a hand across the table and laid it gently over the builder’s wrist. “…I want to be there for you.”

The builder’s eyes flicked up and down between Qi’s hand and his eyes, focus oscillating between the warmth on their wrist and the stars glittering in the depths of that second, dark brown sky.

They landed on his eyes again as they reached a hand up to cover Qi’s. “You already are,” they whispered.

Qi was silent, but the way his gaze softened was unmistakable. The builder felt a familiar warmth radiating through them.

He was always there for them.

“…I saw you last night,” they murmured finally.

“Hm?”

“On the roof. I had to sneak into Sandrock Storage behind you.”

Qi let out an inaudible sigh. “…No wonder.”

It was silent for a moment. Then a thought suddenly struck the builder. “…Do you want to stay and stargaze? Make up for last night,” they whispered.

They felt their heart lift as a soft smile lit up Qi’s face, visible even in the dark. “I was about to ask if I could.”

The builder gave him a smile of their own as they nodded, picked up the dishes, and stood up to head inside. They rinsed the dishes off and put them away, before heading to the bedroom to pick up their blanket. After they bundled it up, they stared at their bed for a moment, before peeling off a thinner blanket and bundling that up too.

They walked back out to Qi, waiting patiently. He silently followed them over to the empty assembly station. They unfurled the thicker blanket and laid it on top, the same one that they brought to the Research Center sometimes. They stepped up onto the platform and slipped off their shoes. Then they carefully laid back onto the blanket, patting the spot next to them as they looked up at Qi. He copied their motions, lying down slowly and scooting closer to their side.

The builder unrolled the second blanket and tossed it over the two of them. Qi took the far end of the blanket and pulled it more snuggly over him. The warmth that was before only limited to the builder’s side enveloped them completely. A cocoon of safety and certainty, away from the questions and the constant fluctuations of the world around them. With their eyes gazing far off into the infinite reaches of space, the builder melted. Into Qi, into the blankets, into the whispering night wind.

No one had any idea what was to come for Sandrock, least of all them. But for a fleeting moment under the stars, they weren’t worried. Whatever happened next, from treacherous neighbors, to the threat of artificial drought, to the machinations of the most hostile power their world has ever known…they could face it.

And maybe…everything would be okay.

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A/N: ehhhh but would it really?

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#my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas fanfic #mtas spoilers #shady's fics #brr

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luckyshotwrites · 1 year

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Ch. 63 // The Downburst: Part 2 // Day 49

Contents (Warnings): The Downburst part two (No tags today, sorry!). Read full chapter on - A03

Wordcount: 4.000+ (A little rough)

Side note: This will contain experimental writing; first person (Lynette's view) will be implemented alongside third person for the two other essential characters, (mostly) Alexander and (occasionally) Drake. All their text will be italicized for those third-person moments, with the characters' names in Bold at the start and their thoughts in Bold. There may be other characters I write for using this.

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(Nov. 11th, Friday)

Alexander

He took a breath and a sip of his drink. He couldn't believe the pack followed him out onto the balcony. He thought he'd escape the party for a while, because he felt antsy.

Not that he didn't like seeing Viola, but her partner was here too. And...her scent bugged him. As a frequent giver, her energy was higher than average for a human. So it was all the more tempting.

Speaking of, his body tensed when his nose caught another smell. His eyes shifted to the balcony on the other end; of course, shrimps out here too. He thought to himself. Sunday could not come soon enough.

"Wenna would not stop raving about her two new little sisters and little brother," Viola said with a chuckle. "I never would imagine it would be Lynette. It means someone has to start being nicer to her." Viola glanced up at Alexander.

Why does everyone assume I'm fucking evil. I don't even do much to her. Alexander rolled his eyes with his crossed arms. His eyes went from the now-empty balcony to Elise again.

Drake bobbed his head, "Mhm...Lynette's my sister-in-law..." He took a sip from his cup. Drake seemed like he still couldn't get over it. Alexander leaned his back on the balcony.

"You all seem to know her before this," Koi said, whipping a few crumbs from her pastry off her shirt.

"She works with us," Viola mentioned, then smiled at Drake and Alexander, "And now this all makes sense as to why she-"

Drake held worry. Viola realized what she almost started to say and continued.

"Was so powerful." Viola was briefed on the lie.

Koi raised a brow. "uh-huh..." There was a suspiciousness in her tone.

Elise gave Alexander a small wave. He didn't realize he had looked at her longer than he should have. Viola narrowed her eyes at Alexander.

"Don't you get any ideas, or I'll throw you off this balcony." It sounded like a soft threat but a real one, regardless.

Alexander grumbled, "I wasn't." I'm not going to eat any guests at the party. I'd never hear the end of it from my dad, Edgar, and Ulysses. He grumbled. He knew Wenna would join in scolding him for fun. Regardless of his hunger, he had a lot of energy to keep himself together, and...he didn't even feel like playing games.

"It's okay, Viola. If he needs it, I'll be happy to help." Elise offered.

Alexander shuddered. He didn't want to turn down an offer.

Viola lifted Elise and tucked her under her arm, "Alexander does not deserve you. Let's go."

Elise laughed as she was carried by Viola, "sorry, Alexander!"

His stomach growled lightly. He hated when Elise teased him with offers. Why did Viola have to be with a human.

"You ate before the wedding," Drake remarked. He heard Alexander's stomach.

"Yeah, and you drank before it, your point." He gestured to the glass of blood Drake had.

Drake just sipped it, ignoring him.

Koi rested back near the balcony entrance, "how has that been going for you, Drake? Wenna told me you've been drinking a lot lately. Are you practicing magic again?"

Drake pretended he didn't hear the second question, "It's not a big deal. I'm fine."

Alexander turned to Drake, "Have you?" That explains your push for the training this morning.

"Drop it, Chase," Drake replied.

"This isn't about the whole-"

Drake flicked his head to Alexander. He was about to speak, then pursed his lips like he kept something to himself. Then he forced a smile and chuckled. "Are you scared I'm gonna catch up?"

Alexander knew there was more, but Drake continued.

"I'm gonna get another drink." He went back inside.

Alexander faced away, looking out and over everything on the balcony. Annoyed. Even the breeze seemed to mock him as it picked up speed throwing his bangs under his glasses to poke his eyes.

"Did you guys have a fight recently?" Koi asked.

"When do we not fight?" Alexander said, without much effort to joke.

Koi patted his shoulder. She could tell he wanted to be left alone, "Be nice to each other." She said, going too. She knew he wouldn't tell her anything if she pried.

He let his eyes look over the maze in front of their balcony.

Drake's getting antsy, Lynette's now going to be part of the family, I got her brother to worry about, and Ulysses and Charletta are...bound.

His eyes followed those near the maze, speaking of the shrimp. He figured she was going with her brother, then he recognized that cyan hair. You're fucking kidding. Ace? He didn't know why Ace would be going anywhere alone with Lynette.

Maybe he wants to take her energy? Alexander questioned in his head, then sneered. "You go off stupidly alone, and your brother's nowhere to be found."

He shrugged; not my problem. If he does something to her, that's Wick's fault, not mine...

Alexander watched them disappear within the hedges and took another sip of his crested alcohol. It had a contorted, bitter tea-like flavor that he didn't enjoy. Yet he drank it for the energy and similar buzz.

The stormy light blue eyes tracked the others moving from the bonfire. His dad and Edgar are in the distance. He wondered why they were coming back.

He shut his eyes and exhaled aloud before chugging down the rest of his tankard.

It didn't help much. He pulled his eyes away and then noticed Ace again. Except he's alone. Where's the shrimp?

She wasn't lagging behind Ace. He squinted at the maze. He probably drained her and left her there all by herself.

He turned around to forget about it and stopped, his legs twitching. She'd be fine...no if they found out I just watched-

Fuck.

Alexander flipped back, ran forward, letting go of his empty drink, and jumped off the balcony. His feet slammed onto the ground, creasing his dress shoes. He bolted into the maze, following her scent. He didn't smell any other threats, but that didn't totally denote the possibility of another monster being there.

If she got herself fucking eaten, I'm leaving her ass. Let Wicks handle it. Since he wants to act like I'm the worst...

His chest hurt at his thoughts. He couldn't get the image of his dad out of his head. He continued forward. Her scent got sweetly stronger the closer he got. It didn't help his hunger at all. And after he turned one more corner, he reached her.

...

Wicks

"BOSS!" Garter called, slammed into Wicks, and the lanky male picked up, surprisingly possessing far more strength than he looked to have.

Wicks gave up in the hug and hung there. He whispered, "I said you don't have to call me boss."

Garter laughed a devious snicker and let Wicks go. He was a whopping 6'8, skinny tree-like lad with long dark hair, though his vibrant crystal blue eyes were where his real personality shined.

"Sorry, I'm late! BUT listen to this we got a lead on...you know who.~" Garter nudged at Wicks.

He immediately turned left to right to see the few guests dancing nearby. "Not the-" He knew Garter's excitement would lead to him spilling the beans. Wicks then got behind Garter and started to push him towards the stairwell. "Outside."

Wick's eyes scanned over the floor. He didn't see Lynette right away. He figured it'd be fine...it wouldn't take that long. Besides, he didn't know how much she wanted to be around him.

He started to walk with Garter down the stairs. "I told you to take a break, Garter."

"I did. It was nice. I was enjoying the finest of kid cuisines." He said with a smile.

Wicks smirked, "That's not the finest."

"It is to me, most human food, you put WAY too many spices. It completely overpowers everything." He had a slight disgust on his face, then smiled and continued, "But human frozen dinners are mostly perfect." He said, swaying back and forth as they made it to the lobby downstairs. It was pretty empty. But he wanted somewhere a little more secluded.

They went outside the back and around to the fair corner of the building, the same size as the maze. They ensured no one was around, and Wicks did the "lay it on me" gesture.

"I found one of those seller's hideouts, and they seem to be working with Andras." Garter clapped his hands together, "So we can stake it out, we catch him, I can use my eye get information from them and-"

"Why couldn't you tell me this at the office? This is not the place to mention that name. Remember their families involved with him."

"Someone from the agency is also helping supply his people with fake licenses." Garter's tone drifted, "I don't know who. They have to have a higher rank, at least a class 2 like you, but if they're higher, they'd be a real problem."

Wicks smirked, "And you didn't tell the head?"

"She knows. She was the one who explicitly told me to tell you in person. She doesn't think they're part of the chaos unit, but mine, recon." Garter sighed.

"Did you tell her my sister just got married?"

"Yeah."

"And she still wanted me to hear about this now." Wicks shook his head but didn't look mad, "This is why I told you to take breaks, Garter." No, don't worry, I didn't have enough with that Cerberus run-in or "The Pure" group. He sighed, "So come on, tell me the rest."

...

Alexander

He could see the tears streaming down her face, outlining its shape. Why the hell is she crying? He gave a few light huffs, settling down as Lynette spoke.

"What are you doing out here, Xander?"

Alexander quickly gave an excuse. "I wanted to take a jog and get some air...why are you out here?"

He saw her poor attempt at a smile as she continued to look down, "I needed some fresh air too."

"You should head back to the party," Alexander said.

She chuckled. It sounded strained. "I will soon, don't worry. Enjoy your jog."

Alexander squinted heavily at her. He approached, but she didn't flinch like she usually did. He wanted to grab her and drag her back.

"Are you going to stupidly stay out here?" I know you will. You have one of the strongest magic families protecting you.

"Enjoy your jog." Her voice held nothing.

If I fucking grab her now, then what? She'd tell Wicks. So what do I do? Leave her here? He wanted to leave. But if something happens to her, he'll blame my ass because he'd be able to sense I was here, wouldn't he?

He took a deep breath and lied. "I need a rest anyway."

He sat beside her on the bench.

He hoped she'd get up, tell him she'd just head back. She didn't. And he didn't understand why. What the hell happened? He didn't see a point asking or even know how to ask.

He followed where she stared at her soaked flowery pink dress. Its fabric stuck to her tights underneath from the water her eyes expelled.

The silence irked him. Neither of them said a word to the other. He didn't even bring his phone with him, Wenna borrowed it after the little dance.

"I wish I brought my drink," Alexander said to the scrunched up Lynette. She kept her legs and feet close to herself.

It took her a moment before she undid her form and bent down. She reached for the glass she put beside her and brought it up to him. "Here."

Alexander took it in his hand. Wine. He could smell the scent of it and stopped before he drank.

It was only about a two week relationship. But in those two weeks he said more to that Kitsune than he should have...

I'm fucking stupid too.

"You know, you were pretty idiotic to tell Drake, of all people, about the journal." Alexander chuckled to himself. His eyes studied the wine. "He told me what it contained the first day of the festival."

He started to swirl around the wine in the glass. It reminded him of tiny waves.

"Did you think I'd get some dumb ideas from it?" He rolled his eyes at the thought. Mara was crazy, lying, and manipulative.

"What she said before we fought and what I saw solidified it in my head. I knew what the journal would say..." He quit swirling the red liquid, the waves crashing at the edges. He didn't realize he was spinning it too quickly.

"I don't understand why you'd try hiding it from me." That's the only reason I can think of. You think I'd try to do the sick, useless things she'd do to you, like- The thought made him shiver. Humans tasted fine without anything.

He dropped his shoulders, "You hated the deal, and I would have been fine reading something I already anticipated..." His voice trailed off again. She knew too much about me. The dreams thickly moved in his mouth and forced his lips to whisper out. "Or maybe not."

He pulled himself away from the wine. His eyes panned to her slowly, and he let out a sigh, "regardless of the annoying outcome..." his voice muttered, "Thank you for doing that."

His eyes met hers, Lynette's glistened, filling with tears once more, and her lips curled up with a wobbly smile. What did I say? Why are you doing that?

Her voice left in a soft croak, "You're welcome."

He started to take note of the closeness and her size again. Don't look at me like that.

He took another breath, quickly turned away from her, and chugged the drink. He turned his head in disgust, "This isn't crested."

"Huh?"

"It's an energy-made drink that evaporates in the body and leaves a nice feeling, somewhat like alcohol." He remarked as he finally got up. I have to digest this later.

Alexander stood up, "Now come on, Shrimp. If your brother decides to look for you and sees us together, he'll kill me."

She shakily got up as if she hadn't stood on her two feet before. His body jerked, ready to catch her if she fell on reflex. She didn't.

"My brother's way too nice to do that."

Alexander chuckled and turned to her, "You're fucking kidding." He had a smile on his face seeing the naivety in her response. "You're brother's a psycho."

"Says the human eater."

He rolled his eyes as he turned another corner with her, "Ha, the shrimp is also going to give me shit for that, too, huh?"

Now I know where she gets it, Wicks.

"If people have been telling you stuff about it, then that probably means it's a problem."

Alexander smiled as they reached the maze's end, "Tell me every little thing you got because I'll just pay you back for all of it on Sunday."

There it was, her slight jump. "That's what I'm talking about; you're crazy."

Crazy. You've met crazy, and so have I. You're just difficult and should just-

"LYENNTE!" Wicks's voice reached Alexander's ears. He turned his attention to the force that came hurling at them. Wicks made sure to get between them and held Lynette. "What are you doing alone with that thing?"

"Thing?" Lynette's confused.

Alexander growls, "Fuck you too." He flicked off Wicks and walked toward the party building again. He passed a tall, long-haired stranger with Wicks, who he didn't recognize. The stranger raised his hand in a friendly gesture. Alexander didn't wave back, but he shouted, "TAKE CARE OF FUCKING SISTER."

...

Ulysses

He returned from the bonfire to get a few drinks for everyone. Standing by the table near the stairs, he saw Ace come along. He smiled at him.

"Hey, there you are, I sent Koi looking for you earlier, and she couldn't find you. I'm heading back to the bonfire..." His smooth tone slowed. He rarely saw Ace look so frustrated. "Family issues?"

"Why didn't you tell me Lynette was a human?"

Ulysses almost dropped a drink. He fumbled with it but kept his grip. He placed it down. He tried to play it off, "What? She's a Payton."

"She admitted that she was adopted, and you knew. I can't believe you wouldn't tell me." Ace started to pour himself some crested drink.

"She told you?" I thought Charletta told her not to. "Well, you shouldn't say that so loud."

Ace scoffed, "Why? They shouldn't have adopted a stain if the family didn't want to ruin their reputation."

Ulysses stopped making the drinks too. He turned back to Ace. "That's my wife's sister."

"Then why would they act like she's something she's not? They're embarrassed by her." Ace said, "I might as well scream it from the heavens."

Ulysses's shoulders raised, "What is your problem? You will not talk about my family in front of me with such disrespect." He felt a tenseness in his chest.

"My problem?" Ace smashes the glass in his hand, and the shards fall. "You want to act like your all that because you got to marry the perfect prodigy incubator."

Ulysses's eyes widened before they sharpened and came down. His teeth slammed together. He had heard this from Ace once before but had yet to repeat it since then. Since the last time, Ulysses told Ace to never disrespect Charletta again.

It had been fine since, but that was a long time ago. Ulysses then smiled, twisting with their curl. He threw his arm around Ace and whispered while he was close.

"You may be stronger than me in magic, but if I hear one more dumb word come out of your mouth before you leave, I will not stop until I remove your tongue and vocal cords." Ulysses gripped harder as he could feel Ace pull. "Do not ever do anything against my family, now go." He let go.

Ace pulled away, and his eyes glowed, then faded as he scanned the room. His lip raises with a snarl, but he turns around and goes to leave, bumping the table as he does.

Ulysses' hands were trembling. He had a history with Ace. Other than that, he might have lost it. He took a deep breath in, then, after holding it in for a few seconds, he released it. He grabbed the glasses and put up his smile.

He passes Alexander coming in and invites him to the bonfire. Alexander declines, saying he's going to find Drake first.

...

Drake

Why was the empty tankard on the balcony? He groaned in his thoughts. He went down the staircase into the main lobby below, the wedding hall behind him, and to either side were hallways that led to dressing rooms.

He thought he heard Pete's heartbeat down the right.

Is he with his dad? I don't hear his... Drake slowly and silently went down the empty hall, passing a room or two before he arrived at the groom's dressing room. He listened at the door.

He heard his own dad's voice. "Pete's."

"I can't act all happy, aren't you worried? Now Ulysses is involved with all of this." Pete's voice was a whisper, yet it held such anger.

"We've talked about this-"

"WE were there; you've seen what they've done! Those children helped destroy Yexodele." His voice trembled. Drake had only heard Alexander's Dad's anger one other time.

What are they talking about?

Edgar stammered, "Pete's, if they had bad intentions, why pick my family? We aren't powerful."

"Why else, Danee? She's involved with many other monsters. She's built connections and foundations among them. They want to destroy it all again." Drake could hear a loud THUD along with Pete's declaration.

There was a silence between them. Drake could hear the rapid beats from Pete's. They were so loud they almost started to deafen Drake. Then his dad's hum came through.

"We have to move on; I can hear it from them. I don't think any of them really mean harm." It went quiet for another second, "if they do, I'll handle it."

"You or I together can't win, and you know that." Pete's replied.

"I'll do anything to protect my family. You wouldn't be fighting for my mistake."

"Don't start with me, Eddie. You know I'd die for you first."

His father laughed, "Just for that, out of spite, I'll die first." There was another sigh as they kept throwing jabs at one another, "We should head back. I don't want Danee to storm the halls and assume things when she sees us alone together."

"It's understandable..." The flirtatious joke left Pete's mouth, "You do love to take advantage of your prey alone, don't you, Eddie?~"

Drake scrambled to get off the wall near the door. He hurried down the hallway and back toward the exit as he heard his dad yell at Pete's for the comment. He ran and almost crashed into Alexander, who had entered the lower level main lobby.

They both spoke in unison, "Where the fuck have you been?"

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot that I put out a story that people can enjoy! So, I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable).

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Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below ↓ ↓ ↓

What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

#widfali #vore writing #vore story #v.ore #v.0re #v/0re #v/ore #angst vore

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selinakidreams · 3 years

Text

hello!! this is my first ever collab and man o man am I happy to be participating in @buttershouse ‘s Magic March with so many talented people!! Please go check out everyone’s work, there’s so many delicious pieces to choose from.

without further a-due, please enjoy this 7k word mash of a magic coffee shop/witch/ college au that I have goin here

pairing: Sero Hanta (with a FUCKIN UNDERCUT !) x gn!reader (afab)

warnings: she’s WHOLESOME, implied sexual themes throughout and then actual smut at the end !! , sex on aphrodisiacs

a/n: thank you so so so so so so so much to @keishinslove @hiddenbluee @spikesbimbo @scorpiomoonslutt and @dymphnasprose for reading and beta-ing this big boi- you guys helped me so much and 🥺🥺 you guys seriously mean the world to me.

tag list: @hiddenbluee @undersero @sawam0chi

“Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble,” you hum as you steep black tea before shifting to the other part of your station so you could add the guise of vanilla to the milk you were about to steam.

You hear a snort come from your coworker as she looks over to you before smirking, “You think you’re so funny,” she teases while heating up a chocolate muffin for the current order.

“I do, I really do,” you muse, holding the metal pitcher up to the espresso machine’s steam wand. The distinct smell of the liquid luck wafts around as you begin blending it in with the milk; it makes you smile, a comfortingly warm feeling washing over you.

You always hoped people stepped into the shop hearing about the rumors and whole-heartedly believed them; believing in the magic that went into each drink when they ordered something off of the special menus- and that it wasn’t just for the unique taste.

When you first started out, you often heard that with each new employee, the magical feeling tends to die out sooner or later; the happiness of creating spells and potions for others fleeting with the ever-growing pessimism towards all things unexplainable. After working at the shop for three years, one would think the feeling would have caught up to you, instead you felt anything but. With each new regular whose eyes sparkled with excitement as you handed them their unique concoction of a drink, your smile grew wider. Sometimes the familiar faces would come back and whisper about how each drink gave them the right energy to deal with each individual situation… almost like magic. You could do nothing but smile, sometimes a coy little wink was added, exciting the customer more and more. They'd leave with a newfound pep in their step. That's what has kept you going for so long. All anyone ever has to do was keep an open mind and believe that true magic does exist, and when you do, it's almost as though a door opens up, full of delightful possibilities.

As you called out the finished order and thanked the satisfied customer, the shop’s entrance bell chimed, welcoming in the newest one.

You look up and made eye contact with someone who seemed oddly familiar; you tend to remember almost every person that has shown up more than twice at the cafe, so the fact that you can't fully recognize him only shows that the cafe couldn't have been where you’ve known him from... You couldn't quite put your finger on where you've seen him before but you definitely couldn't forget the welcoming aura he radiated. With his black hair pulled into a ponytail, exposing his undercut, and his extra large t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame, he flashed a bright smile, heading up to the counter to order.

Accustomed to ‘hey’s, ‘hi’s, or even an immediate order, the first thing out of his mouth somewhat surprised you. With a tilt of the head and a squint of the eyes, he mumbled out, “.. You look really familiar.” as he tried to place the face.

“You know, I was thinking the same thing...” you trailed off.

After a few seconds of analysis with no conclusion, he seemed to shrug and let out a little chuckle with a passive “it'll probably come to me in the middle of my next class…” before his eyes caught sight of the menus off to the side. Not wanting to make it too obvious that you were tempted to stare, you aimed your gaze elsewhere, only occasionally sneaking a glance at him while he was preoccupied with the menu.

“Ahh… can I get…” he kept his sights on all the options he could, as if it was going to make him any more decisive. Part of you hoped to hear something special, something magical, only to hear, “uhh a… hot latte please?”

While a very solid drink, you subconsciously waited to hear a flavor come after it; staring at him, almost in a daze.

“Did I forget something...?” Your eyes grew wide, mind blank, trying to come up with an excuse for the elongated silence but before you could spout something out, his smile grew as he rolled his eyes, “Oh, duh, I forgot the size!” A breathy laugh came after his revelation and your chest felt lighter once the sound hit your ears. “Could I get a large please?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” you chime as you grab a large paper cup and mark down his order with a sharpie.“Will that be all for you today?” looking back up at him, your customer service smile makes its awaited appearance like clockwork as it did when wrapping up every order. His eyes darted to the full pastry case before he could conclude, causing an actual smile to grace your lips, “Tempted?”

“One way or another, yea,” he said with an undertone of something else being implied, causing your cheeks to heat up. The smile that he threw in there further caused a little flutter of your heart.

“Well luckily for you, we just restocked, so you've got a wide range of goodies to choose from.”

He licked his bottom lip and smoothly responded with, “Well which is your favorite?”

“My favorite? Hmm… Well, I always love a good chocolate croissant whenever I'm drinking regular lattes. The chocolate adds in that kick of sweetness that compliments the lack thereof with the coffee and bonus, it's not too heavy where it will make you feel bloated.``

“You really know how to sell a guy… That sounds amazing. Could I have that, please?” the tone in his voice was playful, fun, possibly flirty- and that was something that you were not going to think about. He’s a customer; he might not come back when he wants his next cup of coffee.

“You want me to warm it up for you?”

“Sure!”

Picking up the prongs, you took the freshest croissant from the batch and placed it in the microwave oven, turning back around.

You voiced his total with a soft smile, “Cash or card?”

“Card. uh .. Can I leave a tip on here?”

Cue the airy sigh that left your chest. A man who knows to leave a tip: you were in love with him already.

“Yea!” you squeak before clearing your throat, “Yea, once you remove your card, the option should pop up on the screen!”

You throw one more smile back at him before turning around to start his drink, not missing the incredibly hard stare your coworker was giving you. You try not to look at them throughout the duration of making his drink.

Handing the handsome man his order, your hands lightly brushed against his and you fought hard to ignore the hefty thump in your chest. You looked back up at him and swore that there was a tint of rose dusted across his cheeks.

You saw the beginning of his outburst before you could hear it.

“Sero!” he said quickly, “Sero Hanta. That’s my name.”

You smiled, sticking out your hand and saying your name, “I’ll be sure to remember it… Sero.”

The rest of the shift went by pretty quick after that. Your coworker couldn't keep their mouth shut about how he was flirting with you and how you just so happened to be flirting back. You two were giggling so much that the rest of the shift just seemed to slip away and before you know it, it was time to clock out.

“Is there anything you want me to do before I head out?” you shout, asking the newly present night shift as you’re halfway out the door.

“No no, we got it,” both your coworkers chime, “just hurry up and get to class!” one of them adds.

Rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye, double checking that everything needed for class was in your bag before fully lugging one of the straps onto your shoulder and heading off.

The walk wasn't that far from the shop, luckily- taking your time and enjoying the world around you was such a cooldown from the hustle and bustle of your work shifts.

The college town was quaint, warm, homely; It felt like everywhere was a short walk away- which it was. There was an ample amount of time for you to stroll to class after one of your shifts.

As you peruse down the street, you took note of how bright it felt this time of day and how soft the glow emanating from the sunlight hitting the trees was; the kiss of the sun heated your skin, allowing you to bask in the warmth of everything: the environment, the vibe, the mood. What a great feeling.

Random thoughts passed in and out of your brain as you got to the entrance of campus- but the continuous train of thought halted at the station when the image of that man who came into the shop, the one with the undercut- Sero Hanta, popped up.

He was really attractive… where had you seen him before?

You mindlessly head towards the lecture hall, with the image of Sero’s face ever present behind your eyelids. The approaching building was a beautiful brick with ivy climbing up the side, a framed golden plaque near the large double doors announced that people were about to enter the Mirai Sasaki building- something you would normally stop to admire but today, you headed straight inside and towards your seat, still mentally preoccupied.

Plopping down, you situate yourself, getting everything out; your textbook, notebook, pens, pencils and even a highlighter. You take a deep breath before slightly shaking your mind to wake up and concentrate on the human sexuality lecture that was about to start. Sero Hanta can wait.

Is what you told yourself and yet, the thought of him wouldn't leave you alone. It went so far as even hearing the professor call out his name.

“So, I just wanted to clarify,” your ears perk up at the voice, “The article you gave us was about how unequal the orgasm ratio- the orgasm gap- is for women… but I feel like there is a new wave of um… feminine orgasm appreciation. Not to get too personal, but I know between my friends and I, we make sure that our partners always come… first.” He trailed off at the last part, probably coming to terms with the awkward phrasing he had ended with.

You had to take a second to get a grip; too many things were happening at once and the one that held most of your attention was the fact that Sero Hanta blatantly admitted to wanting the girl to orgasm first.

What a gentleman.

“Thank you for your… input … mister Sero- but with what you pointed out, it’s actually a perfect segway into the first project of the semester! If you notice in your syllabus, I typed a very vague title for the next class’s date. We're going to talk about it more next class but until then, please read the assigned articles by the next class and have a good rest of your day!”

While the majority of the class was packed and headed to the door, your eyes stayed glued on Sero as you mindlessly put things away. It seemed as though he was taking his time as well. Maybe he needed to talk to the professor?

Seeing that your desk was now cleared, you slowly began descending down the stairs to get to the floor level, eyes glued to each step in front of you, mind somewhere completely different until your head is met with a firm back. With wide eyes, you step back and begin a stream of apologies, head bowed and eyes still on the floor as if you didn’t learn your lesson the first time. A warm chuckle hushes you accompanied with a light, “It’s alright, it’s alright!”

You look back up and are met with the mind-dizzying smile of the man who failed to leave your thoughts alone.

Before your eyes could get any bigger, he murmurs your name. “So this is where I know you from!” He slightly cheered, lopsided grin growing comfortable.

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“Hey! Hey- you guys aren't closing are you?” You hear a panting voice rush through the door- the complete opposite of the energy the cafe currently held. You and your coworker were just winding down from your shift, cleaning and making sure everything was restocked for the next shift, soft music aiding the mood.

Sero was attempting to collect himself when he realized the two pairs of stunned eyes staring at him.

“I just- I wanted to walk with you to class. If that’s cool,” he said to you, flattening his shirt down, “and maybe get a coffee.”

Warmth fills your face as you try to suppress a smirk, “in that order?”

The already flustered college student blushed just a bit harder. Before he could come up with a response, your smirk eased into a soft smile, “okay Sero, what could I get you to drink?”

He steps further inside and orders the same thing he got the first time: a large hot latte. It doesn't take long until the drink is in his hand and you're shooing him off to a table, “I’ll be done in like 10 minutes, is that alright?” you ask, hints of your customer service mannerisms kicking in. He nods and you get back to cleaning, unaware that your movements became a bit swifter.

After clocking out, you’re met with an eager grin and a glint of something unnameable in sero’s eyes.

“The coffee was excellent, by the way. Both times I had it. Do you do something to it? I feel like it’s so much more than just a simple latte.”

You smile at two things, him opening the door for you, and the fact that he was absolutely oblivious to the fact that his drink is one of the few drinks you don’t add any magical properties to.

“I make it with kindness.” You say as you two start your walk, intertwining your hands behind you.

“So mister Hanta… have you been stalking me?”

His eyes grow wide as his cheeks taint red, “N-no! I just thought that maybe you work every shift that’s before our class.”

“Hmmm… So were you going to come by every day to test out your theory if i wasn't there today?”

“Well, luckily you were there, so I guess we’ll never know the answer.”

After you hummed out a response, the walk turned into a comfortable type of silent.

The both of you had several things passing through your mind, but outwardly, one was caught up basking in the fresh spring air while the other was admiring how the wind would slightly shift your hair.

Deciding to break the silence, you turned to face him, “Hey, so, why did you choose to take human sexuality?”

He didn't seem surprised to hear the question but he took a moment; it didn't seem like he was scrambling to find the perfect answer, it was almost like he just couldn't properly find the words.

“Honestly, I love intimacy. I think its really cool that not one person’s views on sex and sexuality and the miniscule details within it, are the same.”

While the words you were hearing made sense, it must have shown that you weren't prepared for such an insightful answer because he let out a hearty laugh that seemed to go on and on, even after he took a deep inhale.

“I’m sorry-” he choked out as he grabbed his chest, “your face just-” he gulped another breath of air, trying to regain composure.

Throughout his fit of laughter, you almost joined in a few times if it weren’t for you biting your cheek in attempts to keep the annoyed facade up.

As soon as it seemed like he got it all out, you try to pull a convincing pout.

“So what's the real answer, then?”

He cocks his head at your question, a smile still playing on his lips, “whaddya mean?”

“You're telling me that what you said wasn't just to catch me off guard?”

“Oh! No no, that's really why I'm taking the class. But i bet you thought i was going to say something asshole-y like ‘i just wanna learn more about sex so i could be better’, hm?” he said the last part in a dopey voice before smirking back at you.

You rolled your eyes in return, “not necessarily, that was just a really… refreshing… answer.”

By the time you got to class, it seemed pretty full, which was a bit odd seeing as though there was still some time before the lecture started. Part of you was hoping that you could snag a seat next to Sero or he could snag a seat next to you- but both of your usual seats were surrounded by others already. There was also always the possibility that maybe he didn't want to sit next to you; you didn't want to get your hopes up so you turned to him, waved goodbye, and headed to your normal seat. Unbenounced to you, he physically slouched in disappointment before heading to his spot.

The lesson went on, and while he wasn't crowding your mind today, you subconsciously kept stealing glances at him throughout the lecture in hopes that one of the times you'll find him glancing back at you. The only time you did catch him staring at you was with wide eyes when the professor announced that you two were going to be partners for the upcoming project.

“So I guess this means it's an appropriate time to ask for your number… I wanted to ask you for it but I didn't want to move too fast…?” he said as you two approached eachother after class, cracking a shy smile while he absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck, a subltle flex of his muscles on display. It was a bit hard to concentrate with a combo move like that attacking you, as if he was going in for the kill.

“I wouldn't have thought it was too fast.” you softly counter, flashing him a tender smile.

It was one thing to feel the heat go to your face, it's another to visibly see it appear on his.

You both traded phones at the same time with the promise to text each other later that night; you put a little coffee emoji by his name while he put the sun next to yours.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚20 oz The Charismatic ! with hemp milk, iced; freshly brewed jasmine tea with a shot of our very own vanilla (liquid luck) to help your attitude and chances toward any situation˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

Sitting at the furthest table away from the register, you start to unpack your laptop and make yourself comfortable- you're gonna be here a while. Powering up the device, Hanta pulls at the seat across from you and begins to mimic your movements.

“So you want our first project meeting… at a coffee shop?” you start, trying to keep the smile from coming onto your face. Looking up at him would mean automatic defeat seeing as it's getting harder and harder for you to look at him without your lips twitching upward.

“I thought it would be very symbolic.”

A snort greeted both of your guy’s ears as your eyes went wide and your hands shot up to cover your mouth. “Anyway, so the project.” Blushing around him was starting to become a regular occurrence, as well.

“Right,” he says clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

“So the project is to point out common sexual misconceptions and back it up with statistics and research articles. The fact that we got dibs on the misconception of the orgasm gap all because you had bragged about your personal sex life…” the thought alone shot a wave of warmth down your spine and right to your lower region. A flash of a Sero you hadn’t faced yet appeared in your imagination; him looking up at you, hungry and eager to please. It made your breath hitch.

“Well, yea! I had to voice it. I mean, I feel like it’s common sense! When you have sex by yourself, then you can focus on what makes you feel good and what makes you cum. But when you’re with a partner…” he trailed off and your gaze snapped to him, “you should make sure they cum at least once before doing… whatever you two.. had.. planned on… doing.” Sero finished, his eyes flickered between your eyes and lips.

Oh fuck.

You felt yourself throb.

“Y-yea! Uh I completely a-agree.”

It’s almost as though he could tell that you were flustered so just to top it off, he smirked, “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” before deciding to drop it and move on.

He took a sip of his drink and sighed, “You guys really do make the best coffee. I got the same thing as I did with your place and yet… I'm here longing for your coffee.” you snort once again.

After that, the conversation eased into the project and what exactly needed to be done; the assignment was very simple but sorting out what dates you guys were going to meet up and how exactly you were going to go about gathering the information was all crucial. The project was due in a month and needed to be submitted in powerpoint format- which the both of you were relieved about.

It was really cute seeing Hanta’s eyes all lit up when it came to the part of how you two were going to go about getting all the information needed. He even suggested to conduct a little side research if you guys were ahead of schedule. It was something that made your heart patter. It was almost like you had smelt some of the charmed rose petals from work because every time you looked at him, you couldn't stop the warmth that flooded in your chest.

With that thought, there was the fact that he was more than likely going to be spending large amounts of time at the cafe- would he notice? Should you just come straight out and explain it? Explain that you were considered a witch, someone who was open-minded and was in tune with their intuition and can work with certain herbs, charms, and spells to create wonderful things? It didn't seem that big of a deal to you, it was something you had grown up with; simple spells and practices that just made day to day life more simple. Not every witch has been through the same childhood you had, there’s no special school- not that you were aware of, anyway. Your parents kept their grimoire out in the open and let you frolic about as they eased basic wholesome rituals into your life, and when you got old enough, they let you take in chapter by chapter each spell they casted, each potion they brewed.

When you applied at the cafe, your first interview was full of normal questions worded in a way that almost sounded like it had a double meaning, thankfully you caught it and later was asked for a second interview- conducted by the boss himself. He had asked you to perform a basic potion/drink you grew up with, something that made you feel like you were walking on air. It was simple; a butterfly pea tea with a breath of life, with just a little bit of lemon activated the spell in the brew. When the well made drink hit his tongue, he offered you the job not a second later.

No. You wouldn't tell Sero yet. It never came up; It’d be odd to tell him straight off the bat- there's really no need. If he ever asks… then you’ll tell him.

But he hadn't so far.

Each meeting so far felt incredibly productive. It seemed like getting work done came naturally, with the topic being easy to discuss between the two of you and getting the articles to support your claim was fairly simple- apparently a lot of studies have been done about people’s orgasms.

Since drafting up a skeleton outline the first time meeting, the bits and pieces really started coming together, but the get-togethers sometimes didn't go as planned- however, what was a constant was that no matter what the meet-up consisted of, there would always be a paper cup from your work, filled with a hot latte.

Some of the days, rather than working on the project, the two of you would use the allotted time to sit in your cafe and goof off, or sometimes you would host “tea time” in your apartment and talk about anything and everything- and it was okay because very early on, you both gathered all the adequate articles that involved your topic and sifted through them to get the statistics you needed. Collecting the data was simple enough and putting it together just came easy to you.

Looking up from your laptop, finally done with sorting all the cited sources in each slide, you wave your hand at Sero to get his attention. Hanta was working on phrasing the facts and statistics from each work, so when he tilted his head up, gaze still on the screen until he finished typing the last sentence, he took his headphones out and hummed as he looked at you.

“You get the same thing everytime we’re together… why?”

He glanced at his almost empty cup before fully taking out his headphones, “I get it all the time because it really is the best latte I've ever gotten from a cafe before. I tell you this all the time.”

“You never… wanna try anything new?”

“Is there something in particular you want me to try?” he asks, quirking his eyebrow upwards.

“Well no, not necessarily…”

“Well then how about you give me a recommendation? What’s a drink you think I would love?”

This one stumped you for a minute. Though the thought had crossed your mind quite often, you couldn't quite pinpoint which special drink he’d appreciate the most. Something warm… something reflecting how you feel about him.

“I think that you should get the Time Flies; it's this black tea latte with orange zest and it's really… cozy.”

“Okay, I'll try it the next time I go.”

And he did. The first sip he took felt like smooth gold hitting his tongue. So warm and rich that it had apparently induced the vivid image of the sunset from his grandmother’s porch. He was remembering the orange glow of everything the light touched. The whole day, he was feeling incredibly nostalgic, he even did some of the things he used to do when he was a kid, like watch old black and white movies and make dinner with his mom (even if it was through a phone call).

He told you all of this with one of the most handsome smiles you've ever seen, and that's saying a lot.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚16 oz Love Me or Love Me Not with oat milk, hot; our very own pink rose syrup (enchanted candied petals inside and dried petals on top) steamed in the milk meets a double shot of espresso for a deep, sweet, cozy drink˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

“So,” you start once everything is situated on your living room table, the two floor pillows that play hosts to your guy’s lower halves sit diagonal from each other.

“So.”

“Everything is practically done, I just wanted to… call this meeting so we could just quickly skim over it and see if there was anything in the powerpoint that needed fixing and or adjusting.”

“Very reasonable reason to call this meeting but both of us have been looking at this practically nonstop… so I’m pretty sure it's good.”

“Well it’s due next class and I know we finished it up a few a couple of days ago but… there is absolutely nothing wrong with striving for perfection. And if anything, I’m trying to save your reputation.” he choked at the accusation you were attempting to make, “Oh yea! How are you going to get away with making that bold statement in front of the class, do a whole project on it, and then just… have it not be anything short of jaw dropping?” you didn't even wait for him to speak, “exactly. Your rep is on the line, I'm just the sorry person who got stuck with you.” You smirk, driving your ludacris point home while crossing your arms over your chest.

Scoffing, he leaned over and lightly shoved you, “we got to choose are partners for this project! You chose to be with me!” his cry caused a chuckle to fall from your mouth as you readjusted yourself onto your pillow, “that's neither here nor there.” you try your best snotty act as you stick your nose up in the air.

“Okay okay then, your grace, let us go over the powerpoint,” he jested along and gave you a slight bow.

After a quick runthrough, everything seemed spick and span, so the two of you became more relaxed and sunk into the larger floor pillows once again.

“So… I noticed that you finally got something from your shop.” Sero gestured over to the other paper cup on the table. “I have never seen you with your own coffee before, why today?”

Your cheeks involuntarily began to heat up; the drink he was referring to was none other than the Love Me or Love Me Not. Usually, you never went out of your way to make it, but for the occasion, it was necessary. It was the last time you guys were going to meet up for the project and you just… had to know.

Let it be known, messing with love potions wasn’t your forte, you preferred for everything romantic to be consensual and untampered with- that's why this brew in particular was one that you preferred out of all the ones that are out there. When made correctly, the person drinking it should be able to look at their crush (in person) and if the crush liked them back, then the drinker would get a fierce wave of goosebumps; if the person did not like them romantically, their head world ache for just a few minutes before going back to normal. Simple and effective, plus no one gets roughed up or drugged.

Not a single sip had been taken yet, you were on edge about the situation. This was the first time you had ever made it for yourself, and it was pretty nerve wracking to see if this man who you began harboring feelings for liked you the same.

It’s surely gone cold by now but that wasn’t going to stop you. “Oh! Uh- I was just really craving this drink today.” You say lamely before bringing the cup to your lips and taking a gulp.

The smell of rose hit your nose before you could register the taste. The evenly sweet syrup paired with the strong espresso danced on your tongue before you swallowed it. You softly sighed, it tasted delicious. Another sip slipped past your lips.

A roll of relief cascaded through you when an intense wave of goosebumps rose on your poked at your skin, causing you to cough and sputter. Eyes going wide and squeezing shut as the coughs wracked through your body.

He likes you.

While coming down from your fit, you semi glance at Hanta who had almost instantly appeared by your side, patting and gently rubbing your back.

“Is there liquor in that?” He joked as he handed you your drink so you could have more liquid to ease your throat.

You shook your head after drinking some more and cracking a grin. It might’ve been too big of a smile for someone who just choked but you didn’t care. Sero Hanta… likes you.

Unable to help it, you glance down at his lips only to realize how close he is. Your grin slowly drops, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Can I uh.. can I try your drink?” He says, face red with blush.

As you go to hand him your drink, he leans in and cups your jaw- causing your whole body to still, even your heart stopped to join the languor.

He peaks his tongue out to softly lap up a drop that must have been on your lip, before capturing your lips with his.

It felt like your mind shut down, and all you can feel is how soft his lips are and how sweetly he’s kissing you. Almost hesitantly.

He pulls away in attempts to find your gaze to decipher how you felt about it.

Your breath is ragged as you look back at him- everything and nothing is going on in your head in that moment, unable to speak, until you see the goosebumps that coat his body.

Your heart thumps impossibly faster as you realize that not only does he like you… but he truly believes. He believes in the two of you, he believes in love, and he believes in magic.

Without another second to waste, you tackle him in a hug and find your lips on his in a way that you know you’ll never get enough of.

special extra ! : you and Hanta in the fall- Season of the Witch with almond milk, hot; dirty chai latte with a bewitched cinnamon stick to help keep you warm ;) , even on the coldest of days ˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

The cold nips at your nose just as big hands nip at your waist, causing you to let out a noise between a squeak and a gasp. A flash of soft black hair blurred your vision before cold lips meet yours. “Hanta,” you sigh into the kiss before pulling away and giggling.

You were heading back to your apartment after a day shift at work, the sky already becoming darker because of the autumnal equinox.

“What are you doing? I thought I was gonna meet you at my place.” You say as your fingers intertwined and your step fell into pace with his. He pulled you closer so that you were basically leaning into him as you walked.

“You know those chocolate and pumpkin scones you baked for me? The special ones?” He quietly moaned.

Your eyes go wide as he purposely guided your intertwined hands over his blatant bulge.

“Hanta you weren’t supposed to eat those until later, the spell usually kicks in within the next 30 minutes!” You giggle again.

A few weeks after you two started officially dating, you formally sat him down and explained everything you didn't when talking about your guys’ past- the memories of frolicking through tall grass and talking to your mother’s familiar, to getting your job at the cafe. He told you that it was a lot to take in, but never did he push you away. When he went to the cafe, he was more observant. Somewhere in the months between June and July, he slowly became more and more interested in the rituals you would do and the potions you would make. He wanted to start joining in. Now in October, he loves seeing your crystals around your house and all the different herbs you grow in the sills of your window. When he found out that you could bake magical pastries with certain herbs, he almost immediately asked you to bake him some. At first, it started as something simple like a sage and rosemary savory loaf that helped cleanse your pallet of any negative energy. Then it started becoming more and more intricate, and that's how the two of you ended up here.

“I know but fuck-- I was hungry and they looked so good, and now I’m hard and I need you.” he spoke lowly.

This was going to be fun.

The rest of the way, you were casually asking him things that shouldn't be heard in a public setting, “What is it you want to taste first, Hanta?”

“How badly do you want to fuck me into the mattress? Hm? Have your big cock stretch me out?”

“Wanna fill me up?”

By the time you both got to your apartment, there was no fumbling with the keys to get your door to open, you already had them out; getting through the door took three seconds tops. Next thing you know, your back was against the closest wall, your hands pulling at his tied up hair and scraping your nails against his scalp when the soft locks fell. One of his big hands lifted up a leg of yours and he groaned as he thrust upward against your heat.

“Fuck-” he panted into the kiss before trailing down your neck, still holding up one leg while the other hand finds itself under your shirt, his fingers hot to the touch.

Releasing your leg and dropping to his knees, he looked up at you as he fumbled with the button of your pants. You lace your fingers in his hair, feeling him yank the material down your legs, tossing the one leg over your less dominant leg over your shoulder, and when a warm muscle hits your sopping clothed core, you pull his hair harder to apply more pressure.

“Look at me when I have you in my mouth, I wanna see how much you enjoy this.”

You felt yourself clench, and apparently so did he, because a smirk grew on his lips. “Oh, you like when I say things like that?”

“H-hanta, please.. '' your voice wavered before you sucked in a sharp gasp. He had a finger, then two inside of you in no time, the other hand keeping the underwear out of the way so his lips could wrap around your clit.

He was pumping in and out of you faster and faster, occasionally switching the pace to unbearably slow and when you would whine, he’d tilt his head up, mid lick, to throw you a teasing glance before picking up the pace. He bagan curling his fingers, hitting a spot that had your eyes rolling and with the pressure building up, it had you panting out a breathy repetitive stream of his name.

“‘M gonna cum Hanta, hh-” you moaned out before clenching your eyes shut, your body involuntarily shaking above him. And right below you, he was ready to lick up everything you had to offer.

Holding you steady as he came up to kiss you, your juices still on his lips, “you ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked when he pulled away. The short sobering moment hit as soon as he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom, but after he tossed you onto the bed, the look he gave you as he was unbuttoning his pants drew your mind hazy again.

“Can't wait to pump you full of my cum, to have you a drooling mess because of my cock.” he huskily whispered, giving you so many delicious previews of how the night will go. “You want that, pretty? Use your words.” he said as he crawled over to you and caged you in. The scent of cedar wood and citrus clouded your senses.

“Yes please Hanta!” you whine, “wanna feel stuffed b’cause of your cum. Please fill me up--” you whimper out, cutting yourself off when you felt his leaky tip at your wet entrance.

Just like each time you two have been intimate, he guides himself slowly until he's in to the hilt of his pelvis, “shit, squeezing me so hard- c-an i move?” he moans out.

Unable to form coherent sentences, you frantically nod and squeak out, “yes!”

With your permission granted, he eases in a thrust before he starts snapping his hips into you.

“Fuck, look at you, milking my cock so good-” he moaned, as he leaned in and kissed you. Each sharp thrust jolted you upwards, proving just how powerful his thrusts were. You threw your arms around his neck for the slight stability.

You began to let out little moans into the kiss that spurr him further; everything was beginning to get to him. How tight you felt around him, the feel of your tongue against his, the sloppy wet noises of your cunt.

“I’m gonna cum-- i'm gonna cum!” he choked out.

You clawed at his back while whimpering pleas for him to fill you up, “fill me up with your cum, your cock fills me so good, please Hanta, more- more!”

You were clenching around him hard, and to bring you right to his level, he found your puffy clit and began a quick circular motion that made your jaw go slack, causing more frequent clenches.

His mind blurred as he pushed himself the deepest he could, moaning out your name and a gruff curse before emptying himself into you.

You felt him twitch inside of you right before hot seed coated your already warm walls, and that’s what pushed you into a convulsion of ecstasy.

He lazily humped his hips into you as you rode out your high before pulling out and rolling next to you.

Calling out your name to bring your attention to him, he pulls you into his chest where you could feel his racing heart, “what if… I started singing that song from hocus pocus? You know the one..”

What a goof, you thought to yourself, playfully smacking his chest as you roll your eyes, looking up at him.

“I put a spell on you… and now you're mine…” you begin to whisper, earning a hearty laugh from you boyfriend.

Maybe it was mutual, but quite possibly he had put a spell on you. And you were more than okay with it.

#she dreams !#butter’s house🏡#🪄 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.#sero hanta #sero mha #sero smut #sero hanta smut #mha fanfiction #mha #bnha smut #bnha #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia smut #sero bnha #sero hanta mha #mha smut #smut

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chaotic-noceur · 3 years

Text

puppy therapy

pairing: Sukuna x reader (ft. Yuuji, Megumi, and Megumi's dogs)

summary: when Sukuna finds you in a slump of burn out, he calls in a favour from Yuuji in an attempt to help

universe: modern + roommates au ; same-ish universe as what's unspoken isn't unknown

warnings: depression/burn out symptoms, wearing his shirt, headphone usage, no-shoes-in-the-house living setting, kisses

a/n: i'm tired, probably going to fail something, and i really want to pet a dog so i self projected :) shoutout to @ezrasarm for being the bestest hooman ever and beta-ing this even though she has never read/watched jjk in her life 💕💕

Sukuna does a double take when he passes your room on his way for a coffee refill. The last thing he expected was to find you still curled up in bed, watching an episode of whatever it is you had borrowed his Netflix account for. As he takes in your figure, a frown forms on his features. He doesn't need to see the look of exhaustion on your face to recognise the sure signs of burnout. He knows the feeling all too well himself.

He knows the wave of indifference that washes over you every time you're reminded of your deadlines. He knows the hollowness in your chest that refuses to be filled, no matter how hard you try. He knows the heaviness in your limbs that are so worn down by fatigue that every move feels like a workout. He knows the insults that your mind hurls at itself for its own inability to push past this slump. And he refuses to let you wallow alone.

The sound of your door being nudged open catches your attention and you pause the show before glancing towards Sukuna, unamused at the interruption. “Get dressed,” he says as he tosses one of his shirts at you — knowing you find comfort in wearing them, “we’re going out.” You move to protest, instinctively drawing up an excuse about how you have work to do. But you stop yourself short, it’s not like you're going to get anything done anyway.

"Good morning to you too," you grumble instead as you move to pick up his shirt from where it had landed on your bed. Sukuna snorts in response and you roll your eyes before moving to usher him out of your room. Mechanically, you shrug out of your sleepwear, and get yourself into a semi-presentable state before meeting him at the door.

Sukuna hands you your keys as you walk up to him, his sunglasses pushed into his hair. You do a quick check to ensure you have everything you need as Sukuna does the laces of his boots. Putting your shoes on, you spare a glance at your reflection in the mirror before following Sukuna out the door.

You slip your hand into his when you catch up to him by the elevators and he brings it up to his lips before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He smiles at you with a softness that you rarely see in public but when your eyes turn to meet his gaze, there's a tiredness behind them that makes his heart ache. Sensing his concern, you squeeze his hand in silent reassurance, and he returns the action.

As you step into the street, you're tempted to ask about his plan. But Sukuna was never one to reveal his surprises before they unfolded in natural order and you're in no mood to pry the answers from him. Instead, you connect your earphones to your phone, pass the other earbud to Sukuna and shuffle your shared playlist as he leads you through the streets.

You lose yourself in the melody as the pair of you make your way to the secret destination. Occasionally, Sukuna tugs on your arm to signal that you're turning but otherwise, you allow your mind to wander, trusting in him to keep you out of harm's way.

Your thoughts drift to the list of deadlines that should induce more stress than they currently do and a pang of guilt spreads across your chest. If you had any sense, you should've said no to this impromptu date. You don't deserve to take a break, not when your list of responsibilities continues to grow and your care for them dwindles by the day; not when you know you're setting yourself up for failure but don't have enough care left to give to change the ending; not when —

Something in your expression must have alluded to the thoughts swarming in your mind because Sukuna stops the pair of you then. He moves to stand in front of you before sliding his sunglasses into his hair. "Stop thinking so much," he says as he runs his thumb along your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes, "just focus on me. Focus on us being here, okay?" You nod minutely and he sighs before bringing his lips to your forehead. He intertwines his fingers with yours again and continues his journey, hoping that his surprise will lighten your mood.

"Does this mean you'll tell me where we're going?" you ask after a moment. Sukuna snorts.

"No way in hell. Besides, we're almost there."

As the sound of laughter and barking fills the air, you perk up and glance around at your new surroundings. You turn to Sukuna, curious, but he's tapping away at his phone. He comes to a stop when he reaches a clearing, a sea of dogs running around before the pair of you. You're about to ask him what was going on when a head of strawberry hair enters your peripheral vision.

"Sukuna!" Yuuji cheers as he runs up to the pair of you, his phone clutched in one hand. Sukuna removes the earbud from his ear and passes it to you as you do the same.

"Brat," comes Sukuna's response before Yuuji turns to greet you. He moves to hug you but falters when Sukuna puts a hand on his shoulder, unsure of how your current state mixes with hugs from sweaty individuals. Yuuji seems to understand. He shrugs his brother's hand off before spinning around and guiding the pair of you to his picnic blanket.

You spot Megumi a little way away, Ghost and Shadow running in circles around him as they wait for the tennis ball in his hand to be released. When you notice the snacks and your favourite drink perched on the blanket, the pieces fall into place and your mouth falls open in shock. "Sukuna! You didn't have to trouble them into all this!"

Yuuji responds instead of his brother, waving off your exclamations. "It was no problem! We were planning on coming here anyway and the dogs love people!" As if on cue, Ghost and Shadow come bounding towards you, Megumi following after them. Sukuna lets go of your hand to kneel and pet the bundles of excitement that have huddled around your legs, a chuckle escaping him as Megumi settles into a seat beside his friend.

"You didn't have to do all this," you say to Megumi as you take your seat.

"It's fine," he shrugs. "The food was on the way and those two needed to expend their energy." He gestures towards his dogs as hints of a smile creep its way onto his face. Ghost detaches from Sukuna to come greet you then and settles his head into your lap once he'd given you several affectionate face licks. You giggle at the sensation as you ruffle his fur.

Yuuji and Megumi fall into conversation amongst themselves and you grab what you assume is yours and Sukuna's drinks from the cardboard holder. He seats himself beside you not long after, Shadow retreating back to Megumi's side. You offer him his drink once he's settled and he takes it with a quiet 'thanks' before falling naturally into the conversation between Yuuji and Megumi. Sipping from your drink, you bask in the air of joy around you as you rest your head against Sukuna's shoulder and let your eyes fall shut.

You chuckle as you watch Yuuji dote on Shadow, Megumi begrudgingly handing over yet another treat. They're far away enough that their voices are drowned out by the screams and barks of the others in the park but judging by their interaction, you imagine Megumi's saying something about spoiling the dog in question.

Sukuna returns from disposing the trash that you had collectively cumulated and slings his arm over your shoulder as he seats himself once more. Ghost stirs in your lap, blinks lazily at Sukuna before closing his eyes again. You lean into Sukuna's side, skin tingling when he places a kiss onto your temple.

"You really should stop taking advantage of your brother's kindness," you chastise after a moment, but there's no bite to your words. A soft smile lingers on your face as you card your fingers through Ghost's white fur.

Sukuna shrugs before running his thumb over the curve of your lip. "It made you smile again though didn't it?" The beginning of a smirk forms across his features and you refrain from rolling your eyes at him. Instead, you lean your forehead against his before connecting your lips together, a silent thank you exchanged.

The remnants of numbness still linger in your chest and your mind still drowns in a dizzying fog. There’s no guarantee that you won’t wake up tomorrow without an ounce of motivation. But, for now, it’s enough. For now, you relish in the warmth of the sun that beats against your skin, the sound of joy and bliss that filters into your ears, and the love that Sukuna envelops you in — safe and ever present. He is your light, and for now; that’s enough.

#sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kay writes #**jujutsu kaisen #depression symptoms #burnout symptoms

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

Text

rêveur | b. jacob

☕ pairing: (shy) pastry chef! jacob x fem! reader (with barista!kevin) ☕ word count: 4.2k (。_。) (oops i got carried away) ☕ genre: fluff, sort of slow-burn (more like jacob and the reader rejecting their feelings) ☕ tw: maybe some occasional swear words and one (1) mention of the reader’s ex but nothing too crazy. ☕ synopsis: you find yourself always coming back to the café down the street where you absolutely loved the pastries and befriended the barista, but you’ll soon discover the culprit of your sweet tooth. ☕ a/n: gosh it’s long but i couldn’t stop myself writing for him 🥺 i’m just too soft for him. ☕ requested: yes! i hope it’s not too bad!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

No matter how hard you tried, the efforts you put to prevent you from coming back, you always found yourself going at the local café every single week. You didn’t understand if it was the atmosphere or the warmth of the place, but you always found yourself there. The fact that it was located just down the road gave you the excuse of hanging around there more often than you should.

You could be busy, studying for finals or hang out with friends, the café was always hidden in the corner of your mind. As soon as the street works ended, your neighbourhood became the most tranquil place you’ve ever lived in. All your neighbours were friendly and polite, sticking a little note in the lift to warn the other neighbours of a potential party or loud reunion, helping each other at any occasion. Some residents, including you, owned a pet, and you were grateful that none of them was a pain in the butt for the rest of the building. When you told your friends how quiet and different it was from your former apartment, they never believed you.

While some of them would have killed to study or sleep at a place like your current one, you always found yourself going back to this local café. This little, Japanese-like coffee shop became your new obsession over the months, randomly finding it once while you wanted to go to a flower shop at the end of this street. The employees were welcoming and caring, completely catching you off guard as you were used to going to Starbucks, where some baristas and waiters could use a good lecture about politeness and respect. In the small coffee shop, their goal wasn’t to make the most money possible, it was more to please people and make them discover new coffee or pastries flavours. Everything was homemade, and that’s what encouraged you to become their number one fan. The workers, especially one, started recognising you by dint of your regular appearances at the shop, remembering one of your visits.

“Morning Y/N! Caramel macchiato, as usual? Nothing else?” Kevin, the barista, greeted you with a smile, which you returned alongside with a nod.

This barista was a social butterfly, always striking up a conversation with everyone. And he didn’t care, he just kept going, even if the customers were rude or remained quiet. You were admiring because you were among the people that stayed reserved yet polite when he started talking to you, but his ease made you comfortable enough to joke and laugh with him, striking a conversation with him whenever you had the chance, quickly becoming friends over your many visits.

“Yes, please! I need a lot of caffeine today,” you murmured, and he sadly chuckled, understanding your great need for energy. “Rough night?” he asked, and you agreed again, chuckling as you realised how lame it was. “I assisted my dog being in pain while giving birth,” you explained, and the barista’s eyes widened, his mouth falling agape in excitement. “But that’s amazing! How many did she have?” he seized your credit card without even telling you the price of your purchase - in his defence, you were so used to coming here that you knew the price of your order by heart by now - and typed on his screen, closing the cash register in a slam as it randomly opened. “She gave birth to four healthy puppies, they’re so adorable,” you replied, and the man in front of you smiled as brightly as you were.

“Those are great news! Oh, by the way, would you like to have a taste of the discovery of our pastry chef? You should have seen how happy he looked when he finished the batch this morning,” he explained, and you followed him to the window display, indicating with his finger what resembled a mille-feuille. “That looks nice, I’ll have one, then,” you stated as you were to hand him your credit card again, which he hesitantly took before looking at the back office. You asked him if something was wrong, but he shook his head with a smile and gave you a tray with your drink and the pastry. “Have a great day Kevin!” you thanked him while he washed his hands, head turning to you before shooting you a friendly wink. “You too, Y/N! And you can always tell me if you need someone to take one of the puppies, I’ll gladly adopt one. I only have to talk with my girlfriend first,” your eyes turned into crescent moons filled with joy at his words, and you lifted your thumb excitedly. He quickly waved before serving the next customer, his signature undying smile plastered on his face.

Comfortably sitting down at an empty table, you took off your coat and gulped a sip of your drink, your mouth salivating at the sight of the food. Grabbing the fork, you slid it against the pastry and brought it to your mouth, the sugary taste melting against your tongue. You ate more and more until you finished, almost tempted to go back to Kevin and ask him for another one. But you ignored your love of good food and started getting to work, getting a book and your computer out of your bag, touching up your project that you had spent a lot of time working on. It was one of the last things you had to do for university, and you were delighted to get it done to finally move on.

“Is everything okay?” You recognised the voice of your favourite barista, smiling as you watched him clearing your tray. “Yeah, thanks! Actually, can you tell the chef that it was amazing? I loved how incredible it tasted,” you explained, and Kevin smiled brightly, nodding. “I promise I’ll do it. Jacob gets so happy when he receives recognition, I’m sure it’s going to brighten his day,” nodding at you, he took your empty tray back to the counter.

Quickly saving your paper on your computer, you turned your head to the side to stare at the barista, smiling as you noticed him disappearing in the back as he called his friend’s name.

“Jacob!” Kevin spoke as he wiped his wet hands on his apron, his friend slightly flinching as the voice filled the silence he was used to working in. “Are we out of something?” the baker worriedly asked, and Kevin shook his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth. “No, no, I’m just doing my job, being a messenger,” Jacob slightly frowned and stopped spreading yolk on the biscuits. “One of my friends, Y/N, came and ate the mille-feuille you made this morning. She said that it was excellent, and she wanted me to tell you,” Kevin explained, and the baker blinked a few times, the tip of his ears getting progressively red as he processed his friend’s words. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” the baker replied with a smile, peeking out of the back office to try and get a look at the customers. “Is she still there?” he asked, and Kevin peered closer, shaking his head as your seat was now found empty.

Jacob nodded and went back to work, a bit disappointed to not have been able to see you, hence the pout forming onto his face, but he was touched that someone complimented him on his skills. Of course, it was his job after all, but it always felt nice to receive compliments and validation that what you do is fantastic. Jacob wasn’t the most confident person in the world, so your words only brought him the daily dose of happiness and the credits he deserved.

You came back the next week, the atmosphere of the café had changed into something quite hectic, almost stressing you out when you came here to relax and chill out from your day at uni. Now that your project was done and submitted, you had some hours to kill before meeting up with some friends. Without even noticing, you arrived in the middle of rush hour, people jostling one another to get some pastries or a quick coffee before going back to work. You had to put back into place a businessman that tried to overtake you to place his order, feeling your heart hammering in your chest while doing so. The excuse of being in a rush didn’t persuade you, riposting that you also had to go somewhere so he went back behind you, breathing out of frustration to make you feel guilty, but it didn’t work. You only rolled your eyes and waited, smirking to yourself as the man behind you gave up and left, cussing.

A hand settled the pastries in the window display in a rush, people massing together to decide on their order. Kevin was all over the place but still an angel, a tired yet bright smile adorning his face. Once it was your turn, a man walked behind your friend and recognised the thin hands that placed the pastries in front of you a few minutes earlier. “Jacob? We ran out of chocolate chip cookies, we need a new batch asap, bro. We’re selling them like hot cakes.Y/N, hi, the usual?” Kevin said, and you looked up at the name, the baker stopping in his tracks and nodded, a tired look on his face. Kevin seized the opportunity to grab a chocolate croissant from the tray his friend was holding, wrapping it in a napkin.

Your eyes connected with Jacob’s for a second, his light brown pupils holding something warm and gentle towards you. He wiped the flour off his apron before quickly looking back at you, pushing the strands of hair away from his eyes before replacing his baker cap. He looked in great need of sleep, the bags under his eyes enhancing the empathy you had for him. He was handsome and adorable at the same time, your heart not being able to choose what side to fall for. The baker tiredly nodded at his friend’s request and disappeared, hearing him hastily get back to work.

“Oh uhm, yes, please,” you stammered, and Kevin smirked, humming in agreement, and typed on his screen. You shyly cleared your throat as your friend probably understood your train of thoughts since you weren’t so discrete in observing the baker, but thankfully, he didn’t raise it.

Once the rush hour had calmed down, and the coffee shop quieted down again, just like it was when you came last time, Kevin took his break with Jacob. The manager took over, leaving the two employees time to take a much-needed break and breathe for a while, gathering enough energy to make it to the end of the afternoon.

“It was her that complimented your mille-feuille,” Kevin revealed as he motioned to your table with a nod, where you were happily calling a friend and munching on the pastry the barista had placed on your tray.

Jacob followed his friend’s finger, and an honest, tired smile emerged on his face when he noticed how bright and sunny you looked. You looked so soft and nice to have around, making the baker wonder how it was to have a conversation with you. Eyes turning into crescent moons as you laughed at one of your friend’s joke, you failed to notice the employee looking in your direction, his colleague observing him out of the corner of his eye while sipping his iced americano.

“She’s pretty, right?” Kevin mumbled, but Jacob didn’t hear him. “What did you say?” The pastry chef mindlessly asked, gaze trailing on your figure. “Y/N. She’s pretty, don’t you think?” Jacob’s eyes widened and stared back at his friend, who was giggling. “It’s okay, I’ll keep it a secret,” the barista nudged his tired friend in the ribs, finishing his drink. “You better,” his colleague finished his coffee, throwing the paper cup in a bin before going back to work, leaving a chuckling Kevin behind. “Why do I feel like cupid out of a sudden?” the barista mumbled to himself, a smirk appearing on his face as he stood up and went back inside.

The next week, as you hung around, you felt the same way of tension as soon as you stepped into the café as last time. Jacob was surprisingly serving customers, juggling between the coffees and the pastries baking in the back office. “H-hi!” you greeted Jacob, and he slightly froze at your word, greeting you with a bright smile. You were surprised when he didn’t even ask for your order, getting straight to work and wishing him a nice day as you walked to your usual seat. However, as you took your first sip, you felt your stomach churn and a disgusting taste landing on your throat. Shivers travelled down your spine as you swallowed the bitter liquid you recognised that belonged to the iced americano. A wave of memories invaded your mind as you remembered how terrible it tasted once you took a sip from your ex’s drink, who was addicted to this type of beverage.

Jacob got your order wrong, and you swallowed thickly several times, pondering if it were a good idea to add more stress to the poor baker’s shoulders by pointing at his mistake, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink this no matter how hard you tried. You stood up and walked to the side of the counter, waiting for the people to get served before you caught the baker’s attention. You started to calmly explain the uncomfortable situation you were in to the barista, his ears became bright red as another customer came and seemed to have your drink in your hand. The customer got extremely mad as he was apparently in a rush, yelling and cursing at the baker.

“You are paid for doing this, how could you make an order wrong? It’s not that difficult!” the man exclaimed, and you noticed Jacob’s eyes darkening. You knew that he wanted to talk back to the customer, but he didn’t plan on getting fired, so he just listened and nodded. “Jacob, don’t worry I can wait, serve him first,” you said before walking back to the table after offering him a smile, noticing him nodding again and take the two drinks that you and the other man laid on the counter.

The baker cleared his throat as he arrived a few minutes later with your correct order and a slice of chocolate cake.

“I’m sorry for giving you the wrong order. I am the only one here because Kevin is on holiday and my manager was supposed to come, but he left me in the lurch. So… I’m a bit stressed out,” Jacob explained quickly, earning a reassuring smile from him. He swallowed thickly but felt a wave of relief crash onto him as you didn’t look mad at all. “It’s okay, Jacob, it’s human to make mistakes. If it were another drink, I wouldn’t have said anything but I really can’t drink strong coffee. Thank you for the pastry, and uhm… good luck for today?” you said as he stood up, his tired eyes shining with thankfulness as he got back behind the counter. You quickly enjoyed your food and left after trying to wave at him timidly, but sadly, he didn’t notice you.

When you visited the café on the other days, he disappeared again in the back office, Kevin taking back the lead. There, with your caramel macchiato in hand, you started daydreaming about the pastry chef, his dreamy hands and beauteous face. You imagined romantic dates and activities you could do together, such as baking you new pastries before offering them at the coffee shop or even spending a day at the park together, a lost yet gentle smile on your face.

Everything about him made you dream. He exuded comfort, fondness, and warmth, his eyes always pearly with delight. Even a blind man would not have missed how amazing and passionate he is when it came to baking. You once overheard a conversation between him and Kevin, talking about a new receipt he found on the internet and how excited he was to try it out. His soft voice never failed to make you smile, his fluffy hair making you wonder how soft it was and how good it’d feel if you carded your fingers through his locks as you hugged him.

It was undeniable and inevitable, you had tried to deny those feelings during the past few weeks, but you couldn’t reject the fact that you had a massive crush on Jacob. Kevin gently teased you about this when his friend appeared, making sure to say his name aloud to catch your attention when you sat at a table, only to watch him quickly find a hiding place. You also wished you would see him more often, feeling quite defeated to see him escape your gaze as soon as he saw you. With the number of times you came to the coffee shop and saw your friend, your crush’s brief appearances weren’t enough to fulfil your little heart’s happiness. You wanted more of him, but, much to your dismay – and secretly Jacob’s – you didn’t know what to do.

“Ah Y/N! I talked with my girlfriend today, and I was wondering if I could adopt one of the puppies? I showed her the pictures you sent me, and she is all over the moon for this one,” Kevin said as he placed your order on the tray, quickly getting his phone out after checking whether some customers were waiting or not. “Yeah, no problem!” you smiled as you recognised the crazy, adventurous one. “I asked the vet, and he told me that they are old enough to be adopted. Is it okay if you come with your girlfriend within the next few days? I can’t wait for you to have one, they are precious!” you exclaimed but calmed instantly, heart hammering in your chest as your lovely baker appeared from the back office, visibly in a bad mood. He didn’t even glance at you, his attitude sent a pang in your heart, but Kevin just shook his head, winking at you. “Can we come tonight to your place? I’m excited to meet my future baby boy!” Kevin made sure that his friend heard, noticing that he was listening carefully yet discreetly, hence his movements coming suddenly to a halt. The barista gave you a knowing smile and kept on chatting with you as if nothing happened.

That night, someone knocked at your door, and you excitedly walked to the main entrance, happily greeting the couple, and welcoming them in, eyes widening as Jacob had tagged along.

“What a great surprise!” you awkwardly mumbled, and he nodded, his smile outshining the sun as you let them all inside. Kevin and his girlfriend were quick to follow the yaps of your dogs to her newborns, leaving you with Jacob, who was quick to grab your wrist gently to make you stay with him. You mindlessly smiled, but deep down, you were sure that Kevin did this on purpose.

“I couldn’t help but hear your conversation with Kevin, and I’ve always loved dogs, and since yours gave birth, I wanted to see them,” he explained, and you smiled, heart hammering in your chest. “Yeah no worries, you are welcome here! Let’s go see them before they steal all the puppies.”

With Jacob on your heels, you went to the spare room that became your dog’s nursery, the couple already cooing at the black puppy as you slowly opened the door.

“Look how proud she is,” his girlfriend said, looking at you with twinkling eyes. Your dog walked up to you, tail wagging as she got all the attention on her and the puppies. Since your dog only allowed you to reach inside the box, you were quick to lift the only black puppy out of the four and placed it in your friend’s arms. “I named him Squishy, I had no inspiration for the names,” you giggled as Kevin pet its belly, the puppy trying to lick his finger.

You brought everyone to the living room, where you offered your guests some drinks and started talking together. Your friend’s girlfriend was adorable, over the moon with the dog, just like Kevin had predicted it. Jacob was more on the reserved side, just like at the café, your dog climbing up the couch to rest her head on his thigh, asking for caresses. You felt a sense of betrayal rushing through your veins as she preferred a perfect stranger over you, retrieving her head every time you tried to pet her. Your dog looked at you almost with a mocking look, as if she wanted to show you that she dared to go up to him, unlike you.

It was getting late, but you were having fun, the couple confirming that they adopted the puppy. You helped packing everything necessary for the puppy and got ready to leave, thanking you for your kindness and hospitality. You were happy but felt a bit sad that someone already adopted one of the puppies. It was hard not to get attached to those cute little creatures, but you were reassured that he’d be treated like a king by living with your friends.

Jacob, on the other hand, was stuck on the couch as your dog prevented him from doing the slightest movement.

“She is quite stubborn,” Jacob shyly giggled as he tried to move his leg, only to have the dog whining and yapping. “Luna, stop! Let Jacob go, now!” you walked up to the couch, and she fled, strolling away from you each time you tried to get closer to her.

After many unsuccessful attempts, you managed to lure her into the nursery, shutting the door shut and she barked, but the apartment was quick to fall in silence.

“Finally,” you said as you went back to the living room, where Jacob was quietly admiring the photos on the wall. He gave you a quick smile and went back to his observations, you standing next to him with a slightly embarrassed smile. “It was nice to come here, but I’ll still reconsider my choices. I don’t want to decide on a whim, I wanna make sure that I’m settled and ready to welcome a puppy.” You nodded at his words, throwing him a reassuring gaze. “I completely understand, Jacob. You can take all the time you need. I’m planning on keeping one anyway, so if you change your mind, you can always come and visit,” you said, and an awkward silence installed around you two, Jacob scratching his neck as he avoided your gaze.

“Y-you know. I enjoy… what you bake, really, and I can’t wait for your next pastries,” you shyly mumbled to the man in front of you, who looked up with red adorning his cheeks. “I’m touched by what you’re telling me, thank you so much,” he said and quickly looked outside before inhaling and turning back to you.

“I’m going to go, but… I was wondering Y/N… y-you know, you’ve been friends with Kevin for a while and come around the café regularly, so I was wondering if we could also hang out, but you know… only the two of us? Maybe without Kevin?” Jacob was finding his words, thickly swallowing as he tried his best to tell you what he wanted. You giggled at the way he said things, imagining Kevin on his own while you were together. “Sure! Sure thing! You probably have a hectic schedule, but we can find something that works for the two of us?” you suggested, and he smiled, taking out his phone from his jeans pocket, holding the device with a nervous grip.

“Can I get your number, then? It’s gonna be easier to communicate rather than you coming around the café all the time. I- It’s not what I mean though, I really like having you around the shop, but you know, it’d be easier for the two of us,” you both shyly giggled as he messed up, the tip of his ears glowing bright red.

You were quick to enter your number in a new contact, confirming it before returning the phone to its owner, who gave you the warmest smile you had ever seen on his face.

“I’ll call you tomorrow then,” Jacob said as you walked him to the door, him thanking you just like your friends did. “Drive safe,” you whispered, and he nodded, giving you a soft smile before getting closer to you and softly pressing his lips on your cheek.

Your eyes widened at the sudden display of affection but smiled, feeling a wave of embarrassment invading your body. You waved at him until the elevator arrived, closing the front door with your heart pounding in your chest, doing a little dance of joy in the corridor as something concrete was starting to form between the two of you.

And the best was still yet to come. ♡

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thosewickedlovelies · 4 years

Text

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Banana Bread (part 1)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: probably T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst (read: Javi is jealous that Connie gets all the extras).

Tags: Mention of blood; super vague description of wound care; alcohol; TW for Javi: you have FEELINGS bby

Word count: 2,791

A/N: I guess technically this starts at the beginning of season 1, but I don’t plan on referencing the events of the show, so imagine they’re working on things less intense than trying to catch Escobar. I found Javier really tricky to write for, so I hope this reads okay! I’m so excited about the future chapters I have outlined for this lol pls get hype.

Masterlist

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You had only been living in your new place for about a month when you got new neighbors. You were glad for the company- the four-apartment building was fairly new, and didn’t feel very lived-in. You did your best to add some personal flair to your apartment, but it still had the effect of reminding you of your own newness to this place, your lack of any deep personal connections.

Your other neighbor didn’t exactly help with that. Javier Peña had lived here for awhile before you moved in, but that was all you knew about him; you didn’t speak much beyond your neighborly greetings and his insinuating smiles. He never hides his lingering glances, but nor does he make any other moves- you sense he’s a safe type, all bark and no bite (without consent). So you always amusedly but politely ignore the invitation implicit in your exchanges. They don’t seem to have a lot of depth anyway, as if he’s just trying for the sake of trying. Granted, he probably never has to do much more than that- you’re very aware of how attractive your neighbor is on the surface. You just prefer to feel a connection slightly deeper than surface level before going home with someone.

You learn more about him from Connie, who tells you that he works at the embassy with her husband, Steve. In “janitorial services.” You raise a bemused eyebrow at that, but respect your neighbors’ privacy and don’t ask further questions. You help Connie get a job at a hospital a few blocks away from the one you’re a nurse at and promise to help her practice Spanish.

The building feels more lively now, and you’re happy to have a confidant upstairs, especially one who’s more privy to the life of your enigmatic hall-mate. You don’t know if it’s the neighborly care you feel for your new friend or if there’s some other unconscious change, but you begin to keep an ear out for Javier. You do share an apartment wall, although you don’t glean much through it. Some standard kitchen rummaging, television noise, the occasional bedroom guest (whose enterprises you try not to listen to, but damn if the man doesn’t have a perfect voice for after-dark activities). The most noticeable thing about him is the odd hours he keeps: sometimes in tandem with Steve’s schedule and sometimes not, you can never predict when he’ll be in or out.

Little do you know, you’re not the only one paying attention. Javier has spent many an evening alone with only whiskey and the television for company, but now there are other things to stimulate his senses. The smell of your baking filtering through the wall, even lingering in the hallway the next morning. The sound of you singing to the radio while clattering about the kitchen. Sometimes he turns the tv down to listen and imagines there being no wall between your two homes. What would his life be like with someone to infuse that kind of sweetness and light into it?

He doesn’t mean you specifically, necessarily. If, once or twice, your face jumps to mind while he’s taking care of himself in bed, he thinks nothing of it. You’re his beautiful neighbor- it’s a fantasy begging to be played out.

But damn if he hasn’t been tempted to make it a reality. He gets to taste your baking sometimes when you leave extras with Connie, and one day she catches his brow creased in a frown, distracted halfway through a slice of walnut banana bread.

“Javi,” Connie repeats, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah.” Javier snaps out of it, looking up.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of banana bread for a full two minutes. Is it gonna do a trick?”

He decides to lean into it, see what Connie’s reaction might be. “Only if the trick is getting me out of my pants. I don’t know a man alive who could resist the shit she makes.” He scoops another forkful into his mouth to prove his point, letting the rich, nutty flavor remind him of other places. Homes. Real homes, made of people, not the solitary kind he lives in now.

She rolls her eyes at his crudeness, but agrees. “You’re right about that. I don’t know where she gets the energy to do this after hospital shifts.”

Javier hides his next thought with another forkful of bread and a noncommittal noise. Wonder if she’d have as much energy for it if she had a man to tire her out. It was automatic, a question he couldn’t help debating with himself. Surely no one who spent that much time in the kitchen could have energy to spare on…other pursuits.

Connie is regarding him shrewdly. He avoids her gaze, focusing on finishing his plate in large mouthfuls to avoid the questions he can feel brewing. But he’s not quick enough. “Has she always brought you extras too?” she asks. Too casually, idling with her fork.

“No,” Javier says dismissively, and it’s not quite a scoff. “She wasn’t here long before you showed up. We’re not as close as you two.” Understatement. Did he sound sour about the fact?

Before Connie can ask any more questions he rises from his seat. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Tell Steve what I said.” With a nod of farewell, he turns and strides out the door.

One night you’re awoken with a start from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Heart pounding, you sit up, listening intently. You’d never felt unsafe here, but you’re aware of the potential dangers. What had woken you?

You hear a swear from the hall, and your muscles relax as you recognize Javier’s low voice. There’s a beat of silence, then a scraping, clinking sound. He must have dropped his keys. But then he grunts, and concern sweeps over you. You’re a nurse- you recognize the sound of a man stifling his pain.

There are long delays before each new noise that indicates an action. The doorknob twists as he grunts again, but it’s a moment before the key turns in the lock. It seems to take an age for him to get through the door; his motions sound clumsy before he closes it. Safe in the privacy of his home, so he thinks, he lets out a longer sigh, the pain and exhaustion now obvious in the sound. But you can hear his fumbling through the wall, and you worry your lip between your teeth. It is your place to go see if he’s alright?

Finally you decide that it is. You’re his neighbor and a healthcare professional, and it is your professional opinion that he sounded in-pain enough to warrant a check-up. Plus, you heard him that way before he got inside, you reason. So it’s not as if you were just being snoopy through the wall.

Just in case, though, you grab some muffins you made earlier as a backup excuse (once again mentally thanking whoever left the cookbook in your apartment). 11:30 isn’t too late for a friendly drop-by, right?

You knock softly on his door. “Javier? It’s me.” Nervous energy taps in your fingers. You’re never even been on his side of the hallway before.

There’s a shuffling sound, and the door unlatches. A narrow gap opens, into which Javier plants himself, and you immediately zero in on where he keeps one leg wedged behind the door. He leans into the elbow propped against the doorjamb above his head, while his other hand already holds a glass of what you can smell is whiskey. He looks like he would rather be anywhere but here at this moment. “Neighbor,” he greets dryly, a neutral expression on his face.

“Uhh.” You’ve never been this close to him before, and his appearance catches you off-guard. His usually combed hair is messy, waves tangling over his forehead, and he’s sweaty, the open collar of his shirt damp and the exposed skin gleaming with moisture.

Javier raises an eyebrow expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. His glances down at the plate in your hands, and it prompts you to speak.

“Hi, Javier. Uh, sorry, I know it’s late, but I thought I’d bring you some of these-“ you lift the dish “-before they come with me to work tomorrow. They’re banana bread muffins.” Your voice falters with your confidence. Your eyes can’t help but flicker over his face and chest, taking in the smear of dust on his jaw, the redness of the knuckles wrapped around his glass. Mostly you’re trying not to look at the leg he’s definitely hiding, which you can tell he’s keeping his weight off of.

Javier stares at you, not buying it for a second. His lips purse for lack of a cigarette to wrap around. He shifts the weight he has on his arm- damn, his leg hurts- and wonders what could have possibly prompted you to start bringing him baked goods now of all moments. “Why aren’t you bring those to Connie’s?” Like usual.

“Um, well-“ He sees your gaze finally drop to the leg he’s kept out of view, and too late remembers who got Connie the hospital job.

“I heard you drop your keys, and it sounded like you were in pain,” you confess. “I’m a nurse, Javier. I can help if you need it.” Though apologetic, your tone is firm, face sincere as you offer him aid. Him, your grumpy neighbor who does nothing but leer at you.

Well, he isn’t that proud. Javier sighs, and opens the door further. Your eyes widen as you see the long slice in his pant leg, blood still damp around the wound beneath. “Shit, Javier, what happened? It doesn’t matter, shit, sit down.” You surge forward without waiting for permission, tucking yourself under the arm of his uninjured side and steering him toward a dining room chair. Where he’d been about to sit down down and tend to the cut himself. He supposes your apartments mirror each other, but your familiar reaction to the layout still surprises him.

“Whoa, hey, watch the whiskey,” he exclaims, flailing out the arm holding the glass, taken aback by your sudden manhandling. With one hand still occupied by the muffins, you direct him solely with an around his waist and your shoulder propped under his armpit. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. If it weren’t for the fiery pain in his leg, your hold would have him feeling a very different kind of heat.

You give him a look that says you won’t be fooled by his blustering as you deposit him onto the chair and the plate on the table. “May I?” you ask, kneeling, hands hovering above his wound.

“Oh, now you’re asking permission?” He scoffs in disbelief but waves a hand in consent, leaning back in the seat.

You scoff right back at him. “Look, I see blood, I make the macho men sit, okay? Why didn’t you go to a hospital with this?”

Javier studies you as you carefully lift the denim to peer at the cut on his thigh. He takes a sip of whiskey to buy time (as well as dull the stinging pain). You’ve put on a robe over what looks like pajamas, but you seem too alert to have just dragged yourself from bed. And yet...was that a pillow mark on your cheek? Just there, arcing from your temple to your jaw…

“Javier?" you're looking up at him, a touch of confusion on your face.

“Did I wake you up?” he hears himself asking.

Her gaze drops again. “No,” you answer. “Well, yes, but I fell asleep on the couch, so it was a good thing.”

Ah, that explained the pillow mark.

Finally you stand. Your hands rest on your hips, heedless of your fingertips smudged red with his blood. “It doesn’t actually look too bad. I have enough supplies here to fix you up. You stay here, take off your pants if you can manage it by yourself, and I’ll be right back.” And with that you whisk away, robe swishing through his front door.

Javier remains where he is, a bit stunned by this turn of events, your sudden insertion into his life. He shakes his head. Maybe whiskey and blood loss shouldn’t go together. He tosses back the rest of his glass anyway in order to wrangle off his jeans.

By the time you return, he feels more composed, if rather uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting in just his boxers with a bloody slice across his thigh. He watches silently as you arrange various medical supplies on the table and pull up a chair across from him. You perch on the edge of it and look at him before doing anything else. “Are you gonna tell me how you got this?”

He’s not about to tell you it was a fluke accident during one of Carillo's interrogations. Somehow, while his back was turned, the guy got free and tried to escape, swinging a knife wildly as he hurled past Javier. The cut was long, ugly, but shallow. He’d live. He couldn’t say the same for the man who delivered it.

Javier considers his answer. “Can’t,” he says. “It’s better if you don’t know.” His gaze skitters away as he speaks.

He works for the government with a poker face like that? “Janitorial work, huh?” you say dryly. Sighing, you reach for the antiseptic. “At least tell me what made it. So I can treat it properly.” You look at him steadily.

Javier looks back for a long moment. “A knife,” he says at last.

You nod, and rip open a packet of gauze. He sucks air through his teeth as the antiseptic sears the wound clean, but otherwise doesn’t speak while you work. Which is fine. You notice he’s drained his glass, and you empathize. Frankly you wish you had a drink yourself right now.

Once you’ve cleaned the cut it’s easier to see the damage. Which is minimal, thankfully. Most of the blood was probably from him moving around when it happened. You explain what you’re doing as you seal the wound closed. Only when you’re almost finished does he speak.

“Why don’t you ever bake me anything?”

It’s so unexpected that your hands still. You stare at him in astonishment, waiting for him to elaborate.

“What I mean is…christ,” Javier mutters. The unflattering fluorescent light overhead highlights the dark circles under his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You always leave extras of stuff at Steve and Connie’s. Never here.” With me.

You resume your work on his thigh, surprised to feel a tinge of guilt. “You didn’t seem like a baked goods kind of guy,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound too defensive. It was true, after all. Though you never got a sense of threat from Javier, neither did he seem the type who would appreciate domestic gestures of friendship.

He didn’t look offended, however. I’ll try anything once,” he says, the ghost of a familiar smirk suggesting he’s feeling better. But then he leans forward, all traces of smirk vanishing. “And your lemon drizzle cake was incredible.” Javier looks at you seriously. His face is too close for your level of acquaintanceship, but you don’t move away.

Surprised, you assess him anew, wondering if you’re catching a glimpse of the man beneath all the masculine posturing. He’s nicer-looking this way, you muse. His face softer, brown eyes wide and sincere. You hide just how pleased you are at this insight (which you’re sure he has no idea he’s giving you) beyond allowing yourself a small smile.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll bring you some.”

Javier can’t quite find another quippy response, so he just gives a small nod, finding it hard to draw back even after you break his gaze. He tries not to fidget as you place a final strip of tape over the gauze bandage.

“There,” you declare, your work complete. “That should hold you for tonight.” You stand and gather up your supplies, giving him care instructions as you go. “Got it?” You seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived, confidence in your work squaring your shoulders. It’s…compelling, much more so than your usual reserved smiles in the hall.

“Yes ma’am.” Javier nods, not having heard a word. “…Thank you,” he adds, begrudgingly grateful.

You smile wryly at him. “Goodnight, Javier.”

You’ve nearly reached the door when he speaks again. “Javi.”

“Hm?” Pausing, you turn back to him.

He clears his throat. “You…you can call me Javi.”

Your smile is much warmer this time, brightening your eyes, and Javier feels his heart pound. “Goodnight, Javi.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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americxn · 3 years

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Devil’s Night

♢ As a resident of the hotel, you are forced by James to attend Devil’s Night every year. But this year, you make it your mission to ruin his night ♢

WARNINGS: violence, alcohol, swearing, mentions of serial killers, unwanted sexual advances

word count: 3400

You composed yourself before pushing open the door of room 64, steeling your nerve as you took a step over the threshold. The room beyond fell utterly quiet as you appeared, all the seats at the luxuriously laid table accounted for but one, to James March’s right. “Ah.” James exclaimed as you huffed, forcing yourself to move towards the table and its occupants, your heels clicking as you strode for the table. James appeared before you, blocking your path. You paused, flicking your gaze to his in irritation. His dark eyes flashed in warning, his message clear: “don’t fuck this up for me.” A feral grin spread across your lips as you accepted the arm he offered, allowing him to lead you around the table. “Why else would I be here?” You silently responded as you stopped before the empty chair, letting your impishness shine clear in your own eyes. Devils night was, to you, unarguably the absolute worst night of the year and the only reason you continued to show was the food. That, and the fact that James was pretty to look at. His threats of punishing you if you didn’t show had become redundant to you a few years ago, regardless of the fact that he would absolutely follow through with his threats if given the opportunity; as a resident of the hotel, there was no getting away from him, the countess’ rooms providing you with some recluse from the man, where you spent many of your unending days. You almost hadn’t come tonight, tempted to see how far James would go to ensure that you attended next year, just for some excitement. And yet here you were, settling yourself primly in the chair that James pulled out for you, immediately reaching for the tall glass of red wine set before you. Scanning the table as James sat beside you, you drank deeply, taking in your distasteful company over the rim of the glass.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” James began as he settled himself beside you. Miss Evers appeared behind his chair, a large tray of shallow glasses full of a pale green liquid in her hands. “Absinthe.” James chirped as the maid placed the tray in the centre of the table, everyone reaching for a glass without hesitation. You joined them, your lip curling in repugnance as the smell of the foul alcohol stuffed itself up your nostrils. “Our customary libation.” The killers around the table raised their glasses in the air, cheering heartily before draining their share of the abhorrent liquid. You did the same, not joining them in the actual toast before taking the drink in one gulp, the liquid burning a toxic track down your throat. For fucks sake. You fought to keep your face straight, shuddering as the liquid fire settled in your stomach. The drink got harder and harder to keep down each year, and yet you knew that the worst of the night was yet to come. James’ large hand drifted to your knee beneath the table and you turned to him with a snarl, shoving his hand off of you. Several sets of eyebrows rose around the table, James’ joining them. “Not in the mood to play tonight?” He drawled at you, lifting his glass of bourbon to his lips, his ringed pinky finger lifted delicately in the air. “Not with you.” You crooned. “With him though, perhaps.” You jerked your head to your left, to John Lowe who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you had entered the room. His head cocked to the side as you finally deigned to acknowledge him, though you kept your attention on James, pleased to see that your words had the desired affect as his gaze hardened and a muscle in his strong jaw feathered. Your shoulders shrugged slightly as you turned your head from the man, your chin raising slightly as both James and John continued to stare at your side profile from either side. “So, Aileen,” you began, your rings clinking on the side of your wine glass as you lifted it to your lips. “Any tips on how to degrade a man?” She snorted, his eyes wild as she leaned forwards to address you fully from across the table. “From one woman to another,” she began, her voice dropping to a faux whisper, “I think you already know how to do that quite well.” Her eyes flickered to both men on either side of you, your lips curling into a small smile, mirroring her own. “Well maybe we could work together. I’ll leave you to do the messy parts of course.” Her eyes glowed with feral delight. “Next year.” She whispered, although both of you were aware that everyone was listening. You dipped your chin in a little nod, your smile growing of its own accord as James stiffened beside you. Your gaze shifted to James, his lips set in a thin line as he stared at you. “What?” The energy in the room shifted with the tension that began to flow as you met his hard stare, unflinching. “I want to speak with you in private later. I have something to ask you.” You considered his words carefully before responding. “Whatever you have to ask, the answer is no.” Everyone around the table shifted slightly, suddenly finding the surface of the polished table very interesting. James clicked his tongue, taking a deep drink as he looked into your eyes. You forced yourself not to shrink under his scrutiny and tried not to exhale too hard as he finally looked away, dismissing you. “Miss Evers.” He called, his voice once again warm, a stark contrast with the cold energy that you had created in the room. “I think it’s time that we ate.” Miss Evers hurried into the room, serving everyone large plates of steaming food before disappearing once more. Whilst everyone else ignored her, you turned to wave at her as she left the room, thanking her quietly. Her furrowed brow softened as you did so and as you turned back to the table, James was glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. The table gradually filled with amicable conversation as the good food and alcohol began to take hold, but you lounged silently in your chair, merely picking at your food before abandoning your fork and instead opting for another glass of wine. James barked a laugh, his voice booming over the others as he conversed with his guests whilst you ignored them all, even if John’s hand occasionally snaked its way onto your waist, unrelenting even as you constantly shoved him away, considering whether a fork to the eye would be enough to get him to fuck off. “You’re not eating?” James nudged you half way through the meal, surveying your lazily crossed legs and the uncaring manner with which you sat in your chair, sitting slightly forwards on your seat with your shoulder blades pressing into the backrest. You shook your head, picking through your options of responses and trying to figure out which would piss him off the most. “No,” you sighed. “The countess has something waiting for me to eat in her room.” He bristled beside you, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to turn away from you and take another bite of his food. You had to suppress your amusement at his desired reaction. James would believe anything. The truth was that you and the countess had never engaged in sexual activities with one another and never would. The farthest you had gone was with sharing her partners or bringing a fourth party of your own to her bed. But never would you do anything with Elizabeth on her own. You were very close friends and that was it. But nobody knew what went on behind the closed doors of the rooms of the Countess, and you found it entertaining to feed into the rumours that constantly circled the hotel as to whether the two of you were lovers or not. You settled further into your chair as James angrily skewered a piece of lamb with his fork, chewing angrily at your words as you continued to innocently drink your wine. Eventually, everyone was so gorged on food and alcohol that the room fell into a relaxed atmosphere and as you kicked John under the table for the eleventh time in the past hour as his hand once again snaked onto your thigh, James rose from his seat. “Now then,” he began, glancing around the table at his guests, his eyes lingering on you before he pulled them away. “Jeffery.” The sulking man stiffened in his chair next to the Zodiac Killer and you almost felt sorry for the painfully timid man as all attention turned to him. But then you remembered what a repulsive bastard he was and stared at him just as intently, wanting to set him on edge. “I know how difficult it is to show yourself at this sort of event, so,” you glanced at James warily, unsure as to where this was headed. “I got you a little gift.” James finished, the doors to the room opening, revealing Miss Evers in the company of a tall, lanky man who staggered into the room at her side. He looked as if he was in his early thirties and you cringed as his scent hit you. He was very much alive, completely at odds with the rest of the rooms occupants. And drugged, from the way he leant on the little maid, his eyes unfocused as they struggled to determine who awaited him at the table. Miss Evers struggled under the weight of the man as she staggered with him to the table, Jeffrey’s face lighting up as he reached out, gathering the disorientated man onto his lap, ignoring Miss Evers as she hurried out of the room. “Oh, dear god.” You breathed as a hungry demeanour settled over Jeffrey as he surveyed the man, shushing him gently when he tried to shift himself off the killer. “Lucky bastard.” Aileen huffed from across the table, watching intently as Jeffrey pressed him nose into the man’s thin neck, breathing in deeply as his eyes fluttered shut. “You enjoy these gatherings a bit too much, Aileen. Is that not enough for you?” James said warmly as the woman let out a crazed laugh, nodding her head in agreement. Your face distorted into a grimace as Jeffrey’s hands continued to roam over the poor man, completely defenceless against the onslaught of Jeffrey’s touch on his skin. You turned up your nose, draining the rest of your wine in one. It was refilled by James mere seconds later and you didn’t so much as pause before reaching for the glass again and drinking deeply. “Please, Jeffery,” you crooned, your stomach turning beneath what you hoped was a convincing cool demeanour. “I’m eating.” Jeffrey ignored you but James snorted from beside you, eyeing up your untouched food that had long since gone cold and the shining cutlery that lay neatly atop the unused napkins before you. You watched with you lip curled as Jeffrey lifted a glass of Absinthe towards the barely conscious man’s lips, whispering softly in his ear as he rested the rim of the glass of the mans lower lip and titled the drink. Most of the green liquid dribbled down the mans chin, dripping onto his white vest as Jeffrey grinned. He sputtered slightly at the drops of the drink that had made it into his mouth, his throat working to swallow it. You half hoped that the man would choke on it. At least then his death would be swift. Clean. Suppressing a shiver, you turned to James. “Well if this little death party is over, I’m going to be leaving.” You put your hands on the table to push yourself up, only making it to an awkward crouch above the chair when James slammed a hand onto your shoulder and pushed you firmly back down. You turned to him, mouth open in disbelief. “No, stay. We’ll have more drinks.” You shook your head, going to push yourself up once more but James’ hand moved to your wrist and he pulled it sharply, leaving you twisted towards him on your feet. You bared your teeth at him, pulling at your wrist and trying to wrangle yourself free. “I’ve had enough James, I’m leaving.” You hissed at him, watching as he leaned forwards, bringing your faces closer together. The alcohol on James’ breath was strong as he breathed at you: “I don’t want you to leave. Sit.” The other guests stopped their gawking at Jeffrey and his new plaything to turn to you and James, watching in amusement as you tried in vain to pull his hand from your wrist. “No. I want to go.” You insisted, firm tone faltering in slight panic as James turned away from you, looking to door and calling casually for Miss Evers. “Miss Evers.” He hollered, smiling warmly at the woman who appeared by his side. “Remove Miss y/l/n’s chair, please.” You watched in confusion as Miss Evers did as was instructed, offering you a sympathetic smile before hurrying away, your chair balanced awkwardly in her arms. “James.” You pleaded, tugging at your arm. “Sit.” He repeated, meeting your gaze coolly. You paused, your short black dress suddenly feeling too tight as everyone’s attention came to rest on you, especially John’s, who had been blatantly staring at your ass for the duration of this encounter. “What-I... where?” You gaped incredulously. The hilarity of this situation would’ve usually made you laugh but now you looked between James and the empty spot where your chair should be in confusion. James shrugged. “Just sit. You’ve got two options. The floor,” a wave a laughter flowed around the table and your cheeks heated slightly in embarrassment, the situation suddenly clear: James wanted to humiliate you. To make you truly uncomfortable and force you to sit through the rest of this godforsaken night for the attitude that you had showed him not just this evening, but for the entirety of the six years that you had been trapped in this hotel. “Or,” James continued, pulling you in even further so that your noses were close to touching, “my lap.” John’s repulsive gaze on your ass burned like a brand as you processed his words, hate like you had never known it unfurling within you. James already knew what you would choose, his legs uncrossing to allow you room to comfortably sit on him. “Fuck you.” You spat, finally wrenching you wrist free and turning in one swift movement to perch yourself on James’ lap, his strong arms coming to wrap around your waist. Scowling down at the table, you forced yourself to take a deep breath as your eyes stung ever so slightly at the humiliation James was making you endure. His scent settled around you as you went still in his hold. Cigarette smoke and bourbon with a slight hint of shaving cream. It wasn’t unpleasant, his hard chest warm behind you. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” James crooned in your ear, his deep voice rumbling through you. You didn’t deign to answer him, not as you lifted your gaze to see everyone’s attention, aside from James and John’s, had shifted back to the poor man in Jeffrey’s arms; you realised in a disheartening moment of understanding that now you were no better off than the narcotised man across from you: trapped, nothing more than a source of entertainment. The only difference was that you would eventually leave this room alive. But as James’ thumb began to rub small circles on your hip, you weren’t sure what was better: death or having to endure this for the next few hours. Your teeth gritted and your foot found James’ shin, slamming your stiletto heel into his leg. His grunt of pain in your ear was beyond satisfying and he took your message, letting his hands fall slightly so that they were only rested on you in means of supporting you on his lap. James reached to the side to slide your glass to you, filling it with the last of the bottle of wine before putting it in your hands. You had half the mind to dump the glass on his head but he would likely only make you stay for longer so you refrained, bringing the glass to your lips and drinking. You kept silent as the conversation began to flow around the table again, James relaxing beneath you as he got accustomed to you settled there. Across the table, Jeffrey’s confidence began to mount, his hands roaming over the man more intently, his lips parting in ecstasy as he pressed his nose into the man’s cheek. Your stomach churned and you turned your head away, moving on James to shift so that you were sat sideways with your legs rested on the chair leg, your shoulder to his chest in an effort to block out what was surely about to happen across the table from you. He looked down at you with a frown and leaned in to your ear. “Why are you so uncomfortable? I have never seen you like this before.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as James’ hand came to rest on the small of your back to support you in the position you sat in between his legs. “This is revolting.” You hissed. “What is?” James asked, sounded genuinely concerned and you titled your chin up to look at him. “Between that freak,” you jerked your head at Jeffrey, “and that pig,” you looked straight ahead, meeting John’s dark gaze that had been fixed on your face for the past few minutes. He smirked as you addressed him. “It’s making me feel physically sick.” You admitted in a whisper, your fingers clutching tightly at your wine that you held at your hip, the glass resting on James’ knee. James hummed in your ear, looking around the table momentarily before whispering back to you: “If that’s the case, I would recommend that you close your eyes for the next few minutes.” Your stomach twisted as you braved a glance across the table, chest tightening as you beheld Jeffrey tracing the tip of a blade across the man’s exposed throat, the silver glinting in the candle light. Glancing between James and the door, your jaw clenched as you pushed yourself off James, slapping his hands away when he reached out for you. “Fuck this.” You muttered, grabbing the empty bottle of wine and bringing it down on the edge of the hard wood table, watching in satisfaction as it shattered cleanly. Then you turned away from James, bringing the broken shard of bottle high in the air before slamming it down on John’s hand that was spread out of the table. Skin split and bone crunched as you cleaved through John’s hand with the sharp, ragged glass with considerable force, twisting in emphasis as you leaned in, savouring his shrieks of pain as you forced the glass into his hand deeper until it scraped against the wood of the table beneath. “Touch me again, and I go for your dick next time.” He panted through gritted teeth as you pulled the end of the bottle out slightly, shards of glass catching in his flesh, before slamming it back down again, watching as John’s face twisted in pain, his hot blood making your hand slick as you let go of the bottle and turned away from the repulsive man. James had risen to his feet but stepped away from you as you twisted towards him, his eyes flashing in the candle light. You paused slightly as what you could have sworn to be pride shone on his features, his mouth turned up slightly at the corners. “Thank you for this lovely evening.” You spat at him before turning and making your way around the table, the alcohol you had consumed blurring the edges of your vision ever so slightly, your steps unsteady in your heels. John’s blood dripped down your fingers, covering your hand like a red lace glove as you paused with a thought, halfway between the door and the table. Your neck prickled from the attention of multiple sets of eyes trained on your back and you didn’t let yourself reconsider as you pivoted, stalking for the chair occupied by Jeffrey and his ‘gift’. Jeffrey twisted to look at you, his free hand coming to wrap protectively around the man, his other hand clenched around his knife. You stopped behind his chair and took his wrist, prying the knife from his grip and palming it in your own hand. He stared at you, fear leeching into his eyes as you opened your mouth to speak. “Even in death you are a retched soul.” You hissed, angling the blade before slipping it between his ribs in one smooth motion. Blood immediately began to pool on the pristine carpet beneath Jeffrey’s chair and he gasped, falling sideways slightly in his seat and sending the drugged man sprawling onto the floor. Your heart ached as the man grunted softly, his hands trying to find purchase on the carpet to pull himself away from his assailant. But there was no way in hell that you could drag him out of the room and so you backed away from him, wishing him swift, painless death. Jeffrey cried out, his hand reaching for the man on the floor as you flicked your eyes to James, an odd look of amusement etched onto his pale face as you forced yourself to turn from the damage that you had instilled in the room, tearing your eyes from the man on the floor. Walking to the door, the room behind you fell silent as they watched you go. The shutting of the door echoed slightly through the empty hallway as you emerged into the corridor beyond the room, stooping to roughly pull off your heels. The carpet was soft beneath your bare feet as you stormed away from room 64, the silence of the rest of the hotel settling over you and you welcomed it, trying to calm your thundering heart as you hurried down the hall to the elevator, worried that James would follow you and repay the favour now owed for ruining his night. But an odd sense of victory settled over you as you glanced down at your hand, John’s blood crusted beneath your fingernails and between your fingers. Like fuck would you be attending next year.

#ahs #american horror story #hotel #hotel cortez #ahs hotel #james patrick march #james march #reader #one shot #angst #devils night

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imagineabrighterworld · 3 years

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Tsundere!Tenya Iida x Reader

A/N: Request from @coledrawsstuff , hope you like it! ^^

You meet him at the entrance exam

It was the day of the entrance exam, and you couldn't be more excited and terrified. You ran to the gates, opting out of using public transportation should you be late to the test, which meant you were already sweating despite the crisp breeze. Amid the students waiting to enter the testing room, you can't help but notice a boy stretching in blue gear. It was a little confusing, as it was yet to be the battle simulation test. Why was he stretching for.. Writing?

Suddenly you were grateful to have the excuse of over exertion on your side as you feel your face begin to warm.

He was.. Impressive looking. Though he was intimidating with how serious he was, he had the body of an Adonis.

Though you should have been studying your notes to prepare for the test, your eyes were glued to him. But your rational brain managed to snap you out of your gawking just enough to go back to the matter at hand.

Closing your eyes, you focus on the vibrations of metal around you. From a vending machine three miles away, the water fountain one block away, and to the steel charm in your palm, you relaxed and let your magnetism do it's work. You had to be in harmony with the metals you attracted, and this was the easiest way, just letting the metals come to you. Not that you were going to summon a vending machine to pummel something. That would make way to much of a scene. So you continued your little practice.

Meanwhile, you let your mind drift to the muscular boy in glasses.

Unfortunately your magnetism attracted something else too, or someone else

In your defense, the boy was built like a brick wall, which was hard not to look at. You couldn't help but wonder how much training and what kind of strict regimen it took to maintain a body like that. You surely didn't have the energy to maintain a system like his.

“What are you doing?!”

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts, causing you to stumble forward and smack into something sturdy. “Huh?” You look up, throat turning dry as you stare directly into the eyes of the Adonis himself.

He glares at you, his glasses catching the light and obscuring his dark blue eyes.

You hold back a squeak and back away, giving him an extra two feet of space. “Sorry about that, I didn't mean to-” Your body pulls itself back to him, causing you to bump knees with him.

You look downward and find the cause of the scene. He had engines in his calves.

Oh goddess..

You release your magnetism, tripping over your own two feet to create more space between you two. “I swear it wasn't intentional!” He holds your gaze for a moment, his mouth open as if ready to chew you out, but before he can the Pro Hero Present Mic yells over the cacophony of students, telling them it was time to start.

The boy mutters something under his breath and walks away, dropping to the ground and launching himself through the doors, bypassing a green haired boy that looked as nervous as you.

You give the frozen boy a sympathetic nod before running after the other students that had already begun their conquest of Battle Block B.

“Please don't let me find him.” You mumble to yourself.

You had laid out a trap and magnetized the robots to crash into each other, crunching them up into a ball of scrap metal

It was some miracle that the test was within the normal use of your quirk, so you were able to make a quick strategy on how to gather up points. You were uneasy of course, because they must know that there is bound to be a kid with magnetism or ferrokinesis on their side. Keeping that in mind, you build up on your plan for aiming for the top spot.

So far the test had been a breeze for you. With your magnetism you managed to pull the robots into themselves, crushing them like wads of scrap paper. Occasionally you would spot the green haired boy, feeling pity for him when he would arrive just a little too late to gather points. You were tempted to help him, but with the clock counting down, you did whatever you could to get more points for yourself. You were at thirty seven and were working on getting an extra six points by creating a giant trap. It wasn't something you had practiced before, magnetizing more than two large objects at a time, but you had little choice if you wanted to enter the hero course.

Gathering your strength you pull your hands together and magnetize three of the giant robots to clash together, but by doing this you miss seeing a fourth robot readying to bash you into a demolished building.

He saves you from a robot about to blast you, running and catching you in his arms

Tenya Iida was many things, he liked to believe that chivalrous was one of those qualities. As a member of the prominent Iida family of heroes, he strived to make his family proud. He put all his might into the test, knowing that the faculty were watching everyone with keen eyes, seeing how they assessed each situation and complication. But what he did not take into account was you. You threw him off his groove, off his calm mentality. Even now he wondered how you were fairing against the robots. But he didn't have to ponder for very long as he saw a level 2 villain bot prepare to smack you aside.

He had no time to warn you as his instincts kicked in. Engines blazing, he jets towards you, scooping you into his arms and carting you both to a safer direction.

“You must watch out for yourself! A hero is vigilant and always aware of their surroundings! You could have been badly injured!” He yells at you, unsure why he felt so peeved. You wouldn't have died, the heroes knew to hold back enough for a simulation like this. And yet here he was, angry with you, someone he barely met.

You release your magnetism on the bots from earlier, knowing they were turned to scrape when you heard the resounding clang of empty metal. “I-I was fine!”

But of course he did not believe you. He just- it was frustrating to see you defend yourself when you didn't know the situation you were in!

He sets you down and runs off, barking from over his shoulder as he moves on to gather more points. “Keep an eye on your surroundings!”

Towards the end of the exam he realizes what your plan was and swoons on the inside

With the exams over, Tenya returns home and waits for his brother to drive before retelling the story of how his experience was. He made sure to include the people he got to meet, which included you.

“Maybe that was their plan.” His older brother Tensei says while using his chopsticks to dunk a dumpling in a dish of sauce. “Gather the battle bots to use them as a wrecking ball. If you don't have a weapon, you make one.”

Tenya pauses in his eating, covering his mouth to hide his mid bite into a cabbage roll.

Was that your plan? Were you just making yourself an opportunity? Did he squander your work?

His mother laughs while his father smiles at him as he shakes his head.

“Next time you see them, apologize.” Tensei winks. “And don't just go picking up people without reason.”

You are in 1-A, taking the place of Hagakure, meaning you were far in front of Iida

When you received word of entering U.A.’s hero course, you were absolutely ecstatic, nothing could ruin your mood! Except maybe the dreaded fear that engine boy would be joining you in 1-A..

Taking your seat in the front corner of the room, you fiddle with the steel charm on your necklace, latting it bounce above your fingertips and circle your fingers. There wasn't much to do other than to wait for the teacher to arrive. You were early, and gratefully so, as it took you awhile to find the classroom. Your nerves had begun to settle but as soon as the bell had run and the class filled with nearly all 19 students (excluding yourself of course), you knew what was going to happen.

“You there!”

Oh goddess.

The boy from the entrance exam walks up to you, towering over you as he stands erect in front of your desk. The steel charm you were playing with plops onto the desk with a light thud. “Yes?”

From the angle you were looking at him, it looked as though he were glaring into your soul, sending an uncomfortable chill down your spine.

He chops a hand in the air. “My name is Tenya Iida, of the Iida family! I apologize for what I did to you at the entrance exam, but you must show more care about your own well being! No one will be there to save you next time! We are supposed to be the saviors, not the saved!”

It takes you a moment to process his words, but by the time he moves to his seat, you have no chance to say anything.

What a weird boy..

You occasionally give him looks but are much too afraid to act

As class carried on and situations arised, you began to see past Tenya’s abrasive personality. He meant well, but he performed with such energy that it was difficult for you to relax near him. You wanted to be his friend, he was a good guy. You had heard his laughter and seen his smile with his small group of friends, and you thought it might be nice if he smiled at you like that.. But how were you to get through to him??

He too wants to get closer, but his personality makes it very difficult to discern anger from excitement

Tenya knows he's a bit on the.. Extreme side when he gets excitable, so he enlists the help of his friend Midoriya to talk to you.

“Hey um- over here?" Midoriya waves to you from his spot at one of the lunch tables. He was alone with just his tray, innocent enough, so you go to him. Despite being classmates you didn't get the chance to really talk with Midoriya before, so you figured now would be a good time.

"Hi, did you want to talk about something?" You question while sitting across from him, already picking up an orange to begin peeling it.

Midoriya looks down at his tray, hands fidgety. "Um, yeah. It's about Iida."

Your mood dips slightly, thumb accidentally jamming into the soft flesh of the citrus fruit. "What about him?"

"Do you.. hate Iida?"

This threw you off-course. You had been expecting him to talk up his friend and how great of a person he was, not question if you hated him. Because if you were being honest, you didn't hate him. Sure he intimidated you, but the way he acted around the others made you think he was just hard to get through. Sort of like Todoroki, though Todoroki still was in his own shell.

"I don't hate him." You pile the peels onto your tray, glancing around the room for Iida before biting your lip. "He's a little much.. but I think he's kinda sweet. He's just a little scary sometimes."

The boy in front of you sighs in relief, slumping slightly in his seat. "Yeah, he can be really excitable huh?"

You smile, "A little?" You mimic Iida's signature move of arm chopping the air.

Midoriya laughs. "Like that! But if you look past that he's a really good person. He scared me at first too. But, try getting to know him. We're classmates, and I think he wants to get to know you, he's just bad at it."

Considering his words, you pull the orange in half and offer him a piece. "I'll give it a try."

You two are paired for a project which leads you to slowly getting to know him better

For a class project, you had drawn lots to assign partners as there were obvious cliques already formed. Your teacher didn't like the idea of such bias and so the polling system was chosen instead. The girls urged you forward, trying to get your mind off of the odds of you picking the boy glaring at you from behind the class. Reaching into the box, your heart nearly burst out of your chest when you read the words Tenya Iida in perfect script. Trudging back to your seat after announcing your partner, you take a peek at him in the most subtle way you could, but to your dismay, he was already looking at you with his normal stoic face.

“Is this okay?”

“Of course it is! It is perfect!”

You jump in your seat, laughing nervously when Tenya yells, drawing attention to the two of you. You had scooted your seat closer to his in order to talk about the details of the project. It was a week-long examination of Pro Heroes and their strategies. In a way you were grateful for having him as a partner, he was well organized and fair, and wasn't too bad to look at either…

You pinch yourself on the cheek.

He was overall a good person, he was just so intimidating.

“Which hero do you believe is our best candidate?” He asks, nudging the list of names closer to you.

“I haven't thought of that yet.” You admit while taking hold of the paper. Your eyes widen curiously. “Hey your brother is on here!”

“He is?” Tenya leans in closer to look over your shoulder at the names, causing a pink blush on your cheeks. “You're right!” He announces proudly.

Looking at his jovial expression, something so different from his usual scowling (at least when you're looking) was refreshing, and caused a smile to form on your face.

“We could do the assignment on your brother, that way we'll get the best information!”

For the first time since you've met him, he smiles at you. A genuine smile.

“You're right, getting our information from the source will give us an advantage over the others. Our project will be flawless!”

Again, the damned color red rushes to your face, but this time he notices. Seeing your face turn pink caused an odd feeling to stir in his chest. Sure he had told himself he was wrong about you, like how he was wrong about Midoriya during the exams. But he never had the opportunity to say it to you.

Now that he had the chance, he.. He couldn't do it.

“S-Shall we set up a time to meet for the project?” He stumbles over his words. “For the project. That is due in a week. This project.”

You spare him the humiliation of telling him he repeated himself way to much and instead nod. “How about tomorrow afternoon. Do you think your brother will be free then?”

“My brother?”

“You know, to ask him questions?”

He blanks.

You giggle behind your palm, taking a pen and scribbling down your number before tucking it into his hand. “Just call me when you figure it out, ‘kay?”

He was an absolute mess, but luckily he had Tensei

On the day of your meeting, you get to the Iida household fifteen minutes earlier than you were supposed to. Unsure of whether to enter yet or not, you stay outside, sitting on the stone porch, admiring the koi pond in the corner. It was peaceful listening tenth bubbling water and the occasional chirping of birds. But not long into your wait, a boy looking similar to Tenya walks in through then front gates and to the porch where you sat.

The young man looks you over knowingly, a warm smile on his face as he offers his hand. “You're my little brother’s friend right?”

You take his hand and shake it firmly. “I am- I think.” You weren't sure exactly what you were to the young Iida really. He still acted rough and a little cold sometimes.

His brother exhales, his smile only warming. “Don't mind him, he's got some getting used to when it comes to socializing.” Unlocking the door, he beckons you inside. “Don't be shy, it’s safe to come in. I’ll grab him for you.”

You follow him inside, looking around at the pictures on the walls. “Actually we need you too.”

“Ah- right, right. Well, I’m here till five.” He speaks over his shoulder, loosening his tie as he walks upstairs to what you assume is the living space. “Tenya! Your friend is here!”

Straight away a loud thump sounds off from upstairs, followed by the sound of an engine and another thunk. You wince at the sound, smiling when you see Tenya walk downstairs with a red face and glasses askew.

Thats where the thumps came from.

“I apologize for my late arrival, I should have been the one to answer the door. My sincerest apologies!” He bends at the waist but you wave it off.

“Don't worry about it.” You hold up your bag where your laptop lay snuggly inside. “Lets begin.”

You finish the project in record time, leaving you with time for other things

It was no surprise to the class that you both received high marks for your work; you both were dedicated and reaching for the top spots in your class when it came to academics. But what did surprise them was how slow you both were when it came to your relationship. Be it romantic or platonic. So the girls set up a little something to finally speed things up. Hopefully you wouldn't kill them later for it.

Clutching a letter close to your chest, you stand in the middle of the training field, heart beating in your ribs like a wild horse.

The letter was not something you expected to receive. And it definitely wasn't from the person you thought you might receive one from. It was heartfelt and near-poetic, it was sweet and- the complete opposite of what you expected from Tenya Iida, the straight forward stoic.

Hell, you didn't even expect anything at all from him. Least of all a love letter.

During and after the project, you had to admit that deep inside his extreme exterior, he was a sweetheart. He meant the best and wanted only good things for others, but his excitement could make him.. terrifying. Still, you were willing to look past that and gibe him a chance.

If he would give you a chance..

When his figure finally appears, you squeeze the letter tighter in your hand, not even thinking of how crippled the delicately written note would be once you opened it up again.

He was dressed in his uniform, sweat gleaming on his skin. He must've ran all the way here after he was done with whatever business he had to deal with after school.

“You-” He pants, “You're really here.”

You furrow your brows. “I am. You wrote for me to meet you here.”

Tenya takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly, reaching into his breast pocket and drawing out a similar colored letter. “I was told to come here as well. By you.” He opens the letter, scanning through the words before stopping on a line. “Meet me at the training field by five o’clock. Please, don't be late.”

He tucks the letter away. “Those were your words, weren't they?” A strange look is in his eyes, and now you can't discern whether the color blooming on his face is from his run or from something else.

“It wasn't me.. I got the same letter, and I thought.. well.. I thought it was from you.” You open up the crumpled paper, looking over the confession that was written in delicate writing. It certainly didn't sound like his normal approach at talking, but maybe a part of you hoped that he.. liked you.

The two of you stay silent, listening to the whistling of wind passing through the trees.

“Did you think it was true?”

Your gaze snaps to him.

“..What?”

He looks down, a hand on his neck while the other still clutches the love letter in his hand. “Did you believe it? That I.. like you?”

You think back: your first day meeting him, asking him for notes, watching him take on challenges with pure passion, encouraging his friends and never giving up on them, the softness of his hand when he helped you down the stairs of his home when you twisted your ankle. There was moments where you believed you might love him.

“I hoped it was true.” You say quietly. “I hoped you liked me.”

Again, silence.

He looks at the letter in his hand, face ablaze with pink and red.

“The letter, wasn't far off from reality.”

You don't have to look at him to know he's moving closer to you. Your magnetism allows you to feel when he's inches away.

Now you look up at him.

“You’ve attracted me.”

It didn't take a magnet for your lips to collide.

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha tenya iida #mha tenya iida #tenya iida #Tenya Iida x reader #bnha tenya iida x reader #mha Tenya Iida x reader #tsundere Tenya Iida #really its Tenya being a giant unaware dork with no social filter #he's the slow fast boy #my beta is done with my shit #but we will go down like men in this fluffy soup bowl of feelings #I got new magnets and really liked the idea of a magneto kind of quirk #He was low-key high-key great

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archerofthemists · 3 years

Text

Phantom Pains

TW: Blood/severe injury/loss of limb/mentions of suicide

Sparring was a very common pastime at Evernight Castle. If they weren't out on an errand or mission given by Salem, then her followers may as well be keeping sharp in their skills.

Watts preferred to work in his lab, designing weapons and other useful tools.

Emerald and Mercury, being the youngest and seen only as Cinder's underlings usually only had one another to spar with.

Althea, having only recently risen in the ranks, still trained with Tyrian, her former master and now partner.

Hazel, with his size and strength, typically wouldn't fight against any of his "teammates".

And then there were the Grimm. Salem kept various breeds of them penned up for the sole purpose of training, but only Hazel and Cinder ever liked to use them for practice.

However, ever since Salem had promoted Althea to her inner circle, the archer had felt the need to prove she was worthy of keeping the position. She had killed plenty of Grimm in her life, she'd gone to Beacon Academy for the God's Sakes. Killing the Grimm in her village had given her a spot in the damn school to begin with, to give her a chance to become a real huntress.

Although, ever since she'd fled the school and had been living on her own, isolated and answering to no one, she hadn't had as many opportunities to fight Grimm. She'd had to save her energy, because she never knew when she would eat next, so she just did her best to avoid the damn things completely.

But now that she had a purpose in her life again, it was time to get her head back in the game.

Tyrian kept her on her toes plenty when he was still her superior. Surprise attacks right and left, whether he leapt down from the rafters onto her or hid under her bed at night, the man had had her looking over her shoulder constantly.

Hazel was a behemoth that Althea had to beg to get him to spar with her and she was pretty sure he was holding back when he finally would give in.

Watts didn't really fight, at least not in a style that was compatible with Althea's, but when he needed to test out a new weapon she was happy to play guinea pig for him.

Cinder saw herself as "above" the rest of them, being a Maiden and she didn't like sharing her "disciples".

So Althea began using Grimm for practice. She realized how rusty she was against the creatures, but it was any skill; you never really forget it. She had forgotten just how good she was at it though. But damn it...she never knew when to quit.

Taking on two Beowolves was a little ballsy to do by yourself, but Althea wasn't exactly alone. Hazel and Tyrian had grown accustomed to watching her when she practiced killing Grimm, out of the way and behind the safety of the pillars that supported a balcony.

Tyrian, because he enjoyed the show and he was a little proud of himself for finding such a treasure as Althea.

Hazel, because God's, there wasn't anything else to do around the castle at the moment. And plus he couldn't deny, the woman had skill and watching her certainly wasn't boring. He glanced down at his scroll and frowned; her aura was getting far too low, and one Beowolf was still alive and kicking.

"She needs to stop." He glanced at Tyrian who looked almost mesmerized by his former disciple. "Her aura is almost gone. One of us should step in and finish it."

Tyrian waved the larger man off, not taking his eyes off the archer as she easily dodged the Beowolf's large paw as it swiped at her. "If she can't handle it then she will ask us for our help. Don't insult her abilities, Hazel."

But Hazel grumbled softly and reached for the dust crystals in his pockets. "You shouldn't overestimate her abilities either just because you've got a crush."

Tyrian's eyes flashed purple for a moment and his tail twitched. He growled to himself as he watched Rainart stab a couple of crystals into his biceps. "You just hate seeing people enjoy themselves, don't you?" The faunus sighed.

"No, just when it's you. You're not denying the crush either, I see." Hazel remarked.

Tyrian locked the man with a seething glare that would have made the average person shrivel up inside, but Hazel just scoffed. "Good, cause no one would believe you if you did deny it."

He turned and stabbed his arms with the lightning dust, wincing only slightly as it spread through veins. "Althea! You're done, I'm gonna help you!"

"I've almost got this!" She yelled before firing an ice-dust tipped arrow into the Beowolf's back legs, freezing it in its place. With a running start she used the Beowolf's back as a springboard to leap high into the air above it.

Her plan was to deliver the killing blow from above - a dagger right through the Grimms eye as she had spent her last arrow immobilizing it. She had just grabbed the hilt, began to twist in the air, when the Beowolf had reared up on its frozen back legs and its jaw came down on Althea, taking her right leg in its teeth before falling back down on all fours, slamming her against the floor with the full force of its body. Her aura broke in an emerald swirl and she went rolling across the chamber floor.

Most of her that is.

The two huntsmen were frozen in shock for a moment, gold and hazel eyes locked on Althea's motionless and bloodied body.

Hazel was the first to snap out of it, the gnashing of the Beowolfs teeth as it swallowed the limb it had just torn asunder. It had broken the ice around its back legs loose and was completely free as the giant of a man began to charge it head on.

When Tyrian began moving towards his fallen partner he didn't even realize it. His legs felt numb and yet they were still carrying him over to her crumpled, discarded body.

The blood was everywhere, splattered and smeared on the chamber floor in morbid patterns that the faunus usually found pleasure in.

The next thing Tyrian realized, he was running down the halls of Evernight, the dead weight of Althea bleeding out in his arms didn't slow him down in the slightest.

It didn't completely register in the scorpions brain that he was running to Watts's office until he was bursting through his door. It was just purely instinct. Automatic. Where else would he possibly ever go?

The Doctor was at his desk, bent over some new contraption he was working on like always. His head snapped up at the intrusion, annoyance written on his face until he fully registered the scene standing in his door.

Tyrian covered in blood, cradling Althea's pale form, showing no signs of life. Where her right leg had been, was nothing but a bloody stub.

"Help." It was the only word that left Tyrian's trembling lips, raspy and desperate.

"Get her on the table. NOW!" Watts was on his feet, stripping off his jacket and tie as he helped Tyrian carry Althea into the small adjoining room that had been converted into a meager OR. However Arthur hadn't dealt with such a serious trauma in a long time and he'd certainly had more equipment, more help. His mind was racing as he tried to mentally inventory what he had, what he could use to save Althea's life.

"What the fuck happened?" Arthur pulled on a pair of surgical gloves with a loud snap, his emerald eyes surveying the damage.

"She...she was fighting Beowolves and…"

"More than one?!"

"Her aura was low and we thought she could handle it…"

Arthur sighed harshly as he gathered gauze and began to try and stop the bleeding of Althea's remaining leg. "You promised you'd never scare me like this again!"

Tyrian could do nothing but stand and watch, his whole body beginning to tremble as he watched. He couldn't hear Watts yelling at him over the ringing in his ears.

"Tyrian! Tyrain, God dammit I need an extra set of hands!" Watts felt guilty for a fleeting moment as he tossed the box of latex gloves at the faunus. They bounced off his bloody chest but it did the job in snapping him back to reality.

It was bloody awful work getting Althea's leg to finally stop bleeding. Once Watts was satisfied with her vitals and felt she was stable, he moved her into the tiny recovery room. Hooked up to various machines that would start screaming if her pressure bottomed out.

So he gently led Tyrain into the adjoining shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. They were both covered in Althea's blood and Watts was tempted to just throw his clothes away, burn them maybe. He had plenty of other clothes.

Watts automatically began to help Tyrain out of his stained jumpsuit and harness, and the faunus didn't resist in the least. His body was still gently trembling and Watts hoped that this incident wouldn't scar him too deeply. He didn't know what Salem might do if her best weapon was permanently damaged like this.

In the back of Arthur's mind, he was already planning the schematics of a replacement leg for Althea and oh Gods...someone was going to have to inform Salem about what happened. How would she plan to punish Althea for this? Because she surely would.

"One thing at a time…"

He unbraided Tyrian's hair, finding more sticky dried blood in it as well. Steam was beginning to spill out of the shower so he gently helped Tyrian under the water before Arthur got undressed himself and joined him, knowing that Tyrian was in no state to bathe himself.

For a good long moment the only sound was the hissing of the shower and Tyrian's occasional sniffle as he pulled himself back together and Watts scrubbed the blood out of his long hair.

"What did you mean earlier?" He finally asked, so softly that Arthur had to take a moment to be sure he had heard him correctly.

"About what?"

"When you said that she had promised to never scare you like this again, what the fuck did you mean?" Tyrian turned around to face Arthur.

The Doctor was quiet for a long while, staring into Tyrian's golden, begging eyes. There was never any easy or kind way of saying it.

"A few months ago, Althea tried to kill herself."

He watched his words take time to register completely on Tyrian's face. A choked off whimpering sound escaped his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to. She didn't know what Salem might do to her if she found out. And now this…" Arthur sighed. "Gods why did she take on two Beowolves at once?"

" She tried to kill herself…" Tyrian murmurs gently and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of losing it all over again.

So Arthur pulled him close against his chest and let him.

Everything was fuzzy. Her head, her vision, even her body felt fuzzy and disconnected. And her leg...God's her leg….

"Don't move too much." Arthur's voice. Althea felt his hand gently stroke her forehead and she tried to make her eyes focus on his face.

"What...hap'n…"

"You had an...accident." Arthur sighed "Although that word doesn't seem appropriate for what happened...because it wasn't an accident was it?"

"I...I had it…" Her throat felt raw, everything ached except...why couldn't she feel her right leg?

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING." Arthur hadn't yelled at her like that in a long time. Althea was ashamed to admit that she flinched a little.

"Arthur…" Tyrian's voice.

"You lost your leg, Althea!" She may have heard a quiver in his voice that time. She wasn't totally sure.

"Guess that explains why I can't feel it." Althea couldn't remember a lot about the incident. She'd been twisting in the air one moment and the next she was waking up here. She vaguely remembered Tyrian rushing her through the castle.

"You were careless, reckless and for what? You promised you would never do something like this again." Arthur's voice was a little steadier now as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

"I promised I wouldn't hurt myself again." Althea hissed as she hoisted herself up in the bed a little more, her vision clearing enough to see how upset her partners were.

"And so you've gone and replaced it with reckless endangerment of yourself!" Arthur looked like he hadn't been sleeping. How long had she been unconscious?

"It wasn't like that." Althea wiped the sleepy gunk from her eyes as she got her bearings.

Tyrian was curled in a small chair by her bed, wrapped in a comforter. He looked just as tired and drained as Arthur. God's, what had she done?

"I should have stepped in sooner." Tyrian sighed. "Hazel, the sentimental giant, warned me. We knew her aura was low and…"

"You just didn't know when to stop." Arthur sighs. "Or you were hoping to get hurt."

"I wasn't trying to get hurt! Damn it!" Althea looked down at the bandaged stubb that had been her right leg and she swallowed the lump building in her throat.

"Don't worry, I'm already designing you a new one." Arthur sighs.

"Don't. I don't deserve it."

"Well you bloody well can't work for Salem on one leg, can you? And if you can't can't for Salem she'll kill you." Arthur stood up. "Although that's probably exactly what you want."

Althea watched him leave and she rested back in the hospital bed, keeping her tears at bay.

"I'm sorry." She finally murmurs to Tyrain. "I really didn't mean to…"

"I should have stopped you." Tyrian crawled out of the easy chair and up alongside her in the bed. "When your body got slammed into the ground I…"

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I…" yeah keeping the tears at bay wasn't working very well.

No, Salem had not been happy but she hadn't been nearly as angry as Watts had expected her to be.

Thankfully Hazel had been the one to tell her for the very first time, right after he'd finished off the Beowolf. Although, who the hell knew? She could act so calm and collected before the storm finally hit.

Watts had nearly had a heart attack one night when he'd gone in to bring Althea some dinner and Salem was right there, sitting at the foot of her bed and talking with her. It was an odd sight to say the least: a tall, ancient and immortal being just sitting there in the tiny recovery room. So out of place and somehow so horrifying.

Apparently Salem had wanted to see how Althea was doing with her own eyes and it hadn't looked like she'd gone had hurt the injured woman in any way. Perhaps Salem would see the loss of leg as enough punishment and leave it at that.

Tyrian hadn't left Althea's side once, getting her what she needed and Althea had started reading to him a lot to pass the time. Thankfully Salem hadn't sent him away on any missions. Arthur wasn't sure if the faunus would have been able to concentrate if she had.

Recovery was not going to be easy. Arthur had drawn the perfect schematics for a new leg and he had been coming and going from Evernight to trade for some of the parts he would need.

Althea's phantom pains had started and were becoming almost unbearable. A mirror method had helped, but Arthur hoped that a new leg would do more good. Althea's balance on crutches was horrendous, and her ability to actually walk could be therapeutic in and of itself.

Finally when he was satisfied with his work on the prosthetic, he showed it to her. Shiney and silver with green accents along the joints and toes and a small "W" engraved on the upper thigh. Watts always left his signature on what he created in one way or another.

"The good doctor does such wonderful work doesn't he?" Tyrian mused as he looked the new limb over, his own shiney tail clicking behind him.

Arthur smirked softly, he certainly didn't mind having his ego stroked.

"I would have had this done sooner if you hadn't lost the leg above the joint." Watts sighs.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Althea chuckles dryly.

"There won't be a next time." Watts says firmly as he prepped the stubb of her leg. "Right?"

Althea smirked down at him and nodded gently.

"Don't you dare ever scare us like this again. I mean it."

#rwby #tyrian callows #arthur watts #althea lynch #Nuts&Volts&Arrows #oneshot #I FINALLY FINISHED IT FUUUU #angst #lots of angst

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alice-dont-break · 3 years

Text

a little fic for y’all based on the writing retreat, because i’m obsessed with how peaceful she looks and would like to imagine ant being there too 😌 special thank you to @aangstlord for literally half of these ideas and for being my #1 fan 💕

With how much peace she found through writing, Jasmine sometimes forgot how drained she could be at the end of a long session. Recording from the floor had begun because it was comfortable and grounding, but eventually she found herself washed away by the quiet strumming of the guitar until her eyes fluttered shut. A faint smile continued to brighten her face as the serenity of the retreat kept her as warm as a blanket would have, but her features were all softened into her effortless sleep.

Anthony had given her space to work through this latest idea, though it was nearly impossible to pull himself away. Whether he was serving as her muse or watching the sparkle in her eye follow a new inspiration, watching her in her element was enchanting. Luckily for him, the silky timbre of the melodies she played with flowed through the entire house, ensuring he’d never lose the soothing quality they always exuded.

Silence fell along with a wave of calm in the earliest morning hours, but Anthony found himself waiting for her to drag herself towards him in bed to no avail. He decided to go check on her in the living room turned recording studio, and found her curled up on the floor in a peaceful sleep. He was tempted to let her rest, as she had melted so completely into the floor that her face held not a single crease, but decided he ought to save her from the strain in her neck she would have surely woken to a few hours later.

He padded towards where she lay on the ground and crouched down beside her, careful to preserve the last few seconds of her rest. For one final moment, he listened to the slow puffs of her breath and aligned himself to her easy rhythm, then reached with both hands to gently squeeze her shoulders. He let the warmth of his hands linger over her upper back, as his thumbs kneaded circles around her shoulder blades until her lashes untangled to reveal her sleepy brown eyes gazing up at him.

“Hey Jas? Wanna come up to bed, baby?” He whispered, to blend in with the softness that wrapped her up. She could only muster some sleepy grumbles, but he knew that the subtle dip of her chin was close enough to a nod. He trailed his hand up from her back to stroke her cheek, clearing away her hair so he could duck down and press a soft kiss there. “Okay love, I’ve gotcha.”

His hands slipped under her arms to pull her up with him as he stood, and she clung to his chest just as quickly. She knowingly wrapped her arms and legs around his neck and waist as he enveloped her in a tight hug, pausing to kiss the side of her head before walking as steadily as possible towards their bedroom. She hummed softly as she settled her face in the crook of his neck, soaking up all his warmth and allowing his embrace to keep her on the edge of sleep. Her eyes easily stayed closed, as she didn’t need to know what was going on around her to know that he had everything taken care of. The arm wrapped around her back and the hand in her hair gave her all the safety she needed to rest.

When they reached the bedroom, Anthony carefully set her down on her side of the bed, and left her with a kiss to her forehead to go retrieve pajamas and a face cloth from the bathroom. When he returned, she had rolled over to his side of the bed, burying her nose into his pillow to inhale his musky scent. He stood at the edge of the bed for a few breaths to watch how her features relaxed with the cadence of her breath, then sat down next to her. He combed his fingers through the curls strewn across her forehead and pushed them back, so he could bring the warm cloth to her face. She grumbled a barely audible “thank you” as he swiped the water down to her neck then peppered a few gentle kisses along the dampened ridge of her cheekbone.

The coolness of the air against the water on her face gave Jasmine a little burst of energy, so she held onto his forearm for leverage to pull herself up to seated. Hugging his arm tightly and using his bicep as a pillow, she nuzzled into him through a yawn.

“Can I get you changed, babe?” He tried to rouse her with a firm hand rubbing up and down her back, but still all he got in return was some grumbling and a nod, so he breathed out a little laugh and confirmed with a peck to her temple. He left her there for a moment, ignoring her groan as soon as they lost contact, then returned a few seconds later with one of his t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts.

She sat limp in his arms, allowing him to pull off her sweatpants and replace them with the soft linen shorts, then complied lazily when he tapped her arms so she’d raise them for him to lift off her shirt and bra. Instead of dropping them back down to her sides when he was done undressing her, she looped them tightly around his neck, pulling him down to nuzzle into the side of her head.

“Almost done baby,” he cooed, “then we can cuddle all night, okay?”

“Mkay,” she whined, giving up her hold on his neck.

Before standing up he dipped down to press a kiss to the bare skin over her collarbone, then another to the side of her jaw, and finally one to the corner of her mouth. She was so naturally gorgeous like this; her freshly dewed skin, her eyelashes floating together then apart with her slow blinks, and her lips curling with every gentle touch of his skin on hers.

Finally, he slipped one of his t-shirts over her head, and she swiftly worked her hands through the sleeves so she could wrap herself up in a tight hug. She dipped her nose down to inhale his scent from the fabric that draped around her, and hummed contently. Before she could lay back herself, Anthony had already pulled off his own shirt and lay down next to her, so he wrapped an arm around her waist and eased her back into him.

She rested her head back on his shoulder for just a moment before curling into his side, throwing a leg over his and resting her palm on his chest. His arm was wrapped tightly around her upper back, settling to rub up and down in time with their breathing. His chin dipped down so he could kiss the crown of her head, which prompted her to tilt upwards to meet his lips with her own. They kissed gently, their lips never really separating except for quick breaths where they’d fill the gap between them by nudging their noses together.

The only sounds that filled the room were the pecking of their lips, the shuffling of the blankets as Jasmine inched up closer to him, and the soft giggles as their chins bumped together. There were no words to be exchanged, as the curl of their lips together told the entire story of how content they were to be in this haven they’d created.

Once they were certain that they’d memorized every detail of the other’s lips all over again, and that the sweetness of the other wouldn’t fade, Anthony brushed over her cheek with his thumb and pulled them apart with a last, slow kiss to the corner of her smile. Jasmine grinned to herself as she curled deeper into his arms until her head rested on his stomach, pondering whether a day already so perfect could always be made better by something as simple as her fiancé’s kiss.

As she began to trace little shapes over the ridges of his abs beside her head, her words began to flow just as effortlessly. “Today was good,” she mumbled.

“Yeah?” His fingers began to thread through her hair, pushing the wayward curls off her forehead so he could see the way her eyes brightened when she spoke.

“Mhm, got a lot done. Think I’ll have the full album by the time we leave.”

“S’amazing baby, you gotta teach me how to get somethin’ done that fast,” he chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek as she tilted up to meet his eyes. They smiled at one another though their faces stayed soft, happy enough to focus on the tender, loving focus they could find in the other’s eyes.

Jasmine continued telling him about the progress she’d made throughout the day, pausing occasionally only to tilt her head up to bask in the way Anthony watched her speak. His attention was honed solely on her and his admiration seeped into his every feature. His eyes crinkled up every time her pitch climbed when she got excited about the idea she was telling him, lost in the way her unfamiliar sense of pride had her cheeks burning against his skin.

Each time she looked up, his knuckles stroked gently down her cheek while they exchanged barely-there smiles that turned into breathy giggles, just enough to tell the other that they were nearly bursting with how much love they felt in that moment. After a while, Jasmine’s words turned more into mumbles and Anthony’s responses into soft forehead kisses, as their focus shifted to the way their bodies melded together. Jasmine buried her face into his stomach and wrapped her arm tighter around his middle, trying to pull him closer despite already being fully enveloped and flush against him. He was holding her just as secure, with the arm tightly around her rubbing soothing circles over her hip while his fingers twisted her curls then pressed into her scalp, releasing her from whatever tension hadn’t already melted off into the crumpled sheets beneath them.

Most often when they’re positioned like this, with his soft touches and hushed tones, he’s carefully and wearily watching for hitched breaths or watering eyes and praying that somehow his efforts to soothe her to sleep will pay off. Tonight though, he found himself watching for her eyes lingering over his lips or the coy blushing around her cheeks that she’d try to hide against him. Instead of wishing she’d fall asleep, he hoped they could stay awake forever in this moment. It was a double edged sword though, as the very things that made them so content were pushing them towards sleep.

As Anthony felt her eyelashes brush against him at a slower and slower pace until they were finally shut, Jasmine was using the steady thud of his heart as her own personal lullaby. At some point, she felt hands bracing her waist before she was pulled upward, but the scent of the crook her face had been nestled into was so familiar and homely than she didn’t need to stir. He’d simply needed her closer, so he could nuzzle his cheek against her head and feel her chest rising and falling along with him. Even if it felt redundant with how peaceful she’d been all week, he always needed to be sure he could wake up if she stirred or faltered in the night.

Once they were settled in on Anthony’s pillow, sinking deeper into their combined indentation in the mattress, he pulled the blankets over them, being sure Jasmine was properly bundled where none of their shared warmth could escape. Even though he was just as relaxed and could have fallen asleep right then too, he decided to wait. He wanted to soak up this image, focusing on how he felt purely happy, rather than his usual exhausted sense of relief, to see her so peacefully resting. There were no worries or fears that her anxiety would follow her into sleep and turn dreams into nightmares, or tears suppressed for her benefit that were now clawing their way out; he was simply in awe. She was beautiful, calm, and safe in his arms, and now he could lull himself to sleep with the softness of the kisses he’d press over and over to her forehead.

#jasmine cephas jones #anthony ramos #janthony #janthony fics #my fics

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years

Text

I love my baby to death

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, tiniest bit of angst but really tiny I promise, 3.5k words, set after Endgame

Summary: “Say, hypothetically, there’s a 100 year old fossil who’s a bit confused most of the time but he’s got the spirit, right?, and he’s outside with a packed duffle bag, what would you do?”

You were supposed to enjoy a solo roadtrip after years of Avenging, but Bucky invites himself along and you can’t say no to his happy face.

A/N: I haven’t slept in a week because of nightmares and I just needed something to cheer me up, I guess. Reader took Steve’s side in CA:CW and spent two years with him as a nomad. You can choose to see her and Natasha as a platonic relationship or a romantic one, it’s up to you.

masterlist

Read the sequel to this here

“They’re just so fuckin’ gross I don’t understand how you can eat them.”

Bucky sends you his best death glare as he continues digging in his soggy cardboard In-N-Out fries.

“We could have literally stopped by Arby’s three miles west of here” you continue, “they have the best fries. We’re missing out, clearly.” you deadpan eyeing his food skeptically.

“The curly ones? God no, they’re so spicy. I don’t know why you like your food to hurt but I don’t.”

“Okay, first of all they’re not spicy at all, I don’t know where you got that from. And second, they have a taste at least, unlike these.” You reiterate your point by swinging one the fries in his face. Bucky just grabs your hand and bites the fry, almost biting your fingers off too.

“Yeah, like that god-awful spicy chicken you forced on me the other day? No thank you, ma’am, I’ll stand by my own food choices.”

You snort. “Not my fault your post-Depression ass can’t handle anything other than salt and black pepper. But sure, go ‘head and enjoy your sorry excuse of a meal, Buck.”

“People from your generation sure love complaining, huh? Back in my days you ate what your mama made you and never bitched about it, or else you went to bed hungry.”

God, he’s such a grampa. You make a show of rolling your eyes and huffing in annoyance. He likes his senior citizen card a bit too much. He tries to stifle a laugh when he sees the look on your face and just shakes his head at you.

California (and Bucky Barnes) has stolen your heart and you’ve loved this road trip so much you often wonder why it took you being snapped and facing the end of the world twice to retire from the avenging business.

Fresno is interesting, to say the least.

He wanted to stop by, saying something about wanting to see “an old pal from the war” ’s hometown for himself, and you’ve been dreaming about exploring Yosemite for as long as you can remember.

Online pictures of Yosemite National Park were stunning but the real thing is just breathtaking.

You never thought camping would become your thing and you never imagined you’d enjoy stargazing so much. In five months you’ve discovered how big of a nerd Bucky really is and he’s been trying to teach you the names of all the stars and constellations.

He sees Big Dipper, Orion, Ursa Major and Minor; you see pretty twinkling lights and the occasional shooting star. Nevertheless you sit through hours and hours of explanations, because when he speaks of the things he’s passionate about, Bucky is the most beautiful thing in the world.

“You know, the stars are one of the things I missed the most.” he says softy, furrowing his brows as he does when he remembers something from the past. “Stevie and I used to do that as kids sometimes. We’d sneak out of our houses and go on the roof of this abandoned building to watch the stars. Now there’s so much goddamn light everywhere, you can’t even see them anymore.”

Sometimes when you stop and think about it, really think, you can’t imagine how hard it must have been for them, having everything, even the night sky taken away from them.

“Steve never told me.”

“He probably missed the stars too.”

You eye him looking for clues on how he might feel, but you only see a sad smile on his face. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“Every damn day.” his voice cracks and you hold him closer.

“I know Buck, I miss him too. I miss him so much that sometimes I feel like my life has no direction without my Captain.” You’re barely holding back your own tears at this point, “But we’ve got Sam if we need orders, yes?” but you still try to make him smile. You’re always going to try for him.

Your attempt works and he snorts. Always bring Sam up to cheer Bucky.

“I hope he was happy, you know.” he says, “I hope he made the right choice and never regretted a thing. I hope that now he looks back and thinks he wouldn’t have had it any other way. His happiness is all I could ever ask for.”

You cling to each other that night and cry until the early morning. It feels good to let it all out, to let Steve go and look at the future. You’ve lost too much but tonight you only have hope.

-----

New York

Five months before

“Words on the street is you’re retiring your crusty old ass from the field.”

Sam is leaning on the door of your hotel room with his arms folded and a pleased look on his face.

“Rumors travel fast in this post-apocalyptic word, I see.” you say as you continue stuffing a duffle bag with all the clothes you have left.

“How are you?” Sam asks, with his newly found Captain voice. You wonder if it’s something in that damn shield that gives them that stern commanding tone.

“Tryina analize me, Sammy? I’m not one of your guys at the VA.”

It’s not like you’re pissed at Sam, you love him with all your heart, you’re just angry at the world and Sam’s the one standing in your way right now.

You hear him sigh, “I know what you’re feeling right now, I understand why you would think that-” “Don’t” you interrupt him, “Don’t give me that speech, Fury did that for you already. I’m not running away from my problems.”

“I’m not saying that-” you really don’t want him to talk today, so you stop him again “No but you’re thinking it.”

“I know what it’s like.” he says raising his voice “To lose who you care the most in the world. We all lost someone important but you lost Natasha and I know, trust me I know what you feel right now, because it’s what I felt when I lost Riley.”

You stop and swallow the tight lump in your throat.

Your eyes well up with tears as you turn to look at him. You’ve been so blinded by your own pain and anger you didn’t stop for a moment to think about others. “I’m sorry Sam, I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” you say sobbing.

Why did she have to leave you?

Stupid, stupid Natasha. Why did she have to sacrifice herself for the world?

Why her?

He hugs you tight and rocks you back and forth. “I understand why you’re leaving and I’m not here to stop you, I promise. Just keep in touch, yes? Text me everyday so I’m not tempted to track you down and fly wherever you are to see if you’re good.”

You smile for the first time in a long time.

“Don’t worry Sam, you’ll get tired of all the selfies I’ll send you, eventually.”

“You know I’ll never get tired of this pretty face.” he says raising his eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh. “Good, that’s my girl. I missed this laugh so much.”

You stay in his arms a while longer until it’s time for you to leave.

“This is not the only reason I’m here.” he says and clears his throat, “Say, hypothetically, there’s a 100 year old fossil who’s a bit confused most of the time but he’s got the spirit, right?, and he’s outside with a packed duffle bag, what would you do?”

“What?” you manage to stammer out. “Bucky just... wants to...tag along?”

You are now as confused as Bucky is most of the time.

Sam shrugs. “I guess? You know he’s weird like that.”

What he really means is he’s just like you, lost and confused and in desperate need to live a little, but he doesn’t say it out loud. There’s no need to.

“So, would you mind if he came too?”

You see Bucky standing outside, leaning on your SUV. He’s cut his hair short and he looks hotter than you would like to. He turns around and waves at you with a big smile on his face. Like Sam often says, you too like his energy.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

----

Denver, Colorado

It’s a long way from New York to Colorado and if you’re honest, you’ve loved every minute of it and you’re glad Bucky came along with you. He’s witty, laid back, snarky, smart and overall a fun guy for someone who was a prisoner to nazis for 70 years.

“Look all I’m saying is I think Edward is a fuckin’ creep. Would you like it if someone stood in your room and looked at you while you sleep?”

“But is that someone a hot vampire, Bucky?”

“It literally doesn’t even matter.”

“Stop saying literally Buck, you’re a 100 year old man, not a valley girl.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Lemme check a map.”

“Bucky it’s on the screen there, Google says we have 20 minutes left.”

“But can we trust this Google guy?”

“All I’m saying is if you made and enjoyed congealed salads you probably don’t deserve your right to vote for the future of this country.”

“I mean...fair enough?”

“Do we count blipped years or not?”

“At this point it, it barely makes a difference in my case, doll.”

“Honestly you’ve got a point, old man.”

“How are you so calm right now?”

“My standards are so low it’s practically impossible to piss me off.”

“But you aren’t even a little bothered?”

“Chill, it’s just a flat tire, it’s gonna take 10 minutes to fix.”

“Buck we talked about the things that are unacceptable. ‘Chill’ coming out of your mouth is one of those.”

It’s your second week in Denver already, and you’re having the time of your life.

Bucky is spooning you like he usually does. You think back to the first time you’ve shared a bed and you almost giggle at the memory.

“Uh, Buck?”

“Yes?”

“We might have a problem.”

He enters the room after you and his eyes widen when he sees it.

There’s a bed in the room.

A single bed.

You weren’t expecting much from this place that gives you ‘Bates Motel’ vibes, but you thought you’d have two beds, or at least a couch.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor, don’t worry about it.”

“What?” you shriek “Absolutely not, I’m not letting you suffer all night. We’re going to share.”

“But I-”

“No buts, you know how many times I slept with Steve? I’m used to you supersoldier men by now, I’m no longer affected by your kicks.”

He stays silent. “You and Steve used to…?”

Only then you realize you could have phrased it better.

“God no, I meant just, ya know, share bed.”

He smiles and nods. Why does he look relieved?

Now he clings to you every night, and most times he’s the little spoon because he likes to be held. You used to hate sleeping tangled with someone else until you woke up on top of Bucky, his hands caressing your back, and he told you he had the best night of sleep he’s had in decades.

There’s a lot of things you do just because they make him happy, actually.

But how could you not?

There’s no point in denying your feelings.

----

Salt Lake City, Utah

God, you love Utah.

You drive through immense stretches of red desert whilst Bucky blasts Nicki Minaj like his life depends on it; that’s how it always ends up when he rides shotgun.

He insisted on visiting Monument Valley despite it being out of your way, but you can never find it in yourself to refuse him anything, so you drove 9 hours straight from Denver to the southern border of Utah just so he could see a place that looks a lot like the ones in those Western cowboy movies from the 50s and 60s he loves so much.

“Yasha would have hated it here so much.” you say as you pull over the Airbnb you’ve rented for a couple of days in Salt Lake City.

He snorts, “Yeah, I bet she would have.”

You thought time would heal all wounds and that someday you might stop feeling the void in your life when you think of her, but now you know you’ll never stop hurting. She was such a big part of your life for so long that your heart will never stop aching for her.

Sometimes you think how she never got to see you again after you were snapped.

You wonder if she ever stopped missing you.

You know you’ll never not miss her.

You’ve driven for more than humanly possible in two days, but he’s a supersoldier and you’re really stubborn, and now you can’t wait to sleep in a nice bed for the first time in a long while. Usually you just make do with motels, but tonight you wanted to treat yourselves.

You enter the place and notice immediately the two queen size beds.

You should be relieved, and if it was 4 months ago when you first shared a bed you would probably be, but now you’re so used to his warm body next to yours, his flesh arm over you and his face resting in the crook of your neck that you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to fall asleep without him.

“I’ll go shower first if you don’t mind.” you say as you mentally berate yourself for your thoughts.

Your goal to not fall in love with Bucky Barnes flew out the window somewhere in the green fields of Western Iowa, but at this point you’re just treading a dangerous path and you know you’re going to get hurt.

There’s no way Bucky feels the same about you, right?

You get out the shower, put on a t-shirt you’ve stolen from Steve ages ago and get out of the bathroom, only to stop when you see Bucky on the bed you claimed as yours.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind but I feel better when I sleep with you.”

Maybe he does.

----

Nevada

Technically it takes roughly 43 hours to get from New York to Sacramento by car. It took you almost five months.

You’ve been covering Interstate 80, stopping and visiting towns, cities and parks along the way as you pleased, sleeping in seedy motels, your SUV or that fancy ass tent Bucky bought somewhere in Ohio. You’ve begged Bucky to drive from Salt Lake City straight to Sacramento, stopping only when it’s absolutely necessary; you’ll be visiting Nevada after California anyways, so for now you’re just enjoying the scenic drive, with the windows rolled down and the air messing up your hair.

“What’s that song called?” Bucky asks and raises the radio’s volume.

“That’s Dani California by Red Hot Chili Peppers.” you answer absentmindedly, distracted by the seemingly endless stretch of black asphalt and yellowish nothingness around it.

She’s lover, baby and a fighter

Shoulda seen it coming when I got a little brighter

Bucky sings along and smiles glancing your way.

“I like this.” he exclaims when the song ends “Can we listen to it again, please?”

You smile softly and play it again. If there’s one thing Bucky is capable of is listening to the same song on repeat multiple times until you’re so sick of it you don’t ever want to hear it again.

Who knew the other side of you

Who knew what others died to prove

You never thought Bucky would be like this, or that you’d be privileged enought to see this side of him.

There’s a big smile on his face and the orange hues of the sky reflect in his clear eyes. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the vibranium one resting on the car’s door and he looks so different from the man haunted by his past and loneliness you met in Budapest all those years ago. He looks so carefree and relaxed now, so happy.

You are proud of him.

California rest in peace

Simultaneous release

California show your teeth

She’s my priestess and I’m your priest

I love my baby to death

------

San Diego, California

You’ve hiked the hills of southern Cali and gone parapending in Torrey Pines. You landed on a breathtaking beach with beautiful dark sand and soon found out, much to Bucky’s dismay and utter disgust, that it was a nudist beach.

He grumbled something about ‘hygiene’ and ‘decor’ and you just laughed at his flustered state.

“First time seeing a naked woman, old man?” you asked in between fits of laughter.

You didn’t notice the sea lion swimming next to you in La Jolla and not even Thanos’ creepy gang could have scared you as much when you turned around and looked him dead in the eyes. Bucky got his revenge filming you as you shot out the ocean with a shrill, covered in algae and terrified.

You are loving the San Diego area so far. Minus the sea lions.

“Hey I- uh- do you mind if I take the car? I wanted to go do some shopping.” Bucky tells you.

He’s really embarrassed for some reason.

You shrug and mumble a ‘sure’ before going back to basking in the sun by the pool of the hotel you’re staying at.

“Okay, I-I guess I’ll g-go then, I’ll come pick you up at 5.30 for dinner.” he stutters out.

Weird, you think, but you don’t give it too much thought. Bucky is like that.

Dinner time rolls around and as promised Bucky comes pick you up on time.

You’re wearing a short green dress with white daisies printed on it and a pair of strappy white sandals. You look good and you know it; Bucky knows it too, judging from the glances he tries to sneak your way.

“So, uhm-” he clears his voice, “I know it’s going to sound weird but I promise it’s not. Can I- Can I blindfold you?”

Can he...what? You could split me in half and I’d be glad about it, you’d like to say.

“Kinky. You could at least buy me differ first, tho.” you settle for something safer instead.

He blushes three shades darker than his usual color and you take the black scarf he’s handing you, barely concealing a teasing smile.

He drives around for a while. When you get to your destination the first thing you hear is the waves beating on the shore and the smell of the ocean. He helps you get out and guides you somewhere.

“Wait here.”

You hear him park the car in reverse, open the trunk and fiddle with something. He comes up behind you and removes the blindfold. You feel his hot breath on your neck and it sends tingles down your spine straight to your pu- “You can look now.”

When you open your eyes you are stunned for a moment. You turn around with a big smile that turns even bigger when you notice the blankets and the little picnic he’s assembled in the trunk.

“Buck, this is- I can’t believe you remembered.”

Somewhere in Colorado you mentioned how romantic you thought Sunset Cliffs were, and how much you wished you could do something like this. It was a fleeting moment, a thought uttered out loud absentmindedly over a couple of drinks in some bar. You were tipsy and you were running your mouth about all the things you’d want in a partner to some random girl who became your best friends for the night.

You realize you’re tearing up when his fingers grace your cheeks.

It feels nice to be cared about so much. It’s been too long since someone took such good care of you.

“I thought I’d do something special for you.” he says with an adorable blush.

“Thank you Bucky, I love this.” you hug him tightly and bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent.

“Anything for my girl.”

“When did I become your girl, huh?” you ask teasingly.

“Probably when I invited myself on this trip.”

You both laugh at that.

You swallow hard when you see the look on his face. God, how did you miss the signs? You were always a better sniper than a spy, Yasha always told you.

Your heart is beating out of your chest in anticipation as he leans down slowly and your lips brush lightly. His hands are on your waist and yours on his broad shoulders. He kisses you timidly at first, and more passionately as he gains confidence.

“I wanted to do this since Bucharest.” he confesses after your lips part.

“Took you long enough, Sarge.”

But it was worth the wait.

Tonight’s sunset will be burned in the back of your mind permanently.

You kiss and laugh some more, and feed eachother seedless grapes because they’re the only ones you eat. He’s brought strawberries, white wine because you don’t drink red, hummus and pita and an assortment of cheese and crackers.

You kiss and talk, cuddle, laugh and kiss some more all night.

You’ve accepted long ago that you’ll never fill the gaping hole in your lives, but that night when you make love to eachother the void in your hearts that Steve and Natasha left behind doesn’t seem as encompassing as it usually is.

---

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and comment, feedback is always appreciated 🥺🤲 might fuck around and write Bucky’s POV too.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Just Because

Mia was reading. Or at least she was trying to read, sitting out on the porch swing where she’d been for most of the day in an attempt at escaping the tension inside the house. She hadn’t managed to fully escape though, the discomfort seeming to seep out through the open windows and doors, but she was still grateful to have some semblance of a barrier. At least she couldn’t actually see Edward and Rosalie fighting.

Despite the availability of endless miles to put between them, Edward and Rosalie had both spent the day inside the house. Mia figured it was only because they were actually enjoying the fight and were getting some sick pleasure out of it. That, or neither wanted to be the one to give in and leave first. Mia could understand a certain measure of that. She too enjoyed the occasional day of annoying a sibling, but this was something different.

A new round of shouts echoed through the open front door and Mia set her book down, standing up from the porch swing to glance in the front door. Edward and Rose had been building towards an explosion all day, snapping at each other from the moment Mia woke up though she figured their argument preceded that by a few hours. At least they’d had enough courtesy to hold back on any shouting until after she was awake.

It was the type of arguing that never would have happened if Carlisle and Esme were home. One or both of Mia’s siblings would have relented in the presence of their parents, not necessarily getting over whatever the argument was about, but letting it go for the sake of keeping Carlisle and Esme happy.

Jasper knocked into Mia as he passed through the door, his shoulders squared and back rigid with his eyes straight ahead, moving along as if he hadn't even seen her. Mia rubbed her shoulder as she followed after him, calling his name as they both moved across the lawn.

Jasper finally relented the third time she called his name, stopping and turning to her so abruptly Mia crashed into him.

“Yes?”

Jasper was working to keep his tone even, focusing his energies to keep from dispelling any of his frustrations on the wrong target. Mia could see as much and she took a step back.

“Do you need something?”

Mia shook her head. “Just wanted to know where you’re going.”

He glanced above her head and back towards the house. “Away from that.”

Mia nodded, watching her brother as he engaged in the human behaviors that were no longer necessary for his survival, but habitually communicated his emotions.

“Can I come with you?”

Jasper remained quiet for a moment. His human sister, despite being human and a true adolescent, was often easier to be around than most, humans and vampires included. She didn’t tempt his thirst the way other humans did and she didn’t give as much emotional feedback as the others either, not unless she wanted to. Mia had been pretty effectively shutting him out for as long as she knew how.

Jasper nodded once and turned away from her, continuing his march towards the woods.

Mia stumbled a bit as she got started following after him. She had expected her brother to run them away from the muffled shouting to some remote part of the woods, and she would have welcomed that, but instead, Jasper kept a nearly manageable pace as he led them both away on foot.

Everything was a managed effort. Mia could see that. Things often were with Jasper because he was always so alert, so hyperaware and hypersensitive, even for a vampire. But when he was stressed, when he was overwhelmed by the unpleasantness of someone else’s mood, it was always made worse. And Mia sensed that in his clipped tone and his stiff movements, the measured breaths that didn't truly benefit him.

Jasper slowed as they moved past the edge of the lawn, conscious of the roots and uneven ground his sister was prone to stumble over. His consideration allowed Mia a chance to catch up and when she did, she grabbed Jasper’s hand, a wave of calm passing through him with the contact.

Jasper took a deep breath he didn’t truly need, almost a reflex in response to the calmness Mia allowed him to feel. Mia so rarely let him in anymore, keeping as much locked away as she could manage, only spilling when the emotion was so intense she couldn’t contain it or when she was intentional about it.

“What was that for?” Jasper asked.

“Just because." Mia shrugged. "But don’t get used to it. Trial access to my emotional landscape ends in three hours.”

Jasper smiled for the first time all day. He didn’t really need his powers to sense Mia’s emotions or to affect them anymore. They knew each other well enough to decipher one another’s feelings and manage them in a more human way, but Mia allowing Jasper to sense her emotions was more complete and the relief it gave him was instantaneous.

-----

Twilight Masterlist

#twilight #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #cullen sister #mia cullen #i love you prompts #300 follower celebration

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juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

Text

Not by the Moon | 04

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of jealous werewolf!Jaebeom and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

There are a lot of extraordinary people in the world, but you often don’t find them remarkable until you happen to stumble upon and talk to them. The wolfish man holding tightly onto my hand, his arm draped across my shoulders, as we swagger over the pavement to his home above Paper Souls is such a curious person.

The good hour he dozed off hasn’t helped his sickly state. Even though he was nestled comfortably against me, occasionally a pained delirious whine fell from his panting lips as his features turned into a grimace. Upon waking, Jaebeom tried to dismiss his symptoms as nothing to worry about, but I insisted on getting him home as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry I ruined our outing,” he murmurs, voice strained. As we ascend the stairs to his apartment, he keeps his head bent low to focus on his steps.

Step by step. One foot before the other. There you go.

“It’s not your fault you got sick,” I reply, keeping a close eye on his movements to offer additional support if needed.

He turns his head to me, a few long black locks partially concealing the sweat on his brow. For a moment, it seems as if he wants to protest yet decides against it. Henceforth, what I get in reply is a hum resigning in the notion it’s indeed not his fault.

Is your condition causing this?

The question burns hot on the tongue, but I swallow it down. Hopefully, we’ll get to talk about it properly sometime in the future.

The day we know each other.

We make it to the top, albeit not effortlessly since I have to steady him when he almost trips on the last step. Panic and instinct rush through me when Jaebeom threatens to topple over, so I act quickly and shoulder more of his weight after clumsily steadying us both on the narrow staircase.

“Are you going to be alright?” I ask, out of breath. The adrenaline of the potential danger has spent whatever energy I had, the muscles in my limbs melted.

“I will be,” he weakly answers.

I gently let his arm glide from my shoulders, the removal of the weight simultaneously a relief and a missed presence. The attempt at letting him stand on his own feet is successful, although his hand shakes as he unlocks the front door.

The feverish fingers glide from the doorknob to entwine with mine once more before his tongue runs over my lips again. Despite this being the third time it happens, it still doesn’t fail to bewilder me nor bring a boyish smirk to his face when I look at him, speechless.

“Thanks. Today nice. I-,” he starts up and averts his gaze to the side, a rosy flush on his cheeks, “I mean, today was nice.”

I put my hand on the side of his face, gently compelling him to look at me. A cheeky idea rises in my mind, tempting me to go against my very nature.

Which I do.

Standing on the tips of my toes, I close my eyes and give him a peck on the cheek. The action surprises us both because he looks utterly gobsmacked when I have gathered very piece and sliver of the courage needed to look up at him.

However, before I can utter a word, a hesitating hand reaches out to carefully brush against my cheek, the touch as light as the fall of a feather on porcelain. The gentleness of the contact forms a funny contrast to the roughness when he firmly presses his lips on mine the second after.

Musk mingled with the musty perfume of books, warmth of spices and bitter coffee with a hint of fresh cologne fills my nose and overtakes the senses. My brain short-circuits, filled with a strange primal instinct no one has ever awakened before. Notwithstanding, something in the way our bodies harmonize in the small yet passionate contact triggers it, leaving me wanting more.

Skin on skin.

Just us.

But it’s too early and we barely know each other. This isn’t right. Not now, at least.

Hence is why I pull away, taking a step back with the imprint of his moustache ticklish on my lips.

A whimper like an abandoned puppy erupts from his throat as he chases after my mouth. Nevertheless, when I take a step back to avoid further contact, he gives up and lowers his head. However, as rapidly as disappointment had overtaken him, he rights himself and clears his throat. When he speaks up, the words come out in a mumbled mess. “I- I’m sorry. That was too direct.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reassure him, vaguely gesturing with one hand while I rub the back of my neck with the other. “I- I liked it, but let’s not- Do you... really see me that way?”

“In what way?” he asks, blinking as he gives me a blank look. But, the meaning dawns on him after a moment in which I badly try to articulate what I mean.

He grabs my right wrist, the one he bit, and holds it up for me to see. The broken skin has already healed a bit, but it’s still sensitive and throbbing, especially now that JB puts pressure on it. “I didn’t do this out of some de- del- confused?”

“Delirious?” I help him, wondering what point he is about to try and convince me of.

“Delirious! I didn’t do this out of a delirious frenzy. This means something to me. Something important. To me, this is us.” JB takes in a deep breath to steady himself, his voice strained as he seems to hold something in. “What I want for us. And I want others to know this because you’re my territory.”

“I’m just a friend.”

And scared of losing you to Love.

“You are, but you’re also more to me. I know you said you want to take things slow and I agree with that.’’ His expression softens, dark eyes filled with tender affection. ‘’However, I want you to know how I really feel about you.”

“I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“Me too. Yet,” he closes the distance and cups my face, his thumbs lovingly brushing my cheeks, “you deserve to know my intentions. Know I want to take the risk when you’re ready to do so too.”

“Thank you.” I run my hands over his arms, his body heat warming my palms through the fabric of the sleeves. It’s a pleasant thought, knowing he is there to catch me should my knees give out. Which is likely to happen as the leftover tension from our trip upstairs fades and affection fills the heart.

“For what?”

“Waiting.”

Until I figure out when it’s the right time.

He nips at the tip of my nose, his tongue cheeky in its feather light touch. “I always will. Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“I’m going out for tea with a friend.” The delight in his expression sours as it did in the park, the confident playfulness replaced by a vicious brooding. The autumn chill cools my face, the warmth and safety of his hands fallen away.

Turned to stone by the suppressed vehemence, I stumble over my words as I swiftly explain myself. “She is an old friend I met at university. We go out for tea or coffee often, especially before I have to go on a trip.”

“Ah, I see.” He hangs his head in remorse, but perks up immediately as if remembering something. “I got you something. Wait here.”

He rushes inside, coming back soon after with two books in his hands which he holds out to me. A collection of Keats’s poems and Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake.

The books I read when we met.

“For you,” JB happily announces, the bright proud ring in his voice distorting it to sound like a bark. “So you have something to read when you’re away.”

“Thank you so much. That’s so sweet of you.” I accept the gift, showing my gratitude in the brush over his fingers as I take the books from his hands. “I should get you something in return.”

“Just send me a reminder to take my medication every day.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s all I want.”

I nod. “I can do that.”

“And a text you arrived home safely.”

“Of course.”

“And let me pick you up from the airport when you come back.”

“My, do you have any other demands?”

Lips pursed as if seriously considering the rhetorical remark, Jaebeom tilts his head to the side. “Well, eating together again would be nice. Maybe we can go around town and try out various cafés and go bookshop hopping? I could also cook for you at least once a week, though I’ll have to ask Jinyoung to teach me.”

Oh my God, he really is serious.

Before he continues adding to the evidently growing list, I cut him off. “Okay, okay, I hear you. One thing at a time, alright?”

“Right,” he chuckles, “one thing at a time.”

“I’m gonna go.” With a heavy heart full of reluctance, I initiate our goodbyes. “Go to bed and get some rest before your fever worsens. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Can I have one more kiss?”

“Of course.”

I stand on the tip of my toes and tenderly press my lips against his. “Goodnight, Jaebeom.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I ascend the stairs, but do not head home immediately. Instead, I remain where I stand and turn around to wave at the wolfish man gazing down at me.

One more moment with him.

Before I set off on the homebound journey in the next.

Above, the moon is waning.

Yesterday evening, Morgan sent pictures of the place she has chosen for our next tea adventure, lyrical about the interior. Since the moment we met, in our first year of studying journalism at the local university, we have been visiting coffee shops and tea rooms around the country and occasionally written an article about them for the university’s blog. Our adventures always begin the same, never having changed in the six years we have known each other.

A picture.

And a rant about aesthetics, reviews, and the potential of having discovered a hidden gem.

The latter might be the case of Moon Bunny Coffee and Tea, a tea room inspired by the French countryside. The far wall is made of bare brick, which forms a strangely yet nice contrast to the white wooden furniture and neatly set tables. From the speakers in the corners of the establishment, instrumental pieces and French songs alternate each other to enhance the atmosphere that makes one feel as if they are truly in France. And if the interior does nothing for the imagination, the pastries and beverage names noted in French on the menu will do the trick.

It’s only recently opened and is run by a young couple. Élise, the owner, has opened this establishment after working in various patisseries in Paris during her teenage years. However, she has now settled here with who I actually presume rather than know is her partner. According to the context Morgan sent, the tall guy with pale blond hair, oval narrow face and a leather necklace with a strange bauble - that seems to change colour - hanging from it is called Mark. The level of familiarity between the two as they work makes it easy to assume there is more than friendship, hence the suspected relation between the two.

“So, have you seen him again?” Morgan takes a sip of her cinnamon and apple tea, a smirk on her cherry red lips.

I told her about Jaebeom and the strange first encounter with him. Regardless of the weird amiability that grew between us as the hours passed in each other’s company, I could not help but remain wary. After all, the bookseller has a particular reputation thanks to the rumours created by the local gossip mill. In hindsight, it’s idiotic I used those groundless stories in my analysis or, rather, overanalysis of the kindness he showed me. Yet, I did, though they sound as absurd as they did before now that I know him better.

Notwithstanding, whereas I was losing my sanity anxious bit by anxious bit as I told her about it over the phone, Morgan’s enthusiasm grew at the same rate. Each argument in favour of the concern about my strangeness or far-fetched theory he was merely polite, she countered with a more realistic view on the situation. In the end, it’s also her input which led to me dropping by Paper Souls on the way to work and back on a daily basis.

And I’m glad she’s part of the reason I did because I might otherwise have given up after the third day of seeing the bookshelves cast in shadows.

“I have,” I admit, unable to suppress a smile at the memory of our outing to the park.

And what came after.

The memory of the chafing of his moustache triggers a phantom of the loving warmth of his lips on mine. Cheeks heat up, remembering the roughness of his sturdy hands. A sharp sting followed by a throbbing treks through my wrist again, the half-healed wound suffering from a pleasant phantom pain.

“Judging by that grin of yours, you’re not telling me everything.” Morgan cuts her scone in half and smears some of the homemade strawberry jam it comes with on one half, followed by a dollop of clotted cream.

I nibble on the rice cake filled with red bean paste. Maybe it’s not a perfect partner to the tea I chose although it makes for a delicious combination regardless. The taste of red beans is an acquired one, but the subtle sweetness evens out the bitterness of the beverage. “We went on somewhat of a date.”

“Somewhat?”

“It kind of just happened.” The whiskey tea I ordered is stronger than I thought, howbeit not in an unpleasant way. Like the real drink, it goes down smoothly and warms the body from within. “He offered to go out for lunch in the park and I agreed. It was nice. Really nice.”

Especially his body heat, the safety of his presence. How protected I felt despite not knowing him all that well.

“And?”

“And?” I repeat like a parrot. I know what she’s unconsciously aiming at, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll tell her outright. It’s always fun to tease the raven-haired woman a little.

“Details, lass!”

“We kissed,” I say, the confession hardly louder than a whisper. ‘’And I was the one to initiate it.’’

“How scandalous.” In fake shock, she clasps her hand over her mouth. “You’re a bold one, Y/N.”

“Oh, stop it.” I take a sip of tea and point at the other half of her scone. “Clotted cream with jam instead of the other way around now?”

As a fierce defender of both sides of the old discussion, Morgan indeed now smears the fluffy white cream on the other half first before she tops it off with the jam. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m not sure if there’s a future for us.” I lean back, cross my arms and look out the window.

A little distance away, there’s a metal bench and somehow an image of myself sits on it, alone. No wonder she looks glum because she is the me of the future, a woman who’s heart was devoted to the type of love that is, like humans, a plaything of Time.

She tilts her head to the side, brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“It’s not my place to say this, but,’’ I turn back to her, absent-mindedly rubbing the mark on my wrist, ‘’he told me he has this condition that’s kinda like dementia, but he gave off the impression it’s also not. I don’t know what’s going on, only that there’s a deadline. A cruel one, and while I know avoiding it is futile, I’m not ready to face it nor will I ever be.”

The confusion on her face lightens to understanding concern. However, despite her features softening, there remains a hint of brooding in her attitude. “I see. It’s like that,” she murmurs cryptically as she takes a bite of her scone, more to herself than as a reply to me. “The story is repeating itself.”

“Morgan,” the mention of her name makes the raven-haired woman snap out of her reverie, “what do you mean?”

Instead of providing a proper answer, she dismisses the questions with a vague gesture. “Just the murmurs of an old soul.”

There is inherent beauty in the medieval cities of Europe that leaves one in awe wherever they go. Furthermore, the shops specialized in local goods and hidden gems add to the flair of narrow streets enclosed by tall buildings that breathe history. Nevertheless, regardless of the ancient beauty, there is nothing which can compete with a warm bed at the end of a day full of running from one end of the town to the other in search of the best chocolatiers.

Well, there is one thing.

As I’m putting on my pyjamas, my phone gives off a light buzz, indicating a new message.

Jaebeom: Can we video call? I miss your face.

You... You miss seeing me?

In spite of the unease of not having makeup on, I oblige and call him first. It has not even gone over once before messy black locks show up on screen. However, before he can have a good look at me, I quickly slink beneath the blanket.

“What’re you doing?” He, too, is in bed howbeit without any insecurity whatsoever. In fact, he is more than comfortable wearing not even a top regardless of the chilly weather, leaving defined collarbones and defined chest muscles on display.

“I’m not wearing makeup, so I look horrible.”

And you showing up like this doesn’t help either.

Because the bare skin, little as it is, unleashes a storm of butterflies in the stomach. The temperature in the room rises or maybe it is simply my body reacting to the aching to run my fingertips over his definitions, the features that unintentionally unleash an absurd frenzy holding the middle between unashamed love and lust. The cheeks heat up as the need for the thick comforter decreases yet the growing discomfort is not enough to come out of hiding.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Either intentionally or not, he puts on irresistible puppy eyes. The well-meant tenderness in his voice also stirs something in me, charmed by the kindness. “Please don’t hide. I want to see you.”

Although reluctant, I lower the sheets.

Only to want to pull them over my head at his words and the stupidly bright smile accompanying them. “You’re even prettier like this.”

“Shut up, you weird wolf,” I grumble, jaw clenched as I strain myself not to hide again. To distract us both, I change the topic. “Did you take your meds?”

“I did! And I mean it. No, no, no! Get out from under there. Y/N, come on. I’m not lying. You are pretty. And caring and nice and-’’

“You’re handsome.” I glare at him, peeking just over the edge of the sheet. Unfortunately, my revenge isn’t successful since it merely yields a low chuckle.

Though it seems the victory is still mine because he bites on his bottom lip and softens his voice further to a timid whisper. “Even with my new look?”

He shows off the mess of his shorter black locks, which are shaved on the side and longer on top. It’s a shame to see the long hair go because I personally think it suits him better, but he pulls the cooler style off too.

“Even more so because of it.” Although they’re essentially minor changes, it casts Jaebeom in a whole other light. He’s still a wolfish man, and I doubt I’ll ever see him as something else, but the new look gives him a more human allure. As if he’s tuned in better to life in the city instead of wandering the rough landscape in his mind.

“I’ll tell Jinyoung he did a good job, then.” He gets up on his elbow, a view of the upper part of his chest filling the small screen. The veins in his hand form mellow ridges on the back of it, highlighting a few patches where the skin has scraped off, as he fluffs his pillow before lying down again and snuggling into it to get comfortable. “How’s Bruges?”

“It’s a really pretty city. I think you’d like it.” A wistful smile forms on my lips, in part dazed by the entrancing sight a moment ago. “I wish you were here. Wish we could get lost forever... together! I mean, get lost together. Here. In the city.”

“Are you getting sleepy?” His features soften into a dreamy expression though a cheeky spark illuminates the night sky in his eyes.

“No,” I fiercely protest. That is, until an involuntary yawn escapes me, which makes it impossible to hide the fatigue of running about town the entire day anymore. “Maybe.”

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

“Don’t want to. We’ve only been talking for a few minutes.” I conceal another yawn by pulling up the comforter.

“You likely have another busy day ahead. So go hit the hay and I’ll talk to you in my dream.”

“Who says I won’t do the same?’’ I remark smugly, proud of the comment that pops up and is too tempting not to make. ‘’Wouldn’t that make it our dream?”

“We’ll talk in our dream,” he corrects himself, a content hum following the correction. Notwithstanding, the delight darkens into a stern seriousness as he tries to look over my shoulder to scan the room, to inspect every nook and cranny instead of what’s on display in the background. “By the way, what’s your colleague doing? Are you alone?”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “He has his own room because he tends to want more of the local taste, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” A deeply puzzled expression forms on his face, clearing the spine-chilling suspicion. “Is that code for something?”

“An affair, JB. My colleague more often than not enjoys a one-night stand, if not more, with local girls. It depends on how long we’re away.”

“Have you ever done that?” It has to be the exhaustion, but the question strangely sounds like a whine.

“Never. In fact, you...” I bite my lip as my stomach ties itself into a nauseating knot, chest constricted with bleak worry about what he will say about the confession balancing precariously on the tip of the tongue. However, I swallow hard and continue the unfinished sentence. “You’re the first guy I’ve dated.”

“We’re dating?”

“Are we?” His question makes me wonder if we actually are, if I didn’t jump to a fantastical conclusion. Then again, we kissed, went out together, and drank coffee in his shop. Nevertheless, also judging by the curiosity in his response, I doubt it’s right for me to assume it’s true. “Well, maybe we aren’t. After all, we’ve only been to the park, so I suppose-’’

I’m wrong, because we barely know each other and yet. Yet, I kissed him. And he kissed me back. Is that anything to go by, a valid reason?

“We’re dating!” The sudden outburst catches me as much off-guard as the enthusiastic addition or, rather, plan for when I return. “I’ll cook for you after bringing you home. Afterwards, we can just sit on the couch and read. You can also nap on me to cure your jet lag. Does that count as a date?”

“I don’t know if it does according to the official terms, but,” the fatigue ebbs away, replaced by the giddiness of going home as soon as possible, “it does to me.”

“Two dates,” he murmurs thoughtfully, nodding as if confirming an unspoken notion. “We’re dating.”

Weirdo.

I watch him analyze the situation, overcome with affection. When he bites down on his index finger to suppress a broad grin, I almost have to do the same.

“I wish I was there with you,” Jaebeom eventually notes to break the twilight hush, at last content on where we stand. The yearning of the wish is tangible in my bones because I feel the same way, though I try not to show it. “I should’ve given you a shirt or something, but I wasn’t sure if it would be good. That’s not the word. Ap... ap... appropropiate? Appropriate. If it would be that.”

“I do have the books you gave me, so I do have a piece of you here.”

But I do miss your scent. Wait, that’s weird to say. I shouldn’t say that.

Though it’s indeed strange and I don’t tell him, it isn’t a lie. Jaebeom does smell nice, like a wild forest in which the air is scented by a cologne that barely conceals its secret. The ferocious guardian in the shadows.

“Still, I wish I had given you something that marks you as mine.” Gaze downcast, the big wolf man pouts at the thought, sulking.

“You have.” I hold up my wrist, the place where he bit me now nothing but a red blotch.

“It’s almost gone. I should renew that once you’re back. A shirt and bite. That should show other males we’re together,” he muses, the disappointment gone in an instant as his focus changes.

“Totally not possessive, are we?”

“I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just marking my territory.”

“JB, you are.”

“Does it bother you, make you upset?”

“Yes and no.” I take in a shaky breath, distracted by the thought of the implications I want him to be. After all, something about the feral allure melts any resistance and lets me slip into a headspace I didn’t know I had.

Somewhere, deeply hidden in the brain, there’s a different woman, a different ego. A part of me which wants and needs him. That doesn’t mind being his possession.

His mate.

“Don’t get me wrong-’’

“How can I get you good?”

The unintentional play on words uttered by urgent yet confused puppy eyes distracts me from the splendid explanation I wanted to give him.

How... How does he do it? Does he even know what he’s doing? Never mind.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” I begin anew, “I appreciate your concern for me and I really do feel safe with you. But you bit me. In public too! I get it’s your way of telling me you like me and maybe I don’t actually mind the mark you left behind so much-’’

“So it’s not the biting?” A boyish smirk plays on his lips. Had he had an actual tail, it would have been swishing heavily with a dangerous cheer. “I can do it again?”

“No.”

Maybe someday I’ll let you. But not anytime soon.

“But you said you didn’t mind my mark. If that isn’t a problem, why can’t I refresh it?”

“Jaebeom, please, let me finish talking.”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you.” I take in a deep breath. “Now, normal human couples don’t bite each other to let others and one another know they belong together. So let’s try to find other ways to do just that. Commonly, the girl wears the guy’s shirt. I think that’s a good starting point for us.”

“What are other ‘ways’?” he asks, evidently not too keen on the idea.

I tilt my head, trying to come up with the most frequent ways in which people casually express being taken without immediately suggesting obvious physical marks. “Necklaces, bracelets and rings are common couple items. Some even go as far as getting matching tattoos.”

“I like the sound of that, a tattoo. Permanent. Permanent human mark.”

“Let me think about that one, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods in agreement. “But, if I understand you correctly, I can give you a shirt.”

“You can.”

“And you’ll wear it because it has my scent on it.”

“That’s kind of the idea behind it,” I confirm, glad he understands the underlying meaning despite not explaining it.

He looks down at his chest only to discover he’s not wearing anything. The glance over his shoulder falls on a black shirt somewhere behind him. He turns away, grabs the piece of clothing and holds it tightly against his body when he turns back to me. “Sounds good to me.”

I guess I’ll be given a ‘welcome home’ present.

#GOT7 #GOT7 smut #GOT7 fanfiction #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #Werewolf AU #GOT7 Werewolf AU #Werewolf!Jaebeom

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

The Fever That Burns

I don't want to hear a word-- this wasn't even my idea. This is all @genevievedarcygranger fault. I am a slave to the muse.

Hold on, keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times and brace for impact bc you're not gonna like this

No real warnings yet, I think but it's not going to be pretty

Part One:

When Emily Prentiss got the signal from Clyde Easter that she had the green light on getting Declan out of that house and away from Ian Doyle, she never looked back. Creating demons like that, leaving behind a past with men who hold grudges, means that she knew she would be haunted for the rest of her natural life. Her body and her mind will not recover but Declan will. He was a child, he deserved a world that he could not obtain anywhere near his father. She knew that the moment she took Declan, she could never go back. Forever from here on out, she would have to outrun that decision. She has to outrun Ian.

She could feel him closing in. The flowers-- the fucking flowers-- and that feeling in the depth of her gut. She knows he’s here and she didn’t run.

After Foyet, Hotch got sick. A fever that consumed his every thought with these twisted ideas about security while it ravished his healing body of what little energy he could spare. She’d seen it herself, the bloodshot aggravation that Derek threw words like “hypervigilance” and “social isolation” at. Before, she had seen Derek and Hotch go at it but not as much as what that fever caused them to say. The way that they looked at one another, wolves snarling at throats and she never knew which one she could put her back to. Which one to call down.

In the end, hypervigilance won out. Derek was right but he was too insistent, too hurt for her to take him too seriously at first. Then she’d had to work through the tangle of locks on Hotch’s front door, the only control he could formulate in his fever. He never took them down. When Jack came home-- more importantly, when Haley didn’t-- it took every bit of charisma and conviction she could give to convince him he didn’t more. Nothing would happen.

The monsters of the past are dead and they survived.

Nothing is going to happen.

At two in the morning, on the Saturday Hotch had spent the month promising Jack he’d take him to the aquarium, her monster comes knocking. The locks don’t matter-- a fever put them up and a fever brought them down. Ian Doyle stands in the living room of Aaron Hotchner’s apartment, two feet from the carpeted spot Derek Morgan spent an entire day ripping up, and he calls out for the man he knows is somewhere. For the man, and the boy, he can take away from Emily Prentiss the way she took his boy. There is no planning, intelligence breeds paranoia. The fever in Ian Doyle burns bright, strong. He will not be talked down.

The guns in their hands waver. Standing in only his boxers and a dirty white t-shirt, Aaron Hotchner’s hand tremors beyond his control. The sleep is still taking over his body and mind, his muscle haven’t woken enough to control themselves. To stifle the pains of the scars Foyet caused him but he’s there, he’s ready.

“Lower your weapon, Hotchner,” Ian drawls. He’s high as a kite, ready to die by the hands of the oaf in front of him or to take the boy as he plans. Either way… “I’d hate to see that boy of yours come out here. You already killed a man in front of him, how many more do you think it will take before he realizes you’re just like me?”

Hotch scowls, “I don’t even know who you are.”

Ian frowns, blinking for a moment as he takes in the man before him. “I know who you are,” Ian says. He knows everything about Aaron Hotchner. Pulled medical records, smirked into the fine lines of the abuse in his childhood spelled out in broken arms and countless contusions. He’s watched him with Emily, seen how close they are. She cares about him and with that thought Ian Doyle knows what he wants to do. He wants to take everything from her just as she took everything from him.

The gunfire shocks Jack awake, his little heart thundering in his chest as he recognizes the noise. It’s not the first time he’s woken with it but this marks the only time it was real. The only time that it had been a gunshot and not the product of an altogether far too lifelike feeling nightmare. Jack throws the comforter off his body, tearing out of his room with no more than the stuffed bear closest to him. He’s headed for his father’s room, feet carrying him blindly when he hits the living room.

He knows his father’s friends. The men and women he’s grown to call his aunts and uncles and he’d recognize them easily. He spends weekend nights with Uncle Dave on the occasional Saturday being pampered with blueberry waffles and toys. Uncle Derek and Aunt Penny take him to the park, always remembering the sunscreen. Sometimes Uncle Derek gives him his cool sunglasses and Jack feels like he runs so much faster with them on. Aunt JJ and Uncle Will have Henry, his very best friend but he’s also a baby so Jack has to be careful when they play. Aunt Emily comes over all the time and lets him watch Finding Nemo as many times as he wants.

Whoever this man is, Jack does not know him.

“Daddy?”

Ian looks up, leaving the sight of Hotch on the floor without a second thought. His gun still aimed at the downed man’s head. “Jack,” Ian recognizes with a smile. “You’re smaller than I thought.”

Jack can’t tear his eyes away from his father. He’s laid out on the floor, white t-shirt turning red as the blood on his chest expands rapidly down his sides. He doesn’t respond to either of the times Jack calls for him, no more than blinking heavily and making wet, choked sounds as blood pools out of his mouth. It scares Jack. His father is… he’s never lost. Not even with Foyet, Hotch saved Jack. He never burns pancakes and lets Jack get by only eating half the green beans on his plate. He never gets hurt.

“Will you come with me?” Ian asks, stepping into Jack’s line of sight and squatting down in front of the boy. Watching as his eyes move from Hotch and glue to Ian, allowing the man to get close to him. “I’d like it if you came with me, Jack. I think we can have some fun, you and I.”

Jack nods but glances away, “but--” His eyes wander back to his father, those choked sounds getting louder but Hotch doesn’t move. His chest starting to still but his eyes on them, watching Ian talk to Jack but unable to do a thing.

Ian places the gun against the side of Jack’s face, moving his head with light pressure back to him. “Never mind him,” Ian says. “Come with me, Jack.”

Jack nods because he isn’t sure what else to do. He goes with Ian, allowing the man to pick him up in his arms. Jack watches his father as Ian carries him away, confused by the tears streaming down his father’s face.

“Say goodbye to daddy.”

Jack waves and asks, “is he gonna be okay?”

Ian nods, shutting the front door behind them. “Don’t worry about him, Jack. It’s just you and I, now.” He smiles at the boy in his arms, “tell me, how much do you know about you Aunt Emily?”

Taking Declan away from Ian Doyle was a decision that Emily Prentiss promised herself she would never have to be guilty over. That boy deserved so much better than what he had with them and she hadn’t hesitated to put what little she had on the line to guarantee he got the chance at a normal life. Nothing she had was ever worth anything. Lauren Reynolds was just a shell and losing her was easy enough. No place had ever felt like home so moving on-demand hadn’t even crossed her mind as a con, if a place got boring she could just leave. Emily Prentiss had never had anything to lose, not a family or a life. She was, effectively, no one. A ghost. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Then they came.

The light she had only ever heard about reaching her darkness. She’d pulled away, afraid of what would happen when they saw her ink-black history, and noticed she always had more questions than answers. That she couldn’t smile like Reid and talk about where she came from as if her past was somehow behind her. How Morgan went dancing for the stress relief but she needed a mindless fuck, someone to forget. She found herself gaining traction, finally claiming worth. In the picture Will took at Henry’s birth, throwing up bunny ears behind Hotch’s head. Picking Garcia and Reid up at one of their conventions and hearing about a variety of far too new nerdy things for her to understand. Listening to JJ complain about living with a man and Morgan teasing her about past haircut disasters. Leaning on Hotch’s shoulder as the bourbon takes over, hearing Dave go one and on about his second divorce and Hotch humming occasionally so he feels heard. Realizing just how much she trusts them. All of them.

They give her something to lose and the first rule when outrunning the past-- never have anything worth taking.

“Alright, alright--” Emily stretches long and slow, her phone still wedged under her chin. She can hardly discern the information coming in through the other line. The thoughts in her mind are sticky, webbing of the past gumming up the cogs until she’s not entirely sure what’s being said. “Can you say that again?” she asks, stretching out to her left to feel that familiar pull on her ribs. The movement is nice without a bra on and she’s not sure if it’s JJ or Hotch on the other line but she doesn’t want to put on a bra and it’s tempting to just hang up and play dead. Emily who? She can’t come to the phone right now. You’ll have to call back lat--

“Hotch is in the hospital.”

Oh. All that stretching is for nothing, she can feel the ball of weight forming at the back of her neck. Pressing into her vertebrae, hurting from just holding her head up. “What happened?” Her fingers work into the groove, the chill of her skin shocking her, but the pressure she applies is futile. She imagines a thousand answers to that question but none of them are enough to prepare her for the real answer.

JJ clears her throat, her tears thickening her voice. “Shot,” comes her simple response and Emily is naive enough to consider that’s the end of it. He was shot. They’re going to have to hunt down another serial killer with a grudge but they’ve learned their lesson this time, right? Foyet taught them lessons about themselves that they needed to learn the hard way and they can beat it this time. Hotch will be fine and-- “And Jack’s gone.”

And Jack’s gone.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #ian doyle #jack hotchner

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