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saturnsummer · 3 years

Text

helpless.

han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.

ao3 link

notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.

edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.

words: 4130 words.

it’s been a terrible day for sol.

forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.

she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)

sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”

sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.

that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.

sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.

but joon hwi hasn't.

she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.

thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)

she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.

what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.

“you’re still up?” he asks.

it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)

joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.

and he couldn’t understand why.

until now.

joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?

joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.

for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.

“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.

“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.

“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.

“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.

“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.

“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)

joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.

not. at. all.

-----

the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.

sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.

sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.

“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,

she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.

joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.

“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”

“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”

“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.

i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.

joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.

-----

it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.

but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.

joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.

and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.

sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.

the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.

“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.

later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.

-----

she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.

all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.

as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.

“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.

the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.

then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.

joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.

the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.

and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.

-----

joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.

his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.

his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.

with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.

and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.

-----

when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.

“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.

“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.

“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.

“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.

“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.

“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.

“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.

joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.

“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.

his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.

“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.

“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)

joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.

i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.

because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.

-----

sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.

when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.

she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.

after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?

joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.

because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.

-----

bonus:

“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.

“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.

well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.

157 notes · View notes

mochii0park · 3 years

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meraki; chapter 01 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, it's 2am I'll reread it tomorrow

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< intro | chapter 02 >

Seokjin got engaged and moved to the USA.

Your lanky fingers hover over the keyboard, the reality of the situation still lingering in the air. The send button felt heavy, as if the action would make a shift in your universe. You have already made mends with how things were going between you, but it still felt crushing.

Sucking up the little pride you had left after lying to your friend, you push the button and lock the phone hoping to gain some sanity in your walk back to the apartment. It had been a regular night out with your friends. Coffee chitchat alongside freshly baked cookies which you got as an apology for being late.

Your mutual friends felt the need to notify you of the sudden change in Seojkin’s life, wanting you to hear it from them first. Pushing it to the back of your mind as nothing but an additional fact, you continue through the night with a smile. That lasted until you the rounder the corner.

Seokjin had been your friend through university and even later as you grew up and struggled to make ends meet. You had been there for him when his girlfriend of five years decided to dump his ass having a shift in her feelings towards him. You mended his heart through late night talks and rides across the city. He was your kiss partner after breakups, picking up your self-esteem and gluing it together. In conclusion, Seokjin was your everything. If only the feeling was mutual.

Days before deciding to confess to him, he blasts your phone with messages about a girl that pulled all the strings in his heart and awoke oceans of memories. Kim Jisoo was his high-school crush with whom he lost contact after entering his last relationship. Reconciling through social media the two hit off where they last left it and suddenly you became the dust under his shoes.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months of not seeing him. With a deeply rooted pain in your chest and a jealousy for the new girl in his life you stepped down allowing Jisoo to consume his being. Afterall who were you than a mere friend, easily replaceable.

The last slap came when you drunkenly confessed, having enough of their roller coaster like relationship. That was the last time you’ve heard of Seokjin’s teary-eyed voice telling you goodbye over the phone. No matter how many times he told you this sounded like the end and the suffering he felt was unbearable; it was nothing compared to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces.

Sehun told you many times that the timing was so off it made him uncomfortable, but that’s the thing about you and Seokjin. Everything was off with the two of you. From kisses to cuddles to nudes after midnight to serious conversations about pineapple pizza. Friends don’t do that, is what you kept telling yourself when the feelings for him slowly grew from platonic to romantic.

In midst of your thoughts your phone rang. Sehun the attachment dealer flashed across your phone. Giggling at the memory of how the nickname came to be, a warm feeling nest itself inside your chest. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“I left the Howl Cafe, I’m near home.”

He hums, the sound of the blinker echoing in the distance. “I’m there in five. Meet me at the bus station at beginning of your street.”

There were instances when disobeying Sehun felt like the biggest thrill of your life but right now when feelings you couldn’t pinpoint ran through you clouding your judgement, Sehun felt like a silver lining. As you wait for him to arrive, you can’t help but scroll through your phone in search for that one picture of Seokjin.

The only one you’ve saved after your last conversation. He was leaning against the wall of the bakery, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His bleached hair fell over his rimmed glasses giving him an emo vibe. It was somewhere around three am when you’ve taken this photo.

Both of you exhausted from running aimlessly around the city. He begged you to visit this bakery at the top of a hill, assuring you about the quality of their goods. You remember that night vividly, how you would steal a kiss or two in the shadows hiding from the reality. How he would woo you with his terrible French accent and you would answer him in your broken German.

You miss him. You miss him to the point where it physically hurt.

Sehun honks ever so caring about the people sleeping peacefully in their homes. He bursts into laughter at your jumpy reaction making you feel annoyed as you lock your phone. Settling yourself in his car you wait for his I told you so, but it never comes. Instead, he turns on his Spotify playlist clicking on Olivia Rodrigo’s good 4 u blasting it a such high volume all thoughts you had were overridden with the upbeat song.

Sehun had been your friend for the same amount Seokjin was. The two knew each other through a few short encounters, for some reason they never crossed paths for longer than ten minutes. For that you were thankful. The song comes to a finish and Sehun observes you from his seat. The lights of the city painted on the window illuminated your face, giving him a prefect view of your perplexed expression.

“How are you feeling?”

You knew he would ask this question, after all the sole reason you were driving on a highway was because of your damped mood but in whole honesty you didn’t know the answer.

“A part of me had expected it. He talked about marrying her, but he also talked about wanting to drop everything and own a cottage in Sweden.”

“Your taste in men is terrible. Remember Mark? The guy who had so many career goals but couldn’t leave his house because he thought having a life outside work was overly distracting for his oh so important career as IT support at ZARA? Or Mino who was so high you couldn’t recognise him when he dropped the weed after your breakup.” Sehun snorts.

You roll your eyes at him. Surely your boyfriend track wasn’t the best but it’s not like you seek out boys with issues, it seems that they attach themselves to you and you can’t get rid of them without a major heartbreak. “Whatever.”

Sehun stretches forward pulling your favourite chocolate bar out of the compartment, throwing it in your lap. You smile, munching on it as you switch the song to Zayn and Sia’s Dusk Till Dawn.

“I just expected him to inform me.”

Sehun shakes his head. “I am not sure why you expected that. You two haven’t shared one conversation in two months. You’ve asked for space when he told you he can’t choose between you and Jisoo. Plus, that was a dick move to be honest making him choose between his girlfriend and his best friend.”

“Space,” you emphasise,” not utter silence. He didn’t move two fucking blocks Sehun. He moved to a whole fucking country without telling a soul. Our mutual friend finds out through an Instagram story. Fucking Instagram. And I don’t care, he was a dick that started this charade might as well end it.”

By now you were fully shouting, the tears that threatened to spill before now rushing down your face. In this moment you didn’t care much about Sehun’s awkwardness regarding tears and crying, that was pushed aside when he backed Seokjin’s decision and pissed all over yours.

“Y/N,” he whispers, turning down the volume as you whimper, “there is not much you can do. You must respect his decision. You can’t force someone to love you.”

It was your turn to huff at the stupidity of his words. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go about kissing people. Respect decision? Fuck that. Did he respect me when he made a fool out of me?

“No.”

Sehun exhales knowing that in this case you weren’t in the right mind to have a rational conversation. Seokjin was your weak point, he knew that much. Your emotions began to pour out, leaving you a sobbing mess in his car.

“Look, I can’t stop you from having all sort of emotions for him. I can only advice you to turn off your phone for tonight and give yourself time to process the information before doing anything you might regret.”

“I won’t blast his phone with insulting messages if that’s what you think.”

“Good, also don’t eat out your emotions. You can’t stand too much sugar in your system.”

“Thanks doctor. I’ll just write out my emotions instead.” You say leaning into the seat, closing your eyes as you listen to the music.

“You still write on that blog?” You can hear some amazement in Sehun’s voice, and you know it’s not to mock you but to praise you for managing to stay faithful to one thing this long. You had a reputation for giving up on things in early stages because you couldn’t finish them perfectly.

The rest of the ride was spent with you eating out your emotions with the food Sehun bought from your local fast-food restaurant. Not much was said between you and him as he drove into the night letting you process the whole situation, only dropping you off at home when you felt yourself calming down.

Once in the confides of your room you strip yourself of any pent-up emotions letting all the pallet of different feelings overran you. Taking a pen, you let your heart pour into endless words scribbled away in your notebook. When you’ve felt empty the high gone, you take your laptop opening the site you’ve a long time member of. It came to you on Instagram in a form of a poorly done advertisement. It was a website for people wanting to share their poetry with strangers.

At first, you’ve done what you always do: began self-doubting your poems and their worth. Most of them were written in a spur of a moment when you felt like you would burst from the number of things you felt. But one night, when sleep couldn’t come to you and the pain of losing the person you held dear lingered in the air threatening to choke you; you signed in posting your work. It was raw and you suddenly felt exposed and naked in front of the world.

That’s how Meraki came to be. How your pseudonym became your shield, allowing you to burden it with any thought or emotion you’ve felt. In the online world Meraki was a fierce writer, letting her readers know of the pain and suffering she felt. In real world Meraki was an introverted person hiding herself from anyone willing to come close.

____

It was a hot Wednesday morning when you’ve gotten an e-mail from your sister informing you of her whereabouts. Due to your mother’s work preventing her from traveling, she decided to pay you a visit instead; much to your delight. The days to her wedding were numbered and so was your sanity.

Luckily for you she and her fiancée decided to stay with your parents.

The thought of her roaming the halls of the only place you’ve managed to cover in comfort was disturbing you. It wasn’t that you hated your sister but although you’ve dealt with your own insecurities some parts of the trauma still hung over you.

You’ve managed to avoid her for a good number of days since she landed in Seoul but now a week later you ran out of excuses. That’s how you found yourself sitting in a posh sea food restaurant, juggling your anxiety during the family dinner.

The last time you saw your whole family was at your grandfather’s birthday (which happened six months ago). The event left a bad taste in your mouth after you’ve spent majority of time listening to your sister’ success only receiving attention when she addressed you.

Solar and her fiancée Minho discussed the menu as they skimmed through different meals. You have been so busy staring at one spot that you’ve never noticed the waiter taking orders.

“Y/N?” Solar spoke catching your attention.

“One chicken fillet for me please.” You were so preoccupied with different thoughts you never saw what they had to offer therefore you went with your go-to food.

The moment the waiter leaves the table with the menus, your mother scoffs. “Aish you’re eating chicken again, we’re in an exclusive sea food restaurant and you’re embarrassing us. “

“Mother, let her eat what she wants.” Solar interrupted your mother’s complaining, switching the topic to her wedding dress. Your mother beamed at the photos she showed her.

It was somehow sad how much power Solar had over your parents. One word was enough to ease them into doing whatever she liked whilst you had to beg and crawl your way and even then, you were no match for her.

You felt severely out of the place. The two talking about preparations while your father and Minho gushed over their new apartment in Tokyo. You sat there in your chair counting down minutes until you could leave. Any other day you wouldn’t bother to attend the dinner but now Solar insisted you showed up. Something about the sight of her family warming her heart, bunch of bullshit.

“How are you doing Y/N?” She asks ignoring your mother as she mumbles under her breath about your bad habits, one being smoking.

You took up smoking in your last year of university when the pressure of getting a master’s degree and balancing your parents had been too much to take in. A lot of your friends decided to find comfort in weed, but you never understood the thrill of it. Rather than spending enormous amounts for just one puff, you could buy a pack of cigarettes and still have money left for some booze.

“Not much, same old same old.” You answered pushing your nervousness away.

There wasn’t much happening in your life. You’ve started a job in a bookstore and spent your free time either with Sehun or Jihyo.

“How’s Seokjin?”

That one question had caught the table’s attention and suddenly you felt a terrible need to smoke one. Your families were acquainted through work, your fathers working together on a project. They had been shocked when they discovered that you and Seokjin had been close friends for a long time.

“He’s fine.”

“I heard he got engaged,” Your mother spoke up,” to Kim’s daughter Jisoo. Ah what a wonderful being that one is.”

“Oh?” Solar gave your mother a perplexed look narrowing her head at you. You played with the glass in front of you, the object suddenly becoming interesting.

“I thought you and he were dating.” Minho joined, telling the words that were stuck on the tip of your sister’s tongue.

“Y/N and Seokjin? Don’t make me laugh. They are worlds apart. Seokjin is so focused on his career while our Y/N thinks writing will make her a fortune.”

Taking a sip of water, you try your best to wash away the nasty words threatening to leave your mouth. Your parents never approved of your career choice not that you even cared about their opinion.

Solar hums pulling her lips into a straight line. “I’ve must’ve mistaken then. I was sure I saw you-“

“Here is your food.”

And that’s how you were saved from the embarrassment of having to explain to your sister that what she saw was imagination playing tricks on her and not you and Jin making out in front of your house. It was awkward enough when she pestered you about it the next day.

The conversation takes on a different dynamic and you breathe out in relief. You were still trying to process the news and talking about him wasn’t helping your soul. You gather yourself before your façade could fall and mask it with a stoic expression continuing your countdown till desert when Sehun would call you for an “emergency”.

Right on time you think as your phone began to ring.

You pretend to gasp covering your mouth to show concern as Sehun sputtered nonsense. He kept talking about his trip to the gym and how his feet hurt from all the exercise he did while you tried not to show disgust as explained in detail how hit his little finger against a metal device . Solar shot you a worried look as you excused yourself from the table.

“And the award for the best actress goes out to Y/L Y/N” Sehun pitches once you close the door of the restaurant. Shooting a quick apology message to Solar, you jump into his car deJa’vu hitting you.

“I should get paid for spending so much time with you.” Sehun dripped in sweat, his black shirt sticking moistly to his body, hair pushed back.

You shrugged falling into a comfortable silence. Half an hour later he stops at the number 13, the windows of your house distinguishable by the large number of flowers catching last rays of Sun before the night settles.

“That will be 100 won and a Mcdonald’s later when you’re free.”

“Yeah, not happening” you tell Sehun, already halfway out of the car, rucksack slipping from your shoulder.

He raises a brow at you.” I am not your personal driver Y/N. I had to leave my girlfriend to drive you back.”

You scoff as you roll your eyes at him.” I’ve told you to call me for an emergency. There was no picking up included.”

He mimics your words mockingly before pressing the gas pedal leaving you behind him. Unlocking your apartment door, you’re greeted with your dog sleeping in the hallway not giving you a second glance as you pass over him. Haku’s snores echo through the empty apartment warming your heart. The Shiba became your companion two years ago when you were going through a rough patch. It took some time for you to get used to each other but now you couldn’t image not having his snot buried into your business.

Turning on the lights you sit at the kitchen table pulling your leg up to rest your head on the knee. Opening your laptop, you see a few notifications popping up on the sideline about your recent orders. Just when you were about to close the notification center you see one mail standing out. The name Jung Hoseok makes you jolt in your seat.

Dear writer aka meraki,

I hope this e-mail find you well. My name is Jung Hoseok, I’m the CEO of ZER Publishing company. I’ve taken interest in your poetry and would like to have a meeting to discuss a possible collaboration between us.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok

The scream that came from you couldn’t possibly be human. Closing the laptop as if it will burn you, you throw it on the sofa choosing to avoid it until tomorrow.

You didn’t know how he found you giving that any personal information on the site was strictly private. Pacing back and forward you facetimed Sehun. He picks up after three very long rings making your heart beat erratically against your chest.

“I swear to God if this is another one of your emergency calls.” Sehun stands there in nothing but a towel hugging his waist. He moves to the other side of the bathroom, bare feet pacing against the marble floor.

“I got an e-mail.”

He curses, his voice muffled from the towel pressed against his face. ” You called me to tell me about a mail?”

“Not any mail, Sehun. I was contacted by Jung Hoseok.” You whisper still walking back and forward, Haku following every step of yours. Sehun tries not to pay close attention to you, getting slowly dizzy from all the commotion.

“And something tells me I should know who that is?”

You halt taking a moment to stop yourself from starting a conversation about common knowledge again, it was a sour subject. “He messaged through the mail used for Meraki.”

This time Sehun is quite for a few seconds taking in your words. You don’t see him, but you can hear deodorant spray and shuffle of clothes. “How? Isn’t that private?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly the anxious feeling was back. The poems you wrote there were strictly private, the mention of your love life and your hardships with your family were never meant to be linked back to you. You’ve checked the websites policy not wanting anyone to associate you with the account. If that were to happen you can immediately start packing your things to move to another continent.

“I am sure he didn’t hack it; nobody is that desperate. Maybe he contacted the website owner?” Sehun takes his phone, hair freshly washed strands falling over his face. He moves from the bathroom to the kitchen placing you carefully , so you could see the whole room.

You think for a second, there was a possibility. “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

“I can try to read out the rights and policy. Come up with a text signed as your lawyer but Y/N” Sehun’s voice is soft, something he did to calm you down. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes having an internal battle, the look you’ve seen on him in rare moments.

“Yes?”

“I am sure if you refuse, he won’t bother you. I am also sure you don’t have much to lose if you agree.”

____

Hoseok was on his fifth coffee by noon, deprived of any sleep last night. He was starved for a good literature piece that would leave him in myriad emotions. Sadly, he came up with an empty line. He spent his days cocooned in the corner of Suho’s café reading page by page poetry that awoke no emotion except irritation. He was on the brink of losing his mind.

Suho slides into the booth, careful not to startle Hoseok.” Have you found anything?”

Hoseok ruffles his hair before resting his head in his hands. He was desperate enough to visit fanfiction sites in hopes of stumbling upon work that had the spark.

“Maybe you should take a break? Visit those open mic nights where people recite their poems?”

Hoseok shakes his head having already used that option last week. “I’ve been to three mic nights and not one was interesting. I am on a verge leaving everything behind to become a stripper. Yoongi did say I have an amazing body."

Sehun by now used to his friend’s dramatic antics shrugs his shoulder.” You should really take a break. You’ve been searching for a month now.”

Hoseok wished he could take a break, but the existence of his firm lay in his hands. That enough gave him tremendous worry pushing him way above his limits.

“I know but if I don’t find a good piece in a month, I can close the firm. Do you know what that means? Hundreds of people losing their job.” Hoseok wasn’t the one to crumble under pressure but now he felt like crying. Suho offered him a smile he’s seen before, the pity smile. Patting his shoulder he gets up at the sound of doors opening ,customers swarming in.

At the end of the day Hoseok thinks everything has turned against him. His laptop dies in the middle of reading, and he discovers he forgot his charger at home. In all the despair and anger he accidentally knocks over the mug spilling coffee over important documents and his newly bought jeans. The stain will probably leave a small burn that he wasn’t ready to face today. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

On the side Suho observes his restless friend. He felt bad for not being able to help him more, but he already used all his resources and sent them anonymously to his mail only for Hoseok to turn it down.

Sehun walks into the café with his gym in one hand and candy in the other, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for a call from Y/N, prepared to jump into his car at any second. He greets Suho, his sight landing on an exhausted Hoseok bumping his head repeatedly against the table lightly. He hoped to never reach this point of insanity.

“What’s his problem?”

Suho follows Sehun’s line of sight. Hoseok sits in the booth, forehead rested against the table. Both his mind and body were tired, and the clock was ticking. “He needs to find a good poetry piece to publish otherwise he’s toast.”

In that moment Sehun weights his options. He knew how self-conscious you were about your work thinking it lacked emotion and quality and this seemed like a good opportunity to prove you otherwise. On the other hand, there was the issue with people closely linked with your poems. He takes his time picking between different sugars, steering the coffee slow enough to buy him at least one more minute.

Pushing the bills to Suho he takes a sip. “There is a website called Nora, it had lots of good poetry. I've read some.”

Suho nods following Sehun out of the café promising to deliver the message to Hoseok. Once locked up he slides back into the booth watching Hoseok pack his belongings ready to call it a day. “This costumer told me about Nora site. You should give a shot.”

“Nora?” Hoseok mocks, he heard of all the websites used for writing but Nora didn’t ring a bell.

“I think it’s new. I’ve never heard of it but he seemed sure of his words. The worst that can happen is he lied and knowing Sehun that’s unlikely.”

Hoseok nods eager to go back home to his cat Nobus and prepare himself a warm bath to release the tension built up in his muscles. Waving goodbye to Sehun, he exits the shop from the back door and turns on the engine of his car driving away to the beat of classical music easing him.

Entering his small apartment located in the centre of Seoul, he throws his shoes to the side not bothering for order tonight. Slouching himself on the couch he pets Nobus, the cat bumping his head against his arm purring softly. With eyelids half closed he opens the website on his phone, picking poetry as his preferred category.

Selecting a random writer he opens the first poem, eyes scanning the text.

I love you like the habit I picked up in college of sleeping through lectures or saying I’m sorry when I get stopped for speeding because I drink a glass of water in the morning and chain-smoke cigarettes all through the day because I take my coffee Black and my milk with chocolate because you keep my feet warm though my life a mess I love you because deep down I know you'll never be mine again (author of the poem: Nikki Giovanni, I added three last sentences)*

With every word that Hoseok took in he felt himself back in university, all drunk on the idea of loving the girl that sat two seats in front of him during microeconomics. He relives the ecstasy of having love running through his veins, he feels the desire under his fingertips for just one touch, he crumbles at the pain of finding her kissing his best friend. Hoseok feels like his heart had been ripped apart with just few simple letters placed in a neat poem.

He sees the words meraki scribbled in a messy handwriting under the poem and he feels as if his prayers have been answered.

45 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

deception

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

— Or in which, Hawks manipulates how you view your boyfriend, Shouto. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, manipulation, 18+, smut, first time sex, body worship, oral (receiving and giving), and praise

word count: 10,223

a/n: this was a commission! it was very fun to write this once I got around to it... life has just been... well you guys know because youre living it too. but I hope you enjoy this!!!!

edit: OMG AND SUPER BIG THANK YOU TO @marilla-eldriana FOR HELPING ME

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Being a student at Yuuei was a privilege.

Every year only two hundred and twenty students were admitted from a drawing pool reaching into the thousands. From there, only forty were admitted into the Hero Department, and finally, only three per year were granted the title of the Big Three.

“Watch out!”

You watched as Hawks crashed through the window to your left, and you looked down at him with a wide grin, what an idiot.

“I thought speed was better than power,” you mock watching as the villain the two of you had been hunting for some time now easily flicked the number two hero to the side.

“And that’s why I got you, isn’t it?” he chirped before rolling onto his feet.

You shrug, the smile on your face telling a different story while you both stared down the villain you had corned. There was no way you were going to let him go, no, this hunt was going to end now.

“I’ll assist you,” Hawks whispered, and your stomach fluttered in anticipation.

There weren’t many times in your internship where Hawks would say that. Working with one of the fastest and swiftest Pro Heroes ever meant that you were always fighting for a spot on the table. The days of Hawks swooping over the city faster than the eye could follow were still there; in fact, most of his sidekicks were probably cleaning up the mess the two of you had left five cities behind you.

But you were different than them, you guessed.

You were only fifteen years old when Hawks scouted you for an internship, and while you had heard the rumors of what working with the — at the time — number three hero was like, it wasn’t like that. Speed was something you had always lacked. Sure, you were faster than any past Olympian, and any ordinary citizen, but in comparison to your hero peers, you were slow. After a humiliating loss of your first Sports Festival on account of being too slow, it was an almost sweet irony that the fastest Hero took an interest in you.

But it was good. Three years you had worked with him, three years of learning how to keep up with the fastest hero by breaking your body down on multiple occasions. At first, it had been just trying to keep up with his sidekicks who cleaned up after his mess, who were extremely quick as it is. Then after figuring out how to use your power quirk to make yourself faster, something that had been helped with a fight or flight response on your own end, you were able to become faster than most Pros.

But that wasn’t anything in comparison to Hawks still, but when a sixteen-year-old girl saves your life because you overshot your ability to fight, it’s easy to incorporate said sixteen-year-old girl into your regular routine.

The initial introduction of you into his regular routine was less than ideal, he had simply stated to follow after him and would be gone. But with time, he took to holding onto you while he flew, which meant that you needed to include glasses and ear protectors into your costume.

With the glass crushing under the weight of your shoes, you crotched the slightest bit, looking over at Hawks with a smirk. Three years of teamwork had lead to moments like these, no need to communicate, and with a raise of an eyebrow, he nodded.

The feeling of his feathers skimming your back shot the anxiety coursing through you, and you ran out of the shattered window, Hawks hot on your heel and the villain coming straight at you.

In the long run, it didn’t mean much that you were physically stronger than Hawks could ever be, but it sure made you smile knowing that you were.

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“And that’s another point for me!” you grin watching as the police took the villain into their car, Hawks stood next to you with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What will I do? I have eighty-seven points, and that makes what? Twelve?”

“It’s not my fault you go for slow as shit villains,” you accuse, turning your nose up at him.

“Oh yeah? Should we hunt for the fa—”

“Hawks!”

The two of you froze in your quarrel, turning to a man who was towering over the two of you.

Endeavor.

“Endeavor, hi!” Hawks erupted into a wide grin, his eyes brightening while he looked up at the man he admired.

Trying to hide your snicker, you tilted your head, and your eyes widened seeing three boys behind him.

“Hey guys!” you wave at your classmates behind Endeavor.

“Y/h/n!” Deku greeted you with a large grin and a bow.

You smiled, even more, seeing the way that Bakugou and Shouto both addressed you in their own ways.

“How are you guys doing?”

The rather one-sided conversation between you and Deku made you laugh on many instances. It seemed that being the only work-study students had meant that they were always getting their asses beat. Not that you didn’t already know this, it was just humorous hearing it coming from Deku’s mouth.

“Is Tokoyami-kun not with you guys?” Deku asked, looking around at last for the raven headed student who did, in fact, work with Hawks.

“Not today! A neighboring agency requested his help, so it’s just Hawks and me today!” you nodded your head at the three boys who were quite famous within Japan.

“Are you okay? We heard about the villain; that’s why we’re here,” Shouto spoke, his eyes curious, and his head tilts.

Your face warms when you smile, nodding gratefully.

“I am,” you clasp your hands together, “Hawks got sent through a building, though.”

“Some fucking number two hero,” Bakugou scoffed, and you snickered not wanting to agree with your stupidly observant boss behind you.

“You guys look less than put together; what happened to you?” you asked, noticing the scruffs and dirt on all of their faces.

“Bakugou and Midoriya got into a fight mid-air, and I happened to be in the fire zone,” Shouto rolled his eyes. At the same time, your friends exploded into offensive and defensive arguments, respectively. “We fell into the middle of some villain fight weirdly enough.”

While you grinned at Shouto, your eyes locked completely, you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Alright, y/h/n, Endeavor says there’s a villain seven blocks ahead, and I think we can beat them there!” Hawks laughs, and you can’t say your goodbyes because his hands lift you into the air. “See you guys there!”

And you were off.

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Your limbs ached slightly when you reentered campus grounds. With your case in your right hand, there was nothing to do except trudge ahead, hoping to get to your dorm quickly.

“You’re back.”

You blinked and saw Shouto approaching you. He was in a casual outfit, most likely having been here for some time, seeing that it was eight at night.

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, pushing down your skirt in hopes to look presentable even with the bandage on your chin.

“I was waiting for you,” Shouto smiles gently, his hand brushing your cheek, observing the injury on your face. “You okay?”

“It was just a scratch, nothing too crazy,” you promise, and you smile under his warm touch.

There isn’t much surprise when his lips come and press against yours, and you hum contently feeling his warm skin moving gently against yours.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Shouto whispered, finally pulling away from you. You groaned, having not been satisfied with the simple liplock, but opened your eyes to see that he was studying your face again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease, your nose scrunching with your words.

“I have so many already.”

“I know,” you smile, dragging him away, “I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long for you to get a proper dinner. With you being out for your only day off, you were pleased to see that there was a plate of food waiting for you that was left behind by your classmates. So you sat in the dining area of the dorm, eating the food while talking with Shouto.

You told him about the rest of your day, of how the two of you were close to cracking this case of serial cases of disappearing Pro Heroes who would reemerge days later without memory. The two of you had been working on it for a week now and had multiple promising leads. With the end of your career at UA coming in only five days, you were excited about the possibility of cracking this case after your graduation to help give you a good running start as a sidekick on the Hero Charts.

But before you knew it, it was already past eleven, and with classes tomorrow, it was time for you to go your separate ways.

“You don’t want me to spend the night?” he asks while you walk unconvincingly to the door of your floor, your hands grasping his.

“You know that I do, but I can’t let that happen yet,” you pout, watching as Shouto nods in understanding. “Soon, I swear.”

“I just can’t believe my girlfriend has no self-control that I can’t even sleep in her bed without her wanting to fuck me,” Shouto sighs and while you splutter, telling him how he’s wrong, he places a goodnight kiss onto your forehead and leaves with a kind smile and a small wave.

Stupid son of a bitch.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had morals and ethics that you had told to Shouto well before things turned serious for the two of you. Sex was something you were always nervous about, not in the sense that it was a bad thing — god forbid you’d ever slut-shame anyone — but more that you wanted it to be special.

It had to be with the right person at the right time.

Shouto was someone you knew was the right person, but as your hormonal feelings for Shouto grew and you realized one late night that you were grinding against his bucking hips, your face hot, his lips and teeth pulling at the sensitive flesh of your neck did you realize that this was so not okay. You had pushed Shouto onto the ground, his eyes dazed and confused while you began to say that you were so not ready for this step of the relationship. But it wasn’t like it was the only time you’ve blue balled your boyfriend… no, you had done it time and time again.

So much so that Shouto practically refused to be in a room alone with you now because it always ended with one of you pinned to the bed and Shouto being launched onto the floor.

With a sigh, you watched Shouto turn around, walking backward with a small wave and a grin when you blew him a kiss and flipped him off. He called you the moment he was back in his room, and although you weren’t letting him stay in your bed with you, you did fall asleep on the line with him, his steady breathing lulling your heavy eyes to sleep.

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Hawks watched while you trudged into his office, your face pulled into a pout, a bandage sitting on your cheek.

“Morning,” you call out, exhaustion evident on your face.

“What’s up with you?” he smirks, watching you walk to his desk and slumping onto a chair, your eyes closing.

“So tired,” you murmur, your head nestling into your arms, ready to fall asleep. “I didn’t sleep much last night?”

“Why’s that?”

“Stupid boyfriend,” you mumbled.

It had been three days since you had last been in the office, with graduation preparations, Hawks couldn’t call you out as often. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about, no. Hawks froze, replaying your words in his head like a broken record. He didn’t know you had a—

“Boyfriend?”

Those words passing his lips only made you groan louder, your head nodding, “Yeah… I’m dating Endeavor's son Shouto… for about… a year now!”

Hawks' brain went into overdrive.

A year of dating, and this was the first he’s ever heard of it! He had been your mentor, your boss, for three years and never before had you even mentioned a boyfriend before. Hawks lips pressed together, a looming pit of jealousy forming in his stomach. His feathers fluttered, his arms crossing.

Hawks was used to knowing everything, to being able to get what he wanted most, and he was planning on asking you out when you graduated. He had sworn his feelings had been returned; after all, who couldn’t find themselves falling for the young and hot number two hero?

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I can have him steal you a pair of Endeavors underwear if you want, I know you’d like that!”

Hawks looks down at your teasing face, his nose scrunching in mock disgust, “Please, I don’t need a baby stealing Endeavors underwear for me. I can get them myself!”

Your smile is warm, and Hawks watches while you pull out your phone, quickly texting something.

“What? Telling your boyfriend you made it safe and sound?”

“Actually… yeah…” you mumble while finishing up your text.

Now Hawks wasn’t evil, he knew that; he also wasn’t used to losing, because that wasn’t him. But there was something odd about the way his stomach twisted and his feathers raised at that confirmation, and the words poured from his mouth without him ever having the chance to stop them.

“Does he make you text him?”

You nod, a grateful smile on your face when you drop your phone. “Isn’t it sweet? I think it’s… why are you making that face?”

“What face?” Hawks fluttered his eyes, mock innocence for the first time not sitting correctly on his face.

“That one, Hawks!” you laughed, throwing your case at him. “The one that looks like when I stole your chicken leftovers.”

Hawks snorted, and he shook his head, deciding to walk out of his office to begin his daily routine; after all, these morning conversations were apart of said routine.

“I don’t know... He knows you’re strong and that you’re here with me, and yet he doesn’t trust that you’ll get here? Or is it in a controlling sense?”

“W-What?”

Hawks turned around and looked at you, your eyebrows scrunched, eyes looking down at your phone.

But when your eyes rose to meet his, Hawks simply smiled, his head shaking.

“Never mind!”

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It didn’t stop there. No Hawks had officially lost his brains with how he was approaching this. Everything out of his mouth concerning your boyfriend was bitter, foul, and implementing lies in your mind. A desperate attempt to get you to feel like Shouto wasn’t good enough that he was manipulating you and Hawks watched while you carefully danced to his tune, your frown deepening with every sweet lie that rolled off his lips.

“I’m hanging out with him and his siblings tonight!” you announced after the day at work was done.

Your smile was bright once more, a day on the field improving your mood. Hawks nodded his head, remembering how the Todoroki siblings were good people, and how you also had siblings.

“His siblings too?”

“Yup!” you nod. “I’ve gotten to know his siblings really well! They’re really great! We go over so often, and I like to believe that I’m close with his family now!”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hawks smiles, his head tilting to the side. Faux innocence. “How about your family? Is Todoroki close with your family?”

Your jaw opens, and your head drops, your head guilty shaking no. “It’s a bit harder for that to happen, and he met them once and well… it didn’t go too well.”

Hawks eyes widen, his hand rubbing the back of his head with a heavy sigh, “Ah, I see… don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Um… no, not really?”

“Well, as an outsider, and your friend, Imma have to tell you that it’s weird. It sounds like he doesn't like your family? He’s not trying to control you, is he? Not trying to isolate you from them, right?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, and Hawks watches with over bubbling joy at the doubt and realization growing on your face. He was hitting the right nerves.

“I-It’s okay!” you chirp, your feet dragging against the floor while you move to leave. “It's probably not that!”

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“Another movie outing with his friends?”

“We’re watching the newest All Might documentary, it’s not like it's a banger!”

“Todoroki just never seems to care to include your friends or do things with your friends. It seems like he’s trying to keep you confide in his friend group.”

“My friends haven’t… they haven’t said anything?”

“Who would? You’re dating the most powerful son of the number one hero, no one would dare to speak up against him, especially if he told them to stay away from you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Shouto…”

“I mean, Todoroki is jealous of the way that your family loves you, and that’s why you’re always with his family. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t keep you from your friends too?”

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to believe me, of course! I’m sure he’s a great kid, after all, he did choose you to be his girlfriend.”

You scoff, shoving Hawks with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Nah, you’re amazing, y/n, and you should know it.”

“Mkay, pigeon, egg off.”

“Oof, I’m so scared!”

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Your world spun, and you crashed onto your back with a low groan, jolts of nervous energy coursing through your nerves while you remained pinned to the floor. Hawks stared at you from above, his jacket long since discarded, and his hands grasping your wrists while he straddled you.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve been able to pin you since you were sixteen!” Hawks laughed, but he immediately took notice in the way you were grimacing.

You didn’t do that often, but you weren’t done yet. Shifting your weight up and over, quickly, you managed to pin Hawks to the ground, his head bouncing against the matted floor with a groan of dismay on his skin. Your nose was brushing against his, his warm breath expelling gently against your face. No! You pulled away suddenly, your heart in your throat at the nearly intimate contact. But it was too much movement on your own end because your body screamed at you.

Your breathing was shallow, a feeble attempt to calm the pulsating pain that traveled through your nerves.

“What is it?”

“I was sparring Shouto last night,” you mutter, feeling Hawks’ fingers immediately searching your skin for injuries. “You know how he sucks at close range combat, but he must’ve been practicing with Bakugou and Deku because he’s never been able to land hits like that…”

With your jacket pooling from your shoulder, Hawks fingers traced over the bruises that colored your skin. Ugly purple, green, and yellow all over. You hissed when he applied pressure to one, and you flinched, getting off of him.

“Are you sure this was sparring and him not beating you?!”

“I would know the difference between sparring and an ass beating,” you groaned, your eyebrow scrunching while he took you in more. “Besides, you should see how he is. I still won!”

You were silent Hawks words ringing heavy in your ears.

Did Shouto… was this a sign that he wasn’t who you thought he was?

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“Shouto?” you whispered, your knuckles rapping at the door, hopeful he was in his room. “Are you in?”

You heard the sound of footsteps against the floor and watched the door open. There Shouto stood, wearing black sweatpants and a white tank he leaned against the door. Your eyes caught sight of the black bruises against his skin courteous of your sparring last night.

“Y/n?” he expresses with a pleasant surprise. Shouto’s hand reaches for yours, but you flinch away, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your head nodding, “Sorry, long day, and um, I’m still sore from yesterday…”

“Yesterday? Ohh~ what happened yesterday?” You watched with the smallest amount of amusement when Sero revealed himself, his arm thrown around Shouto’s shoulder with a stack of manga in his hands.

“We spared, why?” Shouto asked with that perfect density that Sero stammered, unable to recover from Shouto’s lack of an appropriate response.

“Boring, anyways, I’ll bring these back soon, I promise!”

You and Shouto bid Sero goodnight, and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Shouto looked back down at you.

“Care to come in?”

“I would.”

You sat on Shouto tatami, your knees bent with your arms wrapped around them while he rummaged around.

“Here, I made some healing ointment for the bruises,” Shouto said, placing the white container on your knees while he sat in front of you. “I know that even though you won, my kicks probably hurt like a bitch.”

“The biggest bitch,” you agreed, watching while he unscrewed the ointment and began to delicately place the salve on your skin. It immediately cooled down the warm skin, and you studied his face while he did so. His touch was gentle, almost too soft for someone as battle-ready as himself. But he was on a mission to make you feel better, and for every bruise he covered, he apologized.

Soon enough, every bruise was covered, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until Shouto’s eyes widened when he noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, the days worth of anxiety that Hawks had been instilling into you, finally pouring from your lips.

“What?!”

“It’s just… with the texting you where I am, and who I’m with even when you know before I leave! A-And how about my family? I always go with your family, but the one time you met mine, it was disastrous! And then you never w-want to hang out with my friends! And you were so hard on me during sparring last night… Did you want to hurt me?! Why are you trying to isolate me?! Are you trying to control me?! You’re a powerful person Shouto a-and with your dad being the most powerful person I just… are you forcing people away from me?!” Tears poured from your eyes, your sleeves rubbing away the tears on your face, the ointment gathering on the fabric,

Shouto instantly reached out to you, but you shifted away from him, your face burning with embarrassment from your outburst. You wanted Hawks to be wrong, Shouto was good. He was an idiot, but he was a good boyfriend. Please prove him wrong, you thought. Please.

“Is that how you feel?” Shouto asked, his voice quiet but steady. His hand was pressed against the duvet, centimeters from your side. Not touching you, but giving you the ability to reach him when you were ready. “I just… I’ve never done this before, you know that. Y/l/n y/n, you are someone that I am way too lucky to have in my life. I asked what are boyfriend appropriate things to do from my classmates, and I guess I might have been overdoing it myself. I ask for a text because I want to make sure you get places okay. I know you’re powerful and can take on anyone, but it’s because you’re powerful; it makes you a target to villains. I honestly thought you liked my siblings a lot, so I wanted to keep you with them because if they’re your friends, you deserve to see them. I am sorry about your family, but they are assholes, and you know that.

“But if you want to go visit and hang out with them more — with or without me — I would never stop you! I know I can’t keep blaming myself for being new to all of this a year into our relationship, but I didn’t know it was appropriate to invite your friends to hang out with us when we were with my friends. I thought they wouldn’t want to hang out with us guys. I also know you enjoy your alone time, and you tend to spend alone time with your friends, and I never want to intrude. I am so sorry for making you feel this way.”

“No,” you sniffle, your tears turning from one of sadness to those of guilt. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against yours ever so gently. “It’s my fault you felt like I was isolating you, controlling you. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove myself that I can change, I’d like that.”

There wasn’t stopping the way that you threw yourself into his arms, your tears soaking his neck, and he pressed gentle after gentle kiss against your temple until you were no longer crying.

For the first time in your relationship, you spent the night, and against what you had previously thought, the two of you did nothing more than embrace in a wet lip-lock.

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Graduation finally came around, and to say the least, you were excited.

Finally, you were now a Pro Hero — well, really a sidekick, but that didn’t matter! The entire day you spent it on campus, watching the graduation ceremony take place with your classmates at your side. Tears were shed, photos were taken, and the end of your high school career came to a close.

Due to your accomplishment, something that wasn’t at all doubted in the first place, Hawks had thrown Tokoyami and you a large party in celebration. You were, after all, the first students to have gone through his agency for all three years of high school, and he deemed that celebratory worthy.

With such an occasion and countless years ahead of you to be on your top tier game, it was to no surprise that you were letting loose at this party. And yes, by letting loose, you meant being drunk.

Me: shoutoooo baby i loe you oh so much

Shouto: I love you too, make sure you get water to drink and don’t have an empty stomach.

Me: i had dinnerr with you remeber !!!! no empty stomach here!!!!!

Me: im sorry for crying that night that was so dumb of me to being insecure about

Shouto: you should still be eating more if you’re planning on drinking more. And it’s okay, it’s equally my fault as it is yours.

You stared at the text, your vision slightly blurry while you imagined just what you would do with Shouto soon. You bit your lip with a grin, but with a sudden loss of balance, you stumbled back into someone.

“Oops, sorry!” you yelled louder than you expected, turning around to greet whoever you had run into. You saw a familiar face with a bird head standing there with his arms outreached to balance your stumbling form. “Tokoyami-kun! I didn’t know you were still here!!! I would’ve taken a shot with you! Oh my god, I LOVE your jacket! Where did you get it!”

Tokoyami smiled, his head nodding, “I happened to have it lying around, although I can’t remember where I cross paths with it, to begin with. And I couldn’t forsake you by leaving before you were ready. It’ll be pleasant to have you around all the time with Hawks starting in a few days.”

You nodded your head, your hands stretching out in an attempt to respond animatedly, but yelped when you slapped someone instead.

“OH, NO! Did I hurt you?! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, turning to the second person you had hit in a matter of minutes.

It was Hawks.

“It seems she is quite inebriated,” Tokoyami pointed out, and you nodded in agreement.

“I am!”

Hawks chuckled, his head shaking, “Imma take her back to my place then, she’s a disaster in the making if we let her stay here.”

There wasn’t room for debate because you were suddenly in his arms and waving goodbye to Tokoyami, your sense of judgment gone.

“Take me hoooomeeee,” you sang into Hawks's ear when he soared into the night sky, and much to your amusement, Hawks continued your song.

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Shouto sat in the common room, his eyes shifting to check his phone every so often. He knew you were drunk, that had been very clear the moment you called him only twenty times pretending to not be you while slurring your sentences. Nothing was stopping the uneasy feeling in his chest after you had explained yourself and your feelings that one night, he had put together that Hawks liked you. But without definite proof, he didn’t want to claim such things.

And while he had no doubts about your ability to protect and defend yourself, there was no saying if that was true if you weren’t sober. Hell, he’s fought you sleepy once, and there was a significant difference between you being alert and you being exhausted.

Regardless, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard something back from you, and with his classmates currently celebrating the end of the year by playing video games, he was there alongside them.

“I’ve returned,” Tokoyami called from the entrance, and Shouto turned around to see the bird head man walking to approach the gathering of the few remaining classmates in front of the common room's TV. He said his greetings before coming to rest by Shouto’s side. “The party was a bit too loud, but I think you would have enjoyed entertaining it.”

“It’s your guys night,” Shouto shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t need to be there when it was her work friends. How is she doing?”

“Ah, well you see,” Tokoyami nodded his head, his fingers raking through his black hair, “She was quite drunk, so Hawks-san took her back to his place to sober up, most likely spend the night at his place — Todoroki?!”

Shouto had no idea why bitter fire raged in his chest; all he knew is that for the first time ever while he slipped on his shoes and his jacket, he pulled up a contact he didn’t expect he would be using so casually.

“Shouto?!”

“Do you know where Hawks lives, Endeavor?”

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“Are you feeling better?” Hawks asks you, taking the bottle of water from your hands.

The low sparks of the alcohol that had once been coursing through your body had simmered into slow pulses. You knew you weren’t one hundred percent sober, but you were sober enough to realize that you should have asked Hawks to take you to the dorms instead.

“If you’re asking if I’m no longer sloppy… you’re in luck,” you sigh, a tired grin spreading on your face while you reach for your phone. You frown, seeing that it was dead, but it didn’t matter much; you would get home without it being alive anyways. “Thanks for sobering me up; I think you could have done it back at the party, though.”

Hawks snorted, his head tilting up, his head in thought. “I definitely could have done that, but I didn’t want you taking shots in secret while trying to sober you up.”

“I’m sure you could handle me just fine.”

“The last thing I can remember is that you are physically stronger than me and if you’re drunk… well, I was scared you’d kill me by accident.”

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically, your eyes rolling in your amusement.

Silence overtook you both, and your gaze fell to your hands. You wanted to ask him why he was so insistent on Shouto being toxic, and how he did a 180 the second you told him about how the two of you talked things through.

“Did you want me and Shouto to break up?” you ask quietly, unsure of what you wanted him to answer. “I keep thinking of everything, and that’s the only thing that makes sense to me and all the controlling business…”

Hawks stared at you, his eyes void of all emotion, and yet you felt like he was more open to you than he had even been before. His mouth moved to answer, but there was a knock at his door.

With a heavy sigh, Hawks rose to his feet, “I don’t think I should answer your question.”

So there you sat, his once comfortable couch feeling stiff and hard.

“Y/l/n?” Shouto’s voice rang through the apartment, and your eyes widened. You got up off the couch, your head pounding just slightly while you clamored to the front door. There you saw Shouto staring down at Hawks, how funny it was that your eighteen-year-old boyfriend was taller than a twenty-seven years old Pro Hero.

“Tokoyami told me you were here, and I wouldn’t want to bother a busy hero with taking care of my girlfriend when I can do that myself,” Shouto spoke, his eyes narrowing down onto Hawks as the words my girlfriend let his tongue. But it also sent a shiver down your spine, a coursing ember that had been ignored this night, reigniting it once more.

You were ready, you realized when his blue and grey eyes found yours.

“Thanks for tonight, Hawks,” you wheeze, grabbing your shoes at the door and quickly pulling them on. “I’ll see you in the office in two days!”

With nothing more to say, you grabbed Shouto by his wrist and pulled him away.

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The campus was quiet when you arrived, the day of excitement having long since simmered down as the clocks read two in the morning. This would be your last night in your dorm, most of your classmates had chosen to move out today as well, but with no one to help you out while you were at the party, you decided to stay one more night. But with the way your blood was pumping, and how you could feel the jealousy coursing through Shouto’s veins, you wanted to get back to your room as quickly as possible.

Entering the dorm building that was made for your class, you felt Shouto pulling his hand from yours, obviously ready to begin his goodnight routine.

Shouto’s hands grasped your cheeks, fingers hot against your cold skin, and his eyes staring down at you. Millions of emotions coursed through his gaze, but you were focused on the one that spoke of his love for you. His lips pressed down against yours, and you met him in full earnest. His lips pulling against yours, sending fire through your body, sensations that sparked only the familiar excitement you had always denied in the past. You could practically taste his unspoken anger and jealousy on his tongue, and it only made you crave more from him.

You were ready.

“Goodnight,” Shouto whispers against your lips softly, and you laugh. Your hands move up to cup his cheeks, and he pulls you in closer, his hands firmly placed onto your lower back. “I’ll come to your room in the morning to help you pack up.”

“Stay the night,” you say softly, your teeth tugging at your lower lip that was warm from his efforts. “I’m ready.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, his eyebrow lifting slightly, “You want to fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you groan, pinching his cheeks in your embarrassment. But his eyes were bright, and the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the air, and your legs found their place around his waist. “You sap!”

“Prude.”

“Say that one again, I’m finally going to let you smash, whor—”

He shut you up with a kiss.

It’s a slow kiss, one that warmed you up effortlessly, intimate contact pressing between the two of you, but nervous energy chipping through you fully. Your head tilts to the side, the kiss deepening, and your arms pulling him in closer. The two of you pull away slowly, both of your eyes slowly opening to look at each other in a whole new light and a fire under your skin, and something is silent between the two of you. Growing silently, steadily, and coming crashing down all at once.

“I love you…” Shouto murmurs, and that’s all it takes. The movements are desperate now, his steps quick and steady while your mouth clashes against his. Deep, ardent, fulfilling. You can’t help the nervously aggressive make out, tongues pushing against each out, drawing out noises you weren’t quite used to hearing. Low groans and pants you had known, but never in this context, and you were addicted. But Shouto must be thinking the same thing, for when you finally make it to your dorm room’s door, his mouth trails from your mouth. Sloppy and burning hot kisses trail down your cheek, to your jaw, before pressing searingly against your neck, and you mewl at the feel of his warm lips on your neck. Your eyes fluttering closed when his lips left hot and wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your lips met again, and this time you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer. His hands are moving vehemently up and down your back, making you shiver and arch against his traveling fingers. But when his nails glide delicately against an exposed piece of skin on you back, you gasped into his mouth, and the door opened loudly against his need to get to your bed.

A soft giggle leaves your lips when darkness falls against your closed eyes, and your hips shift in your state of need. Only that you weren’t expecting to feel him tremble under your actions or the pleasurable hiss that passed to your lips. your eyes opening to see Shouto’s eyes still closed despite the fact he was walking with you.

“I love you so much,” you whisper into his ear when you pull away from the kiss. Your fingers raking through his hair, your teeth nibbling onto his earlobe, his throaty groan a sign of victory. “Thank you for being wonderful.”

Shouto’s lips are back on yours, greedily seeking more contact, and you don’t hold back as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You feel the mattress of your bed hit your back as you continue to kiss him, sitting up so you could crawl back to let Shouto onto the bed with you. You smile once again as Shouto’s hand rests on the bed frame behind you, while the other one rests on the small of your back, keeping your torsos pressed together.

Your hands are fisted into Shouto’s hair, the small tugs from your hand blazing his own blood, making him press his growing length against your thighs, and his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You moan softly, your head tilting up, and you open up your mouth so that your tongues meet halfway. You start moving to unbutton your graduation outfit, and Shouto hastily pulls away, and your eyes open, his mouth is stained with your the leftovers of your makeup, and he looks concerned.

“Are you sure, y/n?” Shouto asks, his hands stroking your side. His gaze is intense, unmoving, and challenging. “If you’re not ready for this, I won’t be hurt.”

You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your lips as you sit up, making Shouto sit on his haunches while you move to your knees, “I always knew I wanted my first time to be with you, I just wanted the moment to be perfect… and this is perfect to me,” you confess to Shouto, and you watch his eyes soften when you press a soft kiss to his lips.

Pulling away, you stripped of your clothes and dropped it on the floor next to the bed, your breath hitching as Shouto stares at your now only lingerie-clad body, and you blush.

“Shit, you’re beautiful,” Shouto murmurs like a man who had seen something divine for the first time ever.

Your heart roars in your chest, your blood pulsating through your sensitive body while he leans in close. His mouth presses against the swell of your breasts, trailing down to the valley between your mounds. Your body quivers in your overwhelming emotions and sensations. Shouto presses you back onto the mattress, his calloused hands pressing right below your breasts, heating emitting in large waves from both hands, making your mind spin in needy desperation.

“Are you okay?” Shouto murmurs, his lips feeling the gentle movements of your body.

“I am,” you breathe, your eyes shut tightly. You wanted to feel his lips and forget everything else in the world. This was a night of passion, and you’d be damned if your anticipation was going to stop you. “Don’t stop.”

A low chuckle vibrated against his throat, sending gentle waves through you, and you moaned the second his fingers pressed against your breasts. Shouto’s hands worked your breasts tentatively, his eyes studying your flushed face while he kneaded the tender flesh.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned when his finger brushed against your erect and clothed nipple, your hips quivering underneath him.

“Did that feel good?” Shouto hums, and when you confirm his thoughts, coldness hits your chest. Your eyes open to see that he’s discarded your bra and that his lips are millimeters from your breasts. “Do you want me to do more to you?”

The words are curious, but you don’t miss the glint in his eye, but he’s long since knocked the air from your lungs.

“I need to hear your words, princess,” Shouto smiles softly, his warm breath fanning against your erect nipples that cried for attention. “What do you say?”

“P-Please…” you breathe, your body squirming in your denied attention.

“Perfect.”

The feeling of his hot and wet mouth encasing your nipple sent you impossibly over the moon, your body arching off the bed, a lament cry heavy on your mouth while his tongue circled and flicked your nipple. His eyes were on you, you could feel his stare burning into your body, but you couldn’t even see, your eyes closed in your throbbing pleasure.

More, you wanted more.

His finger pinched your free nipple, pulling and rolling the pert skin between his fingers, your wanton cries only fueling him further. Liquid heat coursed through your veins, your pleasurable sensations overwhelming you, and your hips began to hump against his clothed thigh. The friction of his jeans against your barely clothed cunt sending you well beyond the confinements of pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “I love you,” he confesses. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats.

Tender and sweet words fill your ears while he switches where his mouth and hands are. The kneading of your breasts, the manipulation of your nipples, and the way his thigh pressed against your throbbing cunt was sending you over.

Your breathing was unsteady, puffs escaping your lips in an overwhelming and failed attempt to calm yourself down. Shouto was on a mission, however, and his mouth removed from your cool breast with a soft pop, your breasts shining with the coats of saliva, and you shivered.

Shout hummed while he lips pressed the sensitive underside of your breasts, and continued downward, gentle after gentle kiss down your torso, until he made contact with your trembling inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his fingers toying with the band of your panties. You can barely hear him over the roar of your heart, but you know what he says, and you nod. He smiles kindly, placing one final kiss to your thigh before pulling off your panties.

Instinctively, your legs try to close, nerves firing away, but Shouto keeps your legs wide open, and his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you arch off the mattress. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open, the addicting sensation of his hot tongue against your equally hot core burning you.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your clenching wet walls, swirling in circles and pushing further in. His fingers thrust into you at an amble speed, aiding to your pleasure sent descent on the mattress. On one lick, one godly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your thighs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling legs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge by speaking a language you knew nothing of.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips rolling desperately against his mouth. Your hips were stammering against his compelling tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore, your orgasm is right on edge, but you stop him.

“Wait!” you push him off of you, your chest heaving, and the wet arousal pouring from your cunt was slick against his mouth, and confusion evident on his face. “I don’t want to… I want to cum on your cock.”

“Okay,” Shouto pants with amusement, and you watched when his fingers — which were coated in your essence — slipped into his mouth, sucking it clean. The image of that sent electrifying pleasure through you, and your mouth watered at the thought of sucking him off. “What is it?”

“Get up,” you command, your hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and he was quick to stand on your bed, and you were on your knees. Your knees buck under your weight, and you help Shouto remove his pants. You watch in an almost lusting virgin horror when his cock springs out from under his underwear. The hard cock slaps against his lower stomach, and you take in the way that his cock is thick, with bulging veins, and precum leaking from his head.

There was no going back, it seemed.

Steeling yourself over, you wait for his feet to be free, and the moment he’s out of his jeans, your hands immediately encompass his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You marveled at the way the skin was unearthly warm and impossibly hard in your grip. This is what was going to be buried in your cunt in moments time?

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in initial unknowing movement. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “You can’t make fun of me if I’m bad, okay?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t think that’s possible from you, princess.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sense of hope when you notice the tremble in his legs, “We’ll see!”

Licking your lips, your mouth opens, and you let the head of his cock press pass your lips. The dark pink head is hot in your mouth, and your tongue presses against the flat of his head, swirling your tongue around, testing his reaction. By the fluttering of his eyes, and the way that his hands seem to fight whether they should latch onto your hair, you reckon it’s okay.

So, you push on ahead, moving further down his impressive cock. His girth so full you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes on you.

Good god, you pray you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not choking yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto praise your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your neck, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Oh shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he struggles to not overwhelm you. “You’re amazing, of course, you would be good at this,” he gasps as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s distracted while he fucks your throat, but you’re even more desperate to keep up. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter, and your teeth dragging against the sensitive skin.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a loud moan from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

“N-Not yet,” Shouto staggers, and you nod in agreement, watching him sink back to the bed.

“Take it off,” you mutter tugging at the hem of Shouto’s t-shirt, and he moves to take it off.

With your teeth tearing into your lower lip, you watch him remove the dark shirt. Shouto’s body had to be a sin while you stared at the rippling muscles on his body, something you had never truly appreciated before. They moved with his body, the faint scars littering his body for you to kiss and count later.

Tone and lithe. He was beautiful.

Shouto’s lips are back on yours as you kiss deeply, your head tilted to the side as his fingers gently grasp your chin. A shaky moan leaves your mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue, and Shouto moves his body so that you’re now on your back. The tips of your aroused nipples brush up against Shouto’s naked chest, and both of your release a throaty gasp as you pull him closer to you.

Your bodies were overshot with denied pleasure, and the mountaining need for more was finally being addressed.

Your leg hooks lazily around Shouto’s waist, and a sigh leaves your lips as Shouto gently grasps the back of your leg, running steady, consistent strokes from the end of your thigh to your ass.

A fire is building up in your gut as your hands work their way down to the buttons and zipper of his pants. His hands gripping your waist, and you could feel Shouto’s arousal pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing with need. You pulled away from Shouto and giggled as he attempted to follow you with closed eyes as you had to brush your hair out of your face, suddenly feeling hot.

“Y/n…” Shouto just about whined, and you smiled softly at him, finding it endearing and the slightest bit hot when he used that tone.

His hands were on your breasts, slowly stimulating your aroused nipples as he slowly massaged them, making sure to brush your nipple with his thumb every so often, and your head tossed back as you bite down hard on your lower lip. He once again kissed you ever so lovingly, and you felt him pulling away to line his cock with your entrance. You watch with hooded eyes as Shouto presses the head into you, teasing the both of you to extreme lengths, and you wantonly sighed.

You rest on your elbows, a smile on your face as Shouto moves his messy hair out of his eyes. As you stare at his slightly sweaty face covered by strands of different colored hair, your heart just about bursts.

“Make love to me, Shouto,” you say aloud as Shouto stares at you, his cock removing from your entrance and carted against your clit.

“I plan on it,” he smiles, and he grabs your ankle, pulling you closer to him, and you shriek with laughter until his lips engulf your sounds. “Are you ready?” Shouto asks once more, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick.

“Whenever you are,” you whisper into his neck, preparing for the initial pain.

You let out a cry of pleasure and pain as he slowly enters you, and you pant heavily, trying to contain your tears as he manages to push all the way in. Your eyes clench as you bit your lip, your head buried into his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry as he stretches you out. Shouto is panting too at the feeling of your tight walls clenching against him, they’re unable to relax against his cock. It’s not until the head of his cock hits the wall of your cervix does he stop, and even then he’s not entirely in you.

Your breathing is harsh, and you feel like you’re sweating as you look down at the now joined body. The feeling of him entirely in you makes your head spin, the pressure in your lower belly could be from just Shouto within you or from your slowly growing orgasm, you had no idea.

“Are you o-okay?” Shouto stutters very clearly still adjusting to having his cock in you.

“Yeah, just… trying not to die,” you manage to croak out, and eventually, you collapse onto the bed, looking up at Shouto, who seems to be concentrating hard.

“You’re just super t-tight,” Shouto gasps as you wrap a leg around his waist.

It’s a good move, but it’s too quick as a sharp pleasure pained fire shoots through you as you slam your forehead against his shoulder.

“Too fast,” you snap in regret you try to calm your head. This was too much for you, you felt like every nerve was firing all at once on your inner wall, and no orgasm had reached you yet.

“It’s okay… breathe...”

It takes a few moments, but sure enough, you manage to raise your leg to his waist, and both of you moan at the new level of penetration and the way it made your walls clench around him. “Move,” you command, and Shouto falls onto his forearms as he nods.

Shouto moves his hips back, and slowly almost painfully slow, returns them to the original position, and even with the smallest movement, a lewd moan escapes your lips. Shouto continues going in and out, his hips slowly moving while you start to meet him with every thrust.

Whispers of encouragement escape both your lips as his slow thrusting continues.

Shouto picks up your legs so that they’re both wrapped around his waist, and he comes to lean over you. At the new angle, your head is thrown backward, and you let out a string of soft curses. “Shit, that feels so good,” you cry out in encouragement as you bit down on your lip harshly.

Your lips are soon sought after by Shouto’s as sheen layers of sweat cover both your bodies as the consistent moving of both your hips never falters.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit, you feel so good,” Shouto grunts, his hips picking up in speed as he drills into you faster, the sound of your meeting sweaty bodies echoing in your room.

Soon you can hear the sounds of your bed hitting the wall, and a cry escapes your lips as Shouto’s finger grazes your clit.

“Say my name…” Shouto grunts as he presses harder on your clit, and you can feel the coil within you getting tighter, but at the moment, all you can give is wordless cries. “Say it, y/n.”

“S-Shouto!” you scream out as you shake with an overwhelming need to climax, but Shouto’s finger leaves your clit and goes to keep your hands above your head.

“Are you enjoying this?” Shouto teases as he slams into you at full force again, your cunt tightening sinfully against his length, electricity coursing through your veins while you cry his name. “You’re so good, shit.”

“Oh my god, yes, Shouto!” your voice splutters, and his hands leave your wrist to gently pinch your nipple and clit. You go speechless, and your mind spins as he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder, and all you can do is let your jaw drop as the new position lets you see stars.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved entirely within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh at the back of his neck. You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. He wasn’t going too fast, just fast enough to have wet smacks echoing through the room, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. He pulled out entirely so he would have the ability to drill back into your wet cunt. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“I needa cum,” you shriek, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the spastic vice-like clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his mouth connecting with your breast, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, baby,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Cum..”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

“That was…” you mumble, your mind unable to think straight.

“Something?”

You snort, your head nodding.

“Yeah… something…”

“I love you, y/n,” Shouto whispers against your temple, and you sigh, contentness and warmth flooding your aching body.

“I love you, too.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader

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julilihatfun · 4 years

Note

Prompty prompt: Geralt is really struggling in a battle and Jaskier can't just stand by and watch anymore, so he goes up there and kinda saves Geralt, giving him the chance to finally kill the monster...BUT Jaskier is hurt in the process which he doesn't want to admit, being the hero for the first time. He hides it until he just passes out and Geralt takes care of him, mad at himself for letting the bard get hurt, but also thankful. Sorry it's not very original, but hope you like it!

Prompt request: Jaskier hits his head and is concussed and ends up moody, disoriented, and uncoordinated, maybe a bit nauseous, but Geralt never saw him hit his head and has to find out through a careful insoection when he realizes his travelling companion is acting strangely.

Hey guys - sorry for disappearing for a while :( Everything is just really overwhelming at the moment and well :((( but I hope you enjoy this and I really hope, that you are safe and well!!! (I combined two prompts for this, because it kind of seemed fitting)

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Jaskier watched Geralt fight – at first, in awe (as always, because honestly: how can one fight so ferociously while looking that graceful), but then in concern, because the Witcher seemed to be in trouble. And that was something that Jaskier had never seen before.

The giant creature loomed over Geralts head – all bloodthirsty and monster-like – while Geralt frantically scrambled away from it and towards the heavy iron sword that had been smacked away from him a few moments earlier.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier screamed and he sounded hysterical and panicked, but he did not care at all. This was a literal nightmare come to life.

“Stay down!”, Geralt roared, not even looking at the bard, because he was too busy dodging attack after attack.

And it did not look like the beast was getting tired. Which, in turn, meant, that staying down was not an option if he wanted Geralt to actually survive this shit.

He did not even have to think about it then – just jumped up and out of his hiding place with a loud, screechy screaming noise, that kind of betrayed his fear, and stumbled towards the fight.

He seemed to be much less interesting than Geralt (highly offensive, if you asked him – he did not wear those ridiculously colourful outfits to be ignored like this), because the huge thing did not even take one eye away from Geralts prone form.

Geralt screamed at him to ‘get the fuck back’, while Jaskier searched the forest ground for something, anything, that he could use as a weapon. He had to be fast, because Geralt seemed to come no closer to gaining back control over the fight.

“Aha!”, he cheered, when he finally found something that could work.

And throwing a stone at the creature really did seem to finally do the trick, because it suddenly turned on Jaskier in an alarming speed.

“Oi!”, Jaskier bellowed, tripping over his own feet in an effort to get away faster. “Stop.”

He was not fast enough, of course, because he felt the thing yank his feet out from under him, making him fall hard. His head was catapulted forward in a sickening motion and bounced off of the moist ground, which definitely hurt a lot.

Jaskier turned around, seeing stars dance around his vision, just in time to see Geralt (who apparently was much faster than Jaskier) bring his sword down on the beast’s neck, effectively separating its ugly head from its massive body.

Jaskier barely had enough time to roll away when the thing started falling towards him and felt the ground shake beneath him, when the monsters mutilated form came down right next to him.

He stared at the beast for a long moment in silent wonder, then his gaze swept to Geralt, who was already staring at him.

“I take partial credit for this one.”, he said then, shakily, moving to pull himself up on a nearby tree.

Geralt huffed, still eying him grimly. He growled out a clipped: “That was incredibly dumb.”, which made the bard gasp in mock-hurt.

“Geralt how dare you? I practically saved your life back there! – quite heroically, if I dare say so myself.”, Jaskier snapped back jokingly. And he knew that he would have handled the situation better had he known even the most basic fighting techniques, but he did not have any skills and stuff somehow still worked out, so he felt pretty proud of himself.

Geralt closed his eyes in frustration and heaved out a heavy sigh, before surprising Jaskier with a grumbled: “I did not say that you did not save my life.” Geralt threw him a stern look. “But that does not make it any less stupid.”

Jaskier practically glowed with glee and pride. “I can already envision the glorious ballad! Brave Jaskier, the humble bard, fearlessly throwing himself into the raging battle of-“

“Jaskier.”

“Yeah?”

“You threw a stone.” Jaskier actually saw the bastards mouth twitching in the effort to hide a grin. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Hey! I threw that stone very bravely!”

Geralt actually huffed out a small laugh then, but when he took in the bards disgruntled clothes, smeared with dirt and grime, his face grew serious again. “You went down pretty hard. You hurt anywhere?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Warriors don’t get hurt.”

“You broke a toe dancing last month.”, Geralt noted dryly. “Well, come to think of it, I guess you did not get hurt as you’d already be whining about it if you did.”

“Hey, that toe-thing hurt.”, Jaskier pouted. “I normally am very pain resistant.”

“Sure are.”

And they left it at that. Although Jaskier knew how immensely grateful Geralt really was, when he offered him a spot on Roach (which Jaskier, obviously, happily accepted).

Riding, for some weird reason, made Jaskier kind of dizzy, so he could barely force down three bites of his stew, before he surrendered and pushed his plate towards Geralt.

“Can you get horse sick?”, he asked dreamily and immediately felt Geralts boring stare on him. He looked up. “What?”

“You’re sick?”, Geralt inquired suspiciously, having been wary ever since Jaskier fell oddly silent as soon as they had mounted Roach.

“I never said that.”, Jaskier exclaimed defensively. “It’s probably the adrenaline wearing off.”

“Hm.”

“Nothing a good pint of ale won’t be able to fix, right? And a good night’s sleep – we should really think about sleeping in real beds more often. You know, to get proper rest and socialize instead of wasting away in the forest.”, Jaskier rambled on, desperate to change the subject in order to not have Geralt on his case all week because of a bit on an upset stomach.

“Hm.”

“Spoilsport.”

They separated for the night shortly after; Geralt immediately retreating to their shared room and Jaskier spending some time wooing the small audience with carefully composed songs and mirror-practiced charms. Though, Jaskier did call it a night unusually early too, having promised himself that healing sleep will free him from all ailments that came with kind-of fighting alongside Geralt.

And well, he was wrong.

He woke up to a splitting headache.

“Yikes.”, he groaned as he sat up, bringing up both hands to massage his temples.

“Had a drop too much?”

And as Jaskier thought about it, he came to the conclusion, that he actually had no idea how much he drank the evening prior – not the normal blank he drew, when the evening blurred together in a mass of pints and shots and girls and… no, this was a complete memory lapse.

To him, it was annoying more than scary, really.

“Screw you, Geralt.”, Jaskier snapped, because Geralt sounded way too smug for his liking. Also, no matter how hard he tried, he could not draw up a single memory.

“Touchy, aren’t you?”, Geralt asked with an obvious smirk.

Jaskier snorted. “Are we leaving?”, he asked then, when his gaze fell on Geralts packed bags; took in the Witcher’s general impatient demeanour.

“Yeah.”, Geralt confirmed his fears. “Took you long enough to wake.”

He looked at Jaskier for a moment, as if searching for something. “Breakfast is on me.”

Geralt’s way of showing gratitude. Jaskier knew, that he should be immensely happy, but he just felt… kind of weird and muddle-headed. Also, still very nauseous.

“I feel so loved.”, he cheered weakly, mostly out of habit. He could probably stomach some food anyways – most times, it even helped him get over a hangover.

When Jaskier had packed up and they stepped out of the inn and into a small tavern, the smell of freshly cooked eggs and beans wafting their way, Jaskier changed his mind.

“Know what:-“, he choked out, dizzily. “I guess I’m not hungry after all. I’ll just… stay with Roach. Outside.”

“Hm.”, Geralt grunted dangerously. “You barely ate yesterday evening.”

“I’m watching my figure.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt watched the bards face take on a greyish-green hue and he grabbed Jaskiers upper arm roughly, dragging him outside, and nearly pushed him into a bush off the beaten path, away from prying eyes.

“Do what you have to do.”, Geralt said, and it almost sounded compassionate.

“I’m fine.”, Jaskier gulped, despite all logic and appearance. “Jus’ hungover or somethin’.”

“Hmm.”

“Seriously.”, Jaskier mumbled, still breathing heavily in an attempt to fight off the nausea.

“Right.”, Geralt sighed, watching Jaskiers face slowly morph into a more healthy-looking colour. “If you think so.”

“You going back in?”

“No.”, Geralt said, eying Jaskier warily. “Let’s just leave. We can eat later.”

“Alright.”, the bard sighed. His head still hurt and he suddenly felt exhausted. “Let’s, then.”

They walked towards Roach in silence and – unusually enough – it was Geralt who finally broke it, when he strapped his bag onto her back. “You wanna ride with me?”

Just the thought made Jaskier feel terribly ill again. “Hard pass.” He knew that walking would be tough on him too, but there was something distinct to the jostling motion on the horse’s saddle that made it particularly unattractive to him that day.

Geralt eyed him suspiciously. He did not often offer, but when he did, Jaskier never refused.

“You’re acting strange.”, he noted. “Well, more so than usual.”

“Ouch.”, Jaskier said, already a few steps ahead of the Witcher. “I’m great, and you know it.”

So they walked – or well, Jaskier walked. And he kept walking, even when he kept getting dizzier and more disoriented and his head started pounding in earnest.

It was when stars started dancing around his vision, that he knew that he was in real trouble. “Geralt-“, he breathed, hearing his own voice tremble and crack.

And he saw Geralt stop abruptly and turn out of the corner of his eye, before his vision went entirely black.

When Jaskier woke up, the first thing he noticed was his still-pounding head. Then, something weird, wet on his still-pounding head. “Th’fuck.”, he mumbled in disgust, slowly moving to sit up.

“Stay down.”, a low voice growled.

“G’ralt?”

“Don’t want you doing more damage than you already did.”

“Ow.” Jaskier sat up despite Geralts warning because honestly, that’s just the kind of person he was, and one of Geralts old shirts, all wet and bunched up, fell into his lap with a splat. “Huh.”

He heard Geralt sigh. “Stubborn bastard.” Then, Geralts face was only inches away from his own.

“Uh, Geralt.”

“Look at me.” Geralt stared more intently into his eyes.

“You’re scaring me.”, Jaskier mumbled weakly. Focusing on Geralt was exhausting and the sun’s brightness was only making him feel worse.

Geralt straightened up again. “You hit your head yesterday.”

“Is that supposed to be a question?”

“Not if we both know the answer.”

“Right.” Jaskier continued squinting at Geralt. “I might have hit it.”

Geralt let out a big sigh. “Thank you for telling me right away instead of fainting in the middle of our journey.”

Jaskier furrowed his eyebrows (which made his head pound more fiercely, but well: worth it). “Are you… being sarcastic right now?”

“You were out for hours, Jaskier.”, Geralt snarled, clearly signalling that he was not to be joked with right now. “Wouldn’t wake.”

“I…”, Jaskier began, before letting his head fall into his hands. “Can we do this when my head does not feel like it’s splitting in two?”

He felt a warm hand on his back, lowering him back down, before it vanished for a second and returned with Geralts wet shirt, draping it over his face. Jaskier sighed in pleasure. The ground beside his sleeping mat rustled and he felt Geralt lowering himself down next to him.

There was awkward silence where Jaskier would normally chatter away. But he was to achy and tired to do so then.

“I should have noticed earlier.”, he heard Geralt grumble after a while, mostly to himself, as it seemed. He frowned.

“Stop, your self-pity is making my head hurt.”

“Your concussion is making your head hurt.”

Jaskier sighed, trying to snuggle closer to Geralt in search of comfort. A big hand settled on his shoulder. “Maybe that, yeah.”, he agreed, putting his own hand over Geralts.

The Witcher breathed out a gentle laugh. “Rest, Jaskier.”

#the witcher #Jaskier #Geralt #whump #jaskier whump #hurt/comfort #hurt jaskier #prompts #wow what a time #feeling very worried about the elderly people i work with #literally wake up at night crying about this #oh well #let's hope it gets better soon #and stay home #:(

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90spumkin · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Switch (Part Six)

Summary: Do things go according to plan as the team pursues to bring the reader’s sister into custody.

A/N: I’M BACK!!! I apologize for not updating for almost a whole month. It has seemed to be one thing after another here lately. Anyways I will be finishing this series with 2 or 3 more updates, but of course I have some steamy things in the works before it ends. I hope you enjoy my mess of writing, and like always I am open for any comments or advice.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, criminal minds talk, implied mental health distress

Word Count: , 1660

We had made it back from the crime scene about half hour ago and were all back in the round table room discussing what I had told Spencer, Rossi, and Luke on the way here.

I was pacing the floor listening to the team talk through this new information. “Kid you’re gonna put a hole in the floor if you keep that up.” I stopped my pacing and looked towards Rossi. He was smiling at me and patted the seat next to him. I sat down and leaned my elbows onto the table, exhaustion trying to consume me.

“Okay so according to what y/n told us, Tessa had shown some form of jealousy in every memory that y/n has of her. That would make sense since the killings started about the same time y/n received that award with the ridiculously long name.” Luke stated with a smirk at the end.

“The American Psychological Association International Humanitarian Award is not that long. You’re just lazy.” Tara teased Luke and made us all chuckle, especially at the mocked hurt look Luke gave her.

Emily brought us all back to the serious situation at hand, “Y/n you told Spencer that you might have an idea how to catch her?”

I nodded and gave them a weary smile, “How do you guys feel about overpriced food and screaming children?” I was met with very confused and concerned looks from everyone but Garcia who knew exactly where I was going with this and she looked very amused. “I think we need to make a trip back to Massachusetts.”

--------

We hatched out a plan after the team realized the case wasn’t making me insane. After a “Wheels up in 20” from Emily we all started to part ways to meet at the jet when I was stopped by a hand on my elbow before I could make it halfway out the door.

I stopped and turned towards JJ who looked sheepish at the fact of having any interaction with me. She crossed her arms and proceeded to say, “I just wanted to apologize for how I’ve acted towards you during all of this. I was beyond sure that you were behind all this and couldn’t understand why the team was questioning the original profile. Then when they all started trusting you so easily it made me uneasy. I was wrong though y/n, you’ve been nothing but helpful during all this.” She took a deep breath and relaxed her arms and continued, “I guess what I am trying to say is I hope you will forgive me and us maybe start over?” She said it more like a question more than she probably meant to.

If my mother taught me anything it was to forgive others who made an effort to correct their wrong doings. Besides JJ seemed sincere and had good reasonings behind her actions. I smiled and gave her a nod, “I forgive you JJ. I honestly probably would have acted the same way or worse.”

She barked out a laugh before saying, “Thank goodness because I have been dying to ask you about your wrist tattoo!” I glanced down at my wrist at the constellation that I thought was well hidden, “I would love to tell you the story behind it.”

We linked arms as we continued to talk and laugh as we entered the bullpen. The looks we received from everyone, especially Spencer, was like they were seeing a unicorn befriending a dinosaur. It was quite amusing and only made JJ and I giggle.

-----

It had been a little over 12 hours since we came up with the plan to hopefully catch Tessa and bring her into custody. It was exactly two hours till that plan was going to be put into action and saying I was anxious was an understatement.

We had come to the local police station to tie up some loose ends and get everything in place for later. I was in the process of fixing me a cup of very strong coffee when I must have zoned out because Spencer’s calming voice brought me back to wherever my mind had taken me.

“Are you okay?” Spencer took the coffee pot from my hand where I had frozen just holding it, no coffee had been poured into my cup. I shook my head trying to rid it of the fuzziness that had resided there.

“Yeah-I- umm…”

Spencer poured my coffee and handed it to me, “The abyss?” I took the coffee gratefully and tucked it close to my chest, “Yeah the abyss, well almost. You saved me once again Dr. Reid.”

I gave him a small smile as I took a sip of my coffee and tried to hide a grimace. Police station coffee tastes like shit.

Spencer gave me an award-winning smile as he spoke, “Well I don’t want the 3-year running Corn Festival Queen being lost in her own mind where I can’t reach her now do?” He chuckled as I groaned. “How did you manage to persuade Penelope, the queen of gossip and lack of personal boundaries, not to tell us that detail of your life.”

I sat my coffee down on the counter and started adding an unhealthy amount of sugar to it hoping for a miracle as I spoke, “Well actually Dr. I had to persuade both Penelope and Emily.” Spencer raised an eyebrow intrigued and persisting for me to continue.

“The night she came to Emily’s office with the new information she had brought it up because my mom use to help organize the whole festival. I begged them not to say anything, and Emily said it wasn’t necessarily important for the case at the time.” I finished adding my mountain of sugar to my coffee and stirring it and took a big sip.

Before Spencer could respond Luke called out towards us, “Wow now we have two people who drinks sugar with a dash of coffee.” Matt and Rossi chuckled at his remark.

I looked towards Spencer who just shrugged and said, “I see nothing wrong with making coffee sweet. Especially if you drink it as often as I do.”

I couldn’t help but smile at him, “Coffee is a language of itself.” Spencer’s smile seemed to brighten at this quote, “Jackie Chan.”

----

“Emily if you take one more picture of me, they’re gonna have to arrest me for murder.” I was standing in a dramatically poofy dress with a crown on my head and a ‘Corn Festival Queen’ sash across my chest.

Emily let out a fit of giggles, “You look amazing… and I want these for black mail for later in our beautifully blossoming friendship.”

I just rolled my eyes and tried to grab her phone from her hands. I was beyond unsuccessful. Just as I about had my hands on it, I tripped over the unnecessary ruffles on the bottom of my dress and fell face first into someone’s chest. No not just someone, it was Spencer. He helped steady me and gave me a warm smile. Emily silently slipped out the tent, but not before snapping another picture.

Spencer reached a hand out to fix the rings of curls that had came untucked from their clip, “I like these curls framing your face. It only amplifies your beauty.”

My eyes met his eyes and shy smile graced his face. I couldn’t help but turn my head away when I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Spencer’s hand that was fixing my curls was now cupping the side of my face bringing me to face him once again.

“You remember the plan, right?” His eyes held so much concern in them that I hesitated before answering. I gave him a reassuring smile and assured him, “Down to the very last vivid detail.”

He smiled at me and ran his thumb across my cheek. Matt poked his head into the tent, “Hey guys it’s go time.” Just as quick as he had appeared, he disappeared. That man has a talent of unknowingly interrupting moments.

Spencer pulled away from me and it took everything in me not to whine at the lack of warmth where his hand had been. His beautiful sharp features where crossed with worry as he said, “Please be careful. And if anything goes wrong, stay calm. I’ll find you. I promise.”

And with that he was gone. I was left with a rapid beating heart and a mind full of haze.

------

I stood on the stage; the fakest smile plastered across my face. I kept darting my eyes around the crowd always making sure I could see a member of the team. I was so focused on the crowd I almost missed the mayor announce the new Corn Festival Queen for me to crown.

The girl bowed her head for me to place the crown, not giving me a chance to see her face. As I placed the crown on her head, I didn’t notice the disturbance in the crowed as the BAU team raced towards me.

Before I knew what was happening the newly crowned Festival Queen stood and gave me smile that could only be described as a snarl as she said, “Hi-a sis.” , and dove towards me with a knife in hand.

I was pulled away just in time, but not before the knife went across my arm causing a searing pain to shoot through it causing me to hiss in pain. I looked up to see Spencer, his arms around me protectively, and Luke holding Tessa down as Tara place the handcuffs securely around her wrists. They pulled her into a standing position and began to state her rights as she kept her eyes on me and a shit eating grin across her face.

I turned towards Spencer who instantly started to inspect my arm. I let out a low chuckle, “Well that wasn’t part of the plan.”

@criminalmindzjunkie @hendersonsshadow @brooklynxnicole @martinafigoli @misschil3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #fanficiton

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dazaii-sann · 3 years

Text

DAZAI x CHUUYA FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [LOVE OR GUILT]

Blue.

Brown.

Green.

Yellow.

Orange.

Varied colors blended with each other like a 24-color palette. The wind blew from the west, causing the nearby tree leaves to dance along with the non-existent beat. The blue, clear water rampaged in silence, creating an almost seemingly soft serenade. A huge shining orb in the distance was split in half, projecting its reflection on the calm, unmoving water from below.

The whole place is quiet as if every single living soul had already vacated the area.

Well, not quite.

Two figures stood beneath a tree's shadow, taking refuge and solace after a whole day of struggles. The calm, light afternoon breeze soothe their souls as they look at the orange-painted sky.

Silence ensues but for them, it's what they need.

The quiet rage of the sea.

The hushing sound of overlapping leaves.

The way the remaining rays of the dusk kiss their flesh.

The sound of their even breathing.

Sounds romantic, right?

It is, except for one thing.

Everything, everything seems to retain its brilliance but something decided to exclude itself from that small band of glow.

A redhead's eyes… It's empty. The very exact opposite to his surrounding's radiance.

Meanwhile, the brunet beside him stood still, unmoving, as if he's already accustomed to that kind of scenario.

But is he?

No. Definitely not. Not in a million years.

Seeing his ex-partner like that made his knees wobble. All the remaining courage in his body had left him that even panning his head to Chuuya became an impossible task.

The guilt is slowly consuming him, pulling him into a world far more hellish than hell itself.

They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the setting sun completely vanished into existence and was dethroned by a huge dark blanket covered with stars. The moon is in its crescent form, seems incomplete but whole all the same.

The coldness of the night embraced the two up to their bones, causing them to shiver.

"It's getting cold, Chuuya. Let's go inside?" The brunet proposed without looking at Chuuya.

He can't. Or maybe he actually can, but he chose not to.

Chuuya nods his head slightly and Dazai saw that movement from his eyes' corners.

Dazai's feet move in front of Chuuya's rear. With a slight push, the wheels on Chuuya's seat were sent into motion, carrying Chuuya's body along with it. Trails of the redhead's wheelchair and the brunet's footprints were engraved in the shore's sand and were immediately erased by the wave's arrival.

In just a few minutes, they reached a small house built near the shore. From its size, one can conclude that its interior can only shelter two people at once.

Upon entering the house, Dazai turned on the lights that he closed before going outside with Chuuya this afternoon. It has a simple structure. A kitchen, two couches and a table in between them, the comfort room, and a shared bedroom.

Dazai carefully lifts Chuuya's body and transfer it to one of the couches.

"You're so light, Chuuya~ Am I not feeding you well?" Dazai tried to annoy Chuuya like he used to back in the days but the redhead's expressions didn't even change. Not even a single move in his facial muscles. The brunet knew from the very start, that he could no longer hear Chuuya's annoyed response coming from his own mouth but he's still hoping, hoping that he could still hear Chuuya's voice one more time.

Chuuya's just like a lump of flesh without a soul inside of it. It is said that the soul is the trigger of an ability.

Maybe that's the exact reason why Chuuya lost his.

Ah no… There's no one to be blamed but Dazai.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

After moving Chuuya in a comfortable position, Dazai left him and went straight to the kitchen.

Dazai was a bad cook. Everyone must ready their pitiful stomach before taking in Dazai's food. Not only that but for the aftermath (puking included). But who would eat those kinds of stuff (can't consider them as "food") in the first place?

Everything changed when he started to live and take care of Chuuya over the past 3 years. He learned how to prepare varied homemade viands. Well, he doesn't want the redhead to eat canned goods every single day!

Dazai turned on the flame and let the ingredients fly and land on the pan's heated surface. He hummed a familiar tune, hoping that Chuuya might remember its tune but to no avail.

Dazai arranged the food into a plate and went to the redhead, utensils in his other hand.

Without a word, he scooped a spoonful and brought it closer to Chuuya's mouth.

"Say ah~"

If anyone could see this kind of scenario, the brunet looks like he's feeding a 3-month old baby.

"Well, he's indeed a baby," Dazai said at the back of his mind while moving the spoon back and forth.

After that dinner, Dazai once again carried Chuuya to their bed. It's not that big, but not too small. Just enough for the two of them.

Dazai then wrapped his arms around Chuuya's body. To give him warmth, a human's warmth to liberate the coldness of the night.

With the brunet's slender arms encircled around the redhead's body, and Chuuya's head leaning against Dazai's shoulder, they fall asleep.

Almost at the same time.

***

For three years, the very same sequence of events happened.

Watching the sunrise and sunset together.

Helping him to eat his own food.

And then finally, cradling each other until they got consumed by the God of Sleep.

Have they grown tired of it, especially Dazai?

Even he doesn't know the answer. He was known as the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia, someone who can see through everything. But why can't his superior, almost inhumane mind comprehend this feeling of longing?

Longing for what?

Is it for the return of his ex-partner's glory or the longing to return to his old life?

Maybe, but maybe not.

Dazai thought that the same exact happenings will happen again for today, and the days after that.

But he's wrong.

On with their usual routine, they watch the sun's tiny movement, trying to pull itself up higher in the sky as if it's trying to assert dominance and power. Somehow, the sunrise resembles Dazai every time he rose to bed, struggling his way up like he was being pulled down by the Earth's gravity. To make it less fancy, he's just simply lazy.

"C-chuuya… Is that you?"

Dazai froze, literally.

T-that voice…

Dazai panned his head to where the sound originated.

"A-ane…san…"

Kouyou smiled, but there's hidden remorse in it. The intensity of her eyes changed the moment it landed on Chuuya's frail body.

She looked away and face the brunet once more.

"It's been a while, demon."

***

"So… You're still taking care of him?" Kouyou sat in one of the couches inside of their house.

"Mm…" A simple nod is the only response that he could offer. He's not in the right mood to entertain a conversation right now, especially to those with whom he had ties.

Despite his seemingly uninterested remarks, he's still on the lookout. Who knows? Kouyou might try to do something funny. As for Chuuya, he doubts that this woman will do such a thing.

"I see… I see…" At the same time, a mocking laugh escaped out of her lips. Dazai, on the other hand, painted confusion throughout his face.

"It's all your fault anyway. You've got to clean your own mess and atone with what you had done."

Dazai clenched his fist as tightly as he could.

"Why are you still taking care of him?"

Dazai's lips went agape, trying to utter a word or two but failed miserably.

Why then? What keeps him from escaping and leaving Chuuya behind?

He doesn't know.

"I…"

"Do you love him?" Kouyou's question streak kept on bugging Dazai's feelings.

Dazai's so sure of that fact not until Kouyou retorted once more.

"Or is it because of guilt?"

Guilt, huh?

The brunet said no more and silence governed the two of them.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

***

Darkness… Just pure darkness…

Or at least, that's what Chuuya sees.

He can't feel anything, nor grasp reality. He's just there, floating in the middle of nothingness. But amidst that abyss, he can feel his bones cracking, his body collapsing, and his blood leaking out of his system. The pain must be immeasurable and unbearable but none of those physical pains can equal his suffering.

He hates the dark, the emptiness because it always made him feel alone.

He can hear a huge crowd of people screaming at the top of their lungs as if their lives are in danger of death.

Yes, that's actually the case.

They're fleeing, away from the young boy in the middle of that immense object and that enemy he's battling against.

Their abilities clashed and the fiery battle caused a deal of damage to the establishments and facilities in the city, but Chuuya came out victorious. Yokohama is safe once again. The civilians already evacuated, thus no casualties recorded.

Everything's fine now.

But Chuuya's still not.

He's on his limit, and his rampage will continue up to the end of his life.

He had already accepted his fate, that corruption will disappear along with his existence but a bandaged hand tamed him.

But it's already late.

Chuuya got hospitalized after that. His life was saved, but his nervous system was badly affected.

Dazai couldn't help but blame himself. He was doing a lot of paper works at the armed detective agency's office (forced by Kunikida of course) but the unexpected foe barged its way to Yokohoma without even knocking.

That's why he's late to arrive at the scene.

Why did Chuuya activate his corrupted form without him?

He's such an idiot, an utter idiot…

But he's far worse than that.

***

"Chuuya~ Let's go outside?" Dazai asked his ex-partner but the latter shook his head weakly, much to the former's surprise. It's the first time Chuuya declined his invitation.

Instead of going outside, Chuuya points his finger to their room's direction, by which, Dazai understood and followed. Maybe Chuuya is just sick of watching the sun's routinary motion every day or he just wants to rest.

To ease his boredom, Dazai cooked for their supper, but a creaking sound came out from Chuuya's location.

Dazai dropped the spatula in hand and sprinted to their bedroom only to find Chuuya scribbling something on a small piece of paper. Because of his malfunctioning muscles, the pen he used created a noise as it dropped on the floor.

"Chuuya? What are you doi-" Dazai is stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw the letters inscribed on his paper. Beside the redhead is a small calendar with eighteen days crossed out for the month of June.

Today's June 19. Dazai's birthday.

"Ha…" Chuuya struggled to say something with his shivering and shaky voice. "Ha…ppy bir-th-da…y, sh-itt…y mac…ke-rel."

Dazai's heart starts to pound harder as if it wants to leap out of his ribcage. His head feels so fuzzy, but light at the time.

What's this feeling…?

Sadness?

Happiness?

Longing?

But Dazai knew that it's more than that.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

"Ane-san… I already know the answer." He said at the back of his mind before embracing the redhead. He leaned closer to the former executive's ear and whispered, "Thank you, chibi."

Chuuya might not be able to restore his condition the way it once was but for Dazai, that doesn't matter now.

Whether Chuuya the petite mafia executive who kept on bickering with him back in the days or the Chuuya who's struggling to write a single sentence of greeting over a sheet of paper… Dazai's always fond of him, whatever the version.

And that will not change until the end of time.

-END-

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #double black #dazai x chuuya #bungo stray dogs

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emiken-070907 · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind Of Story - Dance and Grace

It was time for some music and refinement. After some business talk with a scammy octopus lady, Yuko decided to show a small feast she once was invited to, arranged by her friends from Scarabia, and some day-to-day life at the ever so gorgeous Pomefiore.

A Different Kind of Story: Chapter 4

Yuko hasn't even been a solid 5 minutes in the Scarabia dorm, but they already were melting. The afternoon sun was brutal on her skin. Grim wasn't doing any better.

"Are you ok, Yuko? Should I get you something to drink?" Yuko turned her head two face two worried, red eyes.

"Is that a yes or a no? You know what? It doesn't matter. I'll get you one," Kalim said as she patted Yuko on the shoulder before getting up. The brunette tried to stop her, but Kalim didn't listen and quickly came back with some drinks.

"You really shouldn't have to..." Yuko said but took the drinks regardless. "You don't have to be so polite! You two are our guests! A drink or two should be the least!" Yuko could have sworn she needed sunglasses with how bright Kalim was. It gave her a warm feeling of familiarity.

All of a sudden, a sweet and flavourful smell filled the lively lounge of Scarabia. A brunette with long hair and a hood came into the room. She carried multiple plates with different foods, which vary from perfectly sweet to super spicey.

"Wow! These smell amazing, Jamil-senpai," The Prefect of Ramshackle praised, clapping their hands together with sparkles in their eyes. Jamil didn't pay her or her compliment any mind and just placed the dishes on the table.

"You can compliment me if it tastes as good as it smells.", the second-year commented blankly.

"Fnyaaa, why can't you take the compliment! She's at least trying to be nice to you, even after what you did, you snake!" Yuko looked down at Grim and smiled fondly while giving Grim some head pats. Jamil just turned around with an angry huff and leaving the room to get more food.

"Seriously, why are you trying to be so friendly with her? It's obvious she doesn't give a damn about everyone but herself."

"That sounds like everyone at this school, to be honest. People deserve a second chance, and I think I'm not the only one who knows this." The first-year turned to Kalim, who looked kind of sad. Yuko knew that Kalim still concerned herself with many things. Yuko didn't know why or what those things were, but they also felt like it wasn't their place to ask questions.

Yuko's train of thought was interrupted by the other members of the dorm, who all decided to dig in and enjoy the sweet and spicy dishes their vice leader made.

The feast came along significantly.

Cheerful chattering filled the room. It had accompanied by entertaining music, played by some students who had already finished their meal.

The two guests from Ramshackle were having a small conversation with the ever so joyful host of the party. Mostly Grim was talking with her. Yuko just sat there, enjoying her meal while her furry companion on her lap was having a good time.

The young Crowley roamed the filled room with attentive eyes. She saw students eating and praising the food, telling stories (some real, some not), or were merely telling jokes and were having a good time. Among those students, there was a brunette standing on the sides, watching them. An idea then popped into the first-year's head.

Yuko excused herself politely from the second-year who so kindly invited them. They then proceeded to walk to the vice to start a little chat for herself.

"Hello Jamil-senpai," Yuko greeted. "The dishes were astounding. The sweets felt like they were melting in my mouth! There also was a hint of apple in there, or am I incorrect? Either way, would you mind if I asked for the recipe itself?" Startled, Jamil turned around to face her junior.

"Uhm, of course? I did not know you'd enjoy it that much that you would ask for the recipe. It's a common sweet in my family" Jamil seemed taking back by Yuko's sudden request. Yet only an innocent smile painted their face while listening to their senior reciting the recipe.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Yuko," Ace mocked with a sly smile.

"What could you possibly mean, Ace?"

"Don't act this innocent. If you are an alternate version of our buddy Yuu here, then you are just trying to annoy her, aren't you? Also, you and Kalim there are disgustingly sweet, I have to say." The ace of Heartslabyul said. Yuko gasped in offence and put one of her gloved hands on her chest gem.

"Oh, how could be so mean! I just tried to have a nice conversation with my upperclassmen", the girl wailed. "And, ohh, I am sorry that I am just having some fun with Kalim. I didn't know being nice to others is actually 'disgusting'" Ace smirk swiftly was erased from his face. Some of the first years even snickered a bit about the answer to the boy's comment.

"It is just," the girl in the mirror continued. "I like talking to her since she gives up a sense of comfort. She is like the older sister I never had," Yuko said fondly.

Kalim was also beaming with joy and pride. It seemed knowing that someone, who isn't related to him, thought of him as an older sibling figure made him happy. Even though not directly meant.

"A-ah! Let's not get distracted, shall we? Next is Pomefiore," the girl in the mirror announced.

"Of course not. Although, before we start, let me say that it is very nice to hear that you think that way, young one." Lilia was heart warmed. Father instincts, Yuko silently assumed before fading from the other sight.

After Yuko got the recipe for the dish Jamila made, they said their goodbyes to her friends and made her way to Pomefiore.

The old castle was as beautiful and graceful as ever. The afternoon wind made it seem even more like it was from a fairytale.

As soon as Yuko entered the big walls of Pomefiore, she got greeted by a petit-looking first-year. The student's long lavender hair swayed behind them as they approached Yuko as if a breeze was flowing through the dormitory.

"Yuko! Perfect timing! Please save me from Vil! She's trying to put me in one of those disgusting, frilly dresses!" the smaller girl whined. She clutched against Yuko's arm as if it would have helped convince Yuko of her need for help. "Epel, please, I can't hide you every time. I also am starting to think that Vil might know our hideouts by now" Yuko kindly smiled as Epel continued to beg for her help. Yet to no avail.

Moreover, Vil appeared. Her long gowns were perfectly put on, with no faults whatsoever. They flowed behind her while she walked down the hall towards the first years.

It was like looking at a goddess.

But alas, this beauty was angry.

Behind her followed NRC's huntress, Rook. Her heavy boots' steps and Vil's high heels clicking echoed through the empty and silent hall, Epel's begging long died out.

"Epel! How dare you try to run away again! You'll never learn how to use those natural looks correctly. Don't get me started on how to treat them right!" Vil pinched Epel's cheek, ignoring the junior's complaints.

"Oh my, oh my! The Trickster has arrived! How splended~ Your little companion is at your side, as well."

Yuko smiled politely and started holding Grim a little tighter in her arms, in case Grim would try to flee from the huntress.

"I am also very delighted to make your acquaintance again, Rook-senpai. How is it currently going?" The senior started beaming at the question with a bright smile. Her hands flew up to her head. "Oh Trickster, how happy I am that you asked! Reine de Poison was only trying to show our little apple how to put on more voluminous dresses, but the little one didn't seem to like the idea, which is a loss, to be honest. Just imagine Mademoiselle Cherry Apple in one! She'd look like an innocent angel~."

Yuko couldn't hide their chuckle at the thought of Epel wearing something like that. Now they sure knew why Epel was so desperate for help.

They all made their way to the lounge for some tea, the argument between Vil and Epel never-ending during the short walk.

At this point, the Ramshackle Prefect was holding Grim's mouth shut, knowing that Grim would spit some non-polite comment. Either at Rook or Vil. Which both wouldn't end well for them.

Vil, Epel, Yuko and Grim seated themselves on the beautiful couches of Pomefiore. Rook made her way into the kitchen to prepare the tea. For Yuko's and Grim's ears pleasure, Vil's and Epel's bickering had stopped.

"So tell me, little potato," Vil started, "have you finally renovated your old dorm by now? I am confident that this hideous place could look better," Harsh as ever, Yuko thought.

Nonetheless, the dorm leader was right. It was old and rotten, and it already was hard work to get it into the condition it is now.

"The renovations are coming along, Vil-senpai, yet I highly doubt I will get it finished any time soon. Nonetheless, I am happy to say that I acquired some donations from Azul. For furniture for the interior, as well for the outer parts. Maybe I'll even have to ask someone to help me with the gardens soon if this all keeps going at this pace. But first, the rooms and all should be looking presentable, of course." Yuko explained. Her senior hummed understanding.

Rook re-enters the lounge with a trey, which has some tea and snacks on it. "Oh la la, what did I miss? Where are you talking about the Ramshackle dormitory?" Room asked as she put the trey downs on the table. How did she know that? Until now, she was in another room!

"Yes, we were discussing the Ramshackle dormitory, Rook. The renovations, to be exact," Vil said as she sipped her tea.

"Epel, you were awfully quiet until now. Does the topic of your friend's home not interest you?"

As if being ripped out of a daydream, Epel quickly looked up. "N-no, this isn't the reason! I didn't want to interrupt yall- I mean you all."

Vil inspected her as if trying to figure out if she was lying or not. After 20 seconds of starring, Vil accepted the explanation as genuine and let out a small sigh.

"Epel, at least sit straight and look me in the eyes while talking. The cup goes up to your head, not your head to the cup!" Vil pinched Epel's cheek once again, ignoring Epel's whines. It all ended in another argument.

Leona put one of his hands on his temple in annoyance. He just witnessed two arguments, one in full length and the other one's just started. "Is this also like this here?"

"Yep, totally," said all the first-years in unison, except for Epel, who had a feeling of betrayal in his eyes.

"How could you all fall into my back like that?!"

"Epel, you know that they are sadly telling the truth. We, rather often, have different opinions on things," Vil kindly reminded the student he took under his wing. Like a father

"Nevertheless, Leona, you should know how hard it can be to look after your first years. Oh wait, on second thought, you probably don't, since you push all your responsibilities onto Ruggie,"

Leona only growled, knowing that starting a fight with the fellow third-year would be pointless.

Everyone in the room went quiet. Even Rook didn't say anything. After a minute of awkward silence and Vil and Leona starring at each other, Yuko cleared her throat, getting all of the male's attention.

"How about we move on to our last two dorms. Then we'll call it for today? It's been a long day with a lot of new things to process," Yuko clapped their hands together while talking. They were just happy that there weren't any nasty comments on any of her friends.

{to be continued}

First

[A/n: Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors, English is not my first language!]

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst mc #Yuko Crowley #nrc #night raven college #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #ace trappola

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cassieschaosdimension · 3 years

Text

Okay! Here it is the fanfic some of you have been requesting!

Enjoy it!

"Nico!" Will called to his boyfriend. "Put that sweater on right now! You know you want to!" He starts running after Nico with said sweater in hand. He knows his boyfriend wants to wear it, but the goth message is too strong.

Nico is being chased all over their apartment in New Rome by his overly energetic boyfriend who wants to match for their first Christmas on their own. He would have put the sweater on by himself, but it was too ugly to be seen on anyone. Even Hephaestus and the guy was ugly!

Will stopped all of a sudden and stared at the sweater in his hand. "Nico, it's not that bad! Please wear it! For me!"

Oh no Nico thought as he watched his boyfriend turn on that Southern charm and the puppy dog eyes. He tried to look away, but found he couldn't because Will was advancing slowly towards him.

"William," Nico says slowly edging towards the front door of their one bedroom apartment. "Be reasonable, would you want your dad, the fashion guru of Greek mythology to see me in that?!" The horror is present in his tone. "First off, I would not wear it and you know I would wear almost anything to please you. I draw the line at that thing!"

This gives Will a pause as he considers the question. He stares at the jingle bells stripes and Christmas tree underneath them. The green and gold don't work out and the red of the presents aren't helping the poor sweater's case. He thinks back to the time his dad yelled at him for wearing sandals with socks because he was in a rush after being late for cabin clean up duty. He shudders. He does not want a repeat of his over dramatic father flapping his arms while lecturing him on fashion choices.

Will sighs. "Alright Nico. You win this one. My dad's fashion lectures aren't for the faint of heart and I've had enough of them to last a lifetime. But please dress in green or red okay? You would look really good in emerald green." He starts walking to their room.

Nico grins to himself. He's won this round with his mad reasoning skills. Then again, he almost always wins his arguments with Will. Decades in the Lotus Casino arguing over games will do that to you. Then he registers what his boyfriend requested of him.

He starts to run after Will. "Will! I don't have emerald clothing! I have brown, black, and grey! What are you talking about?! William! Get over here!"

Will cackles to himself while going through their closet. He bought his boyfriend colored clothes for occasions with his father and Nico looks delicious in cool, dark times so that's what he bought. He was lucky he hid them on his side of the closet. He turns to see his boyfriend glaring at him.

Nico stares at his poor boyfriend he only knows wants to help him make an impression on Hades. It was only supposed to be the two of them and Hades and Persephone, but of course Apollo had to invite himself. Rolling his eyes at the memory he turns back to Will with his hands on his hips glare still in full force.

With a pleading look on his face, Will is desperate. They're running late and he doesn't want to leave the three gods alone more than they have to be. "Nico," cue the sigh. "We're already running late and I don't want to find a war going on with your stepmom in the middle. She's scary."

"Will… Fine!" Nico says throwing his hands up and walking to grab the shirt from his boyfriend who is now grinning broadly. He walks to the bathroom and changes into the shirt grumbling about Will and if he didn't live him he wouldn't do this.

Meanwhile Will is getting dressed in a dark maroon, fluffly long sleeve sweater and dark blue jeans with black vans. When Nico comes back from the bathroom his heart stops.

His boyfriend stands slightly slouched, uncomfortable with the attention. The emerald shirt sets off his long lashes, dark eyes, and raven hair perfectly. Will wants to swoon, but they have business to attend to.

"Good you're ready to go. Hades confirmed he's ready for us?" Will says coming next to Nico.

In response Nico nods and they head out the door. "Just so you know," Nico says with an undertone. "I'm only wearing this shirt and making nice with your dad because your mom loves me so now I need to win over your dad."

Will doesn't tell Nico his dad was won over the minute Nicon said hello, I'm only here because Will made me. Maybe he might actually behave. One can hope.

They head to the car deep in each of their thoughts. Nico is worried how long his dad is going to last in Apollo's presence. Will is worried how long Hades can stand to be in his dad's presence because Apollo is overbearing.

They have agreed to meet in the Underworld and Zeus has given Apollo permission to head down there to celebrate with them. As Will starts to drive south, the air in the car turns warmer. They banter and whine about the music choice. Nico wants Green Day and Will wants to listen to Blake Shelton.

They left around eleven in the morning on Christmas Day and it takes them about seven hours to get to Hollywood because of traffic in the LA area. They park the car and walk behind the Hollywood sign, Will grabbing Nico's leather jacket in the way behind the sign because even with a sweater on the Underworld is a child, unforgiving place. There Will grabs onto Nico and they shadow travel down to Hades' living room.

Nico wonders why they couldn't shadow travel in the first place and why Will insisted they drive when they walk in and he immediately knows why.

Persephone is standing by the wall her hands over her head while her husband and cousin are going at it.

"This is my domain Apollo you do not have the authority to say what's going to be served for dinner. I can do that on my own."

"But Uncle, you're serving turkey! It's supposed to be ham! Most mortals use ham!" Turning to his son he implores him. "Will tell Hades most mortals use ham for their Christmas dinner!"

Will is torn between getting the approval of his boyfriend's father and his dad. He ultimately goes for the one that will save his life. "Dad, many mortals celebrate Christmas differently or not at all. If Nico's dad wants to serve turkey then let him serve turkey! We are here as his guests and I expect you to behave!"

Apollo looks torn but nods and says "Will, I know you want to make a good impression on Uncle over there, but I am your father!"

"No dad. Mom raised me to have manners and her manners have taught me to accept all food unless I am allergic to it and I have no food allergies. Now sit down and we can eat." Will turns to Lord Hades. "Please excuse my father Lord Hades. I had a talk about this with him earlier, but it seems to have not rectified in his brain."

Hades nods and strides over to Nico. "Nico. Thank you for coming. I am starting to warm up to the boy, but I still need time."

Nico sighs his left hand clenching in a fist involuntarily. "Father you have been given years to accept Will. And it seems you have, but you don't want me to know. Father, the spirits talk."

Hades looks shocked and now angry. "Now listen here Nico. I may have approved of him, but he must be worthy of Maria DiAngelo's child. Bianca wishes she were here, but she is having fun in the fields of Elysium."

Meanwhile Will and Apollo are having their own discussion.

"But Will, Uncle said he didn't mind me coming!"

"Dad, you invited yourself here, remember? I know what mom saw in you, but really. Your manners need brushing up. For real. Just because Lord Hades is your uncle doesn't mean you can barge into his domain even with Lord Hades permission." Will feels like a dad reprimanding a child.

"William," Apollo strikes a pose. "I am the god of music and medicine. This is a celebration with my son and son in law. I had to come." He dramatically sighs and heads to the table. "Come now Will, let's stuff our faces!

As Will follows his dad he wonders who exactly the child is. He looks over at his boyfriend and his dad. They look like they're still having a heated discussion. Luckily for Will he has Nico's jacket so the chill in the air isn't as bad as it could have been. Nico hasn't noticed the jacket is gone until he brings his hands up to tig it around himself and it's gone. Looking up he mock scowls at Will.

Nico walks up to his boyfriend with an air of I don't care. They both know he cares very much. "Will, give me my jacket."

In response Will sticks out his tongue and says no. This results in a banter fight much like the one back at the apartment.

Will doesn't want to give the jacket back because it's warm and he's freezing. Nico says he can get him another one of Nico's leather jackets. But Will isn't having it. He knows this is Nico's favorite jacket hence why it was in the car, he takes that thing everywhere he goes. He wants to wear his boyfriend's favorite jacket. His boyfriend wants to wear his favorite jacket. The two of them are so engrossed in their argument they don't see the three adults smiling at them.

Persephone was reminded of how she first felt arguing with Hades over the fact she was kidnapped against her will by a much older man. She was intimidated by this man yet she felt some sort of weird connection to him. She pitied him because he was older and lonely down here with no one but Cerberus to keep him company. Eventually she came to care for this man unlike her stepson and his boyfriend who genuinely seem to get along even when arguing.

She goes over to break it up. "Boys, you can have this argument later. Nico, let Will keep the jacket, you can feel him shivering. I'll go turn up the fire. Will dear, come sit and stuff your face as your impatient father has been doing for the past half hour.

At this Apollo looks up turkey gravy dripping from his mouth. They all sigh and hope this is over soon. The dinner drags on and on and suddenly Hades can't take it anymore. While the rest of the group has polite conversation, Apollo finds it necessary to butt in and make it funny when it's not.

Normally Will accepts this behavior with grace, but not on Christmas and not when he is trying to get approval from his boyfriend's father who happens to be Lord of the Dead.

"Hey Dad," Will says from across the table where he has watched his dad pack away most of the food on the table. "I don't appreciate this and maybe I'll tell mom about this little gathering and how your Southern manners disappeared." He raises an eyebrow and Apollo's response is hilarious.

He sits up straight and acts like a Southern gentleman the rest of the time. Will signs in exasperation and turns to Nico and Lord Hades.

"Lord Hades, please forgive my father for his behavior," here he pauses while throwing side glances at his father.

Hades waves his hand in a gesture of peace. "Please boy. This is almost tame for my nephew. Did you enjoy your meal?"

Turning to Nico for reassurance Will answer carefully. "Yes Lord Hades. The good was quite delicious. Thank you for inviting us over for dinner."

"You are welcome boy," Hades says turning to his son. "Now, let's get the gift giving over with so my nephew can go home." The two snicker together and Will tries not to join in. It's impossible though as Persephone is talking to Apollo utterly bemused while he sprouts haikus about the meal.

"Father, here is my gift to you," Nico's voice carries as he hands a gift to Lord Hades.

"Thank you son. I appreciate it." His voice also carries. Apollo is beginning to quiet down and not be so energetic. Now he begins to get downright cocky. He's no longer dramatic.

He heads to their end of the table near the tree Persephone insisted on having. "Ahhhh presents. I remember when I was youn-" Apollo is cut off when Nico hands him a gift.

They're all speechless and Will stares at Nico in shock. Looking around at all of them he asks "what? I can give gifts."

A shocked silence falls over the room when Will throws himself in Nico's arms. He whispers in his boyfriend's ear. "He didn't expect to get one from you Nico. Look, you made him cry. " They look over still wrapped in each other's arms. Apollo is in fact hugging the gift while grinning with happy tears running down his face.

The look on Will's face says it all. Nico grins as he watches his boyfriend watch his dad open the gift. Suddenly Apollo is rushing towards Nico and grabs him in a hug. Stiffening Nico is confused but then reaches around the god and hugs him back.

Hades looks on with pride at his son who with Will Solanc's aid will grow to be a fine young man. He already was, but since he met Will he had grown in leaps and bounds in height and personality. He was proud of his boy.

Will is beaming with pride at the fact his boyfriend was thoughtful enough to get his dad a gift. To their surprise Apollo hands a gift right back to Nico.

The night is just full of surprises and after the gift giving and opening, Will and Nico start to clean up to head out. They had fun despite the rocky start and by the end of the night Hades had laughed out loud more times than Apollo can remember and Apollo hadn't felt the need to be cocky or arrogant. He was the man Will's mom must have fallen in love with.

As Nico and Will get up to leave Apollo hugs each of them, but Nico's is especially long. He whispers thank you for everything in his ear. Nico is absolutely shocked. He didn't think Apollo knew the words thank you. But here he was a mere demigod getting thanked by a god! Wow, Will's dad is full of surprises…

Apollo then goes over and hugs Hades and Persephone. He really is full of surprises today. He goes and leaves. In his wake four very confused people discuss what happened.

Hades wants to know how his nephew behaved all nice and sweet. He almost didn't recognize him! Persephone told him it was because he realized he could be himself and not have to put an image up.

Nico says he doesn't know which Apollo he finds most sickening, earning him a slap on the back of the head from Will.

They discuss it more and the four grow closer. The Christmas dinner really was a success even with Apollo there. Nico hugs his father and stepmother then gathers up their gifts. Will goes up to Hades and shakes his hand thanking him for inviting them. Persephone hugs Will saying he must come back soon when Nico next visits them.

Soon the two fade into shadows with the two immortals waving after them. Will takes off the jacket and puts it back in the backseat of the car with a grin.

"Well Neeks, I'd say it was a success though I was worried for a second." Will says getting into the driver's seat.

"Me too Will. Your dad actually seems like a really nice guy. I bet it gets tiring putting up a facade all the time," Nico responds through a yawn. "Will, don't drive all the way home. Stop at a hotel okay?"

Nodding Will turns the ignition and starts to drive. They talk about the dinner and how different it turned out from what they expected. Then they start to banter tearing each other with how they expected the night to end up.

"Neeks, you look really good in emerald holy Hera!" Will glances over at his tired boyfriend who is drifting off.

"Will, don't even start you look amazing in my leather jacket. Maybe I'll let you wear it more often." Smiling to himself Nico thinks he'll let only Will wear his leather jacket now. They can share it. His last words before he falls asleep are: "I love you William so pull into a hotel and we'll spend the night there. You're not driving all the way home this late."

Nico's soft snores fill the car and Will can't help but think he and Nico are made for each other. They complement one another perfectly and he thinks back on all the memories they've made together since they got together all those years ago.

Seeing a vacancy sign at a motel he pulls into the parking lot. He leaves Nico snoring away while he goes and asks for a room. Coming back out he rouses Nico and tells him he can sleep in a real bed.

Half asleep Nico leans on his boyfriend for support. The night turned out better than he could ever expected. Maybe next year they could shadow travel or even stay the night.

As Will supports his boyfriend while walking to the room he thinks of how grateful he is to Apollo for catching the eye of his mother so he could he born and also Lord Hades because he made Nico come into existence.

Opening the door, Will walks over to the bed placing the dozing Nico on it. After giving him a forehead kiss he goes to the other side of the bed. "Love you too Neeks."

Both Nico and Will dream about the wonderful Christmas dinner they just had and wonder what will happen next year.

And that's a wrap (lol) on they fanfic! I hope you guys like it! Please let me know what you think of it!

#solangeo #solangelo fanfic #fanfic #short fanfic #riordanverse #hades #apollo #persephone

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mayraki · 4 years

Text

The Trained Assassin.

Spencer Reid series. Part 6.

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Summary: Life’s not easy when you found out that instead of being trained to be a spy for the CIA, you are being trained to be an assassin, a killer. The people you wanted to stop, they were making you one. That’s when you joined the BAU to become someone new, you didn’t want to be someone’s toy. You wanted your past to be arrased, that’s all. But it’s not easy to hide a past like that.

MASTERLIST

“Maxim”

Having the weekend off was not what you wanted, you wanted to go back to work on Friday but Hotch insisted you to take the day off and the weekend as well. He knew that you weren’t alright since the last case, and he was right.

God, I hate profilers.

You weren’t able to sleep well and you didn’t have the appetite to eat anything. You had big bags under your eyes and since Hotch noticed that you couldn’t keep your hands out of a cup of coffee he made the decision to make you have three days off.

“Good job, number 15!” The coach of the basketball team said to one of his students.

You saw your little brother, Maxim, with his curls all over his face and when he saw you he waved with a big smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” He said once the practice was over. He was all sweaty from the running and he had his big t-shirt on.

“Well, I’m not working right now. So I decided to come and see my little brother. Is that wrong? I can’t see you now?” You said pretending to be hurt.

“No! It’s not that. I mean how did you get in? I thought family couldn’t come in practice on a private school”

“Well, little brother, your big sis has connections.” You winked at him. “I was thinking...” you put your arm around his shoulders “since I have this weekend off, would you like to come and spend it with me?”

He gave you a bigger smile and hugged you “Sure! Let me pack my things, I’ll be ready in five minutes.” And he took off like his life depended on it. You laughed and waited for him at the giant outside door of his school.

“Can we watch Star Wars?” He asked once you two finished dinner.

It was Saturday night and the last two days went amazingly. You missed your little brother more than ever and you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, with your work and his school it was impossible to spend an entire day together. So you wanted to save this weekend on you memory and remember every single detail.

“Really? Max, you always want to watch Star Wars. Let’s pick something else, I think I can say the entire lines from Star Wars 2 perfectly.”

“It’s not ‘Star Wars 2’” he mocked you “it’s Star Wars episode V: the empire strikes back. And you would know that if you watched it with me tonight.” You laughed.

“First of all, that’s not how I talk! Secondly... sure. You win.”

He applauded excited “I always win.” He said with pride.

“Sure, little one.”

You were half into the movie when you heard knocking on your door. Both of you turned your heads to the door and Max paused the movie.

“Stay here.” You said and got up. “Who is it?”

“It’s Spencer.” The voice said on the other side.

What the hell is he doing here on a Saturday night at 10 pm?

You opened the door and Spencer was there with a big bag on his hand.

“Hi.” He said and Max appeared next to you.

“Who are you?” He said suspicious.

“Hi...?” Spencer said looking at Max and then at you looking confused.

“Spencer, this is Max, my little bother. Max, this is Spencer, I work with him in the BAU.”

Spencer recognised the little boy. He was the one that you had on your desk, the picture that you hanged up your first day.

“I— you weren’t answering your cellphone. I thought something was wrong.” He said still looking at Max who wasn’t trusting Spencer at all.

“Well, you saw that she’s ok. You can go now.” Max said trying to close the door but you stopped him.

“Max.” He looked at you with a serious face. He mumbled a ‘sorry’ and you went back to Spencer.

“I brought something to eat. Some snacks. I know how much you like them...”

“Food?” Max said watching the bag “Ok, you can come in.” He said after seconds of thinking about it.

He stood aside and Spencer walked in.

“Hey, I think I need to remind you that this is my apartment.”

Max turned to you and hold up the bag Spencer gave to him “But he brought food! I think is really rude if you take the bag and let him outside, y/n”

You opened your mouth with surprise but you couldn’t help it and let out a little laugh “I taught you well.” You said sarcastically and Spencer laughed.

“You were watching Star Wars?” Spencer asked looking at the TV.

Max nodded “you like it?” He said putting the Doritos on a bowl.

“Love it. One of my favorites after Star Strek.”

“Oh my god, I have two nerds in this house now, this is going to be a long night.” You said jokingly.

“Favorite character?” Max asked. “Answer quick and there is a wrong answer.”

“Chewbacca, of course. And Luke Skywalker is my second.”

“Nice.” Max said almost in a whisper. “You know, I can tell you’re cool. I thought you were a jerk who was trying to get into my sister’s pants but now I see that you’re more than that.”

You opened your mouth with surprise and Spencer chocked on his drink. “Max!” You said and he turned to you with ‘innocence’ in his face.

“What? C’mon. It’s Saturday night and he brought snacks expecting to come into your house, he knows you wouldn’t say no. It’s not that big of deal. He’s a man, y/n, you should know that. I’m 13, i might be young, but I’m not stupid.” He said giving you a smile and going back to the sofa to keep watching the movie.

You couldn’t believe what Max just said, and you didn’t want to admit it but he was kind of right.

“I’m sorry...” you said looking at Spencer.

“It’s ok... I guess that is the impression that I gave him. But it’s not true.” He said quickly “I did come here to see if you were ok.”

“I believe you, don’t worry.” You said with a smile.

He seemed relieved and you let out a little laugh.

***

“You know, I don’t know if this is an unpopular opninion or not, but I kinda liked the end of Star Wars.” Max said without breaking the eye contact with the TV.

It was almost midnight when you three started watching the next movie of the franchise. You were sitting down at the couch but Spencer and Max were sitting down at the floor so they could see the TV better.

Spencer was across from you when he started talking about his opinion on something, you couldn’t understand what it was because they started talking about some fiction and space stuff you didn’t know.

So you took the chance to look at him in detail. The way his hands moved when he was saying a weird fact, he had a sharp jawline and it tensed every time he closed his mouth. His lips moved quickly and his eyes didn’t look away from the screen. His skin looked like it was very soft and your hands moved unintentionally because they wanted to feel it.

He let his left hand rest on his thigh and the thought of him touching yours made an appearance on your mind. His fingers going up and down, making you feel worm inside while he was kissing you...

“Y/n!” Your brother called you and took you back to reality.

“Yeah?” You said trying to not sound nervous at the thought of your imagination.

“Could you bring me more water?” He said without taking his eyes from the TV.

“Am I your servant now?” You said raising your left eyebrow.

“Sorry!” He said thinking of his previous actions but when he was about to stand up Spencer stopped him.

“I’ll do it, I know this part like the palm of my hand.”

“Thank you!” Max said.

You watched him go to the counter of you kitchen and he opened the fridge. His shirt went up a little bit when he lifted his arm to open the water bottle and you unintentionally bit you lower lip. When you noticed you moved uncomfortably on the couch and tried to move your attention to the movie but the sound of the water doing down the glass cup made you look.

Spencer’s tongue went over his lips and the tough of it licking your skin made you close your eyes and smacking you on the inside because you didn’t want to have those kinda thoughts.

You turned your body so it would face the TV and not the kitchen but your eyes wanted to go back to him. You tried so hard to not go back until Spencer came into the living room. But instead of going back to his last position, after giving the glass to Max, he sat down next to you close enough so your shoulders would slightly touch.

Does he know what he’s doing?

You were glad the movie was over minutes later and that Spencer offered himself to clean the mess him and Max did while watching the movie.

This was new to you, you were always the one that made the first move, you were never the one who falls first and the fact that he wasn’t even trying made your heart go down to the floor even more.

“What time is it?” Max asked while he was doing the dishes.

“Almost 1 am.” Spencer said and you got close to your little brother.

“It’s pretty late, you should go to bed.” You said and Max give you his famous puppy eyes.

“But... it’s Sunday tomorrow!”

“You told me that you had homework for the weekend and you haven’t done it yet, you’re not going to wake up late tomorrow.”

“One more hour.” He smiled and hugged you “you know that you’re an amazing big sister and the best friend I could ever ask for?”

“You’re not going to win, but you can stay until 1:30 am. And say thanks to Spencer because I’m doing this because he’s here.”

Spencer gave you a smile and Max hugged him after letting you go.

“Thank you, thank you so much for coming.”

He laughed “You’re welcome. Hey, do you want to see some magic tricks?”

“You know magic tricks?” Max said sounding surprised “You’re so cool. Hey, sis, don’t ever let him go.” He said when he left to look for the cards he had on his backpack.

“Max!” You whispered to him and Spencer just let out a little laugh.

Your little brother handed the cards to Spencer and he started the magic trick. He was moving the cards fast and his fingers were following every move he made. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them and the thought of them going up your arms appeared on your mind. They were tracing you body like it was a piece of art. But now it’s wasn’t only the fingers that were in your imagination, but Spencer was there too. He was looking at you with his beautiful dark eyes and his lips went to your stomach to leave little kisses on it. He was sitting down in your bed and you standing in front of him and...

“Wow!” Max said and took you back to reality “How did you do that?”

Fuck! I have to stop.

“I’ll teach you some.”

Oh, no. He’s not going to stop. I have to get out here.

“I’ll be right back.” You said and both of them nodded, Spencer give a you a little smile but you didn’t respond because you wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

You washed your face and looked for the time; 1:24 am. Six more minutes and the magic tricks were done because Max needed to go to bed. And the thought of you and Spencer being alone for the first time in the entire night made your heart skip a beat.

You were not usually like this, you never got nervous when it came to boys. You had your experience and even when it wasn’t for your personal life but for a mission, seducing mafia bosses and security guards like it was the easiest thing in the world. And for some reason you couldn’t handle a man who was doing magic tricks and touching your shoulder with his.

What is it about him?

You came back to the kitchen when the hour 1:30 hit on the clock and Max looked at you with excitement on his face.

“Hey, y/n! Let me show you a trick Spencer just teach me!”

“You’ll show it to me tomorrow, now it’s time for bed.”

He looked at the clock and his excitement went away completely.

“Ok.” He said turning to Spencer “I’ll see you. Bye.”

“Goodnight Max.”

“Yeah.” He said and went to his room.

“Want some tea?” You said and Spencer nodded.

“Sure.”

When you started to make the tea you felt his body walk behind you and stand next to you.

“Want some help?” He said almost in a whisper but you said ‘no’ with your head and gave him a little smile. You went to the other side of the kitchen to grab some mugs and pour the tea you just made into them.

“Here.” You handed the cup to Spencer and he thanked you giving you a big smile. “I guess you have some questions about Max.” You said remember the face he made when he met him.

He looked at the floor “I thought you didn’t have any family, that’s why I was so surprised.”

“I don’t have any blood family.”

He put on his thinking face and his tongue went over his lips. And before he asked any questions you started telling the story.

“When I was 22 I had a mission... I had to infiltrate a mafia boss’ bussiness. I had to get close to him and make him trust me. It was the longest undercover mission I went on. Making him trust me was not easy. He was one of the most frightening men that I’ve ever met. And worst, had to lie to. But when I was close enough, that’s when I met Maxim. He introduced him as his son. He was a scare 11 year old boy. We connected immediately. The things that he had to see when he was little, what he went through. This man wasn’t the loving father he needed. Later on I found out that this man abducted him when he was just a little baby. I finished the mission, the man went to jail and his business went down. The CIA decided to not involve anyone else and give Max up for adoption but I knew that its not easy getting adopted being a teenager. I didn’t want him to end up like me. So... I brought him home with me. I worked on a case with a detective, I saved his life and in returned I asked him if his brother would give Max a scholarship on his private school... that’s the story. I can’t believe that the scared boy that I met two years ago is the funny and smart kid that I know now. He’s so strong. We call each other like siblings because we are the only thing we have.”

“You took him in even tho you were so young...” he said looking at you in the eyes.

“I didn’t see myself as being ‘young’. And I didn’t care, I never got adopted and when I did, it was them. I didn’t want him to be like me.”

“Do you ever think what it would’ve happend if you got adopted when you were younger?” He put his empty cup on the counter and walked towards you so he can stand next to you.

“I used to. I try to think how can I make this life better and forget about the past. Try to make a great life for him and be... happy.” You looked up to him and he gave you a little smile.

“It’s weird how our lives can change in a matter of seconds. One day mine is really boring and the next I go on a date with an assassin.” He said jokingly and you laughed. You remembered the day that Spencer asked you to go for coffee on your first case together.

“Hey... I’m not an assassin, I’m just trained like one.” You smiled and looked at him in the eyes.

But unintentionally looked at his lips and he did the same, you felt the tension growing up in the room and everything that used to make you feel sad and unsafe, went away.

“Spencer...” you said “you said to me... ‘I need you alive.”

His eyes went up to yours and he gently grabbed your waist to get you closer to him. You moved on step forward and felt his chest touch yours.

“I do.” He said in a whisper and when he was about to get closer to you, his phone started to ring making you two jump and ruining the moment completely.

He took his phone out from his pocket and you read the name ‘Sophie’ on the screen. He hanged up and sighed.

“Sorry...” He said without looking at you.

“Are you sure your girlfriend is ok with you being here with me?” You said without even thinking. Anger grew in your body and went to the door to open it and Spencer followed you.

“Wait, y/n, she’s just a friend.”

“A friend that calls you at 2 am on a Saturday night? If she was really a close friends you wouldn’t hang up because the common thing to think when someone calls you out of nowhere at this hours it’s that something’s wrong unless the girl is not really a friend and that is a booty call. I am a good profiler too, Spencer. Goodnight.” Before he could say anything you closed the door and stand there, with the feeling of being lost back into your body.

*****

PART 7

taglist: @itsarayofsunshine @whothefuckstolemykeds @haykayhesson @enigma-xlii @introvertedsin @mylovehes @infires420 @uwu-sebastianstan @my-life-is-here-soo @spencersdolore @oldspirit

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid #spencer reid smut

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banashee · 3 years

Link

Part 2/2 of Tony setting the kitchen on fire for @hopelessly-me :D ♥

Enjoy ♥

...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.

One day, Clint finally caves.

“Tony. You know I love you, but please - let me show you how to cook. I can’t take it anymore.” he tells him over ice cold dinner. The archer pokes a piece of meat with his fork to prove his point.

Tony nods slowly, but he also says,

“Last time it was burned. So now I cooked it for less time.”

Clint blinks at him, knocking on his plate with the meat, which results in a solid noise.

“...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.”

“...Okay, yeah.” Tony sighs, shoving the plate away from himself.

“Sorry, I know the last few months of my cooking haven’t been pleasant. At least I didn’t burn the house down yet.” he adds, with a small smile to lighten the mood, but it is clear he is not happy with his results.

“The alarm didn’t go off in a while, that’s progress, right?” Clint shoots back a lopsided smile, before he continues,

“Honestly though, I don’t mean to be condescending because that’s probably how I sound, and I’m really sorry for that, but… I know you’re trying, and I know you don’t like help with things… In general, and I get that. But don’t you think that it would be better in the long run?”

Their hands meet over the table, warm and solid as they squeeze and hold on, thumbs caressing each other. Clint and Tony have been home to one another for a long time now, and they know with a bone deep certainty that they can talk about things without making a personal vendetta of it, no matter how small or big the issue is. It’s just not how they work - what they have is easy going and it always has been.

A casual friendship with benefits quickly turned into more, and after months of pining and awkwardness, they finally got a move on and figured out their feelings for each other. That talk had been halting and even more awkward than the weeks before, but it led to mutual three-word-sentences and a future full of happiness.

Tony smiles, squeezing the other man’s hand as he asks,

“So, you don’t mind having to show me basic shit like cooking eggs without burning them to a crisp?”

“No, of course not. I love you and I love cooking - there really is no downside here if you ask me.”

“Alright, then. Thanks, Babe.” Tony leans forward for a kiss, which Clint is all too happy to give him. The cold dinner on the table is almost forgotten in the next few minutes, but as it turns out, it is the perfect opportunity to start.

“Okay, so, let’s put this back into the pan and crank the heat up. You want this to be warm and cooked through entirely. Then you - Tony… Please put down the salt shaker.”

“I have salt and I am not afraid to use it!”

“Yes I know, and that’s a problem! No, go away with that!” Laughing, the two of them tackle each other through the kitchen, until they end up pushed against the counter, foreheads touching and giggling like lovesick teenagers.

“Will you give up on any harsh decisions regarding the salt?” Clint asks, in a mock-serious tone that is actually a pretty good impression of what Phil Coulson sounds like, and Tony grins at him, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I am small and salty. Never.” he tries to snatch back the salt shaker, attempting to distract Clint with more makeout opportunities. He leans in, pulling Tony close with one arm and holding the salt shaker up over his head with the other - it’s a dick move, but it works. His boyfriends sputtering at the offensive act only makes Clint laugh more, but they need to flip the meat in the pan before their dinner burns once again, so their bickering is interrupted.

A little while later, their dinner is actually warm and not only edible, but really, really good at that. Tony is still surprised that they managed to save it, especially since there have been instances where this would have been simply impossible. But then again, he is lucky enough to have a partner who knows how to save messed up food, given there is a way left to salvage it in the first place.

“What’s the worst that ever happened to you while cooking?” Tony casually asks another night, while he is chopping vegetables into accurate cubes - they’re making stir fry, and the task at hand is easy and repetitive enough to chat away. Besides, he is used to handiwork, so this is totally doable.

Clint shoots him a knowing, amused look.

“...I almost set my kitchen in the SHIELD bunk on fire. It was like three in the morning and I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to make a dessert with flambé bananas. Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as planned and my neighbours fucking hated my guts for setting off the fire alarm in the middle of the night… That was about 15 years ago, and goddammit, some people still bring it up.”

Tony laughs, loudly.

“Well, thank fuck you know what you’re doing now - imagine the two of us being Fire Hazards together, the tower would have burned to the ground ages ago. Imagine SHIELD on our asses for it. Or worse, Cap.”

Slowly, he shakes his head. No one wants to see Steve’s “I am very disappointed in you”-face if they can help it. To be fair, when it doesn’t come to cooking, and more like, battles or developing weapons, the two of them combined are still a fire hazard. But that’s different, really.

Clint, however, stops chopping with his knife mid air, head crooked to the side as he gently lowers it onto the cutting board. Then, he asks, completely straight faced,

“...Did I ever tell you that Fury has backup-plans, just in case the two of us should be going rogue?”

Putting down his knife as well, Tony fixes his partner in a suspicious stare. Despite everything, this is news to him, and he is about 90% sure that at least on this occasion, Clint isn’t fucking with him. Also, this is totally something he’d expect Fury to do. The man is paranoid, and Tony definitely wouldn’t put such a thing past him.

“Wait what? No, you didn’t. Spill.”

With a laugh, Clint tells him,

“Ever since Nat went undercover as your PA and it was clear that both of us would be part of the Avengers, Fury put protocols in place - covered a lot of hypothetical situations, actually, it was quite funny to read. I think the short version is he knows both of us and our, dare I say, slightly chaotic tendencies…”

With a snort of laughter, Tony collapses against the counter. This is putting it lightly and they both know it, but he enjoys hearing the story.

Clint continues,

“Technically I’m not supposed to know that, but Tasha told me about it. She laughed for like, 10 minutes straight. Me, too, by the way.”

“I bet - heh, sorry i can’t” it takes a bit for Tony to calm down enough to say,

“I bet he put a lot more protocols in place ever since he got wind of us being an item. Honestly I’d love to see that list.”

The corners of his mouth are still twitching, and he wipes amused tears out of his eyes as he keeps cackling away.

“Oh hey, we should do a dramatic reading of that form!” he says then, and Clint is laughing too hard to answer, but he nods, vegetables forgotten on the counter for several minutes.

He only barely manages to stop Lucky from stealing the chicken right off of the counter, which only makes him laugh harder as he tries to hold his dog back by the collar. Once again, Lucky looks like he is judging his humans - even his one remaining eye is pretty expressive.

Once they have calmed down a bit, they continue. Tony is about to put the vegetables into the frying pan, but Clint stops him.

“Wait. Put in the onions and garlic first, let them get glassy and then add the rest of it in. One after the other. Hardest stuff first, softest last. That way you have everything cooked through without having some parts mushy in the end.” he explains, which is met with a surprised noise from his boyfriend.

“Huh, that makes sense. Cooking is logical, after all.” Tony says, as if that’s news to him - truth be told, it probably is.

“Of course it’s logical. What did you think?” Clint asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Magic? I don’t fucking know” Tony shrugs, but he looks very much satisfied. Even more so once everything is done. The stir fry turned out perfect, and the pasta only boiled over once - the kitchen is a mess, but the food is amazing, so it comes to no surprise that one after one, the other Avengers show up in the kitchen like a bunch of hungry sharks. Food always brings them together, especially if the delicious smells are wafting through the tower.

Apart from the obvious - having to eat, having to help out and later on, hating the SHIELD cafeteria with a burning passion - this is why Clint learned how to cook in the first place. Food brings people together, brings in company.

As someone who spent most of his life either lonely or socially awkward or both, Clint learned early on that if he feeds people, they will stick around - at least for a bit. It is a long standing habit, and although he genuinely loves cooking and baking, because it’s fun and relaxing, the people aspect is a big motivation as well.

Feeding people keeps them around and Clint recognizes that this might be a little sad. But he can’t deny that he likes doing it, one of the reasons being that, making food for someone shows that you care. As much as his social skills suck sometimes, Clint likes to take care of the people around him, especially loved ones.

Lucky for him, there is almost always someone around, here in the tower, to enjoy whatever he spent the day cooking or baking. Especially if either Steve or Thor are home, he knows nothing will stay untouched for long. While those two will eat anything and everything that isn’t nailed down, Clint knows that Tony is usually a bit of a picky eater, but he will try everything Clint makes, because he knows from experience that it’s always good. He does have a bit of a sweet tooth though. Bruce on the other hand prefers savory things, which is why he himself is cooking a lot of spicy, indian food, but he will also happily go to town on a loaf of bread fresh out of the oven.

Natasha, much like Phil and Pepper whenever they’re around, has a huge sweet tooth - whenever there are cookies or cake or anything else, she is the first to creep into the kitchen. Oftentimes, she steals balls of cookie dough and bowls with batter remaining in them. It gets even worse when Phil is around, because the two of them will team up to get all the sweet things - It’s highly classified, but you can totally buy Agent Coulson with sweet things.

Clint knows all of this, especially since he’s known Phil and Nat for many many years. Therefore, he counts in whatever they are likely going to steal whenever he is baking - he’s known their systematic approach for ages now, but he doesn’t mind it. Not at all.

Later that same night, Clint is sprawled out in bed, legs tangled with Tony’s and one arm wrapped around him. His head is pillowed on the other man's shoulder, face pressed into his favourite spot - the crook of Tony’s neck. Restless fingers are lightly scratching his scalp, and the even breathing of his dog by their feet are almost lulling him to sleep. His other hand is lazily tracing invisible patterns on Tony’s back, fingers creeping under his shirt and against warm, smooth skin. The happy hum he gets in response causes small vibrations to travel through his entire body, even when he can’t hear it.

They drift off to sleep like this, and when they are in the kitchen the next morning, Clint asks, as Tony keeps an suspicious eye on the scrambled eggs,

“Do you want to bake bread with me later? We can use it tomorrow for french toast.”

“...I’ll have to touch wet dough, do I?”

“...Ideally, yes. But it’s fun, I promise. Careful, your eggs.” he adds, and Tony jumps to flip them - just in time - no harm done. He lets out a sigh of relief. As it turns out, having someone close to help him get a hang of this really helps. Besides, Clint is a good teacher, and the whole love thing helps a lot. Just spending time together, really - and the compliments from their other teammates for last night’s dinner for example. All of it makes him want to keep going.

“Okay, let’s do it” Tony says, and the happy smile on his boyfriend's face is more than enough motivation to say “yes” again the next time he asks if he wants to bake.

As it turns out, baking is a whole different thing than cooking, which takes him by surprise. Especially since he needs to be a lot more accurate for this, while with cooking, there is at least a little bit of freestyling allowed. With baking? Not so much.

“It’s sticky. Ew. Babe, why? Why did you do this to me?” Tony complains, making a face as he holds up his hands that are covered in admittedly clingy bread dough - he’s not quite sure he actually likes doing this.

“It needs more flour - hold on.” Clint scrapes off as much dough from his hands as he can, carefully grabs the paper bag with two fingers and sprinkles a little bit more flour in both mixing bowls.

“Try again, it should work itself out. If it cleans out the bowl we’re good.”

“You said this was fun… Oh hey, that’s actually better now!” Tony exclaims in surprise, relieved that his bread dough isn’t nearly as sticky anymore - now, he can knead it with his hands without thinking of hacking them off right after. Truth be told, he is starting to see the fun part of this whole thing now.

“See? You’re doing great by the way.” Clint tells him, a warm and happy feeling spreading out in his chest. He is incredibly happy to be able to have this - to have Tony by his side in the first place. Words can’t express how much he loves this man, and he hopes that Tony knows nonetheless.

“I’ve got a pretty good teacher - you should meet him some time. He’s got amazing arms and an even better ass.” Tony is grinning over at Clint, absolutely not checking out those very much appreciated body parts while he does so. They have been together for quite some time, but the attraction to one another has not died down - not at all.

“Oh, does he now?”

“Very much so.”

Cheesy flirting and easy banter is what they do best, and by the time their dough is covered and resting, Clint and Tony disappear upstairs and into the bedroom. They lose their clothes on the way, leaving a trail through the entire apartment until they fall into bed, wrapped tightly around one another and laughing in between kisses and wandering hands.

There is plenty of time to pass until the bread is ready to be baked, after all.

*+~

Prompt 10: Teaching

#banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #ironhawk #65 Random Prompts

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Text

Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 3

Authors Note: Wow....This one is long, but I was in such a big writing mood for these two that I had to do it. We learn some of Xaviera’s memories, we see some sparks flying and we see how two souls bond into one.

Chapter 1 HERE

Chapter 2 HERE

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova @the-slasher-files

Warnings: 18+ because there are sexual scenes and straight up SMUT

Words: 5.8k

After that incident, Xaviera stayed the rest of the night preparing for the hunt; cleaning her sniper rifle, a weapon that took the life of so many poachers across the globe, from Asia to Africa and even Europe, annihilating greedy humans that wanted to take lives of animals for their own egoistical gains.

Then there were the small arrows. She smirked, remembering how some mocked the small weapons, insignificant at first glance, but only if they knew what they packed, they would have thought twice.

Xaviera learned that size sometimes doesn't help you when faced with a creature that has enough venom to put down an elephant. Her favorites were the snake neurotoxins, like the one of the black African mamba, it's venom could kill a human in 20 minutes if you don't have the anti-venom. It was like a ticking bomb.

Then the venom of the King Cobra; its bite delivers a tremendous amount of paralysis-inducing neurotoxins. The snake’s venom is so strong and so voluminous that it can kill an elephant in just a few hours. Death also results in at least 50 to 60 percent of untreated human cases.

Oxyuranus microlepidotus, also called, appropriately, the fierce snake; Xaviera remembers encountering this deadly snake. She witnessed it during one of the expeditions and one of the researchers got bitten. The venom consists of taipoxin, a complex mix of neurotoxins, procoagulants, and myotoxins that paralyze muscles, inhibit breathing, cause hemorraging in blood vessels and tissues, and damage muscles. The researcher didn't survive; a single drop of venom from the reptile can supposedly kill 100 men.

It left many experts dumbfounded, but Xaviera learned to respect that snake.

'Respect what can kill you.' That's what her father used to tell her when she was little.

'Never underestimate the size of some creatures.' he also would say.

Sitting down at the table, injecting the hallow arrows with the specific venoms, her mind drifted to the memories of when her father would take her to his travels, teaching her all the basic surviving tactics, how to approach certain animals.

'You can look, but you can't touch.' he would instruct her, especially when they encountered very majestic animals, like the banded krait. It was a beautiful snake, it's scaling in obsidian black and strong yellow, but when her father told her that the neurotoxin it sported can induce paralysis, she quickly nodded.

Xaviera missed him so much, and her mother too. She would always patch Xaviera up when she got hurt, also teaching her medical tactics, how to stop hemorrhage, how to properly disinfect a wound and stitch it up.

The white-haired woman closed her eyes; she was getting emotional and that was a dangerous thing to do, considering the predicament she was into. She needed to remember that there was also a predator with her in the cottage.

For now, he seemed unharmful. If he so badly had wanted, he could have killed her by now.

'Never let your guard down when you are surrounded by wild creatures.' her father's words echoed in her head.

She swallowed hard, remembering one time when she was careless, her young age and immaturity showed back then.

She went with her father on a small trip close to their homes in North America, in dense forests to observe the wilderness, only for this expedition to almost take Xaviera's life. They encountered three small bear cubs.

That meant only one thing; there was also a mother bear near and she was furious. Xaviera couldn't blame the adult bear. She was protecting her cubs and if it wasn't for her father that tranquilized the feral, giant of an animal, Xaviera wouldn't have been here now.

Although, the Grizzly Bear gave the white-haired woman a souvenir to remember her by. She remembers how the bear charged towards her, flashing jaws that could probably crush her skull and claws that were five-inch long.

It left five long deep enough scratch marks from her hip down her outer thigh, almost to her knee. Her father saved her; always carrying a tranquilizer-gun in case they encounter wild and untamed beasts.

Xaviera sighed, finished with the venomous arrows, putting them in a special bag, made of thick leather. Carrying around weapons like this was deadly. You never know if you accidentally pierce yourself with one.

Her light blue eyes moved to the window, seeing it was already morning, lightly snowing. Maybe tomorrow she will go out if the weather calmed down, itching to finish the leeches that she knew very well had captured a snow leopard.

'The fucking parasites.' she thought, her brows pulled into a frown.

Her gruesome fantasy disappeared when the need for food made itself known, stomach signaling her that. She moved towards the kitchen, starting to make some soup, cutting the vegetables, calculating the number of ingredients she needed for two people.

She groaned; why did she care for that man's well being? He was obscene, cocky, and infuriating. Still, the way he shushed and cooed her after her nightmare made something in her chest light up, like a small fire that started to heat up her insides.

She huffed in annoyance at this. He was infuriating. Period.....and he made her want to castrate him.

But none deserves to die by starvation, so pushing the strong emotions aside she continues to prepare the dish, putting all the ingredients cauldron and letting it boil, waiting next to it, absorbing in the warmness it provided and the delicious aromas, while she was reading one of her zoology books, enjoying the silence, while it lasts because she knows once the soup is done she will have to go back upstairs with that infuriating specimen of a male.

Xaviera was so into reading, stopping at a paragraph about ranks in the packs of animals when the soup started to boil. She set the book down on the table, then filled two bowls with the hot food, letting it cool down a little, preparing herself to go upstairs and hope she won't be forced to scratch his face off.

Taking the bowls and setting them on a tray, she slowly marched upstairs, feeling her heartbeat pick up a little.

Headstrong man plays with her head.

She pushed the door open with her foot, seeing Andrei gaze out the window, his knives next to him on the bed. She walked towards the nightstand to set the tray down, the small clang of it pulling the man from his thoughts.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and confused face, still suspicious probably for why she was still taking care of him. To be honest, Xaviera didn't know the answer either. Curse him for being more animal than human.

"Thank you, myshka." he spoke, taking the bowl of soup and sitting it on his lap.

She nodded his way, taking her own bowl of soup and sitting in the armchair like she did yesterday. It felt like such a deja vu.

"None deserves to die by starvation." she simply told him, starting to eat in silence, savoring the first spoons of the warm dish.

"So...Are you going to tell me what you are doing here in Himalaya?" she asked, looking at him with curious blue eyes.

He looked at her for a few seconds, like he was debating if he should answer.

"My job...it's um, well I'm a...I kill people for money." he answered, then continued.

"The poachers are from Ukraine, and the job took me here." he finished, watching her carefully as he took a sip off the spoon.

Normal people would probably be frightened by such a statement, but Xaviera was no normal woman. She killed humans herself and she lost count of how many died; sometimes by having their heads shot or a deadly venomous arrow piercing them, but that's the easy case.

Most of the time she just started the kill, then watched as the animals killed the poachers. Being ripped to shreds by a lion wasn't an easy dead.

Xaviera tilted her head to the side curiously like a cat.

"I see. Well, they are dead so I am more than content with that, although there are more leeches that need to be crushed." she replied, almost finished with her soup.

"Once the snowing stops I am out to balance the ecosystem." she told him, the corners of her lips twitching up in a faint dark smile.

His gaze was directly on her.

"So much fight, so much promise within you, little mouse..." he spoke, taking another spoonful of soup.

"The fire you have is strong...don't ever let anyone take that from you." he finished, getting up, making Xaviera tense a little.

He looked like he would stroke her cheek or share an intimate moment, which made Xaviera nervous, only for the Russian to hand her the half-empty bowl of soup and ruffling her white hair, giving her a smirk, then disappearing downstairs.

She was surprised he healed so fast; probably was used to it, but that's not what clouded the woman's mind. His words, much like the Grizzly scars that she was sporting and hiding, were now printed deep in her mind, giving her a feeling of pride, feeling like her ears were on fire, probably from blushing.

It was so long since someone told her such words, the last time someone praised her in such a deep way was her father. She shook her head, clearing her mist-filled mind, taking the tray with the two almost empty bowls, and walking downstairs.

The first thing she saw Andrei look through his weapons; she was tense at first, probably waiting for him to use them on her, but after she realized he was only checking them, she walked towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

"Y'know the kife, this one here, it is my favorite weapon...." he begins to speak, but she didn't look his way, but she did listen to his words.

"Only certain soldiers are skilled with these...." he continues and Xaviera hears his footsteps.

"It is very intimate game of life, death and the blade in hand...almost like a dance." his voice sounds very close and she knows that he is behind her, making her stop, her hands holding the bowl while she tries not to let him get to her; she needs to control her emotions.

She felt like ice was dripping down her back when one of Andrei's hands wee gently placed on her hip, where her scars started down, but luckily the clothes were hiding them.

He moved his other hand that held the knife in front of her, her jaw tense, prepared in case he decided to do something and test his theory that followed.

"This knife has saved me more than hundred times." she could feel his hot breath down the nape of her neck; cursing herself for pulling her hair into a messy bun, but the long white locks always got in the way when she washed the dishes.

His lips grazed her soft skin, making her eyes widen.

"And my favorite part...seeing the knife slip quietly between the bones, slicing skin like butter, dripping in hot blood as you pull it back...." then he kissed her neck, her shoulders so tense, like a feline ready to pounce.

"It's a beautiful sight." he finished, pulling the knife from her view.

She would have probably used her sarcasm on him, telling him how oh-so poetic he can be, but she couldn['t, because the Russian was in her personal space, way too close for her comfort and not in the usual 'I wanna choke you to death until your eyes are dull and lifeless'.

No. There was too much sexual ineduo dripping from his words and you could taste the atmosphere, which by seconds it turned electric.

Her breathing was the first giveaway of her feelings, a new form of vulnerability enveloping her.

She never had someone so intimately close to her, in such a way that made her feel like she was walking on thin ice.

"W-What are you doing?" she asked, cursing her voice for sounding so weak, so fragile.

Andrei just huffed in laughter, amused at her discomfort.

"Well, little mouse, we are probably going to be stuck here for a few days, and there is no TV or entertainment...." he replied, the hand that was holding the knife, grazed the outside of her thigh, moving upward, only to make her more anxious.

"I am not a big fan of reading, so I thought you could be my entertainment." he finished by kissing her neck, sensitive to his touch and making her breath hitch in her throat.

The sexual ineduo was too obvious now, the grip on the bowl so tight she almost broke it. Her eyes wide, not knowing how to react or what to do, never being in such a combusting situation.

"I-I...." she tried to form words, but it's like they were stuck in her throat, knees starting to shake.

She was a nervous mess.

"Cat got your tongue?" he sarcastically asked, playing with the hem of her shirt, while his other hand held her hip tight, making sure she was planted against him.

"Or should I say wolf?" he laughed, his canines grazing along her naked shoulder, nipping and kissing, all thanks to her over-sized shirt that slipped of her shoulder.

The white-haired woman felt her cheeks go on fire at the way his voice sounded and how he touched her.

What was she supposed to say? That she never indulged in the more carnal and primal activities? That she never was touched? That she was a virgin!?

She had a few boyfriends in college, but there was nothing more than kissing and a little bit of touching here and there; of course, nothing could compare to what the Russian in front of her was doing to her.

When his canines nipped more at her skin she dropped the bowl into the sink.

"N-No...It's just..." again she couldn't find it in her to properly speak.

In a flash, Andrei roughly whipped her around and hauled her on the counter with ease in a display of raw strength, making her squeak, his form settling himself between her legs, towering over her small form. His ice-blue eyes staring her down, his large and rough hands on her thigh, admiring the way she shook.

He was allowing her to speak, to continue her phrase.

Her eyes widened at the position they were in, too intimate, not to mention the way he looked at her, like a very dangerous animal ready to go in for the kill. She gulped down, trying to find her words.

"I-I....I've never..." she began, breaking eye contact with the intimidating Russian, hoping he will get the drift because it was so embarrassing to say the words herself.

Slowly, he pulled away, maintaining the predatory look, only to broke in a burst of full-on loud laughter, showing off his teeth and squinting his eyes, holding his chest and walking backward.

His laugh was deep and almost shook the cottage.

"Y-You....you what???...."

She felt her face heat up more at his reaction, laughing at her like she was a joke.

"S-Stop laughing..." she huffed, but he still didn't stop.

"I said, stop laughing, jackass!" she screamed, getting off the kitchen counter.

His laughing continued, watching her with amused eyes.

"Ba-Baby girl...oh my God." he was almost to the point of tears in his laughter and that's when Xaviera snapped.

Her icy blue eyes turning into a glare, feeling completely insulted at his laughter.

Before she knew what she was doing, her hands grasped his shirt and pushed him against the closest wall with all her strength she could muster, taking advantage of him being distracted.

"Stop laughing, asshole!" she snarled up at him; looking like a kitten that hissed at the big bad wolf.

The laughter instantly stopped, his smile dropping and turning into a snarl, his eyes darkening by her actions.

Swiftly, Andrei grabbed her throat and whipped her against the wall he was just against. She was ready to tell him to fuck off, but his large and muscular thigh was placed between her legs, right in the center, a mewl leaving her lips.

A new type of fire formed in the pit of her stomach, one that made her weak in the knees.

"W-What?" she choked out, her fingernails digging into the wrist of his hand that was wrapped around her neck, not tight enough to stop air to fill her lungs, but enough to assert his dominance over her.

Her wide eyes looked directly into his wolfish ones.

His breath hissed through gritted teeth like he was trying to control himself. He swallowed harshly, removing his hand from her neck, cupping her jaw, and stroking his thumb on her cheek.

The size difference between them was nerve breaking and she knew if he so saw fit he could rip her jaw off.

The dark scenario in her head vanished when he spoke.

"You're so beautiful, Xaviera." the first time he used her name and his words made her feel like she was made of jelly.

That glimpse of softness disappeared when the Russian grabbed her ass, making her wrap her legs around his waist, a growl leaving from deep within his chest when she accidentally grind on him a little.

She had no time to say anything because his lips crashed on hers.

Everything made her feel so dizzy and she knew if it weren't for his hands supporting her, she would have fallen down. The words he spoke echoed in her head, making her feel like her ribcage was gonna combust from how fast her heart was beating.

The adrenaline.

When she had grinded down on him, she felt something to say so....intimidating.....just like him.

"A-Andrei...." she squeaked against his mouth, her hands fisting into his shirt.

His mouth devoured hers and she found herself so weak by the many flavors he was sporting; the taste of tobacco, earl grey tea, and the faintness of the spicy soup.

He nipped at her bottom lip before he broke the kiss.

"I have you, little mouse." he whispered lowly, walking over to the couch, sitting himself down with her on his lap, his eyes trained on her like he was lost in his own mysterious mind.

Closing his eyes, he kissed her again, but this time it was much slower, but passionate, his finger laced into her soft, white hair. Her much smaller hands were gripping his shirt tight, afraid that if she let go she would fall from the rock and hit the bottom hard.

She tried to mimic the kiss, still wondering why she didn't push him away, smashing his balls and making him impotent for all his remaining life.

Maybe it was because she had never met a man like him, someone so dangerous and so at ease with his more primal instincts.

Again, he pulled away, his hand grasping her chin, resting his forehead on hers.

"But how myshka?....you're so beautiful." he asked.

How? Perhaps, she hadn't met someone that could match her, someone who wasn't afraid to indulge in the wilder side, someone who could actually keep up with her....Someone who can protect her.

She remembers in one expedition, there was a guy who tried to flirt with her, only to scream and run when one Boa fell down from a tree in front of her, and before that he was acting like he was all man and that masculinity.

"I-I've never found someone....Well...Compatible to say so...." she answered his question, looking up at him innocently from under her eyelashes.

Something sparked in his eyes, something she couldn't place her finger on.

"I will take care of you....ssh." he murmured, running his thumb along her soft lips.

Her mouth opened instinctually, his thumb moving gently inside her mouth, her tongue running over his digit and lips wrapped around it. His pupils dilatated at her innocent gesture, lips pulled into a small snarl. He was trying to control himself.

He pulled his hand away, only for his mouth to start leaving opened mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder, his big hands running under her shirt. Everywhere he touched her, he left a hot trail of fire, making her slowly moan, still shy about everything.

Xaviera tilted her head in the opposite direction, allowing him more access, just like a female animal does for the strongest male; a sign of submission. Her hands moved from his shirt to run her fingers through his hair; so soft, so fluffy, reminding her of the fur coat of a wolf.

She never felt like this before, the intensity of all her nerve-endings was stretching, absorbing every touch he gave her. She was so caught up in this newfound pleasure, just mewling in appreciation of all the attention he was basking her in, that th sound of material being ripped pulled her from the induced hormonal state.

Ice blue eyes opening to see he had ripped her shirt like it was made of paper, exposing her upper body, chest covered by a simple white bra, nothing fancy. When you were always on the run like a wild free-spirited animal just like her, you didn't have time to worry about expensive lingerie with all kinds of designs.

His hands quickly moved behind her to undo her bra, breaking the hook in the process, but that was her last of her worry because when the white material was tossed behind him, she wanted to cover herself, but he was much quicker than her, grasping her wrists from doing so. Not enough to break, but enough to tell her not to cover.

The way he was looking at her made her nervous; were they too small, not his desired shape? His tongue peeked out from his mouth, running along one of his canines.

A loud gasp tore from her throat when his mouth laced to one of her nipples, sucking and biting on it greedily. The other breast wasn't ignored, his calloused hand grabbing the globe of flesh, his fingers twisting the nipple.

Her hands tugged on his light brown faux hawk, her head tossed back, and looking at the ceiling. She never knew that such actions could make her feel like this; it made her feel weak, but in such a delicious way, wetness forming between her legs, giving her an uncomfortable feeling.

Trying to adjust herself, she ground on him, feeling the bulge in his cargo pants, only for a primal growl to erupt from Andrei, biting her nipple rather roughly, making her scream, whimpering as he started to lap at the rosy red bud.

It was such a weird mix of pain and pleasure.

His mouth, moved up along her chest, continuing to nip and bite, leaving trails of hickeys in his path; just like a wolf marking his territory. Blue and purples adored her pale skin in intricate patterns.

"Myshka." he growled against her neck, canines grazing her pulse, making the white-haired woman whimper; not in fear, but in sinful submission, something she never thought she would do.

Before she knew it, he moved off the couch with his hands supporting her body again, hands groping her small tight ass as he marched upstairs, her arms wrapped around his neck.

The door to the bedroom was kicked open rather roughly and surprisingly, her form gently laid on the bed and he pulled her lips into a sloppy kiss, showing how eager he was to devour her, to make her feel things she never even had in her life.

He loved to bite, that's for sure, Xaviera noticed that and his sharp canines only made him more of a beast than a man, but God if it didn't send her into a turned-on mess. She could feel how soaked she was and she knew he would be all smug about it.

His lips moved to her ear, licking it, then nipping on the cartilage. Xaviera squeaked, her hands running up and down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

"Sensitive there, baby girl?" he whispered in her ear, blowing hot air, stealing more lewd noises from the woman underneath him.

She was ready to throw him some colorful words, but that thought flew off the window when he sucked harshly on her earlobe, his hands, tugging her pants down in such an uncivil way, leaving her with only a pair of white cotton panties.

His eyes drifted to something that caught his interest; her Grizzly scars. She was afraid he might be pulled off by them, but she was surprised to feel him gently trace the marks, silently telling her it was alright, nothing to be ashamed of.

His eyes then moved to her panties.

Andrei smirked at the choice of her colors, so simple yet so innocent, running two thick fingers up and down her covered pussy, making her legs twitch.

"So cute, little mouse." he commented, making her face heat up.

He always managed to turn her into a flustering mess. She looked at him with confusion when he crawled off her, only for her legs to be thrown on his broad shoulders, his fingers pulling her panties aside, taking a glimpse at her most private parts, so untouched. His big thumb caressed her folds, spreading her wetness more.

"You're so wet for me, baby girl....I wanna have a taste of this juicy pussy of yours." he whispered, voice rough and growling at the end.

Her eyes widened when he felt his mouth on her, tongue lapping at what her heat had to offer him, his canines grazing her outer labia. Her hands fisted the bedsheets, as a series of lustful moans and mewls escaped her mouth; the way he was working her, switching from suckling to biting, the heels of her feet digging into his broad back, instinctually her legs closed around his head, pulling him in closer.

"A-Andrei!" she squeaked his name as his sharp teeth nibbled on her clit, making tears form at the corner of her eyes from how the pleasure was hitting her like a dagger.

It didn't help the growls that left his mouth, sending vibrations straight up her core and a weird feeling was forming into the pit of her stomach; she knew what was gonna happen.

"W-Wait....S-Stop....O-Or I am gonna-" she warned him, but he was just his stubborn self, not stopping his assault on her pussy, pushing one thick finger inside her and she was done, a long and loud whine.

She breathed heavily as he lapped up her juices, slowly raising up and looking at her with wide eyes, that feral look in them making her tremble.

"S-Sorry...." she apologized, seeing his mouth, jaw, and chin covered in wetness.

His wet lips pulled into his trademark wolfish grin, canines on full display, delighted by what she just did. He moved back over her, smashing his lips eagerly on hers, making Xaviera taste herself.

"See how good you taste, pussycat?" he asked against her lips, her eyes half-lidded as he looked into his own.

Her hands tugged on his shirt, a small whine leaving her, wanting to feel his skin. Getting up, he tugged his black shirt off, strong muscles on display, skin that was covered in scars, especially a big one down his chest, her eyes following the movements of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his cargo pants.

He kicked his combat boots off, then teasingly slipped the last piece of clothing off, along with his boxers. Innocent blue eyes widened as his length was freed, slapping against his abdomen. Her mouth hung open; he was big, everything about him was big, and screamed pure raw strength. Precum oozed from the rosy type, two obvious veins along the girthy length.

When her eyes looked up at his face, she could tell he was mighty proud of what he was packing; masculine pride.

"Close your mouth, myshka before I put something to occupy it." his obscene words made her quickly close it, hearing him chuckle at her flustered face.

The Russian moved back over her, his big hands pinning her tiny ones next to each side of her head as he gazed down directly into her glassy ones.

She gasped as he felt his length rub between her legs, the material of her panties adding to the friction.

"Feel what you're doing to me, darling? This is all your work." he growled, an inch away from her lips, her panties thoughtfully soaked.

In one swift move, one hand left her wrist to rip her panties off, coming back to grip her wrist back.

That was it, no more barries, nothing else between them, his cock rubbing directly on her soft skin, wet and eager for him to take it.

"P-Please..." she whispered, her legs opening more for him.

"W-What was that, myshka? You have to be more precise." he teased, making her whine.

She couldn't believe he was going to make her beg; he had managed to do something no man has ever done.

"P-Please...I-I need it." she choked out when his mouth laced on the skin behind her ear.

"What's that you want? My big cock, baby girl? That's what you want so badly?" he snarled into her ear, his canines running up and down the length of her neck and she threw her head back, the full length of her neck now on display, exactly like a female in heat that needs to be mounted by the most powerful male; the most intimate act of submission.

"Yes, please! Now, hurry up!" she screamed, exasperated with this anticipation.

That seemed to be the call because the follow action made her choke on her own breath, legs wrapping around his waist and her fingernails digging into his back, her mouth in an 'o' shape as she gazed with deer-like eyes into his feral ones, trying probably not to fuck her brains out since it's her first time.

She felt so full like she was going to be ripped in half, tears running down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

One of his hands cupped her cheek, whipping her tears away.

"Shhh...Breath, myshka....Breath. I'm here." he cooed, letting her adjust and she was very grateful for that.

No way was he average. Fuck no.

She tried to control her body, her breathing, relaxing her tense muscles as much as she could and she gave him a slight nod, motioning for him to move a little, which he did, very slowly, but by the way, his jaw was so tense, muscles bulging under scarred skin, she knew it was hard to control himself.

First, just some experimental thrusts, adjusting to his size, closing her eyes, the foreign feeling of pain fading away little by little which each push and pull until there was only pleasure, her moans signaling him that he could move harder, which he happily did, but he still held back.

"Fuck....You're so tight." he growled in her neck, slipping in and out of her cunt.

Xaviera couldn't form words and she let the primal sounds speak. The slow, languid pace quickly turned into fast and experimental thrusts, their skin slapping together whenever Andrei hilted inside her.

"So dripping for me." he breathed, his hands moving to grasp her ass.

"Yesssss." the white-haired woman mewled, her hands running through his hair.

He used his grip on her behind to move her body up and down his length, her body so light and easy to manhandle.

Now she knew why the animals were so feral in mating; how could you not be when all this pleasure is exploding through your veins. She knew it wasn't going to take her long to cum again, not by how he was starting to pound her cunt.

"Are you close, little mouse?" he asked her, one of her hands fisting his hair.

"I can feel you squeezing around me so eagerly." he sounded so primal; like a true apex predator wanting to conquer his mate.

"Mhmm..." she answered, the delicious knot ready to snap.

"Who do you belong to?" he growled, canines dangerously close to her neck artery.

"W-What?" she asked in a breathless moan.

She guessed that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because he gave her such a harsh thrust that made her toes curl.

"I asked.....Who do you belong to?" his voice had a growling tint, clearly losing his patience.

All her ration vanished then.

"Y-You.....I'm yours. I'm all yours." Xaviera whined when he slipped his cock almost all the way out, only for the tip to rest inside her.

He was going to kill her like this.

He kept her like this, only to took her by surprise when he pushed all the way in, a series of quick and deep thrusts followed, the tip of his length hitting that sweet spot inside her over and over, and she came heavily, her fingernails so deep in his back, running down, leaving a trail of hot red marks.

His cock twitched inside her and she felt warmness in the pit of her belly, making her feel like she was flying on a cloud, but she also had the feeling that she was really fucking a wolf, by the sound that left Andrei's mouth. His lips pulled into a snarl, deadly k9's glinting and the most erotic growl she ever heard meet her ears.

They both tried to catch their breaths, a smirk tugging at the Russian's lips as he looked down at her face; rosy red cheeks, eyes showing deep satisfaction and her lips swollen from the kissing.

"Speechless, koshechka?" (koshechka=pussycat)

Xaviera just gulped down, nodding her head and making him chuckle at her adorable expression, his hand coming to her head, running his thick fingers through her long soft winter locks, his mouth moving to her head as he whispered in Russian.

She didn't know what he said, but by the way, he spoke, it feels soothing, like he was singing her a lullaby.

She felt his thumb graze her pulse, one of her hands running up and down his chest gently, especially over his big scar.

It was like the fire died down and the only thing that was left was a sense of tranquility, a smile tugging at Xaviera's lips.

"Moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars." he whispered against her neck, kissing one of the bigger bitemarks he left on her. (moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars= my beautiful snow leopard)

She sighed contently, enjoying this rare moment, her hand playing with his fluffy hair as he littered her neck in all the attention.

Neither of them were sleepy and probably their minds were clouded with tons of questions and wonders.

#Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei Kulokova #Andrei Kulokova x Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei x xaviera #Slasher oc #Killer OCs #Original characters #story Time

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lk-ramblings · 3 years

Text

Carpe Noctem

Seize the Night

Meral x Aydın

MenajerimiAra

"I want movement, not a calm course of existence. I want excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I feel in myself a superabundance of energy which finds no outlet in our quiet life."

-Leo Tolstoy

* * *

Her thumb hovered over the number, only to be used in case of an emergency.

Well, this qualified as an emergency in her opinion. Dicle had not responded to her texts for an hour about whether she had reached Barış or not, and worry was clawing at Meral's insides. She decided to call.

'Merhaba. Aydın? This is Meral.....Dicle's housemate."

A low chuckle sounded at the other end. "Merhaba. Yes, this is Aydın, Barış's brother."

"I know who you are."

"And I know who you are."

She rolled her eyes. " Harika. I was just calling to ask if Dicle texted you or......" she trailed off, suddenly realising how awkward this was. Damn it. She was never anything less than sensible.

"Not since I texted her the address. Is there any problem?"

"Yok. Yok. I just worried since it's quite late and the neighbourhood.....well they must be talking and she forgot."

"Hmm. Yes. Talking. Probably."

She had the feeling he was laughing at her and bristled. " Well, thankyou. Sorry to bother you. Iyi geceler."

* * *

He could imagine her derisive look, the one he had seen her wearing when talking about Beren. The idea of her rolling her eyes sparked something in him and made him want to snatch the opportunity.

"Wait-"

"Yes?"

"Um....." he did not know what to say, and he was sorely out of practice with conversing about anything other than work. "Your concern for Dicle is very touching," he finished lamely.

There was silence on the other end and he could not really blame her.

"Well...thankyou I think? I hope Barış feels better and comes back soon," she sounded sincere in her goodwill and it warmed his heart, as anything related to Barış always did.

"Yes, InşAllah. I met him today, he's doing better now."

"Good to hear..."

"I was wondering, if you wanted to meet up and discuss? Barış and Dicle, yani. Or general things. Actually more of general things. Since, New Year's was fun and...."

Silence again. He was just about to make sure the call had not dropped, when she spoke, "That sounds great. Where do you want to meet?"

His heart gave an excited thump." Wherever you want."

"Oh, I have a great idea," he heard the smile in her voice that already had him looking forward to tomorrow with a new excitement.

* * *

Her favourite restaurant was roaring with white noise, the air perfumed with spices. Her mouth was watering and she was already anticipating the pleasure the meal would bring to sate her growling stomach. Even her great love of food was not enough to occupy her thoughts entirely, though.

She was nervous and excited; wondering if they would still have the connection she felt at the New Year's party. It was hard to determine what he felt from the few glances they managed to exchange at parties. Her imagined conversations, however, kept being interrupted by the couple arguing right behind her booth.

She sighed. She was just about to turn around and jump in their quarrel, when he arrived.

Meral had convinced herself that her years of romance and dizi infatution had embellished her memory of him. She had taken extra care dressing up, all the while telling herself she was being silly. Neyse, what had all the effort on that doomed Singles Party been for? Only a single glance?

She did not need to worry or dress up, she reassured herself. It was just a pair of acquaintances meeting. It could be fun even.

The reality of him exceeded her memory. He was snug in a crimson sweater, bold and festive; his hair and face shining from the outside cold. He looked brooding in a dangerous sort of way and she was suddenly glad she had gone to the extra effort.

But then he smiled and Meral was forced to consider that smiles always won over broody pouts.

"Hoş Geldin!"

"Hoş Bulduk. Pardon, did I keep you waiting? You seemed to be frustrated when I came in."

"Ha! That wasn't you." She leaned forward and lowered her voice- motioning to the booth behind her- and he did the same." I was about to join in their fascinating discussion about stocks and resolve the issue for them. As an unbiased third party."

"Ofcourse, because you are an accountancy expert."

"No, because I'm incurably nosy."

He barked a surprised laugh at her.

"Do you often get involved in things that are none of your business?" he said, trying to match her tone.

"Unfortunately, no. That's Dicle. I always gather information but only get in fights that are my business. And I win." She sent a quick prayer of thanks for the loud couple for kickstarting their conversation.

"Öyle mı?"

"Aynen."

"Speaking of Dicle, how is Kiraç Bey doing?"

"Much better!"

"Good to hear. Geçmiş olsun."

"Sağ ol."

She was just thinking they were in danger of lapsing into an awkward pause, when the waiter arrived to save them from it.

"Hoş Geldin. Meral Hanım, the usual?"

"Yes, please!"

"You come here often? I'll have what the lady is having then," Aydın said, closing the menu.

"Yes, I love this place. It's so close to our home too," she continued after the waiter had left. "You're sitting in our special booth, actually."

"Whose?"

"Dicle and mine. We always sit in the same place everytime so the staff practically has it reserved for us."

He smiled but then a teasing glint came into his eyes, "Same place, same order. You don't like new possibilities?"

She could not believe he had hit close to her vulnerable spot so quickly. Half of her wanted to welcome the exploration, delighting in someone trying to know her. The other half, the dominant, ever-sensible one wanted to retreat.

"I do. But there's comfort in familiarity. Honestly? I've realised I would thrive in a communist setting."

Aydın laughed, spluttering, the glass of water raised midway." You say the oddest things."

The pleasure of making him laugh made her glow and she relaxed. "If I have too many choices, it’s my fault if I make the wrong one. But if decisions have been made for me? Not only can I complain to my heart's content, but I also feel like I have triumphed against great odds in the struggle to become the independent woman that I am."

“You see odds in everything? I see now why you chose this job." He was regarding her with respect and curiosity. The combination made her feel heady, wanting to let her guard down.

"Why?"

"You get to calculate odds and meddle with everyone's business on a professional basis.”

It was her turn to laugh in surprise.

* * *

As they ate, they talked about everything from history, to food to dizis, the conversation darting in different directions. Meral could see his quiet intelligence, his attention to detail. She could not remember simply enjoying talking this much before. He had a ready response to everything. Words and laughter were bubbling inside her.

"I better warn Barış. You've watched too many serial killer movies and would leave no trace."

"You can relax. He's not on my hit list yet."

At his devious smile, she pointed at him with her fork. "For now. He's on my good side for now."

"Don't worry, he's a true romantic. He would never do anything that would get him on your hit list."

Her face softened into a smile, "He really his."

"You know, sometimes I feel like I'm their Teyze."

"Barış and Dicle? From a hitman to a teyze?" he grinned at her.

"Yes.Yani, I cook and clean, which I love to anyway. But then being the unwanted third wheel living in her children's house, I leave quietly once I know he's coming over."

"Oh well, I'm the teyze in our house then. You know when- " he stopped at her burst of laughter. "What?"

"I'm sorry- I just-" she said between gasps, "imagining you as a cranky teyze is- actually that's a pretty good description."

"Oh, you think so? As I was saying," he said in mock affrontery, "after Barış got shot, he was trying desperately to be alone with Dicle. But-'

He was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out and she joined in aswell.

He gathered himself and began again," But every single person we know other than Dicle was appearing at our doorstep. And, you remember, Celal Bey? He brought a mountain of food over. And then when Dicle was finally coming over, what did Barış do? Beyeffendi handed me a couple of boxes and told me to disappear."

"How cruel."

Their laughter gradually faded into comfortable smiles. "That man eats like every meal is his last meal," Meral said.

"Evet, but who does not enjoy food though?" he said with a pointed look towards her just to see her reaction and earned an olive in his face for the jab.

"Ow! How do you know how Celal Bey eats anyway?"

"I saw him. At the TV dinner? In the restaurant you recommended?"

"What?"

Her subconcious writer, which had been busy penning their story, suddenly deflated at him not even remembering their first meeting. What hope did a romance have when one party did not even remember the meet-cute? And since when was she considering this a date? Or a romance?

She shook her head and focused back to the present. His expression was serious now, devoid of all the teasing warmth.

"Yes, I remember. I'm sorry you had to see me that way. That wasn't my best behaviour."

He gazed out the window. Meral was dying to know more, to smooth over the lull in the conversation but afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Finally he met her gaze, having made a decision. "I've always been practical all my life. Had to be. Barış and my father are quite hot tempered and.....impulsive, so I was mostly making the money, holding down the jobs. Keeping the job and the peace. I don't apologise for doing what had to be done."

"Tabi canım, you don't have to explain to me. Pragmatic is my middle name." she agreed easily, yet touched that he had shared some small part of himself.

'To doing what needs to be done," she raised her çay in a toast. He smiled and some of the light heartedness returned.

"I understand that life is more than making money and looking attractive. I know I pressured Barış- even got into a fight with Dicle," he glanced at her embarrassed.

"Growing up, our mahalle just reinforced that a happy life is the type of life that photographs well. I know this isn’t true- now- but it’s hard not to think this way. I’ve internalized it."

"I know." Her voice was soft and sincere, easing some of his discomfort. "That's what our lives have become these days. If only we remember to live the moments that we love to photograph."

"Evet. How right you are."

"And this isn't off the back of some truck. This is my own wisdom." She was grateful to see him smile again.

"Gathered during hours of repetitive work. I sit in that room each day, half my mind on the numbers, half in my infinitely more adventurous world."

"You call that repetitive?! I would love that! The assurity of routine."

He sat back with a sigh. "I had so many jobs, never knowing when one would end. Mesela, my current job with Serkan Bey? I finally know some part of what each day brings."

"But don't you miss the excitement of new things?"

"I guess I would thrive in a communist setting too, Meral Hanım. But this sector already has so many new weird things happening everyday, it's never the same."

"Oh you're a veteran of 'this sector' now?"

"Absolutely. Ha! But truly I.....feel like I belong? Actually, Serkan helped me in a difficult situation and I ended up here. I realised I actually enjoy it. I find I have a talent for organising. And persuading and cajoling. Although, if you listen to the whims of all these people! You come across some complete- well I shouldn't say but- Even more than what I met as a taxi driver. I-"

He stopped and seemed to gather himself. "Just glad I have security. The comfort of certainty."

Meral was fascinated hearing him talk, his eyes lit with keen intelligence. She wished she could revel in the comfort he described, but lately she felt stuck in a rut. She had told him she did not like choices but that was not true. She yearned to take chances. Her life had become a collection of the same days, same nights out with the same people. This evening was the only thing breaking the endless monotony.

"I bet you have great stories to tell though. I love listening to stories. We get absolute weirdos at our place aswell but it's ultimately boring. I live vicariously through Dicle."

"I think we should stop talking about them as if we're the side characters."

"Yani?"

"Yani novel falan filan. We keep talking about Barış and Dicle. We should focus on us a little, I think."

His voice had dropped at the end, his eyes on her felt like a caress. Meral could feel something tugging at her to explore this new territory, to take the chance she kept telling others to. But, imagining something in your head was vastly different than having that play out in real life. She fell back on her customary sarcasm.

"Ah, novels. I see I've already corrupted your practicality. 50 points to Ravenclaw."

He had been giving her a lazy smile but groaned at her words. "You're both 'Potterheads'?"

"I thought we weren't talking about them."

"We won't. Because I don't know where to even begin about this. We watched the movies when we were younger, but apparently that's not enough and Barış has been trying to get into 'the fandom'." His voice was a mix of exasperation and affection.

She cried out in mock outrage trying to hide her glee, "Did you just air quote again? And ofcourse that is not enough. I'm glad he is on the right path."

'Neyse. And before you say anything, yes, I know I'm a Slytherin.'

'Oh absolutely," she laughed at his disgruntled form languishing in the booth.

'Ee?'

She raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"So how did you get into the wonders of accounting. I've been spilling all my secrets to you and you give nothing away. Hadi, don't make me take out my truth potion."

"Tsk, tsk. Banning magical discourse and then indulging in it yourself? Shameless."

His quick smile seemed to seep into her.

"Lütfen ya, give me something here. You mentioned you shifted to Istanbul?"

"Yes I did. But that is a story for another day. It's getting late. I think the owner might be coming to personally throw us out."

Her humour just kept surprising him anew; he could not remember when he had last laughed so much.

* * *

As they walked back to her house, he noticed her slowing slightly. "Are you tired?"

"Biraz. My soul wants to party but my body is of an old woman."

"And what do old women like doing at night?" he cringed at how it sounded.

"Well it's winter so, we drink hot chocolate wrapped in blankets, and avoid people."

"Well people are sources of warmth aswell." Damn. There she was, throwing out words in bright clusters all night, like the gentle snow falling around them.

And everything he said was coming out like an innuendo.

"I mean, figurative warmth. The pleasure of company."

She just raised her eyebrows and hid a smile behind her hand.

"We revel in solitude."

"I didn't know you were that eager to get away from me."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"I think I have some idea." There was something about her, that just made him fall into this teasing, snappy rhythm.

"But we've only met twice. That's not enough data points to form an accurate picture."

"We have met more than twice. And you're doing this on purpose aren't you?"

"What?"

"Mentioning data points now that I've confessed my love for organisation."

Her laughter rang out in the hushed street.

The snow was falling around them gently, giving everything a glittering glow. Her impish face was turned upto his, the snowflakes in her hair like diamonds and dissolving on her lips.

He had the sudden urge to taste that snowflake, run his tongue along the seam of her lips.

Something inside him held him back. He was afraid it was too soon. Afraid to burst this, whatever magic they had between them, just as it was beginning.

Meral could see the moment he decided to forego kissing, the fire in his eyes cooling as they returned to their normal lazy depths. Keen disappointnent burned inside her but was chased away by the still buzzing energy that had been between them all evening.

This evening had already proved to be much more than her normal. An outlier. She wanted to capture the bright feeling, like a firefly; bask in the light for a brief moment and then let go.

"Thankyou. It was..." Unique. Comfortable. Thlrilling, all at once. "Fun. I enjoyed spending time with you."

Surprisingly, her shyness made him bolder. "Me too. I would love to do this again." She looked up. "If you want to, I mean."

"I wasn't angling for an invitation."

"I know. But it stands regardless. I would love to do this again." He could not believe he had managed to get that out without tripping over his words.

The tentative smile on her face made him add, " I must prove I'm the ultimate teyze between us. I'll cook for you."

"Şaka?!" she gave a delighted laugh. "Well then, let the Battle of the Teyzes commence."

When he took her proffered hand, their was a slight shock, as if their bodies were completing the circuit, that energy finally finding a closed loop.

"O zaman, iyi olan kazansın," he said softly.

"Iyi olan kazansın."

"Iyi geceler. Meral." he said, finally breaking the handshake.

"Iyi geceler." She went in and turned at the doorstep. "Aydin."

His name on her lips, materialising in the cold air for a second.

He smiled that slow smile again. An outlier. An input that could start new trends, open new possibilities, change everything.

* * *

#MenajerimiAra #Meral x Aydın #AyMer #CarpeNoctem #my writing

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fatbottombucky · 4 years

Text

What’s The Diagnostic? They’re Obliviously In Love |StevexBucky|

Summary:Avengers Assemble Hospital is a non-profit hospital. It's also a teaching hospital to Interns and Students. Some of the best minds work, teach, and learn at the hospital. Dr Rogers and Dr Barnes have been friends through thick and thin, both meeting in Med School- when Steve used to get into fights with more students than he'd ever admitted. They're both about to relive Steve's first marriage as his first-wife is back, she wants to try again and Steve thinks this is it for him; he's an almost 40yr old-man, who doesn't get out much. Whilst Steve is dealing with his past, James, is dealing with the Chairman of The Board, Mr Rumlow, who hates him. A personal vendetta is what Rumlow has, James can't figure out why. Rumlow also has a keen interest in Steve, as if Steve needs more attention- this angers Barnes more. Their co-workers have a bet going on. Their long time patients are trying to set them up. Rogers and Barnes are helpless and oblivious...They're also RoomMates.

±Inspired by House MD; House and Wilson's relationship/ Diagnostic job is used for Bucky±

Ratings: (+18) Explicit Content

Warnings: SLOW BURN!!!! Will be displayed here when appropriate

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Notes: Each chapter is titled as 'Episodes', to clarify, if three chapters are titled "Episode One" that means those three chapters exist within the same time frame (AKA those chapters happen over a singular day or span over a week).

Episode One- The Deduction of Steve Rogers

11:00 am Wreck Room

"Have you told him?" Steve looks up from the staff's coffee machine to see Natasha, she's leaning against the table with her arms crossed. She's still dressed in her scrubs, despite being in surgery for plus five hours she still looks immaculate and beautiful. "He's going to find out soon, ya know? He's the master at deducing, heck, that's his entire job. There's no problem or puzzle that he can't solve."

Steve sighed, stirring the milk into the coffee for a second longer than necessary. "He's got a case right now. I have about," Steve looks at the clock on the wall and back to Natasha, "three more hours to think of how to break the news." He gives a little sigh and shakes his head, "I don't know why he'd be mad, she messaged me and I haven't even replied back, yet."

"You know how he gets," She shrugs, red hair pulled into a tight bun that she is currently taking down. "He's going to be figuring out why you haven't replied, he'll go into some in-depth explanation that'll explain why you didn't tell him straight away either- leading all towards the fact you want to message her."

Steve shakes his head, rolling his blue eyes as he taps the spoon three times against the rim of his mug before taking a thoughtful sip of his drink.

"Don't need to tell him now," giving her a pointed look, "you've been hanging around his office too much, Romanoff."

Natasha shrugs one shoulder, "I've been looking out for his newest intern, Parker. Stark wanted to make sure that Barnes didn't fire him within the first week, despite the demeaning comments the kid seems to be holding himself well."

Steve nodded and hears his phone beep, he checks and sees it's his ex-wife, his first ex-wife. Peggy Carter, his first real and true love, she's the one that pushed him into this job and supported him through his last year at Med School. He, honestly, thought she was it for him. They'd have a couple of kids together, work their respected jobs and raise a beautiful, happy family and grow old. But that didn't happen. In fact, on their second wedding anniversary, he was given divorce papers- by her lawyer, Edwin Jarvis.

Didn't see it coming. Sure, they had arguments like normal couples. Steve was dedicated to his job, he has to be because he's the Oncologist. There are people that are relying on him to form a good treatment plan; something that'll give them more time or help them beat their cancer. He never neglected his husband duties, he never neglected her and he never got a definitive answer to their divorce. What he does know is that James Barnes, his best friend, resents the woman and practically got Steve back on his feet after the divorce was finalised.

"You still not gonna answer her?"

'We need to talk, Steven.' Is the latest text that was sent to his phone, maybe they do need to talk, it'll get him some closure but he can't face her right now.

"I'm too busy, right now." He sighed and slipped the phone back into his pant pocket, "I've got to go over the recent funding for my department, Fury wants all documented and flies perfect for the Chairman that's coming this week. Meaning," he sighed and slipped his eyes to Natasha as he walks to the door, "I've gotta somehow get Barnes to do his own reports... or do them myself. He's also gotta do his six hours of clinic duty, but I might be going for overkill."

Steve walks out of the room, mug still in hand and turning, almost spilling the contents of his mug over the small intern. Parker is pushing a stretcher with Wanda on the other side, to save the coffee he holds it up and out of their way.

"Sorry, Dr Rogers, heading to surgery!" Wanda yells over her shoulder, blood splattered over her clothes.

Steve is almost tempted to follow, clearly, the Diagnostics Teams case is more complicated than they thought and James hadn't solved it just yet.

Meaning Steve had a couple of hours to get his work done before James starts snooping into his life, as normal. He has a few hours to reflect and act normal as if nothing has happened and therefore meaning his friend won't realise anything has happened.

1:34 pm Cafeteria

A body slides up beside Steve, plopping a Red Bull and a bowl of fries, plus a packet of Doritos onto his tray. Steve doesn't have to look to know it's James, but he looks anyway to see the usual neutral face of his friend. Steely eyes are looking back at him, there's a slight ghost of a smirk on his lips because he knows that Steve will complain... but pay for his lunch anyway.

"I'm adding all these lunches up, by the way. Giving you the bill at Christmas." Is all Steve mutters to him, standing in line behind a few clinic nurses; that are chatting amongst themselves.

James rolls his eyes, "My guy needs a Craniotomy," Completely changing the subject altogether, "can you get Wilson to do it?" Steve furrows his eyebrows and looks at him, crossing his arms over his chest when he faces him, shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a couple of pens in his shirt pocket. "He always puts me around the ringer, he'll say yes without question if you ask."

"I'm not asking Sam, if you need that surgery then you ask." Voice stern as he turns back and pulls out his wallet, nodding at the cashier, "for both," he mutters before handing over the money. James picks up the tray as he grabs the change, both walking over to a table and sitting down. "Don't throw my salad at me," he reprimands as James chucks the salad bowl at him.

"Oh, you mean that rabbit food?" James counters, pulling a chocolate bar from his pocket and opening it, Steve frowns when looking at him unwrapping the sweet treat. "You're gonna go up and pay for this, aren't you?"

Steve gives him a disapproving look. "Did you steal that?"

"I didn't if you go and pay for it," he laughs loudly when Steve gets up and walks to the counter, handing her the correct change and explaining before walking back to their table. "You're such a good boy, Rogers. So, what's been going on?"

Steve rolls his eyes, out of the two Barnes was the guy who cut corners. He believed that separating emotions from their work makes you a better Doctor, he could be right, but Steve has the belief that being emotional and leading with your emotions creates an environment that makes you want to save every patient. They're opposite ends of the spectrum. Bucky likes the thrill of puzzle-solving, getting that diagnostic and Steve likes saving his patients anyway he can.

Steve stopped mid-bite of his salad, glancing at James who wasn't even looking at him, opening his can of energy drink.

"Well, Fury has ordered all of us to get our paperwork done and I have, so do you want me to do yours?" James looks up and raises his eyebrows, "the new chairman of the board, Barnes. I don't want him to have more reasons to hate you, your personality already puts people off." Barnes gives a mock hurt face but nods in agreement. "I'll take your reports home tonight and do it for you."

They're silent for a few minutes, both eating in respective silence. James gets a few alerts on his pager, not bothering to check it; standard for him. Steve mostly talks, randomly talking about the wrestling match that they're going to have to record this weekend; he's working the night shifts. Telling James the usual bet wager is on, they always put in 200$ each and each, and every time, Barnes somehow wins- yet, Steve pays for his lunches.

Once they've finished their food and put their trash away they walk to the elevators. Stepping in and pressing the button for their floor, fortunately, their offices are next to one another. Something that Rogers later found out that Barnes requested, he wanted Steve closeby, possibly to annoy him as he does on the daily. James is often found in Steve's office, hiding from potential cases.

Steve glances at his wristwatch, present from his first wife-he's sentimental. Bucky calls him hopeless, perhaps he is. Peggy had brought that for him, a birthday present, and he has said he would pawn it off and buy himself a new watch. He just never has the time to go and look at watches or spend that amount on a decent one- the one Peggy got was decent, at least, that's what she had told him.

"You never answered my question," Steve quirks an eyebrow and looks at James, "About what's been going. You avoided the question and told me about work, we haven't caught up in almost two days because of my latest case." He looks expectingly at Steve, "could be because nothing new has happened, but you always update me on something new you've watched on Netflix and I know you have started something new. Something has happened; you don't want to tell me and it's either because it's bad or you just don't want to tell me."

The elevator doors open and they both step out, Steve looks at James and sighs softly.

"For once, please, just leave this alone." James tilts his head, he's only a few inches shorter than Steve. "It's not even that interesting or worth your time, trust me."

James nods once, "You don't want me to know and it's also bad, interesting." He smiles before walking to his office, just as his team shows up.

5:00pm Barnes' Office

"James, give me your paperwork." He has his coat hanging off an arm and his briefcase in the other, shoulder holding the glass door open.

Parker, Maximoff, and Jones all look up at Steve from their table. The whiteboard behind them have the patients different symptoms down, Steve briefly looks before watching James' attempt to lift the large stacks of files and papers. He notices the stiffness displayed in the left shoulder, how it locks-up and he can't move it, so Steve steps up and grabs the files.

An injury from years ago, he got it looked at even had surgery on that shoulder... to no avail. The pain lingers on. A reminder of his past life, a life that Steve never brings up out of respect for his friend.

"Hows the first wife?"

Steve stops and looks up, James doesn't wear a readable expression and Steve's throat tightens, daring to glance at the others in the room. He couldn't wait to bring this up privately, of course, he couldn't because it's James Barnes: when he figures something out he needs an audience. They all just watch as Steve has an internal battle within himself.

"It could be Non-Hodjikns-lymphoma," Jones pipes up, coat hanging off the back of her chair, clearly trying to get the conversation back onto the patient. "We've been thinking it's all in the head, but it could be pushing down on the spine and creating the symptoms we've seen in the brain."

"So I'm right," Barnes continues and Steve places the paperwork into his briefcase.

Finally looking at him once he clicks it shut. "I haven't even replied to her. It's nothing. I told you to leave this alone, so leave it."

"I just can't figure out why you weren't going to tell me," James leans against the wall and shrugs his shoulders as Steve looks at him with disbelief. "I'm your best friend, in fact, I'm your only friend that knows Peggy Carter and what she did to you. Why didn't you come to me first?" Before Steve can get a word in, James is off again, "Could be many things; you want to message her and me knowing would make it difficult, you know I would remind you of how evil she is. Could be because you aren't going to message her but you feel guilty, you want to message her but you know she's evil. It's something deeper, though."

Steve just sighs tiredly, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bucky," the nickname he hardly ever uses a work because professionalism is Steve's forte, "It's five text messages, all of which I have received today. This is one piece of thread that is frayed and small, not everything deserves to be a puzzle and my life, what I do, isn't something to be discussed at work. Leave it." The room is silent, James gives a curt nod.

"50$ on you texting her before lunch tomorrow," James calls out before his office door closes, Steve grumbles to himself with a shake of his head when pressing the elevator button heading to the parking lot.

- Please let me know what you think, I really appreciate feedback and want to know if this is something you’re interested in. Let me know if you want to be tagged too :) Rosalie-

Tagging: @starkerhowlter @atanoissapa @princessn-97 @oddone92 @rexburn12 @stevie-strawberry

#steve x bucky #stucky smut #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes smut #stucky one shot #stucky oneshot #stucky imagine #bucky barnes x steve rogers #male x male #steve rogers fanfic #stevexbucky

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judgmentofcorruption · 4 years

Text

Episode 10–The Court Ends; Scene 4

Judgment of Corruption, pages 282-288

The massacre of the villagers of Zenosai committed by Tony Ausdin’s unit soon became known throughout Levianta.

“Zenosai Village Destroyed by USE Armed Forces Second Division! Military Morals Under Question”

“General Tony Ausdin, Vicious Slaughterer of Civilians! A Fool Who Was Promoted Only By Connections”

These were the provocative headlines that decorated the front page of the newspaper.

Glancing over these newspaper articles in the director’s room, Gallerian asked Bruno, “—I’m quite certain that the USE unified government had been concealing the matter of Zenosai Village…How did it leak to the press?”

“…This is just a guess, but I imagine it’s the work of the anti-war movement.”

“The anti-war movement?”

“People who have begun to make their presence known due to the heavy casualties of the war. The people of Levianta have not experienced war in quite some time. They have no immunity for it—And there are rumors that the anti-war movement is being propped up by Elphegort’s ‘Tasan Party’.”

“Those are the ones that made such strong objections after Heleus Gone’s trial.”

“The name of the organization is taken from that empire in the ancient era, but outside of that the party is fairly vague. First they start agitating for war, then suddenly they shift to being against it—There are some who mock them as simply wishing to make a show of themselves.”

“Whatever the case, now that all this has hit the papers—I suppose we can’t hold off on indicting Tony.” Gallerian stood.

“What do you intend to do, sir?”

“I’m going to see Tony. Once this goes to trial I’m certain I will be acting as head judge, but…I want to hear his side of things at least once before then.”

“If that happens then wouldn’t it be unwise for you to meet with him, given he’s the defendant?”

“I don’t see any problem. It’s for times like these that I’ve given the head of the prison such large sums of money.”

Gallerian straightened up and moved to leave the room.

Bruno called out to him, “Director Marlon—No, Gallerian.”

“…It’s been quite a long time since you’ve addressed me without honorifics. What is it?”

“Please bear this fact in mind. This time it was a friend of yours—Shiro, who was killed by this man.”

“…I know.”

Gallerian left, showing neither a smile nor a scowl.

Tony had been slim from the start, but the man who arrived in the visiting area of the first detention block of the prison looked far bonier than he had been before.

“—Are you not eating?”

Tony smiled weakly at Gallerian’s greeting. “The food here doesn’t suit me. …Well, I’m glad to see you.”

“You showed up in the paper.”

“I know. I can read the newspaper even here in prison, and I can listen to the radio too. –Someone in the unit must have been the whistleblower.”

There was a single jailer on the other side of the glass behind Tony, observing the both of them. But it seemed he couldn’t hear the contents of their conversation.

After giving that jailer a brief glance, Gallerian turned back to Tony and asked, “I need to know if everything they reported is true.”

Tony didn’t respond right away.

But eventually he resumed speaking, appearing to steady his resolve.

“The gist of it, yes. It is true that the unit that I led killed all of the villagers at Zenosai. That’s a fact. But…It wasn’t something I did out of curiosity or fun like they wrote in the paper. –They were all connected with the Asmodean army.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“A child of the village attacked me with a bomb…I came close to being killed.”

“And do you have any proof that the rest of the villagers were like that?”

“…You sound like my defense attorney.” Tony covered his face with his palms. “Proof? –No, I don’t. But if I hadn’t done something they probably would have done me in. That’s just what war is like! …Maybe you don’t understand that, staying cooped up in the Dark Star Bureau as you do.”

“…And Shiro?”

“That…was an accident. The gun just went off. Please believe me. I had no intention in the least of killing her—For what happened to her I am truly sorry. To both you and Bruno as well.”

I don’t know if Gallerian believed his words. I couldn’t tell that from his expression.

However, he made a face that was far more grief-stricken than Tony’s before him.

“You—will most likely be indicted, and then put to trial. It’s a grave crime for military soldiers to kill unresisting civilians. Given that you were in command of that unit, you’ll likely receive either life imprisonment if found guilty, or…capital punishment.”

“That’s why…I’ve been telling you, they were attacking me!”

“It’s doubtful your defense attorney will be able to substantiate that. Even if I’m the one acting as head judge, I can’t say anything to give the defendant an advantage in open court.”

“But isn’t it the judge that passes down the final verdict?”

“Well, that’s true, but—"

“…Please help me. I don’t…I don’t want to die in this place. My wife’s only just given birth to our second child…”

What did Gallerian think, watching Tony as he pitifully made his entreaties? His memories of college, the time he and Tony drank together to celebrate his promotion, or perhaps…Loki?

I had no way of knowing. I’m just a mere bat, so I cannot read someone’s mind.

--After a short silence, Gallerian opened his mouth.

“I understand, Tony. I will do my best to—”

“…I have money.”

“—Huh?”

“I’ve heard the rumors. That as long as they can pay, you’ll declare anyone innocent. In spite of all this, I’m still the general of the allied forces. I have enough saved up to pay a bribe for you.”

“…”

Tony continued speaking, irrespective of Gallerian’s speechlessness.

“Just say the amount and I’ll have my lawyer deposit the money into your account. He’s an attorney on retainer from my father’s day. There’s no way he’ll let any of this information slip to the public, so you can relax there. Come on—tell me how much, Gallerian.”

“…Ha ha ha…I see, that’s right…”

“…? What’s wrong?”

Gallerian hid his face with his hand.

When he removed it again, there was a wicked smile there.

“…Two million Ev. Deposit it within three days. Then you’ll pay me another two million once you’re declared innocent.”

“Oh, that’s cheaper than I was expecting. I thought you took more.”

“It’s a ‘friend discount’. Special—just for you.”

“Thank you, Gallerian. You’re the kind of friend a guy should have after all.”

The jailer came out of the door behind Tony.

“Time’s up.”

At that, Gallerian stood.

“See you, Tony. Let’s meet again in court.”

“Right!”

Turning his back on Tony, Gallerian left the visiting area.

I cannot read someone’s mind.

Even so, there is something I can tell.

Gallerian was, in the end…alone.

However—that was something that his own actions had brought upon him.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

all the hearts in the sea

title: all the hearts in the sea pairing: song minho/reader genre: cruise!au/strangers to lovers!au/chef!au/comedian!au summary: with the microphone pressed to his lips, the comedian song minho delivers the best stand-up shows in the entire cruise and even outside of it. much to his delight, however, even the chefs in the kitchen enjoy his shows—one of them in particular, the head chef, even involves him in a rendezvous of falling in love and then leaving their hearts to the frenzy of the sea. type: angst/fluff/romance word count: 8747

These nights are blinded by soft lights, in hues of gold and yellow, falling on him when the crowd stares, listens, laughs and connects.

These nights, his fingers hold tighter on to the microphone in his hand, parting his lips to mock life and make it a joke, to hear people become one with issues and suddenly laugh them out. For a moment, everything is happy, even when Minho can feel his stomach churning slightly at the reminder that he is on the sea, in a cruise, talking to a group of people while surrounded by the deepest source of imagination that the world can give. These nights, he feels free for once—like talking into a microphone has never been more personal and yet, so empowering.

His suit is tight, brown with cream details, perfectly suited for his long and skinny figure, the fabric rubbing against his legs with each step he gives. The stage is his home for once, the dinner tables all set for those who visit the ship’s restaurant, all individuals clearly coming from places of wealth. Minho believes he has already seen watches contrasting the color of the chandeliers to fall upon his brown eyes in sources of reflection, legs crossing and showcasing shiny shoes, polished to perfection. Everyone is lying to themselves for a month, for these nights become easier the more he realizes he is not on the ground waiting to be judged. The water makes him fearless, more mature, connected to his funny side and yet, giving a show.

A comedian—his father’s nightmare when Song Minho told him that his addition to the family name was to stand on a stage and make people laugh. A class clown but for adults, he was called a thousand times, and it will happen a thousand more…yet, he remains unbothered. Slowly but surely, he is building his own empire, growing away from that tiny apartment that had once welcomed him and his three roommates, now completely developed into a new man. A person that people look up on the internet, a stand-up wannabe and yet, one of the youthful promises of such a career.

The man that had once loved the free beers of local comedy bars is now in a ship, drinking the most expensive of champagnes, basking on the soft alcoholic drink. Better yet, he is willing to spend his time after his big comedic show eating in that same restaurant he performs at, a fork working on his food, slicing it with fervor to fill his stomach when he hears an unpleasant noise. Clanking of pots, really.

The clanking of pots becomes duller, a faint bang in the air that has Minho looking up from his excellently decorated plate and he wouldn’t have cared for the noise if it wasn’t for the comment that was spoken into the air in the shape of a feminine voice.

“This doesn’t even look like a ratatouille!” The thing is—cooks are definitely passionate and bound to scream. He has watched the plenty of shows that give out the reality of a chef or a baker, all in their own heads when it comes to pleasing the individual on the other end, always putting their clients first and their workers second. Minho can understand this, but what he can’t understand is the quite audible words this woman lets out. “This looks like Amebiasis in a plate. This looks like diarrhea. Do it again.”

It’s worrisome; not because he is eating ratatouille—thank God he isn’t and his taste is leaning more towards the casual side today—but because he is eating there. Everyday. The head chef saying that with such certainty immediately brings him up to his feet, now pushing his plate forward with a push of his lips, suddenly distasteful to him. His brown eyes look up, watching the opened space that is supposed to be the window that communicates the workers with the chefs, the clients with the food, and his mind is made up in the matter of seconds. Confidence, the comedian exudes, fixing his suit on the way there and not caring that he left his table completely alone, moving with certainty before tapping his long fingers against the bell that the waiters and waitresses touch, only to watch a blonde haired man peak his head from behind one of the doors, widening his eyes at the sight of the man in front of him.

The man inspects him, the chef that is, fixing only a few curly strands touching the surface of his forehead, barely painting a smile on his features when he pushes his weight forward. “Can I help you with anything?” The chef asks, crossing his arms on top of the counter, staring at Minho only to watch the man let out a soft breath.

“Can I talk to the head chef?”

Hissing, the blond answers him. “She’s not in a good mood.”

“Please?” Minho doesn’t know how to act in these situations, but he just wants to complain, or at least give an earful to the chef. Amebiasis is definitely not something you want to hear as you eat in a restaurant, stuck in the middle of the ocean in some ship. Luckily, the blond chef turns around to call out someone’s name, one that Song Minho picks up easily, watching carefully when a woman turns around.

She is wearing a short chef-hat, definitely not the elongated type that he expected to see, in a black color and tight enough to cover her hair. Her face seemed to be void of makeup, the thin layer of sweat indicator of the heat inside the kitchen, her voice concealed by the sound of meat being fried, whisking all his attention away. Her body could barely be seen in the equally as dark uniform, tied around her waist and still, not enough to give away more of the woman behind those pieces of clothing. “...May I know why you are calling me, sir?” That voice, indeed, is the same one he had heard. He’s good with sounds, captivating a note and keeping it, recognizing a vibrato and highlighting it in some corner of his brain. Minho may not be the brightest, but he’s definitely witty when it comes to sound. A performer, over all.

He sighs. No matter how pretty this woman could be, lips rosy from biting on them, he can’t stand people with overly wild personalities. “Excuse me, I heard you were saying something about a meal having Amebiasis and it definitely caught my attention. I will complain to the captain about such thing if that is the case.”

She stops playing with the collar of her shirt, pressing his extended palms over the counter when a gasp leaves her lips. “Oh no, sir, that was sarcasm—”

“Trust me, I know a good joke. That isn’t one.”

“I...I was just scolding one of my chefs. You can trust me with the fact that we take hygiene very seriously in this place.” The tone of her voice, as if she is about to break, like her dream is in the line and fear is all she can understand at the moment, should be a clear sign that she may be telling the truth. Minho, however, cannot fathom to imagine a woman like her, such sweetened gaze turned into a demon when something is not done right in the kitchen. He had heard of Gordon Ramsay, but she may be even worse. “I can guarantee that, sir. There is nothing in here. The ratatouille was just poorly decorated, see.” She reaches for something, a plate standing in his line of vision, definitely looking like it was just put there for the sake of it, too liquid to even qualify as a meal that is not soup or anything of the matter. “She’s a newbie and she did this. I’m trying to teach her a lesson by telling her it looked wrong. Instead of texting, she should be trying harder. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable, sir.”

He quirks an eyebrow, thick and defined, nodding his head along with her words. “I understand.” He says, squinting his eyes before pressing his hand to his chest. “Not a good joke, though, I almost had a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” She apologizes again, stealing a glance at him with careful eyes, as if being caught would be a sin and she’s already saving a spot in hell. “I’ll leave the jokes to you.”

“Do you know who I am?” He asks interestingly, now completely forgetting the cold meal that rests on top of the table he had once taken. Minho’s mind is settled in fame, wanting the gold and the diamonds, the recognition, the hard work that comes with it, too.

Shrugging her shoulders, she starts speaking: “It’s hard not to. I have to hear people laugh at your jokes whenever you perform here.”

“But do you listen to the jokes yourself?”

“If I have time,” She admits. “I have twenty-five people under my watch. Three of those are bakers. I have to constantly work from morning to night while in a ship and some of my workers are afraid of the ocean, so...I have to...just pay attention to everything.” A short chuckle leaves her, as if amused by the simplistic touch of reality. Everyone is busy; he is, and she definitely is, too, and yet no one does anything to stop the world. Everyone is seeking for that happiness they crave for, however, they never stop to stare at the beauty of the world. Quick. Fast. To never stop is a dream. “Not that you care. I can definitely respond to your issue with an apology and I could invite you in to see our work progress and how clean we are—”

Minho, maybe, is not the type of man for confrontation. He is not the type of person to speak to the manager, and he’s not going to start doing it when he sees the clear business and stress painted on her face. “I trust you. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Song?”

“I am.” He lets his eyes take in the sight of her, the absolute workaholic vibe that bleeds through her pores and becomes one with the air around her. “I will let you continue with your job now.”

“I can offer free dessert as an apology?” She asks, only to have Minho shaking his head.

“I’m tired and should head to bed right about now, but thank you.” He confesses, nodding his head after patting his hand against the counter. “Thank you for your hard work. The meal was delicious.”

Strangely, it sounds like he is never going to hear from her again. It’s definitely an exaggeration, they are in a ship together for about a month, the amount of time the cruise lasts, but they are too busy with their own lives to even pay attention to what the other is doing. With a hum, she thanks him, leaving to stay with her team while he gets out of the restaurant, not without taking a look over her shoulder.

At least, she looks more tranquil now than how she sounded earlier.

🚢

The sea has never been quite as awake, as turbulent or as uneventful.

He knows it by the way his bed had moved the slightest when he had woken up and how everyone seems to be locked in their rooms while he is out, inspecting the place, aware of how dangerous it is to stay outside and simply stare at the world going crazy in its biggest form: water. Instead, he concentrates on the sounds around him, not pleasant in any way, someone’s emptying their stomachs, quite clearly, vomiting to the ocean and giving less than a beautiful sight when he realizes who exactly it is.

A chef should never be known for what she is—an irony, from what he can tell. In this incredible cruise, home of eventful nights filled with entertainment, meals prepared by the most gourmet of chefs, and yet, it is clear as day she is not enjoying herself. Her hands cling to surround her stomach, trying to keep her pained expression on the low, but the frown in between her eyebrows is a telltale sign of her distaste. Once seated on one of the near chairs, she finally looks up and noticing one of the few people there—Song Minho, perhaps not known to her by name—is just exactly what she needs to change her face from one of distance to one of complete and utter embarrassment.

He trusts his power in attraction. Minho knows and feels that he is a good-looking man, for he has created smile on faces, been the reason of bitten lips and muffled words, of moans, groans and heartbreak alike. In his realm of comedy, he realizes life doesn’t take him so seriously, either. He either has to have fun or rot in the depths of the world, unknown by the majority, if not all, of its individuals. So, in hopes of lightening up the atmosphere of turbulence and given indigestion, Minho cuts the silence by nearing her with a smile on his face.

“Are you dying?”

He says that when he sits by her side and finally, when she looks up, he realizes that her chef clothing is really what makes her the woman he has seen a few times ever since their last encounter, the only verbal one, too. This time around, she is simply wearing cozy clothing, a sweater that is too long, leggings that look a bit old and her hair done in an incredible mess. “Out of all the degrading things I have done in my life, I pretty much can say that vomiting into the ocean is one of them.” She is careful not to speak to his face, mindful, instead settling on resting her hands on her knees and simply keeping the conversation as he studies her features. Everything about her screams serious, extremely so, to the point he wonders if she has ever given a smile.

“Hey, it could have been worse. I was the only one here to watch it.” The apple of his rounded cheeks lift up in a smile when he leans back on the seat, splaying his hands on the spacious spot behind him. “The worst thing that could happen is that I use this moment for the theme of one of my stand-up nights.”

“How many jokes can you make about a chef vomiting into the ocean?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he answers. “I can figure things out.” His body, mind and soul are set into making her smile, bringing the angles of her mouth up and jutting her bottom lip down into a perfectly placed chuckle. It never happens, though he sees a glint of thankfulness in her eyes when she finally looks at him. Sweetened is her gaze, the nightmare of a dentist with how dulcet it is, tranquil and peaceful as well. “Not to get in your business, you may think I am a dick by now, but…” Trailing his voice, Minho continues. “I have seen you out of the kitchen like five times in the entirety of the two weeks we have in this cruise and I have never seen you smile.”

“It’s hard to smile when you get seasick, like, nine times out of ten.”

Minho raises his eyebrows at that, thick and full with the expression of his curiosity. “Well, you shouldn’t have gotten a job as a chef in a cruise if it would get you so sick.”

She tilts her head to the side, neck showed and expanded for him, enough to highlight her jaw and her sickened expression. Luckily for him, the life she possesses seems to be going back to her features with every moment that passes. “I had to run away from the real world for a while.” She whispers, like she doesn’t want anyone to listen, and when Minho’s expression changes from curiosity to light worry, she breaks their gazes away. “I—It’s stupid, don’t even listen to me.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“You’re a comedian. How do I know you’re not going to make fun of me?” Fixing the sweater that fell off her shoulder, she asks, only to have Minho shaking his head.

“Comedians make fun of things that don’t offend others. At least, real ones do.”

“Mhm, I guess that would be true.” She indicates, her eyelids fluttering when she looks down once again, this time standing up from her spot and interlocking her hands in front of her. He swears that if he looks for long enough, makes out the features of her face with more integrity, knowing that there is more to beauty than what he sees, he can make out the shape of her smile. Art, the abstract type, the colorful yet blocking type that he enjoys. Difficult to understand, funny and ironic to the one who doesn’t know what art is. “But I will not tell you.”

The look on her face must be funny, finally bringing a smile out of her when he parts his slightly plush lips comically. Like himself. “…Is it because I didn’t pat your back when you were vomiting?”

“Not exactly.” She comments, taking the time to let out a chuckle before blinking softly. “I have to go back to work, that’s just all.”

“Oh, I see…” But Minho can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Nothing is weirder than this woman, like his mind can’t wrap around her, because he can’t even actually pinpoint something about her. Nice yet complicated, so closed up a jail would envy the security system of her heart. Wall after wall after wall. “Is that a lie just not to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Nodding her head, she affirms what he just said. “Yes.” She adds. “If I learned something in my life is that kind eyes don’t often hold the kindest of souls, and you have...you know, very understanding eyes.” The compliment, just like her, seems to be out of place. They are two complete strangers, met in the most obnoxious of ways, in a cruise and yet so unlike any romance story ever developed there. “I’d rather get out of that mess while I can.”

“Geez, thanks for calling me a mess.” Patting his hands against his thighs, he replies, standing up on his own when she laughs briefly.

“Sorry, it’s not what I mean.” She licks her lips before pressing them together. “I’m not good at explaining things.”

“I can tell.” Minho adds, bringing his hands up in the air to showcase the fingers that are usually wrapped around his comedic microphone. “But I’m not asking for answers just yet. If I have to know, I’ll get to know eventually.”

The lights in the sky reflect on her eyes, holding a universe in them by the time she nods at him. “We’ll see about that.”

“I hope you feel better soon.” It is an excellent way to finish the conversation, the exact reason why he had approached her, and just when he sees something natural—like the thankfulness in her gaze—, she cuts him out.

She turns around, movement to her hips and her steps, a bit dizzy and hazy, though her words are spoken in that same soft tone, used when asked about her endeavors in the cruise. “Thank you for staying with me.”

He actually smiles to himself, thinking…what a fucking strange, yet cute, woman.

🚢

Partying is definitely part of the cruise experience, the part of Minho’s personality that bleeds when there is a bit of sugar and alcohol playing on his body, dancing fluidly along with him to the beat of whatever song is playing in the background.

The people around him gather, watching the strenuous show with dancing individuals and a perfectly matching singer, pipes going on for days with delicious low notes. Some are enjoying the facilities of food cooked by the staff, others are simply drinking their hearts out and the vast majority are enjoying the show. Carnival-like colors paint the cream walls with decorations, mixing elegant with casual, and he is in the latter spectrum, finally using the type of clothing that represent him best—baggy, fashionable, definitely outstanding for the occasion as he moves through the seas of people, sometimes embarking in conversation, other times simply getting lost in the music.

This is the type of life he is building himself to live. The clubs, the parties, the public appearances and becoming more than a simple dot in society. Minho is getting bigger with the passage of time and whether he is overwhelmed or not, he doesn’t know. He tries not to think about it, but his head gets filled with the idea of wanting to pride himself…doubting if, in the long run, this is what will fulfill him.

Is being a public figure all he wanted?

Shaking his head, he runs his fingers through his hair, rough against his fingertips after bleaching it so bluntly. His lips wrap around the edge of his glass, hearing the conversation he is establishing with some of his new friends in the cruise, from all around the world and bringing some kind of different view for him to perceive. For a moment, he is all about concentrating on the task at hand, responding with a joke, laughing to his heart’s content, simply vanishing the sight of the soft hearted Minho he truly is and welcoming the side of him that has always existed, yet had not fully developed to egocentrism. The less complicated side of him, simply coexisting in order to be the same, copy and paste of the typical enjoyments.

What he doesn’t expect, naturally, is to see the chef that he knows the tiniest bit about looking like she actually knows what she is doing. She sells the food excellently, inviting people to try new things, a smile on her face like it had never left her, and once again he is entranced, complicatedly trying to figure out just what the fuck she is trying to be. His brown eyes inspect her from a distance, parting his gaze every now and then, and when the hoard of clients is finally away, he expects the smile to fade away, yet, it stays. Faint, as always, like she is halfway there to being truly filled with joy, but it grows with the passage of time. The more he sees her, the more she smiles.

The first thing he guesses is that the compliments fuel her, they are her source of happiness, but he has no way of knowing. Their conversations are always cut short by responsibility; his with the social world, hers with pans and foods. They are far too busy and yet, her walls are too high for him to ever reach.

Maybe, Minho should just let it go. She may be attractive to him, but no level of attraction is ever worth this much confusion.

…Then, why is it not surprising when he starts walking towards her?

Stupid, he calls himself mentally. Instead of being attracted to the least complex parts of life, he dives head-deep in whatever it is that means when he touches her shoulder, the brief tap of two fingers against her scapulae enough to capture her attention. When she looks behind her, the smile doesn’t disappear, it remains there with those awestruck eyes that he can’t quite pinpoint. Perhaps, the glossiness of them comes from a place of deep sentiment, or she was simply one of the most gorgeously crafted people he had ever met in his life.

“What are you offering today that is good?” Minho asks, not even missing a tempo to lean against the wall and look at her as she works. The uniform does not fit her snugly, but the white color definitely contrasts well with her skin tone. Her eyes rake up and down his face, taking in his elongated features, his thick eyebrows and his long and skinny nose before licking her lips softly. If he did not know better, he would guess that there is some kind of mutual interest, masked in complete timelessness.

“Well, for one, everything.” She comments, enough to earn laughter from him when she takes a plate in between her fingers, showing what seems to small tarts, calling out for his attention in their perfectly baked state. “But you seem like you want something sweet, so I will offer this.”

“I’ll take it,” His fingers wrap around the edges of the tart before taking a bite of it. He doesn’t mind speaking with his mouth a bit full. “But some say I’m already sweet as it is.” He tries joking around, typical nature of what Song Minho would do—and it may be stupid with her, considering that she is no more than just another woman that fills in the voids of her life with absolute terror simply to keep people away from her. He understands her, however, there is darkness with every source of light.

“I can see why.” She answers, promptly fixing the sleeves of her uniform with glee written all over her face. Compliments must have brought a sufficient am0unt of happiness for her to enjoy such a loud night. “Don’t you get tired of trying to sugarcoat me?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good.” She answers, hissing after her laughter before he interrupts her once again.

“Are you tired of it?”

“…I wouldn’t say tired, more like curious.” There she is, the part of her that doesn’t seem robotic, like she actually looks at life like a test. A quiz of sorts. Minho’s fingers rake through his hair, a habit by now, taking the time to nod at her words even when his muscles pull at his forehead, creating a few lines and lifting his eyebrows. “What makes you so interested in getting to know me? I’m just a chef.”

The sugary treat leaves a trail on his lips, one that has him sighing in delight by the time he comes up with an answer. “You’re not just a chef. You’re one of the best cooks I have ever met.” He confesses, taking the time to pause just to tease the matters. After all, it is the first time he hears such interest from her. “And why are you interested in knowing why I want to get to know you?”

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she chuckles. “That got me dizzy.”

“It’s the point.” Minho joins in her laughter, eyes creaking at the corner like they always do, skin gleaming in its golden and rich state. He screams wealth now, on the way there, while she looks significantly humbled. Sometimes, he fears what international fame could do to him…if he will stay the same at all. Popping a strawberry inside his mouth, however, works as a way to push the thought away when he locks one leg behind the other and answers. “You’re cute. And…complicated, just not to say weird. I like that.”

“You must be joking.”

“Why would I be?”

“That’s the most high-school comment ever.” She replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “Cute and weird. Am I a pet?”

He shakes his head while watching her serious expression, his flirty smile falling when he utters a quickened: “No, that’s definitely not what I mean—”

“That’s the compliment you’d give to someone’s dog.”

“You’re not a dog. I—You’re misunderstanding.”

A smirk plays on the edge of her lips, barely seen by the distressed Minho until he finally realizes it is there. She looks at one of her clients once again, giving out some snacks before she speaks once again, brief in its approach, heavy in the way it settles on his chest. “Gotcha.”

Normally, he is the one joking around—prepared for that since the moment he was named the class clown in elementary school, but now that he is older and visibly flirting, he is notified by how he is not as sleek as he makes himself to be. “Oh, so you’re joking now? Last week, you couldn’t even tell me why you’re working here and now you’re dropping jokes?”

“Serious matters are not this fun to talk about,” She mentions, taking one look over her shoulder to see him still standing there. “By the way, don’t you have a number of socialites to be talking to instead of talking to me here?”

Once again, Minho shakes his head. “I want to be here.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the first time I hear you speak more than five sentences.”

“Well, I’ll shut up now.”

When she starts to pick up the empty plates to take them to the kitchen, leaving her staff in charge for the clients, Minho picks up his step, rushing after her when he moves beside her. Something about her is hypnotizing and while he doesn’t consider himself the most brilliant of people, he feels like he is even dumber around her, like he never flirted with anyone in his life, when normally he is a master at doing such thing. “W—Wait, no, let’s keep talking.”

“About what?” She asks, not sparing him a glance but with amusement playing in her tone.

“About everything.” He says when he watches her press her back to push the door open, using his hands to help her out just so she doesn’t drop the plates.

One hand rests on her waist when she speaks up once again. “You’re not going to give up, aren’t you?”

“…Only if you want me to.” Minho indicates, his warm fingertips touching hers when he takes the plates in his hands and places them neatly in the dishwasher.

“You’re lucky I don’t.” She replies, like there is no longer venom in her tongue and all she wants to do is enjoy herself for a night. “But I have to work though.”

“I’ll help you with that. Everything and anything.”

“What recipes do you know?” She asks professionally, fixing the hat over her head when Minho simply spares her a smile.

“Ramen.”

She blinks toughly, keeping her eyes closed when she scoffs and laughs at the same time. “Oh, lord. I’m doomed.”

“You’re the talented one though—”

“And what are you supposed to be?”

This time around, he is the one that acts smug, his eyes twinkling when he says. “The one to compliment you, of course. A woman like you deserves no less than that.”

And that brings the first embarrassed expression out of her, the first of the night, absolutely flustered by his dumbly and persistent flirty comment.

🚢

“Great show.”

With the pitter patter of steps following him towards the stage, he finally looks away from his phone to cast a glance at the head chef in the middle of the empty restaurant. Only two more weeks of this cruise, pressure being put on his shoulders when he is reminded of how great he has to do in order to earn himself a name. He wants to make every night of presentation worth the time, innovative and memorable. Some people are already doing that job without performing, however, her hair neatly hid under her hat as she locks her arms over her chest. An angel, he would call her, face void of makeup, smile hidden in the assumption of stress and of course, her tone is kept at a low for her workers not to hear her. They probably are already aware that they have been talking nonstop after every show.

Normally, he is the one to get close to her—the one who waits until no one is there to finally earn some minutes of conversation. However, this time around she nears him, like it has become a habit for her, too. The chandelier masks her expression in its usual enigmatic and romantic mysteriousness, and it has Minho wondering, more like asserting himself in his imagination. She is never going to be his.

She will never trust anyone enough to speak in her own voice, with her own light and her own tone. She will only fuck him up, he says, the type of woman Minho’s mother has given him advice about, basically playing them as demons disguised as beauties—

People who will never accept love because they can’t give it back.

“Always.” Minho comments, sending a smile her way when his fingers hook around the edge of his tie. He pulls it down slightly, nodding her head towards her as a way to make himself seem more at ease, like he is the dominant one in the situation, but the two-week time-span is telling him that he’d be a slave to such a goddess if she asked him to, lost in lust or desire, he doesn’t know, in the hazy cloud of whatever this is. “It’s kind of neat that you actually listen to my skits even though you don’t laugh. At all.”

“I only laugh with you.” She confesses, trailing her eyes up and down his body before sighing. “Which reminds me…it’s laughable that you’re staying an hour after your show just to get to talk to me.”

“I only talk with you.”

“Come on, don’t be lying now.”

“I’m not lying!”

She pushes her hat off her head, keeping the strands of her hair back in a ponytail when a smile full of life appears on her face. Yeah right, like she actually likes him…and it is such a twisted mindset to have. Minho, now an adult, definitely grown and definitely experienced in love, questions why she would ever give a fuck about him. In the realm of confusion, he stays in her presence. “Song Minho, there is no way in this world that you are not loved by like a hundred women and a hundred more men.” She tells him, raising her eyebrows when she leans her weight against the edge of the stage. “The charms you have…god, you really have them.”

His heart warms up at that, fingers hooking around the edge of his tie and finally, pulling it off. “It would sound like you finally found me interesting enough to become your friend.”

“I don’t have those.” She replies, a short chuckle leaving her lips before a saddened smile grazed her features. He would pay to tattoo her thoughts on his body, see it in ink that would never leave him, understand the complexity behind her, the twisted ends and the meeting ones, the reason why her gourmet cooking is good but how her personality simply exudes humbleness, this leadership of her mixed with her strict personality. Not only towards her, but towards anyone who tried to near her.

“I think I know why,” Minho comments, getting off the stage just in time to sit at the edge of it, tilting his head to the side and inspecting her face with utmost care. “That attitude of yours. Cute for me. Definitely a headache for your workers.”

“You’re not lying.” She answers, voice void of emotion. “Why do you like it?”

“Because it’s you.”

“So that’s a because you think I’m attractive?”

“I mean, we’ve already established that.” The way he speaks with confidence is believed by her, but not by himself. Minho doesn’t know what it is about her, about the way she blinks at him with such patience, like she has all the time in the world and yet, that tone on her voice teaches him that she could put anyone on their places if she wanted to. Voice, soul, talent, all in her, all a complexity, not understandable, leading him to burning his own fingers in the habit of wanting to reach out for her. “But there’s more to you than just a pretty everything.”

Shaking her head, she nears her body towards him, placing her hat on top of his bleached hair before chuckling. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so because you’re not the type to look at the good parts of yourself.” And kindness is not found in her eyes, like she can’t simply accept weakness from her part. Maybe, that is why her walls are so high, impenetrable at least.

“Stop trying to make me open my eyes to something…” She whispers, fixing a few of the strands of hair that fell out of the hat before pushing her lips together. “You’re not my therapist.”

“So what am I?”

“…A comedian.”

“Not that, for you.” He tells her, only to watch her eyes shine like all the stars casted in the sea and lord, his heart may be sailing in the clashing waves, all around the place and drowning with how she confuses him. She takes his hand in hers, dragging him down from the stage before shrugging her shoulders.

“You’re my nights. You know, you make me calm…and give me memories to recall.” She replies, always keeping a front, unaware of the way her eyes seem like two metal doors, kept close with the time they have been locked. What he would do to read more of her than the simple present, to get to know her in the most comfortable of ways, an impatient man thirsting for knowledge, unaware of how his surroundings are all filled with thoughts of her. Maybe, this is the magic everyone talks about when mentioning romance. “…I don’t want to say you’re my friend.”

Rolling his eyes, Minho nods his head. “Because we have two more weeks together.”

“Exactly.”

When she turns around to look at him, a small smile on her face, Minho counterparts with his own thoughts. “Can’t we be friends for these two weeks, though?” He asks, almost pleading, and it’s stupid. In any other occasion, he wouldn’t have begged for friendship and there he is, basically inspired by the mere look of her.

“We can be friends at night,” She tells him. “I’m funnier at that time.”

And the promise is so full, so timeless, that even Minho finds himself tranced by the sight of the sky when they look out of the ship and talk about the beauty of life. For the night, it seems like the ice of her personality could quickly melt down.

Or not, either way, these two weeks he’ll make the best out of the two of them.

🚢

The chopping board creaks, the cleaver pushing against it, pulling the vegetable until it is divided in two—in four, in six, in eights, and then, he doesn’t count anymore. His eyes trail up the set of fingers, not manicured, nails definitely on the shorter end, natural, and yet so enticing in the way they work as if they are one with the meal. Her sleeves are perfectly put in place, following the guidelines of cleanliness for the kitchen, though there is not a single soul in the spacious and white place. Everyone is away, gone like the day, and they become two sets of Moons reuniting, as if two Jupiter moons had become friends. Her eyes concentrate on the chopping board, words spilling from her mouth to explain to him the complexity of working with a cleaver.

The truth is that Minho wants to be confident—he wants to show to her that he is a good candidate, someone who wouldn’t break her heart if she just let him in, for a kiss or a hug or a word of love. When he pulls the sleeves of the white chef uniform she had given him, he takes the cleaver in his hands, trying to move it with ease only to find it weighty, slowing down his movements when he nears his hand holding the vegetable in place.

Five more days, that is all he can think about.

Five more days until they part ways. Five, a lucky number to some and one to mock him at this point. She is talking, entranced in the way she loves cooking, much more than she’ll ever love someone else. She lighted him up like a cigarette but has only let him to eat the worries that keep his brain awake, wanting to get to know her, to get a taste of her, simply because of pride or because he has a soft spot for her. The type that tells him that she is unfixable, perhaps a bit broken on the inside, but he wants to try. Minho is an artist, he knows how to cover a spot, how to pain the dull colors in beautiful, bright states of sunshine and rainbows. Everything can be fixed, he says, even people. She doesn’t read it in his eyes, in the way he listens to her every-word, now happier that she ever dares to speak to him that much at all.

“You’re not so bad.” She tells him, making sure to fix the hat over his head, as if she loves seeing him in a uniform that looks like hers. Minho, always wanting to seem stronger than he really is, covering his white and blue heart, the sky turned into an organ, he smirks at her words.

“What am I not good at?”

“I said you weren’t bad,” She finishes, only to earn a scowl from Minho and a glare from him that vanishes when he realizes that he would forgive her for anything. She, whom he knows only a part of, is already owner of a piece of his heart. Why? Maybe, because Minho has been like her in the past. The heartbreaker, the one closed to all types of love and affection, always belonging to someone else. Maybe, he wants to prove people like that can change—they can learn to be loved. “Not that you were good. Look at the cutting board.”

“Okay, sorry.” Minho mumbles, the noise of rain tapping on the ceiling, leaving her to clinging to the edge of the counter, trying to keep her eyes focused. There is a brief moment of silence in which Minho really starts to worry, her eyes are half closed at this point. “Are you okay? If you’re getting dizzy, we can always go back to your room—”

“I’m not dizzy.”

“Then, why are you closing your eyes?”

She’s hiding, not alone, but with him. She’s hiding from the world, from what makes her who she is and from whatever attraction keeps pulling them towards each other, spending ungodly hours speaking about everything and nothing at all. They could all very much be lies, for all he knows, and yet he wants to kiss all the lies away, get to know the core of the woman he can’t stop thinking about. In body, in soul, in that smile that turns strange in existence, in everything that makes her so mysterious. “Because…I can’t look at you right now.” She tells him, wrapping her fingers around his arm and resting her forehead against his shoulder. Minho is quick to question her, a brief ‘why’ kissing the atmosphere around them. “You’re just too nice.”

Minho smiles at that, his bottom lip jutting out with his laughter. “Too nice? How am I too nice?”

“I have tried to push you away, Minho. Why do you keep looking at me like I hold the entire universe on my shoulders?” She asks him, her voice soft when she finally pulls away, letting her fingers trail over his chiseled cheekbones, thumb rubbing at the tan skin of his cheeks. “I’m not the type of woman you want in your life.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” Minho tells her, putting the cleaver down to turn his body towards her. One step closer is enough to cut the circulation off from his body, breaths labored when he takes a good glance to her lips. “I mean it when I say I like you.”

“Don’t.”

“Why can’t I like you?” Words are not verbally spoken, but he can tell that there are a million thoughts going through her brain, concentrating her eyes on his brown irises, his long nose, his plush lips and those damned blonde strands that dare to touch his precious features. “You’re amazing. You work so hard, you have such a leader-like attitude. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do, that’s such a boss move.”

“Minho—” She warns him, only to have him shaking his head.

“You deserve all the praise, for your talent, for your quiet nature. Everything. I would give you the world if I could.” And he doesn’t know why. It’s this rare feeling of protection that settles on his chest, watching how she is so big yet so tiny in this world, a mere particle and once again one of the people that has captivated his attention the most. He doesn’t get the time to decide what it is that keeps him tranced when he feels the weight of her body pushing against his chest, hearts becoming one, hands cradling his defined jaw when she parts her lips to let him get a taste of her. His hands expand on her waist when he finally realizes the movement, hands filled with the smell of tomatoes and he couldn’t even bring himself to care, not when the back of his thighs presses against the counter, all breaths taken away from his lungs, all thoughts erased into one word.

Her.

All he wants is her.

With the way she kisses him, he felt like he was the only man alive, like he had the job to create a new era along with her, a new version of the two. Her kisses are passion and lust mixed with emotion, like it takes everything in her to let this light shine through her. She knocks on the windows of his soul and he opens them freely, only realizing that all along she has been the one playing puppeteer with him. He lets his fingers hook around her hips, dragging his lips across hers before rutting his tongue against hers. The taste of two strangers thinking too much, feeling too much, taking their times in one month and some weeks and yet, feeling like they never had enough time to develop. These walls that she has kept do not come crumbling down, instead, they manifest their power when she trails her lips down to his neck, murmuring apologies for a second, barely reaching his ears when she dives for his lips once again.

Instead, he basks on the feeling of having her, even if it’s not all.

🚢

The day of arrival is filled with people greeting their family members, rushing out of the cruise simply to wrap their arms around them or welcoming the sight of home with a smile on their faces. Some are tired, some are disappointed, but in between the masses of people, Minho is looking for that one person in a chef uniform, the same one that he wants to ask out on a date just at that moment. After all, her disappearance after their eventful night in the kitchen had been quite apparent and no matter how many times he tried to get closer to her, she always told him she was busy. Ghosted, he was, yet Minho was unable to give up.

Unbeknownst to him, the person that had once looked like an angel in all white is now wearing darker colors. All neutral, standing by the very front, as if she had been the first one to leave, waiting for the bus that was supposed to get there to pick up the passengers and take them home one by one. Her hair is covered by a hat, almost like her uniform, a part of her at this point, definitely a brown beret to match her beige shirt, tucked inside old, grandpa-looking pants. The wind blows on her hair, definitely a sign of the beauty of her, the angelic nature that she tries to dress up as demonic meanings. He nears her with extended hands, capturing her shoulders in his grasp to catch her attention and when she turns around, he expects a smile.

He never gets it.

“Hey, there. I found you.” Minho indicates in between laughter, taking off her hat and ruffling her hair—he has always said that there is more to her than her chef status and she has never believed him. Even in her normal state, she is unable to show the precious side of her—the one that is not based on her talent. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to go out right now. I know a place here that is—”

Looking over to the side, she releases a sigh that comes from beneath her soul, pushing her body towards his. “Minho…I don’t think we should continue with this.”

“Why?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at her words. “We’re just getting to know each other—”

“Trust me, you don’t want to get to know me.” Frustration rises up from within him, perhaps from being denied or because he has been played. Something inside him switches, taking a deep breath through his nose before frowning.

“It’s not like I even got a chance, really—”

“What do you want me to do? Just open my entire life to you?”

“Well, I did that for you!”

“I never asked for it!” She raises her voice, pushing at his chest softly before turning her gaze away, clearly embarrassed by the few glances they got. “I didn’t tell you to get interested. You were the one that saw this beautiful thing inside me.” She lifts her hands in the air, as if it is the least understandable thing in the world. Yet, it isn’t for him. Minho would be able to wait a lifetime if it meant getting to know who she is and what are the little parts of her that she never shows to the world, only to create a puzzle for him to savor and love. “You want to know the truth?”

Minho chuckles darkly. “I don’t know, do you even say the truth?”

She slaps her hands against her thighs, scoffing at his words. “I am poor. This attitude that you said was so good and so attractive? Yeah, it has gotten me fired from jobs. I’m a fucking failure. I can’t pay my rent, I have to run away from the landlord for all I know and good fucking news, I got in a cruise with a job because I wanted to make sure I had somewhere to live.” Minho’s cynical smile drops at her words, watching her with kindness in his eyes—the same type she had once stated to hate. “You’re the one that compromised when I told you I didn’t want friendships, I didn’t want a man. Do you think I can even afford the time or the money of having a man? I can’t simply put any of us through that.”

His heart is holding on a pendant, asking himself why he simply wants to hang on to her, as if there is something to hold on to more than a night of pleasure. “I could help you. I have some money now, like, we could pay your rent—”

“I can’t.” She whispers, licking her bottom lip to stop herself from speaking louder. “Minho, just let me be.”

“I just want to help you!”

“You know what? Thank you.” She tells him, patting her hand against his before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Such action would have seem weird in any other occasion, but by the way she sighs, he knows this is a goodbye. The one he expected, of course, but he had gotten attached—to her, to the passion that radiated from her, to that personality he has always wanted to get to know. “But I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be in your life, just like you can’t be in mine.”

The sound of her name is a whisper that she lets go of when the bus arrives, sparing one look over her shoulder, when he watches their two hearts being left in the sea. His will heal, of course it will, but it will always wonder what the mysterious eyes of her ever held, and if they ever held feelings for him, too.

#mino scenarios #mino #winner scenarios #winner #kpop scenarios #writing #mino fluff #mino angst #mino au #winner angst #winner fluff #winner au #comedian!mino #this is angsty pls scream at me lmao

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