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ninapi · 8 months

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Frantically in love ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: He let you go once and that was a mistake. Rekindling his relationship with his first and only love proved to be a difficult task for a man like Nanami.

Word Count: 3170

Note: You can read the first chapter here. 😊

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Chapter 2: Overtime

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Time goes by fast when all you do is work.

Coming back to the academy was a low blow for Nanami. If he ever felt like he had made a mistake by letting you go, he was now certain, maybe running away from this wasn’t the best idea, or maybe he should have gone to Kyoto, be with his girlfriend, continue living like a sorcerer, just live, like a person not a machine.

For all he knows, he could be dead already if he had followed that path, but maybe, just maybe, his life would have been better, brighter, with you by his side.

“Nanamin!! You gotta come see this! There’s this ridiculously beautiful woman in the training grounds. I would dare to say even in the same league as Jennifer Lawrence.” an exasperated sigh could be heard leaving Nanami’s body, he was clearly not interested, but his fondness towards the youngster made him walk with him anyways.

“Told you already, I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

“Who said I’m letting you keep her? She does look older but who knows, maybe she likes younger guys!” the ridiculousness of it all made Nanami chuckle in between scoffs, he was a bit too much at times.

He wasn’t expecting, however, to see the love of his life standing there, flower petals dancing around you in the wind, like a scene coming out of a movie.

“Sensei, they said we can leave our things over there. I think you can leave now.”

“Will you be able to sleep without her?” Todo kept on bugging poor Kamo, he wasn’t a momma’s or daddy’s baby boy, he was sensei’s baby boy, and was still pretty dependent of you even if he was almost a man by now. He even tried to get his clan to accept you as his future bride, that’s how much he wanted you to continue being by his side, but you had to reject said offer as your heart was already taken and you cared way too much for the boy, he was like a son to you.

“Stop bugging him, Aoi-Chan, or you’ll have to face me again. Go, Nori-kun, I’ll be in a hotel downtown if you need me.” he just nodded, blushing slightly at his teammate’s provocations, he was normally respected by his team, but sometimes it was just too easy to tease him, and that would normally make him a better match in a fight.

“(Y/N…?)”

You could recognize that voice anywhere, turning to face the owner of the mellow voice you’ve missed so dearly, you lost your own at the sight, “Ken-chan…?”

“Ken-Chan? What? Do you know the pretty lady Nanamin? Life is so unfair I was sure I would get her number…Or wait! Can you actually get it for me? You know, put in a good word for me and stuff?” Yuji was once again being ridiculous, but thanks to his antics you both ended up laughing, lifting the heavy air around you away.

“What brings you here? I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with this world anymore…” your eyes glossed over, you still felt hurt, betrayed even, he just stopped calling you one day. No more messages, no more visits. He just let your relationship die out, seemingly for his carrier, yet he didn’t even have the decency to reply to your multiple messages or pick up a single one of your calls.

“Nanamin is training me. He’s super strong, it’s crazy.”

“Oh…um…I see…” so he was willing to come back to this life for a kid but not for you. Maybe Nori-Kun would still take you…a wild thought in an awful situation, mind you.

“I gotta go. Please don’t hurt my boy too much, I’m stronger than your teacher, you don’t wanna face my wrath if I see one too many bruises on his face.” smiling at Yuji, you walked away, unable to meet Nanami’s eyes.

He’s aged so much, you could see with a single glance how much he’s overworked himself, his face was thinner, his beautiful eyes carried bags underneath them now, very much bruised by the lack of sleep, yet he’s still as devilishly handsome as ever.

“Wait, (Y/N) please...” he grabbed your wrist gently, turning you around to face him. You didn’t want to talk to him right now, you had to process this, truth is you didn’t know he’d be there, otherwise you wouldn’t have come. You always thought about him, still wished to see him even if it was one last time, but you knew it would hurt, it would burn deep in your heart, the love you had for each other was supposed to be invincible, yet he gave you up so easily.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about between us, Kento. You left me without a word. Months before our wedding, you just disappeared from my life. I thought you were dead!” you were now sobbing; the pain was still digging deeply within you even after all these years.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…I know this will sound like an excuse but I kindda lost my way, I lost my sense of self, just didn’t know how to deal with how much I missed you and how desperate I felt without you in my life…” your crying just intensified, the pet name pouring salt into the wound, while Nanami welcomed your shaky self into the warmth of his strong arms.

You’ve missed this man so badly. He still used the same cologne, still smelled like freshly laundered shirts coming out of the dryer. His arms were stronger now, his face even more chiseled. He looked so different yet still the same.

He was still the same tall lanky boy you met on your first day of school, the one who stole all your firsts.

Your first crush.

First love.

First kiss.

First time.

First heartbreak.

“Wait what? You were marrying this hottie, Nanamin? Wow, and I thought Gojo sensei was the one that hauled all the babes around.” you couldn’t help but laugh at his words, seemed like Gojo senpai hadn’t changed one bit.

“Itadori could you please just shut up? Leave us, boy.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll leave you with your girlfriend?…hm…fiancée? or is it wife? Baby mama? Hmmm yeah, I like the sound of that one, let’s go with that.” Nanami just wanted to kill the poor boy, he really needed to shut up right now. Though he reminded him of Yu, his best and his worse…

You thought the very same thing, gifting one of your lovely smiles to Yuji who ended up speechless at the sight. “I can see why you couldn’t say no to this. Was it Gojo senpai’s doing?” he just nodded in reply, reaching for your hand almost timidly.

“Where are you staying? I can take you there, we could get something to eat and talk about this some more?” there hasn’t been one day that he hadn’t thought about you during these ten long years. There was nothing he regretted more than leaving you, nothing he wished more than to have you back in his life.

“Can you give me some time? I need to think this through before I hear what you have to say. Let’s meet for breakfast tomorrow morning.” you handed him your phone for him to add his latest phone number, sending him the address to your hotel right after.

“I’ll text you later.” waving in Yuji’s direction, you left the school grounds without even being able to say hi to your seniors.

You had a lot to think about.

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“So I heard you met (Y/N) earlier? Is she as hot as she used to or even more now?” Gojo was sipping in some iced tea, watching over his pupils while sharing some drinks with his fellow friend.

“She’s always been the most gorgeous there is. Time wouldn’t change that.”

“Oh, so she got hotter, I see. Well, now that she isn’t taken, I might pursue her interest…” Nanami’s veins were popping out of his forehead in annoyance. Truth is, he didn’t know where you stand, yes, he still loves you, but what about you? He was your number one during your high school years, even with Gojo after your every muscle, even after many training sessions alone with your loving Geto senpai, you never failed to return to his arms, nothing made your heart waver away from him.

But what about now?

You haven’t seen each other in ten years, forget about Gojo, what if you already found someone else? What if you married someone else? He didn’t see a ring on your finger, but that didn’t really mean anything…

Ignoring his senior, he got up from his seat, walking towards the entrance of the school grounds, the scheduled time for your meeting was getting closer and he didn’t want to be late, not even by a second.

You were already there waiting for him, it was clear that you dressed up for him, what you were wearing looked like a brand-new dress and shoes, makeup done to perfection, your hair up. Even the bag you were wearing matched the outfit, almost like a shop display. It made him smile, at least made him feel like he was a step closer in the right direction.

“You’re early.”

“So are you.” his hand laid itself on the small of your back as if it was its rightful place, guiding you inside the fancy-looking restaurant for some brunch.

The food was to die for, juicy, tender, full of flavors, the wine he got for the two of you was also lovely, even if it was a bit too early for a drink, everything always tastes better with good company.

You were too young last time you saw him; this was the first time you two had indulged in some alcohol together, and it was painfully obvious to him that your tolerance for it wasn’t the highest.

“Ken-chan…can I ask you something?” his eyes left his plate to meet your own, apprehensive about the direction the date might take after answering it.

He just nodded, patiently waiting for you to continue, “Did you not want to marry me? Is that why you left…?”

A loud clacking sound could be heard resonating on every corner of the restaurant, his knife had been discarded in a desperate attempt to hold one of your hands in his.

“No, that’s not it. Quite the contrary.” Confusion was covering your face, food still stuck in your throat as tears threaten to come out at your own thoughts.

“I wanted it so badly; I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life, that’s why I had everything planned. But life had different plans for us, and I just didn’t know how to deal with my own disappointment and self doubts. I tried getting a promotion and getting transferred to an Osaka branch, at least we would be closer, but not even that worked. They were dark times, and you were the only one who ever managed to pull me away from darkness, without you by my side I just…yeah…”

You knew what he meant, the very same thing happened to you, he was the one who always managed to get you out of your darkness, the one who helped you move forward, even after loosing your friend, he was your grieve companion, your entire life, and when you faced loneliness, things weren’t pretty for the longest time. Especially not after he cut the relationship short without discussing things. “I just wished you would have said something…I seriously thought something bad had happened to you, that you were laying dead in some alleyway waiting for someone to find your remains…I even had to call senpai and ask if you were alright, it was embarrassing to say the least, even he knew more about you back then than your future wife did…”

“I’m sorry, my love…I ran away, drowned myself working overtime just to try to forget about you and move on, but in reality, your pajamas are still in my drawer, I still have that matching toothbrush set you got for us, the one with the cats…and I never let anyone sleep on your spot, not even old drunk cousins…” and at the end of the day that was all that mattered.

He, just like you, had never moved on, not in the slightest, it appears that the love you felt for one another only increased as time went by, as you missed each other desperately, as all you could think about was him and all he could think about was you.

You could see how much he was struggling to let his true feelings out, he’s never been the best at that, but it’s never been necessary, you could see right through him, you knew exactly what he was feeling just by looking into his eyes, even if his friends couldn’t differentiate if he was constipated or happy, you could.

“Do you really have…my pink cat toothbrush.” you mumbled in between sniffs, unable to contain yourself any longer.

“Of course I do baby. I know how much you liked it…” his thumb was rubbing circles onto the back of your hand, your tears messing up the beautiful makeup job that took you all morning to master.

“You’re so silly…” you were still crying, but the imminent smile adorning your face made his stomach somersault, he suddenly felt like his sixteen-year-old self the first time he kissed you. “Your fault…” that made you giggle; he’s always blamed you for making him do ridiculous things like wearing matching frog onesies to bed or line up at six in the morning to go to a damn theme park. He always complained, but always did what you asked of him without you having to ask him twice. These were the things that made you feel loved, seeing your stoic boyfriend dressed as a frog while watching horror movies laying his head on your lap. Nobody would believe you even if you had pictures of said day, but those were your most treasured memories, those that proved to you how loved you were by the man that held your heart to this day.

“Would you like to…come to my room…? I mean, what, no, no that sounded wrong, I mean so we can talk some more, relax without worrying about people seeing my messy mascara…not you know…sexy stuff…” you were now a blushing mess, trying to cover your destroyed face from the handsome businessman sitting across from you.

“Yeah…anything’s fine with me, even the sexy stuff…” he was teasing you and you knew it, he was just trying to lighten the mood, but it still caused a long forgotten deep desire to bubble up within you, his hands now seemingly hotter and were they always this big?

Oh my…

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The walk over to your hotel room was mostly spent in silence, you were still trying to calm your racing heart, while Nanami texted Yuuji telling him he would have to miss the afternoon training session as his woman wanted him in her room. The text caused poor Yuuji’s heart to explode as intense thoughts filled his little brain with rated content.

The only reply he got from him though was a thumbs up sticker, his encouragement could be felt just as much as his dirty thoughts.

Your hotel wasn’t anything fancy, just a random business hotel that you got to book at the last minute.

There was no couch, no chairs, just barely space for one in a tiny bed and your personal bathroom, forcing Nanami to sit beside you on your bed after you finished removing your makeup.

“I think this is the first time we are in a hotel together, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well we didn’t have to go far, we always lived on the same floor…” chuckling you recounted your endeavors with your young boyfriend, how after a couple of months of being together started sharing a bed, didn’t matter who’s bed was it, you just couldn’t be away from the other, specially not at night.

“Still is a bit weird, young couples always end up diving into love hotels at least once.”

“True, but we were both broke and well…why spend money if we could just do it whenever we wanted, and nobody ever noticed.”

“Ken-chan!” you swatted his arm, a terrified expression shining on your face, as if someone else would hear about it.

“What? You were there too, you know it’s true.”

“Well, yes I know…” you were now shyly burying your face on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t see how red your face was, but of course he saw it, he wouldn’t miss your adorable self ever again.

“Are you having nasty thoughts, babe? I can see your ears glow from here.” groaning, you lifted his arm to hide completely under his armpit, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest at your antics.

“Stop being adorable, or I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop yourself…”

“Thought you didn’t want sexy stuff just yet-“

“KENTO!”

“Ok, ok, come here.” he gathered you in his arms, bringing you close to kiss your lips ever so softly, your fists balling on his chest. “I missed you, baby…so, so much…” peppering soft kisses all over your face, he hummed quietly, his hands roaming your back with need.

“I did too…way more than you ever did, I just know it…” his kisses were so soft that without noticing your tears were once again pouring down your beautiful face, "I wouldn't be so sure if I was you..." your heart was hurting but was also so full at the same time, it was confusing.

“Would you…consider…maybe giving me another chance?”

“Another chance as in dating or another chance as in going back to our home?” you were now the one kissing his jaw tenderly, his hands were resting under your shirt craving to feel more of your soft skin against his calloused hands.

“As in both…”

“Hm…you’ll have to work harder if you want me to move back in…” he just gave you a wicked smirk, pinning you down to the mattress.

And so, he did.

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“Yo, baby mama! Sup! You staying with us now?”

“Baby- WhAT?! Are you already pregnant, (Y/N)??? Damn you fast…” the envious look he was giving Nanami caused a fit of giggles among his students.

“I- Um, are you?”

“Who knows…maybe I am.” your cute little giggles enchanted Gojo’s students, suddenly wanting to be transferred to the Kyoto branch.

Only time would tell.

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Previous Chapter Masterlist

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brassclaws-of-oddworld · 2 years

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Continued from-->(X)

@somebigface

“My brothers and I might not know a lot about how to raise a Jimling, but we think that it’s better than having them returned to that place. They’d have a safer, happier life here with us.”

*Pats extended his hand out and gave one of Kyung’s arms a gentle rub. He smiled up to her with a warm, reassuring smile.*

“If ya feel like ya aren’t ready for this… or ya need a break. I encourage ya to tell me. Okay? No matter what, the kid’ll be in good hands. Cornelius and Dokk have been a great help too. providin’ so many resources for information that doesn’t catch the eye of that putz of an overlord.”

*Pats moves the egg over to a safe spot and wraps a blanket around the egg to keep it warm. He then goes to Kyung and sits beside her on the bed.*

“Dokk says you and the gents might be gettin’ discharged real soon. Oswald’s plannin’ to come down and offer work to Dio, Rocko, Drogon, and Steele. You will still be able to visit at anytime, but they will probably be stationed within Nolybab. They’d be workin’ with Baron Buptkitzer as enforcers and bodyguards, but under much better benefits. They get a better place to stay, food to eat. Heck, they get a nice hefty paycheck and good medical care when they need it.

Best part? It’s their choice if they wanna work with him. If they don’t wanna do the job he offers, he’ll help them find employment in something they want to do. As far as the baron’s concerned… You are all under his protection. If the overlord wants to try to take ya back…they gotta go through Oswald. Cornelius tells me he ain’t giving you guys back if you don’t wanna go. He’s prepared to fight for you guys as he’s been doin’ for the mudokons.”

“I’ll certainly try,” She chuckled, knowing it would be a challenge for her to do as instructed. “Old habits die hard...” Kyung murmured, but was quick to gloss over it with the reassurance that there would be no pressure on her part once the egg hatched.

Without hesitation, Kyung made room on the hospital bed for Pats, visibly happier as she let herself rest her head against his. Kyung was practically beaming knowing that her fellow Jimseomis would also be able to live much better lives thanks to Oswald, and they had a brighter future awaiting them once they got out of the hospital.

“I get the feeling they’ll decide to go with Mr. Buptkitzer once the opportunity arrives! From what we’ve talked about, if even one of them chooses to go work for him, they all will follow. Those four are practically a package deal, after all. Well, that, and the Overlord most certainly wouldn’t want us back now,” Kyung reckoned jokingly, her chuckles fading when she was reminded of a more recent discussion with them. “I think Mudos is their real home now.”

Once again, the relaxed happiness she had gave way to uncertainty, making her smile wilt. But then, another past conversation came to mind. Something that seemed relatively important to bring up after how much time they spent together while she was recovering.

“Hey, Pats... I may sound a bit silly asking this, but− What are we...?” She managed to ask, internally cringing at how broken her grammar sounded in her head.

#[Kyung x Pats]#[TL; Post OP: K.O.]#((OOOOOHHH))#((HERE WE GO))

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dalgaardchappell51 · 2 years

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doitwritenow · 3 years

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Supreme Super family gets sucked up into WandaVision(let's imagine Tony's alive in this or is from the multiverse). Ironstrange think they're married with a high school kid. Tony is a science teacher, strange is town doctor, and peter is a regular kid. No memories of they're real life. Rhody, Pepper, and Aunt May and Morgan could be added to this too if you wanted.

OHHO! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this; I had to finish the show, for one thing, and then my brain started going all sorts of places with the prompt... and well. I have on heck of a ramble coming, so buckle up!

(Also, spoilers through the series, so watch out!)

— — —

It starts with a question on Vision’s job application.

That’s all. So simple, so innocuous, so innocent. Vision is casually recording information that he doesn’t yet realize he can’t remember, and he arrives at a line that asks his family history. It’s nothing complex, left on the application only because Wanda’s subconscious had glossed over the question. So does Vision’s, as a result. But he wants this job. They want to fit in, and so they answer the question truthfully.

Vision writes ‘Stark’, unaware. ‘Tony Stark.’

And pop. Just like that.

On the edge of Westview, there suddenly is and has always been a small, well-kept mechanic’s shop. It’s run by an aging man with a bright mind and a brighter smile. He’s lived here since he came back from the war, but no one knows for how long. And he has no memory—no memory at all—of what came before.

Of the round scar in the center of his chest.

He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know; he’s just a side character, after all. Just the answer to a line on a job application.

Just so that something, anything, about Vision’s life here isn’t a lie.

Yeah, so Tony gets manifested within the Hex—but because he’s one of Wanda’s creations and not someone being mind-controlled, he is able to exist with agency within Westview. He has no reason, however, to believe anything is amiss; he’s been resurrected only to play a character, and his memories and surface-level motivations only extend to the limits of that character.

But Wanda has other regret. Wanda has other anger and understanding and forgiveness and gratefulness, and she knew Tony Stark, once.

She knew his worst nightmare—and it’s easy to craft a soul from that, really.

(But it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Tony has no reason to pull down the walls of that hidden spirit. He’s content in his role, just like Vision. So it’s fine.

… Right?)

Agatha stands at the base of a towering barrier with her hands on her hips. One side of her mouth is quirked up into a considering, scheming smile, and her magic probes out around her curiously. This is the source of the power she’d felt; she’s sure of it. The spell work… the instinctual, unconscious spell work is so intense she can almost taste it.

How is it possible? What’s the secret?

Agatha must know. And besides; this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her since the seventeenth century.

She’s about to reach out, about to cross into the heart of the magic, when she hears it. A footstep. Quiet and dark and making no attempt at stealth.

Agatha grips her magic. “Who’s there?” she demands.

Someone steps out of the trees. A human, Agatha thinks, though you can never be sure nowadays. He wears a hood of green and his hands are dark where they hang at his sides.

“Witch,” the figure declares.

Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” says Karl Mordo. “I rather think you can.”

Okay, cut to New York. Stephen Strange is exhausted, wrung dry trying to keep the edges of the universe from deteriorating now that the stabilization factors of the Infinity Stones have been destroyed. One task runs into the next, one morning into the night. One future into all the others.

But Stephen likes the work; it keeps his mind in one place. He’s always alert these days. Always listening.

So when someone calls out to him from New Jersey, he can hear.

It’s Mordo luring him in, of course, but he doesn’t know that yet. After Dormammu, and certainly after all those futures, Stephen has too much experience for Mordo to hope to get the better of. The old Master is still dedicated to his ‘too many sorcerers’ shebangerang, though, so he’s employed help. Maybe he can kill two birds with one stone. Two world-threateningly powerful magic users with one stone.

Stephen follows the call, because of course he does. It sounds like a call for help; what else is he supposed to do? The kelpie situation in the Thames can wait. Wong waves him off, tells him to be careful without much hope of Stephen listening, and takes over the Sanctum for the few hours Stephen intends to be gone.

(It’s not for a few hours.)

But there’s someone else we should mention before we see what Westview has planned for Stephen. See, a certain spider-kid has just had his identity outed, and his only allies once called themselves Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill, Peter discovers, are not Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

“You’re aliens?” Peter demands, his hands warding the space in front of him.

Of course they’re aliens, part of him sighs. Of course. Why wouldn’t one more thing just go crazy in his life? Why let him remember what ‘normal’ even felt like? Why the hell not?

“Er, yes,” says not-Fury. “My name is Talos. But we do still want to help you.”

Helping Peter doesn’t go according to plan. See, the Skrull try to approach SWORD for Monica Rambaeu’s help regarding the kid who saved their lives, but Monica has disappeared.

Talos only turns around for two seconds. Really, it’s only a moment. But when he turns back, Peter Parker has disappeared, too.

“Woah.”

Stephen stops, a hand coming up to shield his third eye as he squints into the absolute maelstrom of power swirling in a hexagonal wall in front of him. It doesn’t feel like the Order’s magic—not like something of the Mystic Arts. It’s something far more human and gritty. Stephen’s perception can’t extend through it. He frowns.

He takes a step forward, the Cloak swirling around his ankles, and begins to stitch his mental walls into place. His wards are strong, even unconsciously.

That’s probably what saves him, in all honesty.

Two strong, human hands plant themselves in the small of Stephen’s back and shove him into the barrier. Stephen opens his mouth to yell, raises his hands to cast a spell— but blue and red are surrounding him now. Devouring him, now. They lick at his mind, slamming against unbreakable walls.

But they are unbreakable too.

Stephen disappears.

(Mordo used a portal to get behind him and knock him into the Hex, btw.)

It’s those hasty mental walls that keep Stephen from being completely consumed into the Westview spells. He is not fully mind-controlled, nor is he left half-animated and frozen like most people near Ellis Avenue. But there is one main rule of Wanda Maximoff’s Westview, and that, Stephen can’t escape completely.

‘No one remembers outside.’

Stephen doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything at all.

Tony Stark finds the man lying on the side of the road. He’s just finished dropping his kid Peter off at the Westview high school (it hasn’t occurred to him that it’s weird how he never sees the boy’s classmates. Or that Peter never seems to have stories from school. Or that the kid is always waiting in the exact same place that Tony dropped him off at whenever Tony comes to pick him up. Tony has no reason to think too hard; he’s just a side character—right?).

“Uh, hi?” Tony pauses, the car puffing it’s irritation when he stops it too quickly. He cranks down the window and leans out.

The man blinks, slowly, at the sky. He sits up hesitantly, like he hasn’t noticed Tony, and rubs his hand across his face. He pulls it away after a moment and frowns at it. Tony wonders why he looks so confused—it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the man’s hand. No scars or anything.

“Hi, sir,” Tony says again. “Are you alright?”

The man jumps. He looks over at Tony—and there’s something weird about his eyes. Something… really weird. (Color, says a voice in the back of his mind that he hasn’t heard for a very, very long time. That’s color.)

“Who are you?” Tony asks. He parks the car completely now.

The man looks down at his hands again. “I’m—” he begins. He’s frowning again.

“Come on now,” Tony encourages. “How hard can it be?”

The man tugs at the scarf around his neck—and it must be windier than Tony thought, because the edges of it are swaying as if of their own accord— and swallows.

“I don’t know,” he says.

So of course Tony brings Stephen back with him. He prods at the man until Stephen manages to blurt out ‘Doctor Stephen Strange’ for no reason either of them can remember. But it makes Stephen relax, a little, to have it on his tongue.

Tony catches Stephen staring at him after that. A lot. When he asks him why, Stephen has no clear answer; just a vague “you remind me of someone.” For Stephen’s part, all he knows is that seeing Tony gives him an indistinct sense of relief. Like he’d been missing someone deeply, and has now found it again.

Still. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Just like he can’t quite put his finger on why his hands don’t hurt when he tries to write…

Vision visits Tony, sometimes, whenever he remembers, or whenever someone in the town mentions the old mechanic. He brings Wanda. They have fun, but Vision always goes home feeling slightly baffled. And Tony always feels like something hurts, deep in the center of his chest.

Vision likes his adopted younger brother. (And Peter gets along just fine with the twins, too, when they come along, so Wanda doesn’t change anything about it). But when the man with the bright eyes stares at him with just a bit too much calculation on his face, Vision starts to be reminded of… things. Of suspicions. Of Geraldine and how she had no home and no history. And he doesn’t quite look Wanda in the eye that dinner.

“What do you do?” Wanda asks, her voice a little hard, a little suspicious. Vision tries not to wince. Whatever it is she’s not telling him, this man at his father’s dinner table reminds her of it.

Tony flips his fork, balancing it like one might a wrench. “Stephen’s a doctor,” he says.

Wanda’s face flickers. “That’s funny,” she says blankly. “Because no one in this town ever needs one.”

For a while, Tony Stark didn’t see anything amiss here. He was created, was consistent, was emptily and vaguely pleased. But Tony Stark is Tony Stark, whatever character he’s been told to play. Tony Stark wants to help people.

And this man, this strange doctor with the eyes that would sometimes go blank for long minutes and the tears that would stain sharp cheeks for a reason he claimed not to remember, needs help.

So Tony Stark begins to scratch at Wanda’s walls.

“What do you mean he’s here?”

“I mean your little plan didn’t work,” Agatha says. She stands on the edge of Westview, speaking through a mirror of magic to the man outside. She’s liking this sorcerer less and less the more she works with him—but he has been rather helpful so far, so she continues to put up with him.

“Does he remember?”

“No,” Agatha says. “The dad that Wanda made up for Vision has taken him in. It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

“Hm.” Mordo’s mouth twists. “You’ll finish the job?”

Agatha shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure. When I get around to it.”

“You don’t want to wait. Deal with Strange now, before he remembers how to be a threat.”

Agatha laughs. It’s brittle, fully conveying her hostility. “Ha, my good sorcerer, listen. Unless you want to come in here and do the job yourself, you’ll let me handle this my way.”

Agatha’s way involves getting to the bottom of things, of course. And that’s rather convenient… because Vision has begun to try to do the same thing.

— — — —

Okay that’s all I have for now? The other bits are still solidifying in my mind, and it’s basically all Horrible Angst. I hope this scratches a little of the itch of your ask, though! Feel free, anyone, to add onto this if you’d like! I really enjoyed the show, and I think it has some really awesome AU potential.

Thanks for the ask!!!

#ask me anything #prompt #fanfic #ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #wandavision #wandavision au #wandavision spoilers #supreme family #supreme family fanfic #ironstrange fanfic

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Ruin

Summary: im not sure how to summarize this without spoiling the story

Warning: angst, bits of fluff here and there

Word Count; 4158 words

A/N: the long-awaited part 6 of the Tarnish series! A collab with @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. My attention span is short itself so I've decided to split it up into two parts.

UNEDITED

___

Harry tried to see the brighter side of the situation because it truly was something to look forward to. Having the chance to get to know Halo was something that he should be grateful for. As Y/N said, Harry did not deserve to be a part of her life, despite the fact that he was the father. And somewhere, somehow— he understood where she was coming from.

Harry honestly wouldn’t know what he would do if the roles were reversed; if Y/N were the one to have been cheating on him. He would not have a clue if Harry would be as kind to her as she was with him. If an outsider were to assess the situation between Harry and Y/N, they would definitely choose her side to be in favour of. So far, Harry still wasn’t able to pinpoint what exactly Y/N had done wrong for him to be swayed by an illicit affair. Was there even a moment in time that he could vividly see where he made the decision to just up and betrayed her trust? Because if there was; either his memory has gone to shit or Harry was more of a jerk than he served himself.

To put things into perspective, Y/N was the perfect partner and Harry had somehow lost sight of that by cheating on her. Don’t get him wrong; Camille was good, great, even. Yet Y/N was an amazing woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Coincidentally, those were the same type of things that Harry needed, too. As much as it pained him to say it, Camille’s rejection of their own little family made him rethink his decision-making process. Harry has learned more about himself in these past few months than he did in his entire lifetime.

For starters, he cleared it up that he had absolutely no excuse for cheating on Y/N except the fact that his retention span lasted a good few years before he was in search of something fresh; something new and exciting. Maybe it scared him just how serious she was in having a family in the future that his subconscious thought that Harry needed one last hurrah to get the infidelity out. Besides, divorces are more complicated when there are children involved.

Secondly, being with Camille was an infatuation that lasted for a long, three years—beginning while Harry was in a relationship with Y/N. Feelings were still there for sure, but he just didn’t know if it was enough to make him stay, especially when Y/N and baby Halo were right there waiting for him. They actually weren’t; Harry just liked to pretend that they were so that he could justify the consequences of his actions.

Camille was trying to make things work with him; Harry could see that. However, there were only so many things that she could do to improve their relationship before she had to change the choices that she had made years prior. Camille really didn’t want to say that she had refuted the idea of not having kids for the sake of making a relationship prosper, but maybe it was what she had to do to make him stay. She wanted a happy life with someone who wanted the same things as her. Harry wasn’t the man who shared a mutual agreement and she was pushed to question her options.

Nonetheless, Camille and Harry stuck with each other because they were all they knew for the past three and a half years. It was definitely ironic for Harry to say that he couldn’t just leave a three-year relationship behind for another woman; because he had done that before. Now, he was a hypocrite too? His ego cannot take it.

____

Connor wrapped his arms around Y/N’s middle as she washed the dishes in the sink. Their water heater was broken so the stream that came from the faucet sometimes teetered from freezing cold to extremely hot. Right now, she was scrubbing the sponge on the porcelain as quickly as possible while the water was at the right temperature.

Y/N turned her head to the side, pressing a kiss on Connor’s cheek. He rested his chin on her shoulder, bobbing up and down as she moved her arms.

“Is this really a good idea, baby?” Connor asked, staring at the way her lashes fluttered in a pregnant pause, taking a deep breath.

She nodded, reaching over slightly to rest the wet dish on the drying rack. “Halo deserves to at least know her real father,”

And it was true. What kind of mother would Y/N be if she kept a secret like that from her own daughter? The past two years was a constant ping-pong battle of reaching out to Harry and sharing the news to him; then, Y/N would be hit with a shot of realization, wondering if this would ruin his current lifestyle.

“I understand. What if he leaves again? Hate to remind you but Harry left you once before, don’t think he’ll hesitate to do so again,”

She froze at Connor’s words. Y/N was aware that he only said that in good faith, to remind her of how hurt she was at the time and just how long it took for her to be able to finally breathe again.

One side of Y/N urged to still defend Harry. She wanted to turn and around, yell at him because Connor doesn’t know Harry as she does. Harry wasn’t the type to build a child’s dreams up only for him to personally manhandle the heart and crush it in his fist. There was a reason why he was a godfather to so many kids; Ruby, Arlo and Jackson—because he was capable. Harry was a nurturing father who put himself on the back burner in favour of making sure that the little ones were safe and secured. He had no problem being third if it meant that the kids were first, then Y/N, then him.

It all sounded so good in Y/N’s head; so well-rehearsed and very well thought out. The monologue that had somehow stuck in the sides of her brain like a script taped to the wall, ready for the time it needed to be recited. The shredded pieces of paper also reminded her that Y/N might’ve known Harry before, but she certainly doesn’t anymore. In fact, she knew just as much as Connor did.

Just like Y/N had grown and evolved into a new person, Harry was not the same guy he once was when they were together.

“I told him the consequences if he did,”

Connor pulled back, stepping away from her. “But wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t take that chance? Who knows what he might do. . .” He trailed off, grabbing a dry rag to wipe the water dripping from the dish.

Y/N took a leap of faith in letting Harry in. He was a wild card. He could promise one thing but would mean another. Or he could recite a vow and completely annihilate the person as he did with her. Yet somehow, Y/N couldn’t resist the opportunity to give him one chance. Maybe it was because a small part of her craved to re-create a happy family that they had always wanted.

“It’s a risk. I know that” Y/N rinsed a cup, swirling the water in circles. She felt like that whenever Harry was around.

“So why are you still doing it?” Y/N opened her mouth to answer, “And tell me the truth this time, yeah?”

Her boyfriend stared at her with an unreadable emotion in his eyes, lips drew taut in a straight line and arms were crossed over his broad chest. The pressure was immense on Y/N’s shoulders. She was torn between admitting what she had buried deep below the sand or simply glossing over it like a figure skater. Nonetheless, Y/N was on thin ice.

For years, she had flicked away the remaining feelings that stayed with her. But they were persistent in sticking by her side. It wasn’t like Y/N could completely erase Harry from her life--from who she was. She still dressed like him, evidenced by the matching pair of Gucci loafers she chose not to wear for the night in fear that he would coincidentally be sporting the same footwear.

Furthermore, they had a child together! Halo was the spitting image of him. It was hard not to be reminded by a man she once loved when their little baby was both of them mixed in one. So did Y/N still love Harry? She couldn’t deny how much her heart fluttered seeing him stutter over his words at the park. Y/N just wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety and nervousness or excitement and anticipation.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Harry had sneakily closed a sleeping Halo’s bedroom door. His trek back to the kitchen was slow, slightly afraid of the awaiting talk he and Y/N--and possibly Connor-- have yet to have. Harry wanted to be there for Halo and for Y/N every step of the way, but he knew that Y/N would not allow him around if his intentions were to cater to a relationship with her. She was already tolerating him as is.

Standing behind the thin wall that acted as a partition from the hallway to the kitchen, Harry carefully placed his hands against the barrier to steady himself. He didn’t know if his legs could take whatever answer would spill from Y/N’s mouth. If she admitted her true feelings, he would stumble and melt into a puddle. He would be confused, but Harry wouldn’t be opposed to it; he was in a relationship after all. If she denied it--which was the more likely option--, his heart would break silently in his chest.

Harry numbed himself of the guilt raking at his ankles. He was well aware that this was a private conversation but hey; it was not his fault that he had ears straining to listen to Y/N’s reply.

“Do you still love him?” Connor followed up, voice grim. Almost fearful to find out the truth. Harry was, too.

Y/N paused her thoughts as well as her actions, flinching at the sudden intrusion of Connor’s question. She flinched, yelping a little and jumping backwards when the broken water heater subdued the filtering liquid into a burning hot splatter on her skin. Connor picked his feet up in alarm, grabbing at Y/N’s wrist to see the minor injury on the back of her palm.

“Ow!” Y/N whisper-shouted, soothing the ache by situating it between her thighs before shakily showing it to Connor; the doctor.

“Let me see, baby,”

Harry peeked his head around the corner, almost losing his cover with the way his feet instantaneously wanting to move towards a hurting Y/N. Good thing he caught himself. Surely they would put two and two together and realize that Harry was eavesdropping.

That decision came with a laceration to his heart. Harry got a first-class ticket to register that the couple was everything he and Y/N were. The pet names, the domesticity of their actions. The caring glances and constant check-ups.

Deciding to come out of hiding, Harry almost had a heart attack when he turned the corner and was met face to face with Connor. His brows had dipped in worry, face determined to grab some cream to apply to the burn from their first-aid kit in the bathroom. Harry guessed that his whizzing thoughts failed to hear the quiet instruction.

The man jolted in surprise, stopping quickly in his tracks, “Oh hey! Is Halo asleep?” Connor gave him a smile despite the confusion etching in his forehead. Harry nodded dumbly, lips pursing like a fish. “Y/N’s just burned her hand, nothing too serious though,”

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N eyeing the both of them suspiciously, still clutching the burnt skin close to her. “Oh, I see,”

Connor smacked a firm hand on his shoulder, stepping around him to grab the cream. Harry walked towards Y/N, noticing that she was soothing the painful ache with ice wrapped in layers of tissue. She was softly hissing through her teeth once in a while.

“You okay?”

She tilted her head at him, appearing to be dazed out in her thoughts. “Yeah, uh, nothing too bad,”

Harry kept his distance, leaning on the other side of the counter. He started off by saying, “Thank you for giving me this chance,”

Y/N graced him with a smile, standing up straighter when Connor appeared with a tube in his hand. Harry watched as he unscrewed the cap, placing it beside her. He squeezed a bit of the cream unto his fingertip before applying it directly on Y/N’s skin. She winced, wanting to pull her wrist away from his grip but Connor didn’t let her, “It’s gonna be fine, baby,”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, continuing to rub circles on the burn until Y/N visibly relaxed through slouched shoulders and less shaky breaths.

Harry was staring at them like a kicked puppy. He was fussy and frustrated all in one. He wanted the attention that Y/N was giving Connor. He wanted to be Connor, but both of them were too wrapped up in their little love bubble to notice Harry’s squinted eyes and pinched brows.

He was frustrated because even if he wasn’t the direct cause of her pain, Harry had somehow found a way to continue hurting her and Connor was always there to pacify his wrongful actions. Harry hated that this was how fate had planned his life.

Harry cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth, “Think I should go,” His thumb pointed over his shoulder, “Uh thank you again,”

Y/N snapped her head to him, gaze lowering in a timid manner as if she forgot that he was even there in the first place. Connor was the first to reply, “Alright, man. See you whenever,” He capped the tub, shoving it in his back pocket to return to its place.

She leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips, muttering something in his ear that had Connor teasingly wrapping his hands on her hips. Harry looked away, taking long strides to the entryway instead.

“Harry, wait!”

He shuddered at the memory of the words that had changed his life when Gemma told him the truth. Harry’s shoe was half-way one when he turned around. “Yeah?”

Y/N was holding a folded brochure, “Halo has a recital this weekend for her dance class,” She handed it to him, “Maybe you’d want to go? You can bring Camille if you want but I think it would be better if you didn’t. She’s still new to this and I don’t want her asking too many questions until she can unders--,”

“I’ll go,” Harry cut her off, unfolding the folded paper. The venue was about twenty minutes away from his place. It was only an hour-long considering the skill set of two-year-olds but it was a fun way for parents to cheer on their little ones. Harry’s previously sour mood was now replaced with giddiness at the sight of his daughter in a pretty pink tutu, twirling on her feet. He was sure that Halo was born to become a performer like him.

She sighed in relief, puffing her cheeks out cutely, “It’s a private dance class. Pretty high end so the security should be okay,”

And there it was again. The constant reminder that Harry was otherworldly to some people. As much as he loved living his lifestyle, he sometimes wished that he was a normie. That was a lot to ask for considering his current situation with his daughter, but a man can dream.

“Got it,”

Y/N leaned over to show him the back of the leaflet, “Just show them this ticket and security should let you in. Halo wanted me to give that to you because she was too shy earlier. I know it’s short notice but I guess she was comfortable enough to ask you,”

Harry blushed at the admittance, mentally patting himself at the back for making his daughter feel at ease in a short amount of time.

“I’ll be there,” He pushed his heel to adorn his sneakers. Y/N bit her lip, she looked hesitant, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go, by the way. I can explain that you’re busy. She’ll probably understand,”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Harry wasn’t going to ruin his progressive relationship with his daughter on ‘probably’. “Y/N, s’alright. No problem, yeah? I’ll be there,”

___

Where was he?

It was two days after the dinner and Harry’s promise of attending Halo’s recital was vanishing with each passing second. Every time the hand of the clock ticked to indicate that another minute had elapsed. Harry still wasn’t jogging through the carpeted middle of the small theatre to where Connor and Y/N were seated. Two empty seats were left at the end of the aisle to aid Harry--and possibly Camille--a smooth arrival without creating any distractions.

There were only five minutes left before the stage crew were to dim the spotlights illuminating the room. Y/N was checking her watch what felt like every second, clicking her phone on and off once in a while worried that something may have happened to Harry. Maybe security wouldn’t let him in. The gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach suggested that Harry just forgot the event tonight but Y/N would cross the bridge when they got to it. Regardless, her nerves were left unsettled as swallowing proved to be more difficult with the way a sip of her water had her gulping audibly. Connor wasn’t there to lend a soft hand on her upper back to help her breathe.

Speaking of, Connor had taken the initiative to visit Halo backstage. The ballet teacher was growing weary of the way the little dancer ran out from beside the stage to stop in front of her parents, asking, “Where’s Hawwy?”.

Halo had done it three times in hopes of receiving an answer aside from, “He’s not here yet,” Y/N tucked a fallen strand of hair from the otherwise sleek bun from beside her cheeks. Her daughter’s form slouching as her pretty eyes watered slightly, “He’s not coming? You told me he was coming, mama,”

Y/N glanced at Connor nervously, being met with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look which didn’t really help the situation. Luckily, the teacher had approached them with a clipboard on hand, searching for the ballerina. The teacher had suggested that one of them stay with her behind the curtain until the show began. Connor volunteered.

“Better hope he comes or else we’ll have to deal with the consequences. I really don’t want to see her heartbroken before of a promise he couldn’t keep,” Connor muttered, following the woman but not before thumbing circles on Y/N’s flushed cheek.

Y/N knew that he meant well. She also didn’t want to comfort a heartbroken Halo because Harry failed to show up where he promised he would be. And now, with a little less than two minutes before showtime, Connor was sent back beside her. Parents were being ushered to find their seats before the lights dimmed and it would be difficult to maneuver through knees and legs.

“Is he here?” Connor questioned, draping a hand on her shaking knee. Y/N shook her head, casting another glance at the auditorium doors. He waved at Halo who peeked her head between the silk curtains, wandering eyes looking at the empty seat beside Y/N.

“No. Hasn’t texted or answered his phone either,” Y/N was about to dial Harry’s contact once more in a desperate attempt to reach him. However, the dimming lights indicated that it was too late. Connor laced their fingers together, offering apologetic eyes and a tight-lipped smile; they would have to nurse a broken heart later tonight.

_____

Harry was in the middle of buttoning his patterned shirt, staring at his reflection in the mirror to silently judge his fashion choice for the night. Was it too much for a kids’ ballet recital? He deemed that it was, stretching his arms to remove the fabric adorning his chest, moving to grab the pink, flamingo patterned shirt instead. He took his time, granted that he had about an hour before the recital started.

He smoothed the fabric over his broad shoulders, pausing when Camille walked in. Harry locked his green eyes at her through the mirror as she walked to their shared bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“What d’ya think?”

She hummed in response, absentmindedly nodding in agreement when Harry asked if it was good. Both Camille and Harry had talked about his relationship with Halo as soon as she landed at the airport. He didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. Fortunately, Camille was very understanding of his situation, offering him support and encouragement to build a bond with his daughter.

What Camille didn’t reveal was that she was a bit antsy of Harry’s relationship with Y/N. She meant everything she had said to him, but it was no guarantee that Harry would ignite another connection with his ex-girlfriend. Not that Camille didn’t trust him. It was just a bit concerning because she believed that how a relationship starts is how it will end. Harry certainly had a history of straying away from his present partner.

Harry was currently in their walk-in closet, finding a pair of slacks that weren't too formal or casual. Camille mulled the thoughts in her head. She loved Harry dearly and would do anything for him. Well, anything except having children of their own. He had mostly accepted her decision, only wincing a little when the topic of a family was brought up by mutual friends and family once in a while.

Truth to be told, Camille was scared. She was afraid that Harry would leave for Y/N because she had Halo. They were the family that he had always wanted and although Camille wasn’t too keen on giving him the same; she was debating on it.

“How’s this, Cam?” Harry retreated with two pairs of pants. On one hand was a pair of straight-leg skinny jeans that he hadn’t worn in years. The other held brown, corduroy, striped slacks. “Or this one?”

She bit her lip, standing up slowly, walking over to him. “What do I think?”

He nodded, innocently jutting his bottom lip at her as he looked back and forth.

Camille swathed her hands on his shoulders, ghosting her mouth over his ear, “I think I like you better without them,” Her finger traced his collarbone, swirling at the dip of his throat. “Without anything,”

Harry gulped harshly. He felt Camille unbuttoning his shirt, gliding her palms downwards until she was cupping his bulge, “Camille, wait,” He flicked his watch to check the time. It took twenty minutes to get there, maybe even more with traffic and parking.

She dragged him to the bed by the ends of his opened shirt, locking her lips with his plush ones. He rested a knee on the mattress, his hands at the back of her head as Camille continued to pull him down.

Pulling away, Harry panted, “What are you doin’?” He laid his creased forehead on hers.

Camille supported herself on her hands, moving her face back until she was able to get a clear view of his perplexed expression, “I was thinking that maybe we could. . . try having a baby, H,” Her voice was soft, almost timid and she was doing her best not to break eye contact to show her sincerity.

Harry gasped in surprise, “Wha--? Really? Are you serious?” His tone gained a pitch as excitement enthralled his senses. The smile on his face was wide and reached his bright eyes. “Baby, are you sure?”

Camille nodded, grinning softly. “Yes,’

“Oh my--this is. . .,” Harry pulled at the locks of his hair, pacing around the room. “This is great! Our own family. Jesus. I can’t believe it,” Tears sprung on his corneas.

He kneeled between her legs, taking her wrist and pressing a gentle kiss on her skin, murmuring ‘I love you’ repeatedly.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” Camille asked, spreading her legs rhetorically. Harry observed her position, nodding enthusiastically.

Another glance at his watch indicated that Harry was absolutely pushing it with being late to Halo’s recital. Yet one enchanting kiss from Camille wiped his thoughts clean. He was getting what he wanted; a family of his own.

___

Let us know what you thought! The seventh part of the Tarnish series will be uploaded on Patreon on Sept 29!

___

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ajerzaaddict · 2 years

Text

Jerza Week 2021 Day 1

Day 1 - Date (20 Oct)

Rated: K

Words: 1.5K +

FFN

~~~~

Erza took the mirror out from her bag for the third time since she settled in the seat in the cafe twenty minutes ago. She couldn't help but check her reflection in the glass once again, feeling a little bit nervous that Jellal could arrive any time now as their scheduled meeting time came closer.

Her long scarlet hair which fell naturally over her shoulders looked smooth and shiny thanks to the hair mist she applied on them. Her face looked brighter than usual and gave out a healthy glow after she attended it carefully with skin care products in the past few days, and her lips were slightly pinked by the lip gloss she newly bought. The light purple wide-neck blouse she wore exposed her collarbones and clung to her body nicely outlining the round shape of her breasts.

While she knew the man wouldn't mind her looking plain and wearing her work outfits, having already seen her in her worst state in battles anyway, she wanted to appear at her best in their first meeting after he received his pardon. Besides, she did enjoy being dressed up and put on make-up occasionally, acting like an ordinary girl instead of the female knight she usually was.

She glanced at the window at the side of the table, looking for a head of familiar and distinct azure blue hair to appear anytime. After another few minutes, she finally spotted the man she had been waiting for approaching the cafe with quick steps; his soft blue locks waving in the strong autumn wind, exposing the upper half of his mysterious facial tattoo on his right forehead. She took her eyes off Jellal as he pushed the cafe's door open, and took a sip of water to wet her dry mouth.

Erza then turned her attention to the cafe's entrance, and found that Jellal had already entered the cafe, looking around. As he turned his gaze to her direction, their gaze crossed and he smiled gently at her. She felt her heart had skipped a few beats. A waitress came to greet Jellal at this moment, and they exchanged a few words, before the waitress went back to her other duty and Jellal walked to her.

Erza studied Jellal's look quickly. His hair was slightly unruly due to the blowing wind. But he seemed to be in good spirits, no stressed face or tensed shoulders, but a tender look in his eyes. He wore a thigh-long khaki coat and a white button up shirt underneath and a pair of black pants; the simplicity of the outfits gave him a younger and neat look.

"It has been a while since we last met, Erza." The simile on Jellal's face persisted as he greeted her and settled himself in the opposite seat.

"Yes, it has." Erza smiled back. "And I'm really happy to see you again."

Jellal deepened his smile. "And I'm glad and relieved that you are willing to come. Have you ordered anything?"

"No, not yet."

Jellal called the waitress. He ordered a cup of black coffee while Erza ordered a cup of tea and a piece of strawberry cheesecake.

"So…...is this a brief stop in your journey, or you have already found the answers you are looking for?" Erza asked Jellal straightforwardly after the waitress had taken their orders and left, being driven by her curiosity and anxiety.

After receiving pardon from the Queen, members of Crime Sorciere decided to disband their guild and move forward to pursue their personal goals. Jellal had chosen to embark on a personal journey, travelling around Fiore to meet people whom he had hurt, owed favors to and helped, hoping to conclude the path to redemption he had walked down since the founding of Crime Sorciere, and to discover a new path beyond.

"I've made peace with and bid farewell to my guilty self." Jellal grinned. "I wasn't able to earn forgiveness from everyone I've hurt, which is understandable. But during this journey I've witnessed how things have changed for the better for people I've come across during my days at Crime Sorciere. I've come to realize that even though I can't change the past, I can make a difference for the future, not only for myself, but also for people around me, for people I've hurt. And I want to continue my fight against dark magic, not to punish myself, but to make everyone's lives better, even just a little."

"I feel very proud of you, and happy for you, Jellal, that you've finally managed to uplift the burden of the past from your life." Erza could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and wiped off a drop threatening to slide down her face with her finger.

"Thank you, Erza. And you've played an essential role in supporting me in my search for my purpose in life." Jellal spoke softly, and reached out to hold Erza's cheek in his palm. Erza leaned into his touch, but Jellal quickly withdrew his hand as the waitress showed up with their orders.

They both looked at the table avoiding eye contact with the waitress, while the waitress swiftly placed their orders on the table and left, having realized that she had interrupted them at the wrong time.

Erza's eyes blinked as her gaze landed on the strawberry cheesecake, her most favorite dessert. Jellal couldn't help a small chuckle escaping his lips seeing the joy on her face, innocent and pure.

"Try it quickly. It looks delicious." He urged Erza, while he picked up his cup of coffee for a sip.

Erza nodded. She picked up the fork, ready to stick it into the cake which she knew would be creamy and soft and sweet in her mouth. But then she paused and glanced at Jellal after she cut out a piece from the cake.

"Would you like to try it as well?"

"Well…"

Erza's question was simple but Jellal found it hard to answer. He wanted to let Erza enjoy the cake all she wanted, and he could order one for himself if he wanted to try it. But it warmed his heart that Erza would like to share her favorite food with him. It might discourage her if he turned down her goodwill.

"I think I'll take a bite." He finally accepted her offer.

Erza smiled and lifted up the fork with a small piece of cake in front of Jellal's face.

Is Erza trying to feed me? Jellal could feel his face warming up.

"Y-you c-can take this fork. I-I'll ask the waitress for another one." Erza blushed. She hadn't thought much about the implication of her gesture until she saw Jellal's reddened face.

"Okay. Thanks." Jellal took the fork from Erza with a relieved smile.

"How is it?" Erza asked Jellal after he put the cake into his mouth.

"It tastes good. The cake is creamy and the strawberries are sweet. Try it yourself."

Erza got another fork from the waitress and started eating her cake; a satisfied sigh left her lips.

"Do you still have to travel around with your new purpose in life?" Erza asked Jellal after she finished the last piece of the cake, glancing at him with an anxious look in her eyes.

"I probably still need to travel to different places as dark mages won't stay in one place."

Erza looked down and her eyes dimmed with disappointment.

"But I don't plan to wander around indefinitely anymore. I want to find a place as my home where I can stay and return to after doing my jobs. And I plan to settle in Magnolia. What do you think?"

Erza raised her head, staring at Jellal with wide eyes, as she couldn't believe what she had just heard was real.

"It's…..good. No. It's perfect. It's wonderful!" Happy tears fell from Erza's eyes as she could not keep her emotions at bay anymore knowing that Jellal would soon become a constant presence in her life.

Jellal held Erza's face between his palms and wiped her tears away. "I hate to make you cry. But I don't feel regret this time. I hope that from now on the tears I make you shed will only be the happy ones."

Erza nodded, unable to express her overwhelming emotions in words. She then wrapped her fingers around Jellal's wrists to pull his hands down from her face before holding his hands between hers. "Let me help you with settling in Magnolia."

"I did plan to ask for your help. So yes, please."

"If you have no other plans for today, we can start now. We should look for a flat, or a house, first. I know someone who can help in this matter." Erza spoke excitedly, being determined to bring Jellal close to her as soon as possible.

Jellal chuckled. "I'm free today, so yes we can start the search for my new home anytime."

They finished their drinks and Jellal paid the bills. When they left the cafe, Jellal held Erza's hand in his.

"I forgot to tell you earlier." Jellal looked at Erza with an adoring gaze. "You look very lovely today."

Erza blushed, while she intertwined her fingers with Jellal's.

"Thank you."

#jerza week #jerza #erza scarlet #Jellal Fernandes #oneshot

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels: SHORT SERIES PART 2

PART 1

Member: stripper juyeon

Genre: angst, drama

“i know it hurts to smile but you try to.”

the end.

it was almost traumatising -- no -- it was traumatising.

to see juyeon listen to your command.

the last time you will see him was the view of his back, a single, lone tear dribbling down his left cheek as he looks back.

almost like he was looking back at your past with him.

like he was bidding you a painful goodbye.

now, five years into the future, his eyes were different.

maybe it was the makeup, or the hair, or the clothes.

but this is not the juyeon you recognised. this is not the man you met in the library. almost ten years ago.

he is stone cold, he is a professional at this job, even if it was a raunchy, controversial one. he is hardened concrete and he is a piece of stone that medusa looked at and turned to rock.

he is a dead flower that you failed to care for.

you’ve tried convincing yourself that it wasn’t your fault. that juyeon had, in fact, been a terrible boyfriend.

who leaves their girlfriend hanging on edge for days and then gets himself involved with another girl?

then again, your mistake on its own was one to be reckoned with.

despite the reputation of the club you were sitting in, juyeon doesn’t take off a single piece of clothing.

the skin of his neck and chest and occasionally, the skin on his arm when the shimmering outer layer falls over his shoulder, is pale under the spotlight. pale like it belongs on a corpse, and it takes you awhile to decide who felt more dead given the circumstances.

you wonder if he’s seen you, or recognised you or even let you have some kind of effect on you.

watching him dance wasn’t terribly new, but you’ve never seen him perform something of a similar genre or dancing technique ever.

the material of his leather pants was wrapped so tightly and snug around his thighs, your eyes find trouble peeling themselves away from his legs. the whites of the shimmer on his clothes do no good from preventing your attention to gloss over his collarbones and his adams’ apple.

your throat runs dry with anxiety when his dark orbs finally look up and they pierce through yours for a solid second.

the eye contact sends violent shivers down your spine and throughout your body, not realising that your ears were naturally cancelling out the music because all you could pay attention to was that juyeon was having more of an effect on you that you’d like to admit.

it was terribly arduous a task to ignore the bitter taste of displeasure on your tongue when you notice the way your friends were looking at juyeon.

he is no longer yours, and he is just doing his job. it is none of your business how people look at him.

but confusion overwhelms you like a spell being cast over your head, the witch condemning your demon back to hell and into the realm of truth which you’ve kept away in a coffin for so long.

“you lie but i don’t let it define you.”

he is looking at you like he knows your secrets. the sharp edges of his eyes feel like knives against your neck and his hair makes him look like he has demon’s horns growing out of his head.

the red and black lighting makes you feel like you were truly in hell, and a strangling ache begins to crush your lungs.

juyeon is dancing with every strand of emotion he has in his blood, and you feel it more than you know your friends were feeling it.

he is moving with the music with the ripping of his heart he remembers when he saw you with sangyeon.

he is reaching up into the air with the vulnerability he presented to you when he cried.

he is walking away with the reluctance you remember seeing printed all over his back when he leaves your dorm room.

your deep breath was shaky, at a complete loss of stability when you find yourself nearly choking up. your friends burst out into cat calls, standing up and applauding the performance.

they scream something at you, probably encouraging you to stand up and clap too or something, but you don’t register it. not when he’s disappeared into the dark without even taking one last bow.

barely twenty minutes later, you were sat in a private room with a classy-looking karaoke set-up, and your friends were already on their third song, screaming the lyrics of The Weeknd and Post Malone like they were tone-deaf.

it distracts you every now and then, but the version of juyeon that’s strutting around in the building has buried itself in some burrow between the muscles of your brain.

your friends down way too much beer for this amount of screaming, so they end up ditching you for the bathroom after they scold you for being such a spoil-sport.

they are almost tripping over one another on the way out, leaving you inside the private room with your phone, a disco-ball and some tracks playing in the background.

you hope looking through the documents you’ve got saved on your phone for work will pry your mind away from where you were, and it was working until the door clicks open again.

the brightness of your screen makes it difficult to identify the face that walks in, but it’s not too perplexing to recognise the height, the build, and the fact that he was alone.

medusa freezes you when his face comes under the light, and he pulls the blinds over the window on the door.

“your friends paid me to do this, so just let me do my job.”

his voice reminds of you of something similar to a siren. sirens who sing and seduce shipmen to lure them into shipwreck.

when were the gender roles reversed?

just the way he looks at you in the dim lighting was enough to make your skin crawl.

your phone remains lit up, in dire need of providing you a brighter source of illumination besides the television that was flashing on the wall of the room.

reluctance was dripping off the edges of his clothes as he walks towards you, his costume unchanged and his makeup and hair looking like they were just reprinted onto his head altogether.

his eyes glowed an eerie darkness in the lack of light, his fingers coming around your phone and gently pulling it away from you, locking it in the process as he places it on the table behind him.

had you not known this man, this might’ve been sexually appealing. but it was because it was juyeon, he knew all the right buttons to push.

he knew where to gently brush his hand across your neck and cheek and he knew how much pressure to press into your skin to make goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

but now, he is running his hand up your arms like feathers, fingers gently brushing against the hairs on your arms with his neck right over your head, in a bid to make his provocative dance more exciting.

the scent washing off him slaps you back to when you hugged him for the first time, and it makes you realise he hasn’t changed his cologne since.

the nauseating memory becomes a terrible reason for you to abruptly shove juyeon off you, and you back off to the other end of the sofa while he looks at you, surprised but not entirely amused.

“i highly doubt you’re allowed to touch customers. female customers...”

he runs an exasperated hand through his hair, looking away with such disdain, you wouldn’t have missed it even though you were in a dark room (which you were).

“it is part of my job, y/n. as long as i don’t touch any intimate parts or if the customer sounds out about being uncomfortable and i stop, i’m all good.”

it is a freeze frame again, the only things moving in the room were the circles of light reflected off the discoball in the room.

“in any way,” he rubs his jawline with his thumb. “i was paid to spend thirty minutes with you, and i’m not allowed to compromise it after i receive payment.”

the air was filled with a horrid mixture of beer and cologne, his cologne, and you reprimand yourself for not being able to block him out.

your sins have come back to haunt you, and it doesn’t seem like it was going to go away that easily.

“i’ll make sure nothing happens to your pay,” your legs come off the sofa and meet the floor, trying your best to maintain your composure while you reach for the cup of beer. “just don’t... don’t touch me.”

the television warrants your attention while you try your best to ignore him awkwardly standing at the edge of the C-shaped sofa lining the curved wall of the room.

the uncomfortable atmosphere was making the beer churn in your gut like it was a washing machine.

juyeon sits down by the edge of the sofa, a safe distance from you as he takes a can and cracks it open without asking.

“what are you doing here, juyeon?”

the question comes out sounding like a command instead of a query, a frown forging itself on your forehead without looking at him.

neither does he look at you while he gulps down easily half the can of beer, and he sucks his lips between his teeth before placing it down on the table.

“part-time job.”

“does your day job not pay enough?”

“my day job doesn’t let me do what i like to do.”

you smirk to yourself, picking up your cup of beer and finishing what was left in it.

“so you went to a dance academy for four years and graduated from it... only to not do something related?”

you watch as he turns to glare at you from the corner of your eye.

“fun.”

it feels like the witch living in the back of your skull was dribbling curses all over your tongue, making you say things you know you shouldn’t say, making you feel things you know he had every right to feel as well.

rage. jealousy. hurt.

“i’m sorry, did i happen to miss something important here?”

“did you?”

he looks away, an exasperated smile of disbelief printed on his lips. his arm reaches out and rests on top of the backrest of the sofa, his thumb fiddling with the metal rings he had on his fingers.

fingers that were once interlocked with yours; fingers that once caressed your cheeks and your eyes.

“i can’t believe five years didn’t do much to your maturity.”

“maturity?” his words leave paper cuts on your skin. “you really want to talk about maturity?”

“oh, sure. definitely better than running off and sleeping with a club alumni, right?”

your body feels like a puppet being controlled by the resident witch in your head and she pulls you to your feet, your blood already beginning to boil like poison and potions in a large, black pot over a fire.

juyeon is still sitting down, one leg crossed over the other as he looks at you. under the shitty lighting, you could see that he was hurt. he was in pain, from the sole reason that you were standing in front of him.

your deep breath was shaky, and your eyes flutter shut for a second in attempt to calm your nerves. your clenched fists were by your thighs, and the music in the private room was starting to wash out with everything that’s going on in your head.

juyeon was arguably the only person you’ve ever loved who wasn’t related to you by blood, so remembering how you ended things with him was one too torturous a deal to forget.

“was he good in bed?”

it takes you awhile to process juyeon’s question, but it only pushes all the wrong buttons all over again.

“leave him out of this, sangyeon has nothing to do with it--”

“how does he have ‘nothing to do with it’ if he was the one who shoved his dick into my girlfriend--”

“your girlfriend? you disappeared off the face of earth for god knows how long--”

“i was busy and caught up with work--”

“and it leaves ‘your girlfriend’ no time but you had time to go out with someone else--”

“she was my project partner--”

“what project? a performance project? bet you had fun laughing the night away in the studio with her--”

“and i bet you had fun letting someone fuck your brains out when i wasn’t around to do it--”

“so you do know you weren’t around to do anything?”

juyeon turns away at your last blow, and you realise tears were collecting in the corners of your eyes.

the roles really have reversed.

back then, he was the one who cried first because he caught you with another man. now, you’re the one breaking because you were feeling the hurt in the relationship before he did. his reaction just drowned your pain out back then.

“where the hell were you when i needed you?”

silence.

“we had a deal that you’d be there for me if i needed you, and even then i tried my best not to rely on you completely because i knew how much you wanted to get into that academy.”

no response.

“i thought i was being unreasonable for wanting you to be around. but at some point of time, it really did feel like we weren’t together anymore. it felt like we had a break up and i didn’t know about it.”

the tears roll down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in your tear glands. the back of your hand meets your skin on your face and the wetness cools your eyes in the air-conditioned room.

“i blame myself for sleeping with sangyeon but it doesn’t feel like you’re blaming yourself for forgetting about me.”

you reverse in your steps to grab your purse, walking the other way round the table so you didn’t need to pass him on the way out.

your heart was relentless in pushing out all your grief in the form of tears, and you push past your friends when they meet you in the hallway.

they are shocked and surprised, probably worried that the stripper they hired was being inappropriate, but the security footage of the room would clear juyeon’s name anyway.

by the time you were home, you are exhausted. it feels like your soul had been sucked out and shoved back into your body with a complete absence of mercy.

it feels like your bones had been pried and yanked out from under your muscles and nerves, tendons and flesh being ripped and snapped with splatters of blood flying everywhere.

the witch has cursed you into some agonising dimension of pain and torture where you could see your own blood on the walls, where you’ve been picked apart like a lego artwork and then haphazardly put together again.

all because of juyeon.

it is ironic, to realise and to be fully aware that you are only feeling this magnitude of anguish because you still loved him.

five years spent trying to let those feelings for him wear away, by convincing yourself that he was a shitty boyfriend for forgetting about you and then be angry when he realises you’ve replaced him.

you can’t deny it was your fault for sleeping with sangyeon, but had he shown a little more care and concern without frolicking about outside with another girl, you would’ve been more secure. you wouldn’t have opened your heart out to sangyeon, who was kind and caring and gentle.

so what if sangyeon was good in bed?

so what if juyeon might be better?

he’ll never be able to provide you the same amount of safety and warmth sangyeon did, and he had proven it himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

to be continued

#juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #juyeon angst #juyeon fanfic #juyeon smut #the boyz fanfic #i am in pain

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cordonian-literature · 3 years

Text

Forever Mine

chapter four

❦ summary — The time for Princess Riley to step into her role as queen fast approaches and finding the future king is Cordonia’s top priority. Commander Liam is aware of that, and has plans to make sure the princess ends up with someone suitable.

➺ chapter warnings: none

❦ catch up here!

➺ word count: (+/-) 1980

*all characters belong to Pixelberry, except those unique to my story*

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

When Leo had left Cordonia, he tried to leave all traces of his royal life behind as well. He bought a new wardrobe, everything from socks to sunglasses, leaving all of his suits in his chambers. Leo had bought a new phone and the only contacts were Riley, Bastien, Liam, and Drake. His father called him often, but he never saved the number.

And during the time he was gone, he avoided Cordonian news, too, wanting to remove himself and his mind from the nonsense that his father caused in European politics, or the lies that reporters felt they were free to tell.

So when he sees pictures of Riley and the King at the Regatta — Constantine smiling through a frown because of the sun while Riley’s grin made the photo seem brighter — he clicks on the article to read it, proud of his little sister and how she was handling the situation she was pushed into.

But Leo’s blood boiled the further he read. He wondered how these reporters had dared to write something like that about the princess when she had done nothing wrong. There were two paragraphs dedicated to praising Constantine for his declaration of war “for the protection of the Cordonian people, young and old, rich and poor” but Leo remembered that even Commander Liam had said it wasn’t a good idea.

Leo stops reading halfway through, on the verge of throwing his phone against the wall. He sends the link of the article to Drake and receives a phone call less than five seconds later.

“Just got done reading the same article,” says Drake when Leo answers the call. His voice, usually unbothered and calm, was now hinted with irritation and anger, just as Leo felt.

“I can’t imagine the effect this has on her,” Leo responds, beginning to pace the room. “I mean, you were there during the Derby, right? I mean, I didn’t mention it to her but did you see how panicked she gets around reporters? Goddamnit…” he runs his hands through his hair then walks to the mirror to fix it. “I can’t be the only one who notices that she looks away every time cameras come near her. She’s done that since she was a kid but—”

Leo stops talking when he hears the click of the end of the phone call and turns to see Drake enter the room.

Both men sigh and fall into a pit of silent anger, neither saying a word of what they were feeling. Leo saw the heat behind Drake’s eyes, and almost laughed to himself when Drake’s jaw clenched.

More out of curiosity and wanting to see just how Drake felt about Riley — but also feeling the brotherly need to see how she was doing — Leo suggests going to check on her.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Drake says, quickly standing from his seat and going to the door.

The men emerge from the room and walk down the hallway, taking a moment to adjust to the lack of light. When the walls are finally somewhat visible, Drake nudges Leo and jerks his chin forward: someone is walking ahead of them in the same direction.

A broad set of shoulders, tall build, blond hair, and military uniform: Leo instantly knows that it’s Liam. Drake looks at Leo for what they should do, but Leo simply shrugs, wanting to see where the man was going, hoping that he’d walk in another direction.

But three turns and a flight of stairs up later, they’re still walking in the same direction. The King’s Chambers were a long way off, causing Leo to wonder where Liam’s destination is. They’re currently in the hall where all the guests stay. A few more turns down would be Riley’s room, but before that is the library.

When Liam turns the corner and goes momentarily out of view, another set of footsteps can be heard from behind them. Drake gently pushes Leo towards the wall so that whoever it was couldn’t see them.

The person stops right next to them, and Drake nudges Leo to get behind a statue of his great-grandfather. Neither of them can tell who the person is, but both men’s hearts pound when the person knocks on the door.

“Who is bothering me this late at night?” an arrogant voice vibrates through the closed door, and Leo recognizes it as Neville’s.

He opens the door and light pools into the hallway, almost giving away Leo and Drake’s hiding spot, but they shift so that they are still in the shadows.

“Who are you?” Neville’s tone has an edge to it.

“Zoe Zacharias, at your service,” says a feminine voice. The name sounds familiar, but Leo isn’t sure he knows them. “I have been given a letter to delie—”

The sound of paper being snatched echos off the statue. “Who is it from?” Neville interrogates.

“That is not something I am allowed to disclose.”

Leo and Drake glance at each other, features not visible but their eyes are alight with confusion and curiosity.

Neville rips open the letter and unfolds it, holding it out in front of him to read. “Let’s see… hm… your participation in the Season is inappropriate, ha!” Neville raises his voice and laughs. “What nonsense is this?” He continues to read: “Years ago… partnership with Mister Golzine… association with his club and company… has been…” his voice lowers to below a whisper, and Leo can see Neville’s eyes widen with panic, “connected to… disappearance of twenty ad—”

Before finishing the sentence, Neville rips the paper and throws the remains at Zoe Zacharias’ face.

“You can rip the letter,” she says, shoving pieces of paper off her shoulder, “but you can’t get rid of the evidence. We’ve found videos and bank statements that all connect back to you. If this were to be leaked to the public, or to His Majesty, you would be—”

“Shut your mouth!” Neville gasps in an intense whisper. “Don’t! I don’t want to hear it! I’ve… I… It can’t be traced back to me! All I did was… I didn’t play a part in anything! This has nothing to do with the Social Season!”

“But it does,” the woman interjects, her face and posture still calm and collected; she had the high ground now, and Leo wanted to laugh at how the arrogance had melted off of Neville’s face, but he was too afraid to breathe. “If you need more proof, I can show it to you tomorrow along with His Majesty. The King would never allow such a scandal to disgrace the royal family or Cordonia.”

Through the light that the room provides, Leo can see that Neville has started sweating.

“All right!” Neville gasps. “What do you want? What do I have to give you to make you and your partners keep your mouths shut?”

Without hesitance, she states, “Your resignation as a suitor.”

Leo and Drake’s eyes go wide.

Neville takes deep breaths, visibly weighing the possibilities. Leo had hoped he would read the whole letter aloud. What exactly had Neville gotten caught up in? He didn’t want to know the details, but Leo imagined that there must have been something in the letter that could have unveiled the writer.

“Fine,” Neville finally utters. “I will leave in the morning.”

“That is wonderful to hear,” Zoe says. “No Cordonian shall hear of this, and we will make this information disappear.”

“Thank… you,” Neville breathes, the anguish and confusion still glossing his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“I understand, you probably have much to do before morning,” Zoe nods her head and smiles.

“Yes,” Neville stutters and closes the door, throwing the halls of the palace back into a pit of darkness.

Zoe’s footsteps can be heard retreating in the direction they all came from. Once she’s out of hearing range, Drake and Leo continue walking towards Riley’s room, the unease heavy between them.

They reach her room and knock on the door, but there’s no answer from the other side, and it seems like the lights are off, too. Drake checks the time to see that it’s a few minutes after midnight.

Not wanting to stand in the hallway for too long, Leo says, “We can check on her before breakfast, let’s go back.”

On their walk, they remain silent, eyes and ears alert in the case that there was someone else awake. When they’re back in Leo’s room and the doors are shut, their shoulders relax and they let out a sigh.

“Do you know who Zoe Zacharias is?” Leo asks.

“I think she’s a part of the King’s Guard,” Drake answers. “I haven’t seen or heard of her in a while though, I’m not sure.”

“She’s worked with Bastien?”

Drake shrugs, “I was introduced to her a few months back, and that’s what she said she was.”

Leo nods, beginning to pace again. She said she was a part of the King’s Guard, but had never worked with Bastien? There was no doubt she worked with the government, seeing that she had so much information on Neville.

“The only person who would have had the power or influence to do this is someone close to the king,” Leo states, unsure.

“It doesn’t make much sense. How do you know?” Drake asks.

Leo takes a moment to think, not having a solid answer to Drake’s question.

“Clearly,” Drake continues, “whoever sent that letter probably wanted to get rid of some competition.”

“Who would have wanted to do that?” Leo asks, feeling the pieces come together.

“It could have been Constantine,” Drake says. Leo’s father was easy to blame; the man wasn’t always diplomatic, and there was a high chance that such a corrupt man would try to shift the results of the season.

“Or,” Leo suggests, “it could have been Alexander.” Drake nods in agreement. “I imagine he has enough influence to get that information, and using it to get closer to Riley makes sense, too.”

“You’re right,” Drake says, even though neither man was confident.

The room falls into silence again, Leo and Drake’s minds racing for a better explanation with the lack of knowledge. If someone had wanted to get rid of Neville, why do it privately? Why not go to the King and have Constantine release this information?

“It’s late,” Drake says, patting Leo’s shoulder and pulling him away from his train of thought. “Get some sleep. We’ll have to keep an eye on Prince Alexander and Constantine. Maybe talk to Olivia and get her to help out.”

“Olivia?” Leo looks up at his friend and smirks. “Why Olivia?”

Drake frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that? I just mean that she’s good at this stuff.”

“Yeah, but there’s a whole bunch of other people we could ask.”

Drake rolls his eyes.

“We could ask Liam,” Leo begins to list jokingly. “Bastien, or even Miss Zoe Zacharias. Better yet, we could even catch Neville before he leaves in the morning and make him tell us everything.”

“I don’t want to ask Liam,” Drake says quickly, causing Leo’s eyebrows to jump up.

“Woah, man, I just suggested it, no need to get defensive.”

Drake sighs, and Leo throws his arm around Drake.

“Do you have something against Liam or is it…” he gives Drake a knowing look.

“No,” he says curtly.

Leo holds up his hands and walks back to his bed. “I was just asking,” he says, trying his best not to laugh.

Drake turns and opens the door, “I’ll see you in the morning, we can tell Riley what happened.”

“Sure,” Leo says as the door closes, though he makes a mental note to remember not to tell her. There was no reason to stress her out more. The less she knew about someone manipulating her decision, the better.

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a/n: sorry for not posting. lol i know i say this every time but life really do be getting in the way 😫i’m counting down the seconds until school ends so i can finally have some free time. anyway i know this is short but i hope yall enjoyed it!!

@twinkleallnight @gkittylove99 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @royalromancer @princess-geek @mom2000aggie @parkdoesthings @claireloutoo

#hey besties guess who's back from the dead 😼#trr fanfic #choices fanfic #liam x riley #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #liam rys #riley brooks

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carelessannie · 3 years

Text

maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 7)

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory

Word count: 5.7K

Pack focus. This means Clint x Peter x Annie (OFC), Clint x Steve, Steve x Peter, Bucky x OFC, and Steve x Tony x Bucky x Clint x Annie x Peter (wow)

It all goes to hell, because, of course it does. But it’s exciting to fix it, because everyone is falling in love.

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, subdrop, almost a fight bc Clint is aggressive

---

maybe it goes like this:

“So… have you heard from him yet?”

Annie sighs, rolling her eyes, and refrains from shaking the precious Omega standing behind her,

“Not in the past three minutes, Peter.”

“Sorry, I just—”

“I know, you’re nervous,” she tries to drop the tone, squinting in the bathroom mirror to finish her eyeliner, “why don’t you just call him? Or your boyfriend?”

In the reflection, Peter pouts, crossing his arms, “I tried, but both went to voicemail. He should have been done by now.”

Annie takes care to sweep perfectly symmetrical wings across each upper lid, before exchanging her eyeliner for a brighter tube of mascara. It’s taking a lot of effort to ignore Peter as he stresses over their evening, but no one has ever called her a quitter.

Peter continues his spiral in her silence, “What if they got into a fight? Could he be dead— is there a chance Steve killed him? Or what if he dropped again, and there’s no one there to help him? What if they’re in the hospital—”

Enough.

“Peter, stop it,” Annie finally turns away from the mirror and grabs Peter by his shoulders, “if any of those things happened, one of their packmates would have called by now. I know we have to leave soon, but there’s really nothing we can do, okay?”

Peter’s eyes tear up a bit and he sniffles, looking down at his outfit, which currently is one of Clint’s shirts and a pair of leggings, “Annie, I’m not— I’m not even dressed yet.”

“Let me help you, okay Pete?” she steers him out of the bathroom and towards their wardrobe, picking up her phone to try calling again as they sort through possible outfit choices for Peter.

The phone rings— once, twice, three times— before,

“Yello.”

“Clint Barton! Do you know how many times we’ve tried calling—”

“Annie! Holy shit, Annie— is Peter there? Do you have me on speaker?”

She shakes her head in disbelief while pressing the speaker button, making sure Peter can hear too.

“Is that Clint?” Peter asks, pointing at the phone. Annie nods, and Peter gasps, “You asshole! I tried to call you so many times, where on earth have you been?”

“I’m so sorry, Omega, honestly— the conversation with Steve went longer than I expected and I’m driving back now. But please, I have to tell you— I’m compatible with him!”

Both Omegas exchange a look, clearly confused and doubtful of their Beta.

“What does that mean, Clint?”

“It means I’ve got a chance. I thought I’d hate him, or be forced to put up with him for your sake. But, honestly… he’s pretty amazing. I can tell he cares a whole freaking lot about his pack and I think he’s in this for real.”

Peter reaches out to grab her hand, and Annie can’t help but smile back.

“Did you tell him your history?” Annie prompts, pulling Peter next to her so that they can sit close together on the floor.

She can almost hear Clint waving his hands around, animated in his response. “Yeah, I shared most of it with him and it made him cry, honest to god. I also told him he could catch his mates up to speed—”

“— oh my god, did you see Tony?” Peter cuts in, eyes lighting up as he wrings his tiny hands together nervously.

“Yes, needy Omega, I saw Tony. I gave him the flowers, and we had a little heart to heart, too. Real sexy, you know—”

“Shut up, Clint!” Peter squeals as Annie breaks down into helpless giggles at seeing his face light up pink, “does that mean you talked to all three of them, then?”

A small pause, “... no, actually that was kind of awkward. They said that… it seemed like… they had just finished a scene together when I showed up.”

“Oh, shit.” Annie breaths.

“Yeah, Tony definitely didn’t know I was coming,”

Peter covers his mouth, eyes going wide, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I literally can’t believe I forgot to tell him. That sounds so horrible, C!”

There’s a chuckle on the other end, “Don’t worry, Petey, no harm done. I’ll be home soon, and we can head back out there, okay?”

Annie gives Peter a small kiss on the cheek before standing, grabbing her phone, saying, “sounds good, see ya Clint,” and hanging up without another word.

She spins, taking in Peter’s lost expression and the clothing scattered around their closet.

Okay. Motivation.

Peter yelps as Annie hauls him up by his armpits, “Time to get ready, Peter. C’mon— you are gonna look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Finally Peter’s expression melts and a genuine smile breaks out over his face. He pulls Annie closer, leaning in for a quick peck on the lips— careful to avoid messing up her lip gloss.

“I adore you, Annie,” he whispers, “— these boys are not gonna know what hit ‘em.”

She reaches up to twist one of his curls playfully before returning a smirk,

“You’re damn right.”

---

“I don’t see why I have to be in the backseat. I clearly called shotgun.”

Clint has been whining ever since they left their apartment, insisting that he was severely wronged by his insolent Omegas. Both of those Omegas are having fun ignoring him— turning up their music and talking louder to drown out his voice.

It took a half hour for Clint to get home after his call, and by some miracle, all three of them were dressed and ready to go with time to spare. Annie had spent time curling Peter’s hair into perfect ringlets before finishing his makeup with sparkly-pink eyeshadow and gloss. Both of them were ready and dressed before Clint got home, and had pushed and prodded the bewildered Beta into a nicer button up with dark jeans and combat boots.

Annie is proud of her and Peter’s outfits, of course. Not many Omegas can pull off pink like they can, and her powdered pink coat goes flawlessly with Peter’s pink polka dot button up. But even more than their outfits, she is proud of how put together their chaotic Beta looks.

After catching Peter glancing back in the rearview mirror for the third time, she decides to say something.

She turns down the music, “You look like a snack, Clint.”

Peter snickers as Clint looks down at himself in bewilderment, “I swear, I’ve never seen these clothes before in my entire life. But, thanks. I guess.”

Since Peter insisted on driving, he can only glance quickly to try and gauge Clint’s expression.

“Those boots are yours,” Peter says.

“Yeah, but when did you guys even have time to buy me clothes?” Clint’s back to complaining, and grumbles sneaky Omegas under his breath.

Annie turns, lightly slapping the inside of Clint’s thigh where he’s sprawled across the backseat, “Hush and take a compliment, Beta. I think I speak for both of us when I say we want to climb you like a tree.”

Peter gasps, swatting at her with one hand, as Clint’s eyes go wide.

She continues, “I mean, it has been awhile since we’ve had a scene, and the mention of Tony’s pack has me—”

Clint leans forward, posture straightening as he grabs her chin to silence her, “— you feeling horny, Omega?” he purrs, a feral grin taking over his face.

“M— maybe.”

“Have I not been taking care of you, Annie?” he moves closer, and forces Annie to turn almost completely in her seat.

“... Clint.”

He grips harder, “Try again.”

“Fuck, Beta. Please.”

“— guys, can this wait—” Peter tries to interrupt, but is quickly shut down by Clint growling, low.

“Sweet Omegas, is that why you dressed me up? Feeling all needy and shit?” he releases his hold on Annie’s chin and moves back to his seat, relaxing again before letting out a sigh, “but you’re right, Pete. This can wait.”

The silence is charged. Both Omegas wiggling in their seats in response to Clint’s dominant display, and Annie whimpers— a small sound that causes Peter’s breath to catch in his throat.

“Aw, Annie. No— come here,” Clint leans forward again, and as she turns he catches her lips in a lingering kiss, licking into her mouth quickly and coaxing a grin out of her.

“Don’t want you to drop, gorgeous. You know I’ll take care of you both, right? Love you so much.”

She pecks him on the lips, satisfied to see some of her pink lip gloss stain his mouth, “Love you, Clint. And you do look amazing tonight.”

“Thanks, pretty Omega,” even though it’s dark in the car, she can tell he’s blushing by the way he ducks his head bashfully.

Annie turns back to face front and catches the slight pout on Peter’s face. She crosses the center console to kiss behind his ear, and enjoys the surprised squawk from the younger Omega.

“Annie! I’m driving!”

Clint laughs, and reaches forward to rub Peter’s shoulder, “We love you too, Petey-pie.”

“Shut up.”

Both of them crack up as Peter shakes himself free. Annie intertwines their fingers and Clint settles back into his seat, quietly staring out the window at the oncoming traffic. She feels a small squeeze and looks up, exchanging a reassuring smile with Peter.

The rest of their drive passes in relative silence, and soon they are pulling up a long, winding driveway into what Annie would swear is a rainforest jungle.

As Peter navigates around the property, he explains, “Tony said that he bought this land right after Steve and Bucky courted him. A lot of it is a nature preserve, and it backs right to the Jamaica Bay. I know all of them wanted to stay in Brooklyn, but Tony absolutely refused to live near anyone, so they built this house together with the hope of living here with their future pack.”

Both Annie and Clint are glued to the window. They watch as the looming trees suddenly part, revealing a modern, sharply-angled, and breathtakingly enormous house. There are at least three stories, and the whole structure seems to be built into the surrounding forest, with a noticeable extension out into the bay.

“Peter,” Annie breathes out, still stunned speechless.

“I know, that’s how I felt earlier.” Clint replies, still looking out at the quickly approaching home.

Peter hums quietly, but Annie can see him shaking slightly. As they pull up and he parks the car, she gives his knuckles a kiss, “Peter?”

He turns and she catches a NervousDistress scent radiating off of him.

That’s not good.

With a quick look to Clint, they both jump out of the car, rounding the side to Peter’s door, and pull the startled Omega out of the driver’s seat.

“What are you— hey!”

“Come here, nervous Omega, and let us hug you,” Clint pulls Peter in, wrapping him in his arms, as Annie turns the car off. She joins the group hug and lets Clint wrap his arms around both of them.

After a few moments, Clint pulls back, gently scenting both of them for any lingering distress. Instead, he groans, “Damn, you two smell like fuckin’ ice cream. So sweet.”

Peter giggles and Annie leans up for a kiss— earning one from Clint first, then Peter.

“Feel better, Peter?” Annie asks, pulling away to look at his face.

He shrugs, “Yes, I just need to trust Tony to do his part, and… I think I’m just really excited to see him again,” he ducks his head, and Clint places another kiss on top.

“Let’s go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Ew, Clint, stop.” Both Omegas complain as Clint tows them towards the entrance, knocking firmly on the door.

They are still arguing about the merits of cheesy nicknames, when the door swings open.

“Tony!” Peter shrieks, throwing himself forward and into the larger man’s arms.

“Hi, baby,” Tony coos, picking his Omega up and spinning them around, “you look so pretty, Pete. You all do, honestly. Such a pretty pack.”

“Thanks Beta,” Peter stretches up to give him a peck on the cheek, and then freezes.

“Peter? What—” Tony puts him down, and Annie watches as two figures approach them in the hallway.

She hears Clint growl behind her, and immediately her eyes turn to Peter. She can only see the side of his face, but his eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and he sucks in a quick breath.

“A— alpha,” he moans, swaying on his feet.

The larger man— Steve, probably— steps out of the shadow and pushes Tony to the side, looming over Peter and reaching to grab his neck.

There’s an echo of growls, one behind and one ahead, before Peter collapses to his knees.

“Fuck no!”

Clint reacts suddenly, pushing Annie behind him. He jumps forward and aims a blow towards Steve, who’s still looking down at Peter, eyes glowing red. Before the hit can land, both Tony and Bucky step forward, blocking the attack on their Alpha and tearing Clint away.

Tony grabs Peter, pulling him to his feet, and pushes him into Annie’s arms.

“Down the hall, to the right. Settle him in the living room and we’ll handle this, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before grabbing Clint and dragging him back outside, hopefully to calm down. Annie struggles to carry the larger Omega down the hall, and thankfully neither Steve nor Bucky are anywhere to be found.

When they finally reach the living room, she drops Peter in a large nesting chair towards the corner and searches for blankets. After finding a few, she wraps him in them and climbs into the nest, throwing the others over top of them to enclose the space.

“Petey?”

No response. Shit.

She moves them so he’s facing her fully, and tries to shake him awake. It seems like whatever happened actually knocked him out, and she checks his eyes, his breathing, before holding him close.

“Petey, you have to wake up for me.”

It’s hard not lacing her words with a dominant tone, but the direct order seems to reach him and Peter’s breath picks up.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, c’mon.”

His eyes blink open wide and he looks around frantically.

“— Alpha?” he whimpers.

“No, Peter. It’s me. Tell me what you need, Pete.”

He focuses on her then, lips opening and closing before he’s able to speak, “Need’ta come up, Omega. Please.”

Annie strokes over his brow, “Okay, Pete. I’ve got you.”

She uses one hand to block his eyes and the other to peel back the blankets, looking around for someone to help, and sees Bucky in the kitchen.

“Bucky, help,” she whispers, hoping the other Omega can hear her across the room.

His head shoots up as he takes in the situation, and he swiftly walks over. He looks into her eyes, sees her hold on Peter, and drops to his knees next to the nest,

“What do you need, Omega?”

She has to stop herself from reaching out to touch him, and instead keeps her eyes on Peter, “Please tell me you have apples, bananas and carrots? Or crackers?”

“I do— do you want them sliced, Omega?”

“Yes, thank you,” she agrees, turning back to Peter as Bucky hurries back into the kitchen. She cradles his head, keeping one hand over his eyes to block them from the light, and lets him curl in closer to her as he floats.

“Sweet Omega,” she whispers, pulling him closer, “so good for me. So good, Peter.”

“Here,” Bucky says gently, and offers her a plate with slices of each food. He also hands her a bottle of water.

“Thanks, Bucky. Can you dim the lights? Maybe light candles if you have them?”

“Of course.”

He walks away to lower the lights, and Annie finally takes her hand off of Peter’s eyes. He blinks up at her, adorably confused, and gives her a small smile.

“Apple, Peter,” she says, pressing the apple slice up against his lips. He takes a small bite and she watches as he chews and swallows before offering another.

Once the apple is gone, she holds up the next fruit, “Banana.”

He takes the softer fruit in one bite, and Annie notices his eyes clearing up and he tightens his grip on her arm.

“Last one, Peter. Can you tell me what it is?”

“Carrot, Annie,” he says, smooth and steady, chewing the carrot slice while maintaining eye contact.

After he swallows, she hands him the bottle of water. He drinks it slowly, taking in the room and turns his gaze back to her.

“What— what happened?”

Bucky comes back over to them and looks to Annie for direction. She motions for him to join them in the nest, and they both move over as Bucky climbs in, pulling the other Omegas to nestle into his side.

“What do you remember, Peter?” Annie asks, reaching over to hold his hand on top of Bucky’s chest.

“I… I’m not sure. I remember being in Tony’s arms, and then— did I meet Steve? And someone attacked him? I don’t know Annie, I just remember floating and then coming back up.”

Bucky makes a pained noise, “Stevie reacted to Clint’s challenge, an’ his display caused you’ta drop.”

“Display, what—”

Annie sighs, “Basically, Clint saw you react to the new Alpha. His hindbrain registered that as a threat, and he growled— challenging Steve. I think Steve must have released some type of Alpha pheromones, because my mind went hazy too. After that, both of them were growling and you kneeled for him.”

“For— Steve?”

“Yeah, Pete. He pushed Tony away to get to you and Clint attacked him. That’s when Bucky and Tony took control and split everyone up. Nothing happened to you— to anyone, okay?”

Peter still looks devastated and pulls his hand away, sitting up in the nest, “I can’t believe. I just— submitted like that. I didn’t even do that with Tony, but with a random Alpha—”

“Peter, hey,” Bucky grabs his hand, trying to calm him down, “it’s instincts, darlin’. Steve is really dominant, and in this setting— with everyone on edge and feelin’ horny and stuff— honestly… I’m a little pissed we didn’t plan better. Especially after Clint came by earlier.”

Annie sits up then, drawing Peter closer to her to sit across Bucky’s lap, “He’s right, Pete, none of us have ever dealt with a Dominant Alpha meeting a Submissive Omega before. There’s no way we could have anticipated how Clint was gonna react.”

They sit for a few more minutes before Bucky stands up, “I’m gonna check on Tony and Clint— I think I have a plan for tonight.”

It’s a few more minutes that the two Omegas can sit in silence, eventually moving from the nesting chair over to the couch and preening each others’ hair and makeup. There’s a sound from down the main hallway, and a figure comes barreling towards them.

Annie throws her arm over Peter and yells, “Hey!” to get the person— Clint, it’s freaking Clint— to stop. He falls to his knees, only a foot or two away from them, and crawls the rest of the distance.

“Petey, I’m so sorry. Sweet Omega, I had no idea— I didn’t mean— I’m so so sorry, oh my god, I completely freaked out and ruined your night, please—”

“Beta, come here,” Peter opens up his arms, and Clint falls into them, clawing at Peter’s back and scenting him thoroughly, “it’s okay, C, I understand. I forgive you.”

Annie looks up to find Bucky and Tony standing, bewildered, in the entrance for the living room. She gestures towards the couch next to them, a clear invitation to take a seat, and Tony quickly moves to sit next to Peter and pull him into a hug after Clint releases him.

“So— Annie, Peter,” Bucky starts, shifting on his feet, “I have an idea, and our Betas have agreed to it.”

“What is it, Bucky?” Peter asks, surrounded now by both Tony and Clint, and looking beyond satisfied.

Bucky looks off, down the hallway behind the kitchen, “I think we should go to my nest. The— the three of us. Omegas, I mean. And meet Stevie there.”

“But… why?”

“It’s neutral,” Tony chimes in, “and Peter needs to meet Steve somewhere safe. Bucky’s the only one who can really bring the dumb Alpha out of his head— so the nest seems like the best idea. And a balance of chaperones that are all Omega should help ground everyone present. It’s a good idea.”

Annie stands up, crossing her arms, and looks at the two Betas, “You’re serious? You’re both completely okay with this, and anything that could happen in that room?”

Tony nods, but it’s really Clint’s reaction that she’s waiting for. The Beta also agrees, nodding slowly, “I told you I would try.”

Peter gets to his feet, wiping off his pants, and offers his hand to Annie. He then walks towards Bucky and offers a second hand, “Lead the way, Omega,” he says, grinning at them both.

Bucky gives a tug, and pulls them down the hallway. They pass the kitchen, a few other rooms that are all closed, and turn a corner. On the right side is a set of french doors with curtains— bedroom?— and the left—

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my god.”

Bucky steps away from them to gesture to his nest, the large fixture taking up the majority of the space in a room that could have otherwise been a large library. Or a sunroom.

Two of the walls are windows— they stretch from floor to ceiling and meet at the arched apex of the ceiling where a large, twinkling chandelier cascades down, filling the room with warm light and extending over the white canopy that dominates the center of the space. Twinkle lights surround and flow around the nest— dropping over and under the structure— and a few smaller lamps sit strategically both outside and inside.

The nest itself seems to be slightly elevated— giving the illusion of floating in the center of the room on a simple wooden palette. There are vines and ferns sprinkled around the base, and Annie can see the legs of at least one table that reach underneath the canopy. It’s a cloud. It’s a dream.

There’s definitely someone inside.

“Bucky, this is… amazing.” Annie is still frozen with Peter in a similar state beside her.

“C’mon,” Bucky finally reaches back and snaps his fingers, breaking them out of their trance. He grabs Peter first, kneeling up on the entrance to push back the curtain and let Peter in. Annie ducks down, following Peter through the opening.

Okay, the meeting in the hallway earlier did nothing to prepare her for the giant, hulking Alpha in Bucky’s nest. Even with his head down and neck exposed, Steve is a sight to behold, and by far the most dominant Alpha that Annie has been around in her entire life.

Strong hands grab her from behind, and Bucky settles both of them near the entrance to watch.

Steve has his eyes down still, throat exposed, as Peter inches forward. They all freeze as his scent changes to CuriousInnocentDistressedOmega, and finally Steve looks up.

The sound that comes from Peter is not quite a whimper. He turns his head to the side and makes it again.

An invitation.

Steve moves immediately and folds Peter into his arms. He makes a low reassuring noise, and Peter just melts, a high pitch chirp leaving his lips before his body goes limp. Steve has a tight hold on him, and turns their bodies to settle the tiny Omega underneath him. Almost in sync, they bare their throats and scent each other.

Annie scoots closer to Bucky, letting him wind his arms around her as she rests between his legs, against his chest. He stretches his legs out, and she turns slightly to add her legs to the tangle.

There’s a small sniffling noise, and both Omegas look up. Steve is still holding Peter close— but now they’re eye to eye, and Peter is crying. Annie immediately sits up to separate them, but Bucky holds her back, whispering for her to wait.

They watch as the Alpha and Omega cry together, sharing comfort and tears, as they continue to scent-mark each other.

“Is it uncomfortable to watch your Alpha connect with another Omega like this?” Annie whispers.

Bucky, still behind her, just draws aimless circles on her arm as he responds, “We talked ‘bout it. Doesn’t feel weird— just feels right, ya know?”

She nods, “It definitely looks right.”

And it does. Annie thinks about her mom and dad— how many times she’s envied their bond and the love that they share. Even then, they are a VersAlpha and VersOmega couple and they’ve never been able to build the pack that they want, even though their relationship has been full of love and their pack is strong.

With Steve and Peter… it feels like watching a King and his Queen. It feels like the ocean meeting the shore, like stars in the sky, like pen on paper. The perfect balance, opposites fated by biology, Alpha and Omega.

It feels right.

Annie is crying now, and notices it when Bucky reaches up to wipe one of her tears away. She leans into him, moving her hair and exposing her neck for him to scent. He intertwines their fingers around her waist and she can feel his nose, his mouth, pressed against her sensitive bonding glands.

In an uncharacteristically dominant move, Bucky lifts one of his own wrists for her to scent. She pulls it closer and sniffles at his pulse point, enjoying his warm Milk Chocolate and sweet Orange scent.

“Oranges and Strawberries,” he breathes, tickling her neck.

“Chocolate and Caramel,” she takes one more inhale before turning in his arms, letting the other Omega stare into her eyes.

She licks her lips, “I’ve missed your scent. I can’t believe how compatible… I mean, you know— how good—”

Bucky chuckles, playing with a piece of her hair, “I can’t believe how compatible we are either, darlin’.”

Damn, he’s sweet. Annie can feel her face heat up, but she’s helpless to look into his eyes, steel-blue and darkening by the second. He’s holding her so close, and he’s so warm. She closes her eyes, letting a quiet purr build from deep in her chest.

There’s a soft press on her lips, and she gasps, fluttering her eyes open to see Bucky pulling away from her face with a shy smile.

“Sorry, sorry, I thought—”

“— why’d you stop?” Annie asks, returning his smile.

This time she sits up, pushing into his space, and locks their lips together. His hands clutch tighter around her waist as he tilts her head back, deepening the kiss. His lips move slowly, sweetly, and she keens into the feeling, opening her mouth a little more, inviting him to take.

Instead, he slows the kisses down further, releasing her waist and brushing his fingers over her eyelids, her cheek, and she rests her hands on his chest. He pulls back after one last kiss, lips red and bruised, and a smile lights up his face. She hums her approval, sure her face looks similar, and moves one hand to brush back the hair off his forehead.

“Wow.”

The voice breaks the spell— Peter and Steve are staring at them, mouths agape. Annie pushes Bucky away and he laughs, trying to catch her around the waist before she can escape. Peter giggles, still so cute and tiny in Steve’s monster arms, and Steve can’t help but laugh along.

Okay, so maybe making out in the nest wasn’t a great idea.

She looks back at Bucky— head thrown back in laughter and eyes bright with joy— and honestly she doesn’t care. She feels her heart soften, almost literally, and pulls him in for one more kiss— ignoring the protests coming from the back of the nest. Bucky’s lips taste like heaven.

Once they break apart, Peter crawls over, nudging her to change places with him.

“Real quick, Annie. You haven’t even met him yet.”

“Okay, okay— pushy Omega.”

Peter immediately snuggles into Bucky’s arms, and the two turn to watch as Annie shuffles over to where Steve is still seated.

He gives her a hesitant smile, and offers his hand, “Hi Annie, I’m Steve.”

She looks down at the professional handshake he’s trying to give her and back up to him in disbelief. Boys are idiots. Shaking her head, she crawls the last few inches and sits squarely in his lap, offering her neck, “Hi Steve, I’m Annie,” and she guides his hand back around her waist and his nose into her throat.

There’s a moment where she can tell he takes over, and she lets herself relax in his strong grip. He nuzzles into her neck, scenting her deeply, and she slowly leans down to do the same.

Oh. Oh no.

“Oh, oh my god, Steve—” she mewls— yeah, fucking mewls— into his skin, and is horrified to feel his pulse under her tongue.

Annie, you are fucking licking this man. Get yourself together.

No. He tastes delicious.

And it’s true— Steve tastes like actual Summer Storms and strong, Espresso Lattes, and she cannot keep her mouth off of him.

The other two Omegas are chuckling from the other side of the nest, and she huffs in irritation, trying her absolute hardest to pull away from this Alpha’s body.

“S— sorry, fuck. I can’t believe. You’re just... you’re just so—” get it together, Annie.

“Hey,” Steve thrums, and she looks up into his deep, blue eyes, “I’m flattered— no harm done. For the record... I think you smell delicious, too,” and he winks at her, making a point to squeeze her tighter before they separate.

“Peeeete,” she whines, falling back to look at her packmate, “we’re marrying them, right?”

Peter giggles, “Seems like we might be.”

ProudSatisfiedContentAlpha absolutely saturates the nest, and all three Omegas turn to look, suddenly thirsty for Steve’s Coffee.

Bucky moves first, putting the smaller Omegas behind him and moving quickly to his Alpha. Annie watches as they share a quiet moment, before both men turn towards them with similar fond expressions.

“Sorry, uh— let's go see our Betas, okay?” Steve asks, ushering them back towards the entrance.

Annie and Peter stumble out of the nest, waiting to be led back to the living room. Bucky is careful to turn the lights out and straighten the nest, displaying the care and importance he obviously places in his home. Steve loops his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him in for a quick kiss, before giving him a playful shove to get them moving down the hallway.

It’s clear the Betas are laughing and enjoying each other’s company as they arrive, and Annie heads quickly to Clint’s side, ruffling his hair and accepting a kiss on the cheek. Steve sits in an unoccupied loveseat, but Bucky doesn’t go to join him. Instead, he and Peter exchange a few words and Bucky sits next to Tony, ducking under his arm.

The room is quiet— only a few whispers between Tony and Bucky— and Peter turns to settle onto Clint’s lap. Annie lets him go, watching as Peter scents— no, scent-marks— him thoroughly, rubbing the combined scent of Alpha and Omegas into his skin. Clint’s breathing picks up and he looks at Peter, confused.

“Omega, what—”

“Hush,” Peter grabs his face, whispering intensely, “you are going to ask that Alpha to scent you, and you’re gonna go sit on his lap. Don’t you dare come back to us until you smell like him, do you hear me?”

Clint looks properly chastised as Peter hops up off his lap, grabs Annie’s hand, and pulls them to sit with Bucky and Tony on the couch.

They watch Clint’s internal crisis as he walks over to Steve’s seat, obviously uncomfortable but oh so stubborn and determined.

He stops in front of Steve, who looks up in question, “Steve.”

“Clint.”

“I need… Can I— can I formally scent you?”

Steve actually looks shocked, “I… yeah, of course, Clint. Whatever you’d like.”

Clint looks back at them— Bucky flashing him two thumbs up— and steels himself, grabbing Steve’s shoulders before climbing onto his lap. Steve raises his hands, obviously not expecting the submissive posture, and looks to their couch for some direction.

Both Bucky and Tony give him a shrug. Helpful.

When Clint settles in, wiggling a few times, Steve bares his throat and lowers his eyes in submission. Every person in the room gasps, and Bucky might even let out a small, hysterical laugh.

Clint doesn’t say a thing. He leans in and gently presses his nose to Steve’s pulse point, audibly inhaling. His body visibly relaxes, and he pulls Steve in to scent him in return.

Annie settles back against Peter, letting the three men fold her into their embrace. The room feels light and heavy at the same time. All six packmates are relaxed— breathing in each others’ scents and eyes closed to the warmth of close bodies. The joy of shared kisses.

Behind her, there are soft sounds of kisses and whispered promises being exchanged. In front of her, her best friend and future Alpha are wrapped in an intimate embrace, crying and clutching at each others’ faces.

There’s a hand on her shoulder, and she turns to face Peter’s half-lidded, giddy expression,

“I love you so much, Annie.”

He leans down— kissing her head, her eyelids, and her nose— and holds her close as he presses a tender kiss onto her lips. Both of their eyes close, and they smile into each others’ mouths. Peter gives a small nip to her bottom lip as both of them break apart laughing.

They look up and see Steve and Clint, finally standing and making their way to the couch. Annie opens up her arms to catch Clint as he dives forward, and all of them groan as he gets comfortable in their arms.

Annie glances up, watching Steve. The Alpha looks so proud and happy— and even as Bucky and Tony start to whine about being hungry, it seems as though the only thing Steve wants is to make his pack happy.

And that’s something Annie can get on board with.

#starker #winteriron #winterspider #stucky #stony #spiderhawk #ofc #spidershield #steve rogers #tony stark #bucky barnes #peter parker #fluff #nesting #MiGLT #omegaverse

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chavacerilla · 4 years

Text

chava fluff alphabet

a/n: i’ve noticed a significant lack of fanfiction for my main chava, and by significant lack i mean there’s literally nothing here. so here it is, a whole ass alphabet for my husband i love him word count: 9232

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Chava finds everything attractive about you, but most importantly, he loves your smile. There’s something so special about how you sparkle at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling and your cheeks so perfectly rounded. The apples of your cheeks fit so perfectly in his hands, and he loves to capture your grin between his palms. If he could, he would keep your smile in his pocket until the end of his days, but that would mean it would cease to be yours, and that’s too much of a price to pay. So he settles for making you beam as often as he can, and basks in the warmth that covers his skin.

But above all, there’s no better feeling than the way you smile into his kiss, your teeth gently pressed against his lips, and he can’t help but pull you in again and again. He swears it’s his destiny to have fallen for the sunshine you pour into his life, and the days only get brighter.

Is there anything about Chava Cerilla that isn’t attractive?

The most attractive thing about Chava is his demeanor. He’s both the sharpest thorn and softest petal of a rose. He’s the perfect description of someone your mother would’ve called “rough around the edges,” but every time you meet his gaze, you know immediately that he’s got his entire heart open just for you. Anything you could possibly ask for, Chava’s ready and willing to get for you.

He’s passionate – every brush of his skin burns with affection. His eyes are constantly thoughtful, yet so, so intense. And God, when he pulls you into his strong arms, you feel so lucky that he’s got you, because you could absolutely just melt into his touch.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Chava absolutely wants a family. He can’t wait to have as many kids as possible, and let them run free along the plantation. There’s such a wealth of knowledge he’s attained that he wants to be able to pass along – what color of coffee cherries are the most perfect, the fastest route through the hedge maze, and even how to tie your shoes so they don’t come undone during the day.

There’s so much that your abuela taught Chava that he wishes to teach to someone else – or hopefully, a few someones. When Chava sees you, sitting in his passenger seat, staring out into the Colombian sky, he sees a future. A beautiful, wonderful future full of children and laughter and watching movies even though there might be school the next day. He remembers the days that you had together when you were young. Stories of abuela and Aurora and the mornings around the plantation are dying to be told to young ears. Those days full of imagination and wonder for the world.

He knows that he’ll see a glimpse of it again, if not now, then at the very most, the moment you both lay eyes on your firstborn. That feeling of magic is sure to come back when you finally, after all this time, have a child of your own. Together.

He knows he’ll cry immediately, overwhelmed with love at first sight. Oh, how he hopes that your kids will have your eyes – your abuela’s eyes – and a little piece of her will stay alive through them. He knows that he’ll kiss you both constantly until the end of his days. He’s not scared of waking up in the middle of the night to change diapers and never getting any real sleep again. Chava’s so excited, and would be reading parenting books and talking to all the townspeople, just to try and be prepared for what he knows is the most terrifying thing in most people’s lives. He’d stay up for hours talking to Aurora about Lucia and what her experience was like, wondering about how he can be the best father that he can be. His dream is to be the kind of parent your abuela was to him.

Everyone in town would be buzzing about Chava Cerilla’s first child. The descendant of La Dama Roja. Las Tres Hermanas would be teaching him how to braid hair, even though they know he wouldn’t need to know for another couple of years at least, but he asked so sweetly, how were they supposed to say no? Old man Beto would be handing off a new checkers set, and joking about how he always knew you two were meant for each other. Beto would sit with Chava for hours, just teaching him checkers strategies, that he knows Chava wouldn’t need for a long time, but Beto knows he might not be around long enough for that, so he gives what he can now.

You know that your children would be so massively, totally loved, by not just you and Chava, but the entire town. Still, it’s hard not to be afraid of having children. All that power to shape an entire person for better or for worse – it’s terrifying. But Chava has your back. Forever. It’s a lifelong commitment, but he’s never been more ready to commit to anything, especially when it comes to you.

Oh, and there’s going to be so many times when he falls asleep with your kids safely resting on his chest, cuddled up against him, a small sleepy smile resting on his face.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Overall, Chava’s a huge cuddler. He loves any way he can feel your touch against him. Your warmth is just a comfort to him, and the endlessly strong and brave man for a moment just becomes your lover. He doesn’t have a specific preference, but his go to is just pulling you close to him, letting your head rest on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat will be music to your ears, and the way you draw shapes on his skin makes his heart ache towards yours. It’s the best way to see the sky above you, whether you’re in the back of his truck or laying out in the fields. He counts the stars reflected in your eyes before pulling you into his kiss, soft and languid against your lips.

He loves feeling able like he can protect you from anything, and wrapping you in his arms is a wordless way to speak his truth: he will love and defend you for all his life. Touch is really important to him, and it’s definitely one of his top love languages. When it’s hard to explain how he really feels, he’ll hold you, rest his head on top of yours, and just breathe. You’ll understand.

That’s what it’s like to be in love.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Going on dates together would be the sweetest nostalgia mixed with the excitement of getting to know each other. Spending most of your life apart, he’d have so many stories to tell you as you walk through the streets, arm in arm, until you get to your destination.

If you went for dinner together, he’d hold your hand across the table, squeezing it every time he remembers he loves you more than the world. Fancy dinners would be far and few between, but there’s nothing he’d love more than to see you dressed up. He’d put on his suit, and you’d get ready together, gently humming to music as you sit on the bathroom counter to put your makeup on. While he runs his fingers through his curls, you’d press your freshly glossed lips to his cheek. A smile would cross his face, but a fire sparks within his eyes as he pulls you into his arms, peppering soft kisses against your face as your laughs bounce off the bathroom tiles. One of his favorite moments is when you finally slip into your dress, and you share the intimate silence as he zips you up, his warm hands running over the fabric and he’ll whisper under his breath,

“How did I get so lucky?”

Each and every date ensures that he can lay his entire heart out for you. And in all honesty, that just means having a place where he can feel the world melt out under his feet until it’s just the two of you. It could be absolutely anywhere, just as long as he can see you smiling.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

You are my wish come true.

Chava spent years wishing on fireflies or “baby stars” as you would call them back when you were kids. Each time he walked through the cool night, he’d see those estrellitas and his heart would ache. His lips would move before he could even process what he was saying, and your name would fall into the open air.

“Regresa a mi.” (Return to me)

And every night, he’d walk through his maze, the soft grass crunching underneath the sole of his boot, and count the estrellitas until he lost himself in wishes for your return to Colombia. Sometimes, he’d bump into your abuela while wandering the plantation, and they’d walk underneath the milky moonlight, and she’d tell him stories of the two of you.

For a long time, he hid that he wanted to see you again. He would pretend like he was just asking out of curiosity. “When will she come back? Is she ever coming back?” and abuela started to pick up that his curiosity was not as simple as he had made it seem.

One night, he told abuela that he wanted to see you again back in Colombia. He told her it was his greatest wish. She smiled a knowing smile, and rested her frail hand on the side of his face.

“Chava, mijito, do you remember when you were little? She came when the sun was hot and you couldn’t bear to leave each other’s sides. Not for a single moment.

You were running around, playing tag, and she tripped up the stairs on the porch. My poor granddaughter, sitting on the steps. Her lip was pushed out all the way to the ocean and her eyes were full of tears. I remember wondering if she could even see.

But Chava, do you remember what you did?”

“No, abuelita. Not a clue.”

“You went right up to her and gathered that girl into your arms. She cried and cried and you just held her for as long as it took for her to calm down. I thought someone was going to call the police because of her wailing. Pero, Chava, you stroked her hair and wiped each of her tears away -”

“I did?”

“Are you surprised?”

“No.”

“Then let me continue.

Once she stopped crying, you picked her up and carried her into the house. You were both so small, so sweet. But you set her down on the couch and ran as fast as you could to get the bandages. When you returned, you wiped up the dried blood from her and when you placed the bandage on her knee, you pressed a besito to it, then you stayed on the couch together until you fell asleep.

And that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what, abuela?”

“I knew you loved her, mijito, and I knew you were going to love her for the rest of your life.”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Chava never had a defining moment to tell him he was in love with you. He’s always been in love with you. From the first moment you stepped onto the plantation, Chava has had his entire heart full of love for you.

Back then, it was just puppy love. His heart yearned to be with yours, but he didn’t know why. He walked with you wherever you wanted, played every game you wanted to play, and when you played house together, he’d kiss you on the cheek when he left “for work” and would tell you he loved you before the playhouse door shut behind him.

By the time he turned sixteen, it was beginning to be something more. He’d stare at the swirling ceiling, praying for the summer to come again. Though the heat could be excruciating and the sweat would pour down his back, you were the coolest shade and the sweetest lemonade. He’d suffer through it all for just a day by your side, capturing the tadpoles in the pond. You were his first kiss, and God, if he thought he loved you then, it was only going to get worse.

The summer before he turned twenty, he accepted he was in love with you. No other girl in town had compared to the time he spent with you. He’d never felt a connection to anyone the way he did to you. Your hearts were tied together even though you were 1600 miles apart. He spent hours poring over English books abuela gave him, just so he could put it into words. He never really had anything more planned than “I love you” but he was ready. He was so ready.

But you never came back.

Abuela said something bad happened to your parents, and you weren’t coming this summer. He’d never wanted anything more than to just hold you like he used to, and tell you he’d love you for the rest of his life. But how was he supposed to tell you, when you were so far away?

Every summer after that, he waited patiently for the day he’d finally tell you he loved you. And by the time he turned 24, he’d just accepted that you weren’t coming home. Not to him. Though his feelings could only grow stronger, his walls grew as he found himself more and more inside El Fantasma’s grasp.

And Chava loved you enough to let you be.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He’s so endlessly gentle. But he’s not afraid you’ll break. He holds you with reverence. You’re everything to him, and he’s constantly in awe of every part of you. Chava’s entire life has been building up to you, and when you’re with him, sometimes he forgets you’re not part of his imagination and you won’t fade away at his touch. His lips press softly against yours, his hands resting easy on your skin, and you just melt into him.

That doesn’t mean he’s not passionate though. When Chava really shows his passion and devotion to you, it makes your head completely spin. He’ll pull you against him and leave you breathless. He’ll steal all the air from your lungs and claim it as his own, clinging to you, because finally, his whole world is in his arms.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Chava’s hands are always on you, whether that be on the small of your back or interlocking your fingers together or letting his hand rest on your thigh as he drives his truck.

He likes holding your left hand, knowing that one day you’ll wear his ring on it. The fact that you hold his right hand is a gesture that you’re his priority. And when you switch sides and hold his left hand with your right, he gives his dominant hand to you, because you were always the one destined to hold it.

His thumb constantly grazes the back of your hand, memorizing the feeling of your skin underneath his. He’ll press soft kisses against your hand, and if you close your eyes, you can feel him whispering between kisses,

“I love you.”

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Chava doesn’t remember the first time you came into his life. He was too young. You were just there. Not all the time, obviously, but the impact you made was permanent, in the same way meteors strike the earth. When you were gone, there was an obvious crater – a hole – in his life.

But there is one person who remembers.

One day, while on his walks with abuela, he got curious.

“Abuelita, do you remember when she first came to Colombia?”

“Sí, mijito.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Siéntate, Chava.

You were very small. Small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. They were coming for the summer, just when she was old enough to fly on the plane without causing too much of a ruckus. But they had just landed, mijo, and you were so excited that someone else was coming to visit.

I’d told you that you’d have a new friend about a month before, and you wouldn’t stop asking when they’d be here. I told you that if you kept asking, they wouldn’t show up, because you’d get too annoying. But you were hoping to become best friends, and I didn’t have the heart to tell you that they’d only be here for the summer.

So when they finally got here, I could see how excited you were. You didn’t stop smiling all day, and you chased each other around the fields until the moon was high in the sky. You didn’t know her yet, but she immediately became your favorite person in your small world. She was always special to you, from the moment you laid your little brown eyes on her.”

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Chava can get a little hot headed and jealous at times. Abuela wanted you to marry either him or Sergio, and God, every time that lawyer is around you, he could honestly punch him in the face. He won’t say anything for sure, because he doesn’t want to come across as controlling, and he knows you’re allowed to live your life as you wish, but that doesn’t mean he won’t stare daggers at Sergio.

When the lawyer comes up to you, Chava will pull you just a little closer to him, his strong arms tense around your waist. From the corner of your eye you can see his jaw clench and the vein in his neck bulge as the heat surges in his chest.

But you stand on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek, and you practically hear his heartbeat falling steady again. He’ll close his eyes, feeling the warmth of your lips against his skin and take a deep breath.

He’ll remember that you belong fully to each other, and peace washes over him.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

It’s kind of strange to think about, but Chava is experienced, no doubt about it. It’s a small town, and he’s definitely not a bad option. So over the course of his life, he’s been on a few dates and found himself in a few relationships. Though they didn’t work out, he learned every trick of the trade and put them in his back pocket, just waiting for the day you return home to Colombia.

For Chava, the best part of a kiss is the anticipation. You meet his eyes, hazy with need, and as you lean closer, he always takes a moment to wait. He breathes in the air from your lungs, forever trying to describe the feeling bubbling within him before he rushes towards you, finally letting your lips connect.

Each kiss languidly pressed against your lips is heaven on earth. His hands are constantly pulling you closer to him, holding your face, or tangled in your hair. He can’t stop how his hands desperately roam over you, constantly losing himself in your kiss. He loves to start slowly, letting his tongue drag across your bottom lip, and then as time moves, his heart beats faster and his kisses get more and more wanting until you’re dizzy from it all.

But it wasn’t always like that.

The first time you kissed, it was during the hot Colombian summer.

Chava sat on Abuela’s bed, the early dawn pouring over his tan skin.

“Abuelita, did you know she was my first kiss?”

“Dime, por favor.” (please, tell me)

“It was probably mid-July. Really, really hot, so we jumped into the creek. I brought one of those little plastic bags so we could catch tadpoles, and we ended up getting two in one bag. They’re always so fast, she was convinced that they couldn’t be separated. They were in love.

So she said they wanted to get married. They had to get married. So we spend all day, running around and picking flowers off the coffee shrubs to decorate the riverbed. She taught me how to make those – cómo se dice –

Daisy chains.

So we spend all day, weaving stems and flowers, preparing for this wedding, and as it started to get dark, we put fireflies in your jars.”

“Dios mio. My jars?”

“Lo siento, abuela. But yes, your jars. She would run after them, capture them in her hands, and I’d hold the jar. I just wanted to feel her hands against mine.”

Abuela reached out with soft eyes to put her hand on Chava’s cheek, running her frail thumb over his stubble. “Ay, mijo.”

“I know, I know. But once we had everything set up, and we were about to start the wedding, it was dark. I was holding the tadpoles in their bag. There was no moon. No light. And with only the fireflies to light the path, I slipped in the mud, and I- Abuelita, I knocked over all the jars and then I dropped the bag. The tadpoles, they swam away. My heart just sank.

It was all she wanted, all day, and I ruined it.”

“Oh, Chava, you didn’t mean it. Your legs were always so funny when you were young. She probably knew it was an accident.”

For a moment, Chava let his walls fall, laying down against the sheets and pressing his cheek into the pillows. Abuela ran her hand along the side of his face, brushing her fingers through his hair as he loses himself in the guilt of an action that happened over a decade ago.

“I still felt so horrible. And as I was sitting there, covered in mud, she sat down next to me. I was confused, obviously. She was wearing that white dress you bought her from the tailor. I remember thinking I’d ruined that too.

Pero, she leaned over to me, and she kissed me. I think she wanted to make me feel better. But Abuelita – I’ve never experienced another kiss like that.”

“Chava – mijito. That was a kiss of true love.”

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Even though Chava frequently is known for treading lightly, planning each step before he takes it, he tends to run into everything headfirst when it comes to you.

He says I love you first.

One night, you were walking through the plantation together. The moon was high in the sky, the stars twinkling brightly overhead. Hand in hand, you let the wind lead your steps, and you found yourselves at the entrance on the hedge maze.

Without a word or a second glance, you dart inside, immediately hearing Chava’s laugh ring through the air as he gives chase. You seemingly move without any sense of direction, but you’re determined run makes him smile.

From a distance, he hears your delighted giggles as you reach a dead end. As you turn to face him, he sees your palms cupped together, hiding something in the space between.

Your voice is almost a whisper as your eyes soften towards him, “Chava, come see.”

As you let your hands open, a single firefly soars from between your fingers. Immediately, Chava’s sucked back into the memory of your first kiss, fireflies dancing around your heads, as your lips fell against his.

Overwhelmed with the feeling once again, he leans in to kiss you, holding you tight against him. The way your mouth grazes against his feels like home, and he can’t believe he’s finally returned to it.

He says what he’s known his entire life.

“I love you.”

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

One time, Chava spent the whole summer talking about glow-in-the-dark stars. He saw them on abuela’s tv once, some infomercial that lasted way too long in between cartoons. But he was immediately taken by how cool they seemed. He’d never seen anything like it, but he desperately wanted some.

He didn’t actually spend every minute of every day talking about it, but he did spend a lot of time hoping to see them one day. You thought they were cool, but knowing Chava liked them too only made them better.

So immediately after you returned to the United States, you begged your parents to get you some. You begged and begged until they gave in, taking you to the store to pick out your very own glow-in-the-dark stars. But you didn’t put them up. You shoved them into your suitcase until next summer, not wanting to ever forget them. They’ll be safe there.

But the problem was that glow-in-the-dark stars don’t last that long. By the time you opened up your suitcase the next June, they had long lost their glow, becoming faded green plastic. Hot tears ran down your cheeks as you thought about how you’d disappoint Chava, but you didn’t dare tell your parents. You felt like they’d scold you for waiting so long. To make them buy a present that you’d eventually give to someone else.

So you packed them anyways, and when your parents parked the car on the plantation, you got out and ran straight into his arms, sobbing and clutching useless stars. He hugged you tight, immediately asking what was wrong.

“Chava, I ruined them.” You cried, showing him the box.

He furrowed his brow and marched you straight into the house, through the kitchen, and into the pantry. Closing the door, he inspected the stars through the clear plastic, and ripped open the package. They spilled out, scattering along the wood floors, but he noticed one, faint, green glow underneath a bag of rice.

A single star, surviving the test of time.

It was one of the widest smiles he’s ever worn. He was amazed by how beautiful it was, even though he’d never seen them in their full glory. You spent the next hour in there, taking turns making wishes on the faded plastic star until the pantry door swung wide open.

Abuela stood before you, hands on her hips.

“There you two are! I have a surprise for both of you.”

And in her hands were glowing green galaxies.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

He loves to worship you in any way he possibly can. He presses kisses to your lips every morning and every night and every chance between. Chava doesn’t necessarily have the means to spoil, but he’d be damned if he didn’t show you his love every single day. You’re technically the rich one in the relationship now, with the sixteen-million-dollar estate. Chava’s just the plantation manager. It doesn’t bother him that you’re the one with the money, but he still saves up to buy you anything that you may mention in passing.

You could mention one night that you wish you had some mint chocolate chip ice cream, only to find it in the freezer the next night. It’s all the little things together that Chava loves to do for you. He’ll always bring you breakfast in the mornings, no matter what. He’d even try to do it when he’s sick, but you have to shove him back into bed and trade places for a day.

And even after everything he does, at the end of each day, he shows up with a red rose from the florist in town. He couldn’t go a day without showing you he’s so madly, truly in love with you.

It’d drive him insane if you didn’t know.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

When you think of Chava, you think of green. Green like the everlasting Colombian coffee fields he walks through. Green like the hedge maze he’d spent so long cultivating to perfection. Green like the strength and calm you can see always running through him. The warm emerald green that shines through Chava makes you feel safe and secure.

While you walk through the plantation, and you run your hands through vibrant green leaves, you can’t help but think of Chava. His hands have loved every branch of every tree along this plantation over and over again. You think of those same hands running along your skin, and instantly feel the shivers running down your spine.

Green is the color of his love for you, ever growing and endlessly full of life.

When Chava thinks of you, he thinks of the deep blue night. The beautiful, almost black sky littered with flecks of shimmering stars. He thinks of the nights you spend collecting fireflies, running underneath the swirling, oceanic heavens. The deep blue is stable and trustworthy. He’d never doubt how the night returns after the sun sets, and he’d never doubt you. Not in a million years.

As he lays underneath the sky, he hears your voice in the constellations, deep and rich. You’re such a different kind of lovely to him, you might as well be royalty. He knows how beautiful the blue would be against your skin, and spends time just imagining it with a smile spread wide across his face.

Also he’s heard of the phrase “something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue” and he cannot wait for the day. His sky, his heaven, his deep blue ocean, his world, forever becoming his.

That’s what blue means to him.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Chava uses a lot of different pet names. There’s not one word that can fully express how he feels for you, so he uses them as he sees fit. His two favorites are “mi alma” (my soul) and “mi cielito” (my little heaven). You’re the most important thing in his world, and the other half of the heart he feels like he’s always been missing.

When you were young, and you’d play house together, he’d come “home from work” and call you “cariño” (sweetheart). It’s what his parents called each other, when his father would come home and kiss his mother on the cheek. He’s always wished for their kind of love, and now he has it.

Sometimes he calls you “estrellita,” remembering all those nights he spent wishing on fireflies for you. On those teeny, tiny stars, sitting in the palm of your hand. Other days, he calls you "mi sol” (my sun), thinking of how your radiance exceeds that of any star, but is the reason his whole world is warm and vibrant.

When he calls you “mi media naranja,” he’s thinking of everything you shared during the summers, splitting everything down the middle (though secretly, he’d always give you just a little bit more). Mi media naranja translates literally to “my half an orange,” but more closely translates to English as “my soulmate.” One half of an orange only has another perfect half. Chava is absolutely sure you’re his.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Chava doesn’t keep his phone on him at all times. It’s never really been necessary, because he knows where everyone on the plantation is at all times. If someone’s deviated from their usual schedule, someone else knows where they are. He’ll leave it somewhere like on the bedside table or the kitchen counter, and when you try to call him, you’ll hear it ringing throughout the house. You end up settling on the fact that it’s easier to just shout from your house and play telephone until he comes to the house, chest heaving because he ran from wherever he just was.

He’ll plop down on your bed, trying to catch his breath as you smile, placing a hand gently on his heated cheeks.

“So what do you want for dinner?”

“Cariño, did you really call me over for this?”

“It’s important!”

He sighs playfully, running callused fingers through his hair, “I’ll come back early and we can make empanadas together.”

He stands back up, wiping the wrinkles out of his clothes. Leaning down to meet your gaze, his warm hand lands on the side of your face. The pad of his thumb brushes against your skin as he whispers, “You’re lucky you’re very pretty, mi alma.”

And with a kiss, he’ll pop out the door and back to the field.

As someone who doesn’t use his phone very often, Chava’s a huge fan of handwritten notes. Not always the kind that are sent in the mail, but the kind that are left along the refrigerator and on your nightstand. He writes a lot of things down constantly, to remember everything that happens. A notepad and pen sit in his jacket pocket to use at all times.

He’s constantly got a lot of responsibilities, and he keeping track of it all is important.

But inside his notebook is a bunch of little notes you’ve left him that he’s shoved back between the rings and pages.

“Have a good day, Chava!”

“I love you.”

“I hope it’s not too hot!”

And he’ll leave you little notes back and leave them around the house.

“Mi cielito, I’m going to be home late, no need to wait up. Lo siento.”

“Thinking of you, mi sol. - Chava”

“I cannot wait to kiss you again. I will kiss you a thousand times over. xx”

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

When the days get rainy, Chava likes to spend his time outside.

During some of his more troubled days, frustrated with the loss of his parents and the treatment of him and Aurora, Abuela would take him into the open green grass and stand him underneath the pouring rain.

“Chava, feel your tears and let la lluvia wash it away.”

The rain pelted his skin, stinging his nerves until he could no longer feel anything else.

Thunder crashed into his ears, leaving him deaf and quieting his thoughts.

Lightning striking in the distance illuminated his tan skin, highlighting the tears streaming along his cheeks, now indeterminate from the rain.

The salt of his sobs covered his tongue as he fell to his knees in the dirt.

The metallic smell of iron and red blood washed away, leaving only the earthy scent of fresh rain in its wake.

Abuela held Chava as he howled and wept with the rushing wind, rocking him as she whispered,

“Mijo, replace your senses with la lluvia.”

So when it rains, he has the tendency to drop everything and stand in the rain. He doesn’t necessarily want to be alone, so if you go up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and feeling the weight of his body against yours, you can just barely hear him beneath the storm,

“Only la lluvia.”

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Chava’s not too good at cheering himself up. He tries pretty hard not to be sad too often. And with everything that’s happened in his life, he’s built up pretty big walls to hold off the pain. It’s a lot easier to feel nothing than the hardship brewing inside of him.

Yet, to feel is to live.

If he’s feeling down, he won’t push it away by trying to cheer himself up. He’ll take the wave as it crashes over his head, and wait for the current to bring him back up. You’ll find him either walking around and letting his thoughts lead his steps, or nursing a beer and losing himself within the starry sky. Sometimes both.

But he usually does most of it alone.

Chava lets time sweep him off of his aching feet, falling into his memories. Once he finds the source of his pain, he chooses to explore it.

One of the guys he works with on the plantation just had his second child. He was struck with thoughts of his parents, before the fear of El Fantasma.

The gaping hole left in his heart hurts, but he pushes his focus to what he loves, rather than what he’s lost.

He remembers the times he and Aurora and his parents were all able to be laughing on one room. He remembers the sound of their voices bouncing against the walls. He remembers how they always smiled until long after the sun had set, singing songs and telling stories they had already heard.

The pain in his chest slowly subsides to a sweet nostalgia for the life he once lived.

Unable to stand by any longer, you approach him slowly, letting your shadow touch him before you do. The moment you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you close to his chest, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

“Chava?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

When you look up into his hazel eyes, you see tears brimming over the rims. You push them away with the pad of your thumb, a gentle promise for better days.

“I will be, mi amor, I will be.”

But when you’re sad, Chava wouldn’t dare leave you alone. He pulls you into his arms, replacing every one of your thoughts with his heartbeat. The warmth of his fingers pour over your skin as he runs them up and down your arms.

He immediately jumps up to get cookies and milk so you can indulge in the sweetness and while truly feeling your sadness. You smile immediately at the gesture, chocolate chip cookies warmed until they’re gooey on the inside and soft from the milk.

After that, he lies there with you until you feel like talking about it, until your tears run dry and your smile returns to your face. And if you don’t feel like talking about it then, he’ll do anything he can to make you comfortable until you do. He’ll give you all the blankets and pillows from around the house to build a fort for you and turn on some gentle music to let you process your thoughts.

Chava will never let you get too far into your sadness. He’ll always pull you back.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Chava talks a lot about the past and the future loves to reminisce and daydream. He’s always the nostalgic about what has been, but even more so a romantic for what could be.

“Mi cielito, do you remember when we were very young? You had just gotten out of school and come straight here. They taught you how to ballroom dance, and you’d won first place in the school competition.”

“Yes! I thought it’d be fun to teach you. You always stepped on my foot, but abuela said we would’ve won any competition.”

“She said it was because we cared so much for each other, it showed in every movement.”

“Do you think she knew that we’d end up together?”

Chava laughs, wrapping an arm tight around you. “Think? She knew. She only spoke English to me for an entire year, just so I could be able to talk to you when you came back.”

“She did?”

“Oh yes. She said ‘Chava, you have to meet her where she’s at. You must learn English.’”

“That sounds like abuela.”

“She also said we’d have really beautiful children.”

“Do you think we would?”

“I know we would.” He hums, staring up at the ceiling. “A little girl then a little boy. Like me and Aurora. They’d have your smile.”

“What if they had your smile?”

“They won’t. I know they won’t.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

Chava turns to meet your eyes, resting his hand on the side of your face, “Your smile is much too beautiful to not be passed on to our kids.”

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Chava is usually just a little bit tense. With El Fantasma constantly watching, he’s not usually very relaxed. He tries his best not to let it interfere with his life, but once he’s had a target on his back for as long as he could remember.

Being with you is a good way to get him to relax. He’ll smile bigger, let his laugh become a little louder, sit back in his chair for once. Sometimes, you’ll go run and pull out the old board games, and you’ll play for hours. You’ll hate him by the end of Monopoly, but you’ll see him genuinely relax with a beer in hand and all the properties on his side. It always makes you smile.

And although he’s pretty relaxed around you, he’s cautious. He’s aware of every noise and shadow. Especially with someone gunning for you as well, he wouldn’t dare let anything happen to you.

But sometimes, when the sun has long set, he’ll walk around the house. The wind guides his feet, and he just wanders from room to room, seemingly lost in thought. But if you’re quiet enough, observant enough, you’ll see his lips moving. He’s barely audible, but he speaks. It’s quick, and mostly in Spanish, but you don’t need to know what he’s saying to know what he’s doing.

He’s talking to your grandmother.

“Today was nice. The sun was bright. We haven’t heard from El Fantasma in while, which is both good and slightly worrying.”

He smiles softly to himself, running his fingers through his curls. “I think I might propose soon. It’s been a long time coming, I know it and you know it. I find it funny how you’ve known it all our lives.”

With a chuckle, he turns, and you duck back into the shadows around the corner. “I still have the ring you got me. I thought I’d never have a use for it. I think you were the only person who thought she’d come back.”

He flops down onto the couch, staring at the warm yellow ceiling light. “I’m glad you were right.”

He gets quiet enough that you can no longer hear him, and for a second you’re not sure he’s even talking anymore. He is.

“I want to ask for your blessing, abuela.”

When Chava sits up, you see him smiling.

You quickly run back to the room, trying to be as quiet as possible as the lights around the house flicker off. Jumping into the bed, you curl into the warmth of your blanket as Chava’s shadow begins to trail down the hallway.

The cool Colombian night washes over you as Chava lifts up the blanket, but as soon as he slips in next to you, you’re enveloped into the warmth that you’ve fallen so in love with. You can feel the tension released from his muscles as you wrap your arms around him.

You send a silent thank you to your abuela.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Chava definitely likes showing off his body just a little bit. He works all day around the plantation, just building up muscle. It’s hard not to be proud of the fact that he looks really good.

But he won’t ever explicitly tell you about it. His shirts are very well fitted across his broad shoulders. It’s hard to keep your eyes from travelling over the fabric as he flexes.

He knows.

The whole town knows.

There’s been a few murmurs here and there of strip poker sessions, many months before you showed up but so late in the night that the sun dares to rise. And alongside every single murmur is Chava’s name.

They speak of how the shady bar lights drag across his tan skin and over his muscles. How he throws his shirt over his shoulder before sitting back in his chair and bringing a beer to his lips.

There’s a favorite moment of yours, though.

God, the moment he puts his truck into reverse, setting his hand on the back of your headrest as he stretches to look behind you. His jawline somehow manages to get sharper as the muscles in his neck pull, exposing skin that you desperately want to run your lips over.

He can see the blush crawling up on your cheeks as you stare at him. It’s shameless, but you truly can’t help but take in the moment. He’ll bite his lip to stop a smirk, and raise an eyebrow at you, feigning innocence until you crash your lips against his.

W = Wedding (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Chava’s thought of your wedding for most of his life. He couldn’t help it, especially with abuela being part of his planning committee. She had a binder at the ready, with everything that she wanted to be a part of your wedding.

“Pero, abuela, this isn’t your wedding!”

“Chava, I do not care.”

It had to be on the plantation. It had to be, or else abuela might come back and crash your wedding. She also wanted red roses, specifically.

So when the moment came that he thought about proposing, he went to get the binder. It lives on the highest shelf in the house, high enough that abuela always used a chair to grab it down, and high enough that you’d never look up that far.

The binder weighed heavy in his hands, and he looked at the first page.

Chava, when you’re ready to propose, I have a ring. Ask Beto.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Besame Mucho.

Besame mucho, como si fuera esta noche la última vez – Kiss me a lot, as if this night were the last time.

Que tengo miedo perderte después – for I’m afraid I will lose you afterwards.

Quiero sentirte muy cerca, mirarme en tus ojos, verte junto a mí – I want to feel you close, to look at myself in your eyes, to see you close to me

Piensa que tal vez mañana, yo ya estaré lejos, muy lejos de ti – I think that maybe by tomorrow, I will already be far, far away from you

Every day, Chava loses himself in the feeling of your lips against his, the warmth of your tongue moving over his, the way his heart melts as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

With El Fantasma constantly at his back and the sudden death of your abuela, he refuses to let a day pass by that you don’t feel incredibly, radically loved by him.

Before the passing of La Dama Roja, Chava was very, very sure that he’d never see you again. It’d been much too long since the last time, but his feelings seemed to only grow stronger each day. So when you came back, he vowed to give you as many kisses as you wished.

But there’s a sinking feeling he gets in his gut. It burns more and more each moment he settles on the thought.

Maybe one day, you’ll see something better. A man who’s not being chased by a Colombian gang. A man who can provide for you better than he can.

Chava always kisses you with everything he has, pouring every ounce of love into it, so if you were to ever leave, he’d know he’d given you his all.

Would he know the bittersweet pain of your last kiss? Or would he be ignorant to whatever demise would ultimately befall your relationship?

Maybe El Fantasma will finally catch up with him.

But even though he may have his fears, there’s something special about the way you look at him. It’s a glimmer somewhere deep in your eyes, sparkling back at him. It’s like looking deep into the night sky, but if he looks past the stars, he sees himself.

It’s shocking at first – he’s literally gotten lost in your eyes. But there’s really something quite shocking about the moment he sees himself. It crashes over him like a wave, and suddenly he’s flooded with emotion.

And he pulls you close to him, unwilling to let you go anytime soon.

Y = Yes (When, how, where do they propose?)

Chava’s known all along where it was going to happen.

It was just a normal day for you, the sun came up and came back down. You’d spent time with everyone on the plantation. It seemed like everyone needed or wanted to see you, passing you from one person to the next.

Las Tres Hermanas pulled you into about an hour of sorting, saying you should close your eyes and do your best to help them. It turned out to be a trainwreck. You couldn’t seem to tell what was good and what wasn’t, but they managed to sort everything out. What took you an hour took them not even five minutes.

And then Aurora asked that you make some desserts with her. You ended up spending a few hours chatting and baking and singing along with the wind. It wasn’t bad, but by the end of it, the sun was just about to fall over the horizon for the day.

But just as you were about to put on your coat, Lucia barges into the kitchen, demanding that you help her with her math homework. It’d really been a while since you saw trigonometry, but you decided to stick around and see if you could be of any assistance anyways. By the end, it was more like Lucia taught you than you helping her. And the sun had officially retired, letting the moon take its place in the sky.

“Don’t go yet!” Lucia shouted, grabbing onto your sleeve as you began to stand up from the table. Sleep started to drag at you, and it all felt a little strange, but when you looked into her face, you saw something that made you stay.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, concern flickering over you.

Lucia’s eyes flash with anxiety as her fingers tighten around your wrist. “I’m having… boy problems.”

It all makes sense now.

You return to your seat, letting Lucia talk as long as she needs. It’s a story that seems to wind without end, and kind of seems like something that would happen in Gilmore Girls, but you try to give the best advice you can.

“I think Dean seems like a really nice boy, and he seems to really care about you. Maybe you should tell him you love him too?”

And after another couple of hours of stories, you can see Aurora come out from her bedroom. It almost looks like she gives the smallest, most imperceptible nod. But the moment she does, all of Lucia’s problems seem to melt away.

“You know what, I think I will tell him!” She says, before promptly pushing herself from the table and running to her room.

As your mind swirls with everything she’s just unloaded onto you, the front door clicks open, and you see Chava shrugging off his jacket.

Immediately, you go up to throw yourself into his arms, and he laughs as you bury your face into his chest. It’s a hearty laugh, strong and deep as he tightens his arms around you.

After a few moments lost in the sound of his heartbeat, you look up into his eyes, softening at the sight of you in his arms, and he presses his lips to yours. The world melts away, replaced with the sweetest feeling of his kiss.

Pulling away, he presses his forehead against yours, smiling. “Mi alma, come with me. I have something to show you.”

You take his hand as he wraps his jacket around you, leading you out the door.

You follow him until he leads you to a very familiar pond. It’s lit gently with fireflies in jars, and flowers thrown along the ground. The yellow light falls from the little bugs, mixing with the white of the moon. The wind whistles around you as you remember the time you were last here.

The tadpole wedding.

Your first kiss.

Chava immediately takes your hand in his, and as you look up at him, you see him framed completely by twinkling stars. He smiles as you fall into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

“This is familiar, yes?”

“Very, very familiar, Chava.”

“Good.”

“Why did you do this?”

When you look up into his hazel eyes again, they’re shining. You’re completely stunned at the sight of him, a warm hand gently resting against his heart.

It beats rapidly underneath the tips of your fingers.

“I love you, cariño. I have known this all my life. This was the place I fell in love with you. You kissed me after I ruined our whole tadpole wedding. I tripped because I was lost in thought. I just kept thinking about what our wedding would be like, when we were all grown.

But then you left. And I tried to move on as best I could. It was hard. I knew I could never love anyone else as much as I loved you, even if we were just kids.”

“Chava, I-“

“Listen, estrellita,” He chuckles, “And then I thought I’d never see you again. Abuela was certain you would come back to Colombia. I’d never seen her so sure about anything. But the moment I laid eyes on you for the first time, after all these years, I was in love with you even more than ever before.

You give me so much life. Everything is so much better with you in it, I never want you to leave.

Mi cielito, mi media naranja, mi amor,”

Your heart skips a beat as your name falls from his lips.

“Be my past, my present, and my future.”

And he gets down on one knee.

“Chava-“

“You must stop interrupting me.” He laughs. “I’m almost done.”

His eyes brim with tears as he looks up at you, surrounded by white moonlight.

“Marry me.”

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

After you get married, he’d probably ask if you wanted to get a dog. When he was young, his family had a German Shepherd to watch over the house, but he loved that dog more than he thought possible.

He calls him Santo, and they walk together throughout the plantation every day. From the moment that he gets up for work, Santo walks alongside Chava until they’re done with morning rounds, then takes a couple laps on his own.

Everyone loves Santo. You got him as a puppy, and raised him around the plantation, so everyone who’s worked there has gotten to know the little guy until he became not-so-little anymore. Aurora and Lucia are really fond of Santo. He’s family to both of them, and Lucia is always sneaking him little pieces of her dinner.

And after everything that’s happened since your abuela died, you feel safer having Santo around, sleeping at the foot of your bed. You know he would do anything to protect you, just like Chava would.

#chava cerilla #fictif chava #who killed la dama roja #heir to love and lies #fictif wkldr #i cannot believe the name has changed i don't know what to tag this anymore

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fairytsuk1 · 4 years

Text

my heart weeps for you. (a)

pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

genre: angst

warning: graphic descriptions of injuries, character death

words: 3.1k

summary: please find me in my next life so I can properly tell you that I love you!

a/n: this is a long emotional one, please enjoy it :)

Midoriya used to think that he'd only ever felt genuine sorrow in his life the day his mentor, father, and a love of his passed away.

"I'm so proud of you, Young Midoriya...I suppose you aren't so young anymore, are you?" his hand rested atop his poofy hair, Toshinori could almost see him when he was much younger. When his embraces still had the familiar teenage gentleness behind them, he'd grown up so much, "I am proud of you. To know that you are my successor is the greatest gift you could have ever given me."

Midoriya had watched Toshinori take his final breaths after he proudly exhaled those three long-lasting words. He didn't cry then. Only when he was lost in the coldness of his bedsheets did his heart weep from anguish as though he had lost a part of himself. He hated the sky and the way it shone so brightly because he would never get to see All Might look up at it once more before smiling.

The world looked at the number one hero as a symbol of peace and that he was! He saved the day as Deku with a small pin of his former mentor near his breast, a constant reminder that he was always with him. Grief lasted what felt like forever, but every day things grew just a bit easier. Only, his biggest regret was that Toshinori Yagi had never gotten to meet you. He would have loved you. It seemed that people who had changed Izuku's life could never coexist. It was if life was trying to tell him something.

In the end, it's just you.

The next time he felt genuine sorrow was on a day bright like the one before. Though the pain wasn't because of how alone he felt or how much he missed those who had passed...No, he felt the wave of sorrow overtake him the moment you'd died in his arms. Unlike last time, he wept. His heart cried out for you even when he chose not to think about it. It wept his entire life, for he was never able to find the same type of love ever again.

"Deku! It's me, Signal, I'm sorry I'm late! The train was packed! This lady asked for help retrieving her cat, and I just couldn't say no in my hero get-up! But I am truly honored to be your sidekick. I will do my best for our newfound team!"

You were young and bright and so colorful. Your hero outfit was a pure white and gave you this sense of innocence, but the red rings gave you a bold and courageous aura. You looked more like an angel rather than a hero. He didn't prefer the traditional cliches when it came to romance, but he couldn't help but feel shocked when suddenly things seemed brighter around him. You made things seem brighter.

"Huh?! It's no trouble at all! Really, don't worry about it! That was great for you to do, you're gonna have everyone's vote in the popularity poll if you keep it up. Ready for patrol?"

You reached into your bag and grabbed a clunky helmet with a black shaded screen, it covered your face. Midoriya felt a frown tug his lips before scolding himself. Why are you frowning at her costume? You haven't known her well enough to be upset by how she looks! Later, he would grin in happy remembrance when he had gone to visit your grave. He hadn't frowned because he thought you were ugly, he'd frowned because he thought you were beautiful.

You talked a lot, mostly about the latest things in pop-culture and anything to do with animals. You seemed to be really into music and saving stray dogs. You also tended to ramble about the mundane things in life like blue-spotted pigeons or plump old ladies offering homemade churros. You also ate with your helmet on, and it made you look pretty silly. He couldn't stop himself from grinning every time you turned your whole body to talk to him. You never knew what he was smiling at.

"Okay, watch this!" he watched you intently while sitting on the park bench, he didn't want to ask what exactly he was supposed to be seeing and had no idea if there was supposed to be anything at all.

"Um-haha! I don't see anything--"

Neon pink. A blushing emoticon with small letters appearing under it.

"Signal loves Deku!"

It was like he could hear Mina's words saying that when he blushed, he looked like a firetruck. He was sure he looked like a million firetrucks right then.

"It's true! I'm a big fan and I've always dreamed of being near you! It's like a confession towards your senpai! Have you ever seen those types of anime? It's usually done better in the manga, but I like the romantic connotations either way. Pretty cool, right? During a stressful mission, I thought it might be better to display messages so people would know it's okay while I'm still kicking ass! Also-"

He laughed so sweetly that it felt like drinking honey and milk. He'd never heard of displaying messages like that, it was different! But it was a good type of different, a uniqueness that made you stand out. It was weird how he had only briefly met you once under the cherry blossom trees when it felt like he'd known you forever. He had only first seen you in your third-year school sports festival at his Alma Mater, but it felt like he'd been with you before. Your energy felt so familiar, and you felt so warm. He chalked it up to your infectious bubbly personality, but he had no idea how deep your energy truly ran.

His sidekick Signal gave him a rush he had never felt before. You were sweet, but your quirk was terrific and incredibly powerful, you could sense civilians and give out concentrated waves of vibrations to either alert heroes or ward off villains. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine because when he punched? You rescued. When you signaled? He arrived. When you both started? You both finished.

"Hey, Deku? Did you know that I love spicy pork ramen?"

"Is this your way of telling me we should get ramen?"

"...No."

"Let's go then! I'll pay since I am the older one, of course," he grinned back at you, "let's get going short-stuff!"

"I'm average!! We've been over this before you bozo!"

It wasn't a date, it was just dinner after work. No biggie. Midoriya didn't need to fix his hair when he walked past the department stores' glass, and he didn't need to nervously look away from your eyes when you spoke with such intensity.

"Am I too young for you?"

His beer sputtered out from his lips like a faucet; quickly, he began to mumble apologies as the brown liquid was wiped away from the table and his chin, "young?! What do you mean too young?!"

"It's just as I said! I'm only nineteen and you' re-gosh-like twenty-five? No, twenty-six! Am I too young for you?"

"Hey!! I'm only twenty-three! I'm not some old geezer or a pervert or something!! ... You're just fine but...dating looks problematic, so we should just avoid it. Especially for your future career because of power dynamics and stuff."

"Dating? I was talking about being a sidekick."

"W-What?!"

You tossed your head back and barked out a laugh as you blatantly made fun of him, "I'm just messing with you! I meant what I said. If it's so problematic, then please wait for me!"

It had only been six months since he'd met you under a bright blue sky with one wispy cloud floating in it. It had been only a year since he first saw you on his tablet with the most radiant smile on your face even though you'd lost to your opponent.

It had only been six months since he had properly gotten to know you, and it was at this moment he could confidently tell himself that he loved you. Even with that clunky helmet.

"Okay, I'll wait for you. But you better not make me wait too long! Who knows what'll happen?"

He wished he wouldn't have jinxed it.

Red was a fantastic color on you and you knew it. It was merely coincidental that it matched his tie and the two of you looked like a couple. The whispers and comments weren't malicious, they were just curious. Who was Deku toting on his arm? Why did they look so compatible? At first, your curious eyes wandered all over the Pro-Hero Praise Party. (It has an official name, but after hearing your joyful excitement of being able to attend a "Praise Party," it just stuck.). You took it all in before glancing back at him with an open mouth of awe.

"So, are the snacks any good?"

Of course you were amazed. After shrugging in response to your question, Midoriya watched you quickly run off to chat with some of the girls, Uravity and Froppy. You were weird if he was going to be honest, you had this childlike excitement that followed you wherever you went but at the same time...you had a presence. It was commanding, demanding, and it called everyone to pay attention to you. You shone so brightly that it stuck to people's hearts like superglue; walking away almost made his vision go blurry because oh my god, please don't let that force be taken away from me.

You always came running back though. When things began to get a bit more intense with flirtatious comments or lots of alcohol, you were always there to seek comfort. With your exuberant nature came his calming one. You two fit together like two peas in a pod.

"Izuku? I have to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"I...I had a good time! Thank you for bringing me as your plus one to the party!"

He raised a brow in confusion as the two of you stood outside your apartment complex.

"Oh! I had a good time too! We should go to more, it's fun with you," was that coming on a bit too strong? Is that creepy ?! "I--"

Soft lips on his cheek, you had to go up a step because he was just that much taller than you. The gloss made it a bit sticky but you pulled away with a heart-shaped smile.

"Pervert! You're blushing!"

"You're the weird one! Didn't your parents ever teach you not to fool around with older people??"

"Psh, don't pull the 'I'm your senior' schtick!! I heard enough about it from Mr. Ground Zero!..."

He smiled and stepped down, letting a hand squeeze your shoulder. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable with too much affection.

"Well...Big day tomorrow, I'm going to jump right into bed!"

"Got it! Me too! See you later, and thank you. F-For the kiss."

You grinned, your teeth nearly blinding him as you squeezed his hand before turning to go into the complex.

"Also, that hand move was a little weird. Just hug me next time! There!" You stuck your tongue out and hummed, "romantic advice from someone younger than you! Suck it!"

That night, he lay in bed, wishing you were there with him. You two could lie together or watch movies or do anything, really. He just wanted to be close to you. He liked being close to you.

You lie curled up on your side, eyes wide as the heat from your previous action coursed through your veins. Hands lightly rubbed the frilly fabric of the pillow before you squeezed your eyelids shut. Oh, how much you wished the warmth was his and not the space heater near your bed.

SEND DISPATCH OUT! DEKU AND SIGNAL ARE UNRESPONSIVE! NO WORD FROM INSIDE THE BUILDING, WE NEED SOMEONE TO LIFT THE PILLARS!

Dust and crumbled roof fell onto Midoriya's face as he coughed and took in a deep inhale, the fall must've been bad considering the next cough brought up blood. Broken ribs? For sure, he'd broken enough bones to know that the affected area had been his ribs. He was just lucky enough that his hero costume provided enough support to keep him from having anything too serious. Well, he supposed broken bones were still pretty serious...his mind's wandering. Focus on the task at hand.

"Signal? Are you there?" Silence. He wheezed and moved away from the dust waterfall. It was a small area and...he could see the white of your costume easily! Hey! "Y/N! Oh, why didn't you say anything…"

The words died in his throat. Red had pooled around you and a pillar lie where your midsection would be. Your helmet had cracked, and the screen was glitching between various emoticon faces. You lie still and stiff with your hair in your face.

"Izuku?..."

"Don't speak! Don't do anything! I'm gonna get this pillar off of you, and then I'm going to get you some help. Can you say okay?"

"Kay...It doesn't hurt too bad…"

He didn't respond as he leaped over the pillar to see the damage that had been done and how easily he could lift the object. He felt like vomiting when his feet landed on the bone in your ankle. It should've hurt badly with his steel-toed shoes and all, but you made no noise. He glanced back in concern before crouching down and examining your leg.

"You're taking so long, I'm tired…"

"...Can you...can you move your leg?"

"What do you mean? They were crushed, can't feel 'em at all."

If he pulled on your leg, the muscle and tendons would be exposed like red string and yarn. The blood would pool out of your thigh and further stain the concrete. The pillar that came crashing down had caught you on the way down, severing your spine when it hit the ground. If he lifted this pillar, your guts would spill out, and you would bleed out, and you'd be dead and holy fuck there's so much blood--

You sniffled, you had figured it out too.

"I can't feel them, Izuku, please, where are my legs?!"

"They're...Well…"

"It's fucking, oh my god, they're not there. Izuku, am I going to die!? I can get surgery, right? I'll be fine!" You breathed heavily and began to squirm around, "I can still be a hero! I-I'm still a sidekick! It's fine, right?!"

"Please stop moving…" The chip in his ear buzzed loudly though all he could feel and hear was static. He felt paralyzed, what could he do? His favorite girl lies in two pieces because a building happened to collapse, "I'm coming back over there."

You'd begun to cry in earnest, fat tears rolled down your cheeks as your arms beat down on the pillar.

"Stop! I'm fine! Deku! Just pull this fucking thing off of me! I'm fine !" You screamed out in fear, "Please!"

He knelt down and cradled your head with his arms, he smelled like sweat and the rainforest. He felt his eyes well, he was hardly able to blink the tears back. Your voice wavered as you asked the dreaded question. It was much softer this time.

"Will I die?"

How do you tell someone they will die no matter what happens? The silence hung poignant in the air as the distant sound of sirens blared as background noise.

"I'm so sorry! It's my fault! I should've grabbed you when I had the chance!"

"Shut up. Don't think like that. Don't say something like that!! How could it be your fault when a villain attacked this building? It wasn't you, was it?"

Your arm reached up to his face and cupped his cheek, your eyes memorizing every green swirl and every eyelash. There was no time to ponder on what to say, the sirens grew closer. You didn't have time to think about how scary death was or what would come when it was all over. The pillar was going to be lifted soon, and then you'd be gone.

"I'm sorry, Izuku. To leave you this way... I'm so sorry," the words felt like arrows in his heart. So final and spoken so softly. Like you'd already made up your mind, how could you make up your mind in a time like this?!

"You're not gonna leave; if I activate my quirk, I can race you to the medics in thirty seconds, maybe twenty. That's our plan, okay? And then I can--"

"I love you."

"Stop it! Stop saying things like you're ready to go! You aren't! I'm not! Just stop!"

"I love you."

"Please, I'm not ready...Please keep living with me, I just want to be with you!" He clenched his fist as tears freely fell onto your cheeks, mixing with your own, "This won't be your last time saying this, I promise! Just let me…"

You smiled, no teeth this time. Just your lips curving upwards.

"Don't leave me…"

"I love you!" It was merely a whisper this time.

The rock near them was blown away, surely by someone's quirk. But all he could see was your smile and your kind but sorrowful eyes.

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long. I love you, Izuku."

The lump in his throat ached as he smiled and took your hand off his cheek, interlacing the fingers together. The other free hand came to push the hair out of your face. Would he say it?

He stared down at the red and white headstone, custom made. It even had your aura with the bright flowers adorning the soft patch of grass in front of it. He knelt down, leaving red and white roses. He supposed red should be an awful color, having seen you drenched in it in your final moments. But whenever he thought of red, he just remembered those rings that made you look so bright. That dress that made you look so beautiful. The lips that often smiled at him. The love you two had shared.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say it then. But I hope you knew that I loved you too."

It was another day of bright blue skies with fluffy clouds and warm wind. He guessed that All Might would have been enjoying a nice cup of tea while he reminisced. As for you, he assumed you'd be out there saving cats and dogs while accepting churros from strangers.

It was one of the many bright blue-skied days, but one of the first without you.

#midoriya izuku #izuku x you #izuku x reader #bnha midoriya #midoriya angst #midoriya x you #bnha #bnha angst #bnha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya angst #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero imagines

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nightowlfandom · 4 years

Text

Shoto Todoroki- Quirkless

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So the person who requested this asked for a reader who thought they didn’t have a quirk, but in a fit of rage and sadness, she discovers she has an affinity for fire, and goes on a rampage. Shocked by this, Shoto who is the only person who hasn’t bullied the reader confronts her...and then she said I could do what I wanted from there. (She also requested that the reader have a fire quirk like the Human Torch from The Fantastic Four...suspend your disbelief, I’m just lookin out for my people.”

Leggo.

...

“Ack!” you groaned on pain as you hit the ground. Lucky for you, you managed to break your fall before you landed right on your face. A round of laughs echoed around you.

“Get out the way Quirkless!”

You silently stared down at the ground as you heaved yourself up. Quirkless. That was your name around here. You were moreover at the Academy for journalism. Talking about other heros (or villans) would be your future. You, along with the other quirkless students were bullied to hell. Except for Izuku, it was like he was the main character in his own show or something.

Before the embarrassment could set in, a hand came into your field of vision. You looked up and saw Shoto holding his hand out to you. You must have looked silly staring at his hand like it would burn your skin or something. You slowly reached out, praying this wasn’t a joke.

To your delight, it wasn’t. Todoroki helped you stand to your feet. “Are you alright?”

You could only nod in response and do nothing else.

“Thanks...” You began to speed down the hall. It’s okay Y/N, just get to your class and get there quick.

...

“Alright class! Now we’re gonna talk about getting good pictures of poses!”

You boredly leaned into the palm of your hand. You weren’t really interested in flashing a camera in some random hero’s face. You found yourself drifting in and out.

“Y/N!”

“Yes?” You instantly snapped back to reality. The teacher was staring right at you.

“I know this isn’t the most riveting lesson, but try to save naptime for lunch.” he joked lightly.

“Oh, sorry.” you replied, full of embarrassment. You sat up and tried to pay attention. However as you did, you felt a hot gust of air envelope your body. Was it always this warm? Pretty soon, you started sweating. It was way to warm for comfort. You shook your head, trying to brush it off. However the feeling soon. returned.

“Y/N?” the teacher looked at you again. “Are you alright?”

“I...I don’t know.” you replied, your voice hoard.

Before you could speak again, a classmate put a hand on your forehead. “She’s burning up!”

“Take her to the nurse. Quickly!”

...

“You’re body temperature is through the roof.” the nurse showed you her thermometer. “See those numbers, that’s not normal sweetie. You might have a fever or worse.”

“I was fine this morning.” you tried to explain. “I just need... to go back to class.” You hopped off the counter.

“Young lady I really think we should run a few more tests-”

“I’m okay! I promise!” you put your hands up assurance. “I just have to take it easy.”

You didn’t give the nurse a chance to respond and you swung around the corner and left. Lucky for you, the lunch bell had rung. You were going to go straight home for lunch, you couldn’t deal with anyone else today.

You had turned a corner again only to come face to face with Shoto again.

“Sorry!” you dug your heel into the floor to keep from ramming into him.

“No. I almost bumped into you first.” he apologized. “Are you alright? I saw your friends taking you to the nurse earlier.”

“Oh I’m fine!” you tried to muster up a polite smile. “I’m just a little warm. That’s all.”

Todoroki didn’t smile often, so it was a shock to you when the corners of his mouth turned up the slightest bit. “Well we wouldn’t want our star journalist to fall sick. I don’t know very many people who can make others look as good as you.”

Was that a compliment? Did he just say that? Were you dreaming?!

“Oh...you’ve seen my works.” you said, ignoring the blush rising on your cheeks

“I have. They’re immaculate.” he replied with that same sideways smile. “I’m glad I found you, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh...Actually I really have to go. It’s kind of important.” you lied. “You can ask me tomorrow!”

Without another word you ran the opposite direction, praying he didn’t notice the glaring crowd of students behind you. Todoroki sighed. You ran off again. He had no idea how he was going to ask you on a date when you couldn’t even stand still for more than 5 seconds...maybe tomorrow like you said.

... (The Next Day)

Fate had a different choice for you than normal when Bakugou stopped you before you could even walk into the building

“Hey Quirkless!” he stopped you in your tracks. Dear God, what did he want now?!

“Can I help you?” you raised an eyebrow at the explosive asshole in front of you.

“Heard somethin’ interesting about you today!”

“And what could that be?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Your parents are heroes, but you’re not!” he bursted out in a fit of laughs. “I bet they were so upset when they learned their child was meant to be a nobody!” he held his stomach as he hunched over. He kept laughing, so loud that you found your blood quickly boiling.

“Shut up.” you said lowly. Your reaction made him freeze.

“What did you just say to me?”

You found yourself grabbing his by the shirt collar and pushing him against a pillar. “I said...SHUT. UP!” You screamed.

Before you knew it, that spike in heat had returned. Suddenly, your hands erupted in flames. The embers traveled up your arms, to your shorts before they began cascading down your body. Yellow completely took over your vision and the fire grew larger and larger.

“What the hell?!”

Bakugou’s voice sounded distorted and choppy, like a scratched up CD. You instantly released him from your grasp, stepping back from him. You studied your hands...which of course were on fire as was the rest of you.

“....Is that Y/N?” “Y/N? That Quirkless girl?”

Your head shot in the direction of which a crowd was forming. It wasn’t long before the teachers came rushing out of the building. “Y/N!”

“STAY BACK!” your voice came out in a growl. You were fed up, you were miserable, and you’ve had enough. “Get away from me!”

“Y/N we just want to help you!”

“I don’t want help....” you sniffed a little. As your emotioned flared, so the the fires until you couldn’t see anyone anymore.

“Y/N just calm down.”

Where was all this help when you were getting thrown against lockers and getting expired milk poured on your head?

You stood in the circle of flames , glaring out out at the havoc you caused. Flames erupted and glossed over trees. All you could see was red. You were blinded by rage. The teachers had tried, but failed. All anyone ever did was fail you in one way or another.

Quirkless...Quirkless..Quirkless.

The students stood in the sidelines, watching in horror. Most of them had known you, a good chunk of them responsible for your bullying.

There was nothing they could do without getting fried. Except one person.

Shoto pushed his way to the front of the crowd and began running head first for the roaring flames.

“SHOTO!” “What is he doing?!” “IS HE AN IDIOT?!”

The young Todoroki didn’t listen, he kept running. It’s not like the fire would hurt him. He entered the circle of fire and didn’t expect what he saw. You were sitting on the ground, hugging your knees. You were sobbing uncontrollably.

“Y/N!” he rushed to your side.

“...Go away.” you murmured coldly.

“What?”

You looked up at Shoto. Despite being completely on fire, Todoroki could make out your tear stained cheeks. “I said go away.” Your eyes were completely white, so it was hard to tell if you were looking him in the eye or now.

“Damnit Y/N.” Todoroki tried his bust to freeze the flames around him, but they grew larger and larger. “What happened to you! If this fire gets any bigger you could destroy the whole school!

“I don’t care!!” you snapped, the fire engulfing your body even brighter than before. “Why should I care about anyone else. No one here looks out for me. N one here cares.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” Shoto tried to reason. “You aren’t alone! People do care!” he tried to hold out his hand.

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” You snapped, the flames growing more and more. Although the embers engulfed your body, your felt nothing now. You were completely numb on the inside.

“Y/N, I care about you!” he finally said.

“Bullshit!” you held your hand out and quickly melted the ice block that he had set up around you. “You’re just as bad as they are. You’re just like them! Who could ever love someone like me?” you asked coldly. “Not even last week, everyone was looking down on me, insulting me for being quirkless...and now you’re telling me that now all this is happening. People actually care?”

“I care about you. your teachers care.” He said. “I’ve always cared.”

“Don’t lie to me.” you repeated, only this time you sounded weak. Defeated almost.

“Y/N.” He said softly. He reached out his hand again, his fingers glowing a bright white color. You felt his hand on your cheek. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Shoto watched as your face and hair, which had been completely engulfed in fire had dissipated, revealing your flushed and tired face. You suddenly felt a wash of pain over your chest. The fires around your completely vanished as well, leaving everyone to stare at the two of you.

It wasn’t long before you blacked you. Todoroki had caught you before you hit the ground.

“Get her to the nurse, quickly!”

“Move out of the way!”

#anime x reader #anime imagines #anime scenarios #anime headcanons #anime x reader imagines #anime x reader scenarios #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki imagine #shoto todoroki imagines #shoto todoroki bnha #todoroki x reader imagines #imagines #x reader

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