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worldwidehoodrat · 1 year

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Not an Ugly Sweater || J. Avery

You guys... oh my goodness! I tried hard on this one, but this is not edited since it was pretty late and I have to be somewhere in the morning. So will be edited later! Enjoy!!

Day 18 Ugly Sweater Contest

It was time for the annual Ugly Christmas sweater contest at Gray-Solan Memorial, and even though he is now the person in charge of the hospital, Jackson still likes to show his face from time to time. He does surgeries while he is out on business, and whatnot, so why not is what he thought until his mother came into his office asking him if he found a date yet.

“No, mom, I do not have a date, and I don’t need one. I’m going to chat up some potential investors and meet with my friends, don’t think a date is needed for that.” “Oh, goodness Jackson, I’m not getting younger, nor has the cancer stopped. I need more than one grandchild from you before I kick the bucket.” “Ma!”

Catherine walked out of the office as if she said nothing, but to him she said everything, it was the harsh reality that he was sort of running away from. Going to the party was his way of getting out and forgetting his stressors for the moment.

The drive to the hospital was short, walking into the side lobby which was transformed for the Christmas party, it was beautiful, but you can also tell Christmas threw up in the room, but Jackson didn’t have time to sit around. He needed to get more money into the foundation for the hospital so they can make some much-needed repairs and updates, so he started doing what he did best.

Talking to everyone who came up to him or who he knew from his past, was a strategy he had, never judge anyone from the cover, everyone has something somewhere, and so far it has worked, bought in over three hundred grand the night alone. One could say that Jackson was riding on a high of good luck.

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

A woman appeared at his side. Jackson didn’t know whether to engage or not since he was used to woman throwing themselves at him, so he did a quick glance over and she was beautiful. He could tell her skin was soft to the touch by the way the lights bounced off her deep skin tone. She was in scrubs and on the top in black marker was ‘Ugly Sweater’

“I guess that could work too.”

The woman glanced up at Jackson before looking down at her shirt and nodding with a small chuckle leaving her mouth.

“Being a doctor is hard man, this is my best effort.”

Jackson was intrigued by the short sentence she gave which caused him to change his posture. He leaned on his elbow which sat on the bar top as he interlocked his fingers giving the woman his attention.

“Uh-oh, don’t want the nurses bitting my head off for talking to “Sexy Avery”.”

The woman tried to grab her drink and go but she was stopped by his hand coming out and blocking her path.

“You know I’m your boss right.” “Congratulations?” “I could fire you.” “And lose your cohead of neuro? Tell Bailey, I’m sure she would love that.”

Jackson was becoming more and more enticed by the woman before him, he wanted to know more, he needed to know more.

“What’s your name?”

With much sass the looked down at the badge that was clipped to the front of her scrubs.

“You see, I knew they made these for a reason.” “Alright smart ass, I get it.” “Zena Stickland.” “Aht, aht, don’t drop my MD. I worked hard for that.”

A laugh filled the space between them before Jackson went back to check her out. She wasn’t too tall nor too short for him, so they would have paired together well in photos. She was beyond a piece of work just from the short conversations he had with her now, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle, and on top of that she was not treating him like her ‘boss’ but instead like a normal person.

Xena watched the taller man closely making sure he wouldn’t make any weird movements toward her. Yes, she knew who Jackson Avery was, yes, she also knew he was her boss, no she didn’t truly care, enough to not get her fired, but not enough to grovel at his feet.

Xena downed the whiskey shot before dropping a twenty on the countertop.

“You know the drinks are free.” “Yeah, but people here tip shit, so why not give the boy something nice.”

She showed him her pearly white before attempting to walk away. Jackson knew it was now or never with her so he followed behind her. Xena knew he was behind her so she started to walk in circles hoping the man would get the hint, that was until she was paged to one of her critical patients.

“What's going on?” “We don’t know, he started crashing, and before we could act... he leveled out.”

Xena picked up the tablet that already had the patient chart up. His levels were normal, nothing out of the ordinary, not even a point above or below normal.

“Run another MRI. I need to know what’s going on. Page me when it’s in okay.”

The nurse nodded and Xena went to walk out but she ran into a chest instead. Xena cursed as she backed up to come face-to-face with Jackson. The woman rolled her eyes as her hand made its way to his chest to move him from his path.

“Nina, I want that MRI Stat okay. Move whoever the hell you gotta move to get me my scans.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Xena had her mind full of possible answers to his reaction but nothing was coming up. Jackson didn’t know if she needed space or help, he was a tad bit lost but truthfully, he shouldn’t have been there.

“Are you done following me Avery…”

Jackson only stopped his movements because she spoke to him. Xena was slowly but surely getting fed up with him being on her ass, and right over her shoulder. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to talk to him, the woman was just trying to be friendly and now it is coming to bite her back in the ass.

“Xena! Jackson! There you guys are!”

Meredith turns the corner looking a bit flushed as she was able to catch up to the duo. Meredith gave her friend a look which was returned with a small head shake before she could even conjure up a thought.

“You guys placed in the contest. Everyone is waiting for you two.” “Wait, me?” “Her?”

Jackson, and Xena both yelped out, gaining some attention from the staff around. Xena looked down at her scrubs and shook her head not even sure why they chose her, Jackson was thinking the same thing but this was giving him more time with her so he didn’t care about who voted and why.

Meredith reached out for both of their hands and drug them back to the main area so they could accept their prizes. Xena glanced over at Jackson and the man did the same giving her a slight smirk as he gestured to her “ugly Sweater”.

“I bet you first place.”

Xena wanted to flick him off, but would that be right to flick off your boss regardless of how annoying they may be? Xena weighed her options before sticking her finger up at him, this garnered her a hearty laugh from the man, even threw his head back and everything.

When they made it back to the party cheers and claps came from everywhere as they climbed the stage. Xena could tell that this was something normal for him. He was a natural, smiling and waving at everyone. It was second nature to him, while Xena was stuck.

Stage fright was in and of her. Even growing up when her mother signed her up for the neighborhood talent show. She is a dancer, but only ever danced in her room and for her family, anything outside of that was too much for her anxiety. That day was a nightmare for her and she told her mother that she was quitting dance.

That was the last time that she stepped on a stage. This... this was horror for her. Jackson looked over at Xena and could see that her breathing increased, a small layer of sweat covered her forehead, and her hand was rubbing against her thigh. She was having a panic attack. Jackson tried not to make it noticeable since that would defeat the whole purpose of him helping her.

Jackson walked over to her and made it seem like he wanted a picture with her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, making sure he had a firm grip on her.

“Jackson... I... Get me-” “I know, just hold on for a couple of minutes.”

Owen, being chosen as the host this year, was explaining why they chose him and Xena for the contest, and before they could even receive the places for the winning, she was out like a light. Jackson knew it was coming, he bared her weight as she passed out, quickly changing sides as he moved his other hand to protect her head and neck.

Owen was fast to come to help. They quickly got her on a gurney and got her out of harms way away from everyone. This was worrying Jackson, the doctor in him started to itch to order test, but he knew he needed to stand back and let those who were actually on call do their jobs Meradith being one of them helped.

“What happened?” “She had a panic attack. Her norepinephrine was high, and triggered her fight or flight... she did the latter half as we see. She is fine Jackson, and should wake up in a few.”

Meredith could see that his worry was eating at him, but also that he was a bit smitten with her friend, something that she has to keep in mind to bother Xena later about.

A few hours have passed since Xena was bought into a spare patient room. Jackson was starting to worry a little that she hasn’t even moved a finger since she passed out. The man was so close to ordering his own labs to try and figure her out. When the thought came to his mind, Xena started to twitch just a bit.

“Xena?”

Jackson was quick to be at her bedside. He wanted his face to be the first one she saw every worry line; he wanted her to know that he cared.

Xena’s hand immediately went to her head as her hand went to cover her eyes from the bright lights. The woman could put two and two together to figure out what happened, and she was a little embarrassed to admit it.

She passed out in front of all of the hospital and patients! This would go up there of the worst days of her life. She sat up kind of fast, forcing all of the blood to rush from her head making her a little dizzy.

“Whoa. There tiger you might wanna slow it down.”

Xena knew that voice. He wouldn’t be at her bedside, he wouldn’t be caring about her, and she isn’t even up to par enough to be on his radar. Why would be at her bedside.

“I’m fine, thank you.” “Yeah, you’re welcome. What kind of doctor would I be if I let you hit the ground?”

If Xena could roll her eyes without her head hurting, she would. She glanced around for water before finding the cup and taking a sip. The silence between them was comfortable, it was safe to say that she wanted to keep it. It made her feel safe with him.

Jackson moved to reach for something on the table beside the bed and sat it in her lap.

“You got second place by the way... still have ways to go.”

Xena glared at him playfully before pushing his hands away from her lap. Before she could say anything, Jackson got up from the chair, not before giving her a longing look while he closed the door. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad to give pretty boy a shot... right?

#feedback always appreciated #thanks for reading #oc #ctcwc22 #13 days of christmas #grays anatomy #jackson avery imagine #jackson avery #jackson avery x reader

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lil-dragon-draws · 7 months

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hello! Do you have a favourite art medium? eg. Favourite pen/paper?

OMG HII!!

okay this may get long so sorry in advance BUT

It’s a toss up between colour pencils and gouache - I don’t usually post colour pencil drawings on my blog because I don’t usually use them for dragons, but I was gifted a set of Faber-Castell Polychromos pencils and it was love at first sight!! I use them to add details on my gouache paintings (i think I used them on a Cloud Jumper doodle, or this tiger doodle) or just drawing people in general (which I don’t really post on my blog). The throng I love about them is how much fun I can have with blending and layering and colour combinations- it’s so easy to control and blend and working with my polychromos pencils is such a big stress relief tool for me!! Usually working with colour pencils is like a safe heaven for me, or a reliable fallback option because they’re so familiar to me and can work with any medium I use!

In all of my dragon paintings I use gouache (specifically pēbēo’s studio gouache)! I love it because it’s sort of like an opaque watercolour, I can layer light over dark and make some cool graphic design elements with them, I really love the effect it gives my art. I also find them very fun to work with once you get the hang of it, because you can make some really vibrant and fun paintings (but I can’t paint people - I always end up with muddy, unnatural skin tones ;-;). On top of that, I love using Arteza’s metallic gouache which adds some ✨jazz✨ to my work!

In terms of paper, I use Daler Rowney’s Mixed Media Pad (I have a crap ton of sketchbooks but this one can really hold the weight of multiple layers of paint), because I love the texture it holds for both paint AND colour pencils! Also watercolour paper is really expensive so… I also use Art Gecko’s A6 sketchbook for when I travel - this is normally where I get my ideas down or just doodle with graphite or colour.

I would absolutely LOVE to get into using fineliners and alcohol markers for my art though! Just to create and doodle characters because I really struggle with digital art as much as I love digital art I prefer “traditional”.

Speaking of which, I have dabbled in digital but it’s really not my thing (shoutout to all the artists who can use digital because all of their work is gorgeous!!)

ANYWAY SORRY THIS GOT KINDA LONG but if anyone sees this and wants to get into “traditional” art (putting quotes here because all art is art, whether it’s a physical medium or digital) you don’t need expensive equipment to do it just get a pencil and some paper and draw to your heart’s desire!! Dabble in other mediums and see what you like before buying the expensive stuff if you want!! I’ve collected so many sketchbooks and paint sets over all the years of being interested in art so just go for it!!

And thank you Sorush for the ask <3333

#YEAH SORRY THIS GOT LONG BUT I WAS REALLY INVESTED ABOUT IT #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK #I love getting asks if you can tell #also if anyone wants to know about all the stuff I use I can make a post about it #Sorushing #<333

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tang3r1n · 1 month

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are there any rules for making requests? like what you will and won't write about, how many characters we can ask about, if asking for more characters affects how much you write, characters you will and won't write for, any preferences for readers you'll write about like male or female, dom or sub, etc? stuff like that. feel free to include anything you want. sorry for all the questions, just want to be sure before sending anything and there wasn't any rules linked on your pinned post. thanks!

AAAAHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS, IM USING THIS AS THE BASIS FOR MY RULES PAGE WHEN I FINALLY MAKE IT.

(fr though i have wild and sporadic writing bouts, think like once a month i MIGHT be up for organizing my blog 😞)

but YEAH. okay so going down your list;

i write for anything that isn’t scat/vomit, incest and variances, or anything involving underage/animals. hard kink limits for me are shit like cheating and the like. other than that it’s pretty much a free for all

imma go ahead and say the limit would be 5-7 if it’s a hc style post (‘who eats ass’ for example) and 2-3 if it’s like a poly thing (like law, luffy, and kidd all liking one chick ig). literally anything influences my writing style and i bounce from one idea to the next at lighting speed so the more precise a request, the better i’ll be at understanding where i need to go with it!

i feel i pretty much can find damn near any character attractive coming from someone who thinks Charlie and Alan from Smiling Friends are hot as shit. my main focal points will always be anime since…idk they’re easy to write for lmao. my biggest eye-catchers are One Piece, JJK, MHA, Haikyuu (timeskip only cause yeah), AOT, Dorohedoro (my underrated love), and One Punch Man(GOD PLEASE ASK FOR OPM 🙏) but feel free to request anyone and if they tickle my fancy i’ll write a little smth smth <3

i’m honestly more of a verse irl and i flip a LOT in my writing. one smut blurb is reader chiking the shit out of a guy and the next is them whining and crying while they get spanked, it’s all up to the audience and how i particularly feel at that moment!

i’m an afab fat reader blog, gender is more loose as i’m fine writing for both masculine and non-binary presenting readers as well, but i feel weird writing for a body type/genitalia that i don’t possess. the same goes for other specifics like black or poc readers, disabled or autistic readers, and readers with very specific niches like ‘lolita’ or smth. i try to keep all physical markers neutral as i am pasty as SHIT (never refrencing skin tone or hair texture, using ‘feeling hot in the face’ over ‘blushing’, stuff like that so anyone can read) and i stick pretty heavily to using fat/plus size descriptors. that being said, unless the request is specifically for a fat reader or i specify it as a plot point, the reader’s weight will NEVER be a focal point and anyone can imprint on them as they’d like.

also, i tend to forget very quickly and get side tracked a lot, so PLEASE LLEASE PLEASE do not feel afraid to check in and be like ‘yo girl get on my shit’ trust me i’ll understand!!

also, the more i like your request, the more ill write, i literally spent like 7 hours STRAIGHT on a sir croc smut once all from Nasty’s ear worms she gave me<3

#.v speaks #.venus updated!#.rules/byi #.precious anon.#TH K YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THIS????

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 7

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

“I love this...” I whispered, arms wrapped around his neck, staring up into Jungkooks face as he rocked his hips against mine , hands stroking my hips gently as the hard length of him dragged inside me , almost gentle as he placed soft kisses on my brow.

“What? “ he smiled.

“You inside me... it feels.. i feel complete somehow..”

He smiled sweetly, kissing the corner of my lips.

“You’re so warm and wet and I think you’re perfect.” He breathed against my cheeks, pillow soft lips pressing smooches down my jaw and up to my lobe.

“I liked ...tonight. “I said shyly and he grimaced.

“I may have gone a little overboard..” He said sheepishly, grunting as he thrust a little harder and I closed my eyes , savoring the feeling of him inside me.

“But I liked it. Liked that I couldn’t even watch the fireworks because of ...well another kind of fireworks..” I laughed.

He grinned.

“ I aim to please.”

“Good. Then why dont you hurry up and fuck me like you mean it.” I said with a wink and his eyes narrowed, flashing red.

“You never learn, do you angel?”

I laughed as he pulled out and flipped me over, fingers sinking into hair, hand gripping my waist as he rove straight into me with a force that shook the bed.

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

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad would your siblings be if you don’t go back to your bed tonight?” Jungkook whispered, burying his face in the slightly damp strands of my hair, breathing deeply before going back to running a small fluffy towel through the strands.

I stared up at the ceiling , eyes at half mast because I was so sleepy, still pleasantly warm from the hot bath I’d just had . I was dressed in one of Jungkook’s big white t shirts , lying sideways on his bed with my head hanging over the edge because y hair was still wet. Jungkook being the perfect man that he was , was towel drying my wet locks for me.

“Probably a twenty?” I grimaced. “ I need to be up early to go down to the kitchen. We’re taking the kids out to the park remember?”

Jungkook groaned.

“Minae needs to be kept away from the sugar ... I am not going to piggy back her for two straight hours like yesterday.” He swore.

i laughed, rolling over and smiling at him.

“ She has a crush on you.” I grinned, waggling my eyebrows at him.

He shook his head laughing.

“I’m too old to be dealing with four year olds that have a crush on me., “He shuddered. I smiled, shaking my head because , Jungkook was the one who had begun helping out with the children and he was often the first to offer a piggyback ride to the kids.

Being a single father, I knew he had experience with kids, of course. But still it was quite something watching him handle them with confident hands and a ridiculously kind disposition. And he didn’t shy away from anything. Changing toddlers out of nappies, cleaning spit up off my office desk , even offering his nails for the smitten Minae to color with her markers.

And it felt good to have him around, his presence somehow grounding me even during the most hectic of times. Story time with Mr. Jeon, was fast becoming a thing, with Jungkook gathering all the younglings around him in a circle and regaling them with tales from his life ( a toned down, child friendly version of it of course ) while I set up the beds in the nap room, every afternoon.

The kids slept for about an hour every afternoon and that was the time we ate our lunch, the workers heading off to the kitchen while Jungkook and I shared a meal cook sent up for us. The small stone bench on the yard was right outside the window of the nap room, and leaving the window open helped us keep an eye on the kids while we ate.

Not too mention the effect it had on Joo Won.

Although he spent most of his time with Somi and Jimin in the other cottage , learning his number work and language skills, he occasionally ran up to his father, eager to show off his work. Jungkook always dropped whatever he was doing to shower praises on his son and the boy thrived under the attention.

The idea that I could do this with him for the rest of my life, was impossible to push out of my head.

But i wouldn’t bring it up.

I would enjoy this , now while I had it and I would wait for him of course but I wasn’t going to play games with him.

“I’m not meeting anyone else anymore.” I said quietly.

He gave me a look.

“anyone as in?..”

“Any vampires. potential suitors” I said with a shrug. “ I’m not going to. I’m going to tell my father I’m... not interested in it anymore.”

Jungkook stopped his ministrations and gave me a guilty laden look.

“Sera, about tonight-”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” I glared at him. “ I loved it. I love you , as I’ve told you often enough and I also understand that you’re not there yet. and I can wait.”

Jungkook looked away.

“That’s not fair to you.” He said hoarsely.

“Maybe. But it’s still my choice. And My life. And if I choose to spend that life pining over you for the rest of eternity , that’s upto me.” I shrugged.

He merely stared at me, lips turned down in a frown.

“You’re too young to understand what you’re asking for Sera. You don’t realize how powerful you are. I’m not... I’m not good enough for you.” He shook his head. “ Far from it.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What does that even mean? You’re a vampire. There’s literally nothing that stops us from being together than your twisted belief that you aren’t good enough. Which is so baseless I could laugh. ”

Jungkook stared at me.

“It’s not just about me. What about the kind of power you would have with the right vampire? not to mention the people in my life that would want me fucking dead sera? You think everyone would just let it go? Me , a fucking nobody marrying the most adored girl in our kind??? ” he laughed in disbelief.

i frowned.

“What do you mean ?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to elaborate but the door to his bedroom slammed open at that exact same moment and I jumped, terrified. Scrambling to my knees, I crawled back to the headboard just as Jungkook swore, moving to the door , bodychecking the figure that crashed through.

“JEON FUCKING JUNGKOOK GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!!!!!”

I felt my eyes widen in horror as my brother in law launched himself across the room, fingers closing right around Jungkook’s neck as he rammed into him, the two of them skidding across the floor and crashing into the ornate fireplace with a noise loud enough to wake the dead.

I stared, my brain unable to process what I was seeing.

My sister appeared, eyes wild and panicked.

“Oh God... Sera I’m so sorry...he came to your room and saw you were gone...” she began but then stopped.

Her eyes fell on the pandemonium in the corner and she yelped.

“jIMIN!!!!” She screamed, rushing to the corner where the two vampires were locked together in a scuffle and the only thing I could think about was the fact that I was naked underneath his t shirt and if anyone else walked in-

“What is this ruckus?” The loud booming noise was familiar and terrifying and i squeaked, diving for the covers and crawling in as I stared horrified. The figure that appeared in the doorway was so imposing that all of us went still. Even Jungkook’s eyes widened as he took in the gargantuan man framed in the entryway.

Hwang Jaebum was seven feet tall, 1800 years old and the scariest Vampire i had ever seen in my entire life. His skin was shriveled , his eyes permanently red and he stared at the two fighting vampires , now frozen and gawking at the towering vampire and he scrunched his nose in disgust before his red eyes flashed and landed on me.

“There you are.” He said softly. “Sweet Seraphina.”

The name, God.

My uncle had named me and no one called me that but him.

I swallowed, clutching the covers as sheer unadulterated terror coursed through my veins. I knew my uncle wouldn’t hurt me but still, power radiated off him in waves and I did not want to be on the receiving end of his displeasure.

“Come here , child. Let me look at you.”

I winced.

Before I could react though, Jungkook was climbing on the bed, scrabbling to kneel right in front of me, arms stretched out to keep me from the vampire’s view.

“Who the fuck are you?” He snarled and I gasped, stunned. God, Uncle Jae had killed people for less.

I grabbed Jungkook quickly, pulling him back into my arms and away from the vampire who now looked suitably furious.

“That’s my uncle. Shut up.” I hissed quickly. Jungkook didn’t show any sign of backing down, still crouched in front of me, muscles locked in a fighting stance and I clutched his shoulders, burying my face in his back.

“Jungkook relax...” I begged but he merely grabbed my hand where it lay wrapped on his waist, squeezing gently.

“It’s okay baby, I’m here.” He was still glaring at my uncle who peered over him to lock eyes with me.

“Who is this? Why are you in his bed, Seraphina? “ My Uncles’ voice rumbled through the room, echoing off the rafters and Jimin and Somi scrambled to their feet.

“Sire.... We didn’t know you were here already..” Jimin began, moving to stand in front of him but Jaebum ignored him, moving closer to the bed.

“Who are you? Tell me now.” He snarled.

I stared at the anger flashing in my uncle’s eyes and I swallowed.

“He is her intended, brother.” My father’s voice came from the doorway and i jumped a bit, staring over at the door.

My father came floating in, face calm but eyes narrowed in annoyance as he stared at me. I found myself wilting under the glare. He was upset, Rightfully so.

My uncle frowned, glancing at my father in disbelief.

“She is betrothed?” He frowned. “ Why was I not informed of this?”

My father gave him a reassuring smile.

“It is fairly new, this courtship. Jungkook and Sera are very fond of each other and they have my blessing.”

Next to me Jungkook had gone as pale as parchment. He moved up and away from me and my entire body went cold.

I reached for his hand, flinching when he yanked it away.

Fuck.

“I need to speak to the boy. What is your name boy?” My uncle growled at Jungkook.

“Jeon Jungkook , sire.:”

He frowned.

“What clan are you from?”

I flinched.

My father looked a little uncomfortable.

“Surely we can talk about this-”

“I was bitten , Sire.It’s just me and my son, now.” Jungkook’s voice was deep and steady and he stared right at my uncle.

Uncle Jae’s eyes widened and then he stared at me.

“That is what you will settle for , Seraphina? A mongrel with tainted blood?”

The sharp sound of hurt that came from Jungkook shattered my heart.

But it was my father who growled, affronted.

“That is enough. You are a guest , Jaebum and I will not have you insulting my daughter’s betrothed. Leave him be.”

My uncle laughed.

“It is not an insult. It is a fact...is it not, boy? Look at him... he knows his place. And it not by her side.”

“Jungkook, don’t listen to him ...” i whispered feverishly , reaching for him again not letting him pull away and gripping his fingers hard. His fingers felt icy cold to the touch and there was no mistaking the sheer hurt radiating off his features.

“Unless the girl is in trouble, I think you should sever the connection, Jaehyun.” My uncle snapped at my father .

“We shall talk about this later. For now, I want you to remember your place, Jaebum. You have duties to attend to and my daughter’s choice is her own. I will not have you interfering in things that you aren’t responsible for.” My father’s voice was just as loud, radiated just as much authority and i had never loved him more.

Jaebum scoffed once again before turning on his heel and leaving . I sagged in relief and Jungkook, got off the bed, moving away from me so quickly I felt like someone had stuck a knife in my gut.

“Jimin and Somi, come. Jungkook , Sera. I want the two of you to come to my office after you fix yourself up.” My father said coldly.

“Yes, Sir.” Jungkook bowed.

“Yes, father.”

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

“Father....I...”

“You slept with him. “ My father said thoughtfully and I stared at my feet. There was no point denying it.

“Has he agreed to court you?” He said sharply.

I looked up at him, biting my lips.

“No.” I whispered.

My father’s eyes widened and he shot me a glare that could melt gold.

“He fed from you during the act?” He demanded. I felt the phantom throb in my thighs at the memory.

“Yes, father. “ I admitted.

“Then I must ask. Was it consensual? Did you influence him in any way Seraphina.”

My heart turned over, tears springing at the accusation.

“No... No .. I didn’t.. he doesn’t know.. he doesn’t even know I can do that.” I whispered.

“Could you have done it unconsciously? If Jungkook fed from you and you were near him you could have convinced him to do anything. He wouldn’t have been able to consent. You know this, Sera. I don’t understand how you could be so reckless. We are not monsters. We know our limits and we stick to them for fuck’s sake.”

“He... we... I... It’s my fault. He didn’t.. He didn’t want to court me so I convinced him we could just...fool around. That was all it was. He loves his son father. He’s only here to give him a better life. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry for being so selfish and ..Please just don’t send him away. I’ll never meet him again if that’s what you want but please....don’t send him away. .” I stared at my father, feeling the tears sting.

My father’s gaze softened but he sighed, shaking his head as he held his arm out. I walked into his embrace, letting the tears fall as I clutched his robe.

“You have not been selfish, dearest. . But, no matter who are, we cannot covet what we are never meant to have . Jungkook is not for you.” He whispered into my hair and I felt my insides clench in rebellion, every part of me screaming in protest at the phrase.

No.. No... he was mine.. he had to be mine....

I was his and he was mine.

“ I’m going to offer him the position as head of the security team.” My father aid gently and I shuddered.

“Father..”

“It will pay well. He will be working from the administrative building close to me. . There’s no reason for your paths to cross. Namjoon will take over as your bodyguard from tomorrow.”

i nodded.

“I want you to remember who you are. What you are capable of. I raised you to be kind and gentle but that does not change who you are, Sera. It doesn’t change what you are.” he said gently, eyes firm.

I swallowed.

“You may leave.”

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

Jungkook stared at the whiskey decanter on the table. watching Sera’s father pour him a drink. His eyes focused on the golden liquid, the way it caught the light and danced with all the colors of autumn.

“I’m going to ask you one thing. I want you to answer me, as truth fully as you would your own father.”

Jungkook was a father, himself. He knew the anger and trepidation in the man’s gaze was real. He knew exactly what it felt like, that desperate clawing need to keep your child safe. To destroy anything that dare hurt them.

“Do you love my daughter?” The man’s voice shook a little.

“I cannot court her.” He whispered. “ I’m not... I can’t. “

“That is not what i asked .” The older man said gently.

He shook his head.

“I don’t have the right to feel anything but respect for her, sir.” Jungkook said softly.

The vampire shook his head laughing.

“Your eyes tell me all you refuse to say, Jungkook ah. You care deeply for her, do you not? it is obvious in the tremble of your hand. it was obvious in the way you stood up to my brother, when surely everything in your blood must’ve screamed to back away from a Vampire of such a high ranking. ”

Jungkook clenched his fists.

Sera’s father went on.

“I know you love her and honestly, If you didn’t.... you wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Jungkook winced.

“Yes , sir.” He croaked.

“I will destroy entire continents for my daughter. You know this. “ He said quietly.

Jungkook nodded. He believed the man .

“Which is why I must ask. Who is after you?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped up, eyes widening in surprise.

“Sir...”

“I’m not the head of the largest clan in the country for nothing. You are protecting your son...but from what? A man of your reputation , choosing to stay inside an estate , helping out with infants and children.... it doesn’t make sense. So tell me. What are you hiding from? And how can I help?”

Jungkook stared at his hands.

“It’s Joowon’s grandfather. The man who’s daughter I killed.”

Sera’s father stiffened.

“Ahh... yes. Gong Tae Kwan. An old nemesis .” He shook his head, sighing. “ You’ve made a powerful enemy , Jungkook.”

Jungkook nodded.

“I know. I’m no match for him. And I know he’s not going to stop until he kills me and my son.”

“You’re right. He’s not going to stop. Now, what so you want to do? Hide out till he finally catches up or confront him like the warrior you are?”

“i can’t do it. I need to be here for Joo Won.... It would be suicidal...”

“ Only if you’re alone. “

“Sir?”

“It would be suicidal , if you were to confront him alone.”

“Are you saying that...”

“I’m going to be there with you. We are going to lure the bastard out , and we are going to end this once and for all.”

“Sir, i can’t ask you to...”

“You’re not asking me damn thing kid. I’m doing this for my daughter’s sake. And you are going to repay me by making her as happy as you possibly can.” He said sternly.

Jungkook flushed

“Sir.. I’m sorry I...”

“When this ends, and it will....you will court her. You will court her, because unlike what you think, you do not get to decide whether you’re worthy of being my daughter’s consort. She does.” He gave him a smile, reaching out and clamping a hand on his shoulder. “ If she chooses you it means you’re worthy. And she has chosen you , Jeon Jungkook . Don’t be the idiot who walks away from the best thing to ever happen to him, son. ”

Jungkook stared at him.

He took a deep breath.

“Yes, father.” He said with a small smile.

The older man laughed out loud.

“Excellent. Now come, we have a murder to plot. “

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

Author’s Note : Well....now the plot picks up... :D :D feedback is always welcomed !! Come scream with me about how amazing Sera’s father is!!!!

@ladyartemesia @veronawrites @alpaca1612 @bonyg @unseejuice21 @sppvjj @ggukkieland @tae-by-tae @blr1004 @yoongichild @stussyjeon @jellybearo @sumzysworld @carolsummerlove

@bunniechoon @unicornbabylover

@preciouschimine @baekhyunatthehaunted-house @craztextae

@nikkiordonez12

drop me a message if i missed you name for the tag list Thank you.

#jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #bts fanfic #jungkook vampire au #bts vampire au #jeon jungkook

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Do You Believe In Life After Love? PT. 1

Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.4 Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Violence and Death

Author's Note: I have edited this story so it's nicer. Love me for this, please because I fought the cringe for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham looked bleak in the wake of the militia’s arrival. Even the thugs that were rioting in the street seemed to avoid the armored tanks and patrols as they passed, and GCPD had withdrawn most of their officers to stay at the precinct. He’d never claim he couldn’t do it on his own. He had to keep going. He had to save Gotham. He had to—

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to ask for help once in a while.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who was speaking. She walked up beside him, leaning on the ledge he was perched on.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke, his eyes still trained on the city before him. “You should still be resting. Your ribs aren’t fully healed yet.”

She chuckled and turned, looking out at the spotlights shining. “They’re healed enough.” She side-eyed him. “Besides, this is becoming a lot more than you can handle.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I can handle thi—” He looked down when he felt a hand curl around his wrist, then he looked back up, seeing the solemn stare in her gaze.

“Dad. You almost died at the ACE plant,” she interjected with a shake of her head. “We’ve got this ‘Arkham Knight’ teaming up with Scarecrow, and you’ve got Tim locked in the theater synthesizing a cure.” She squeezed his wrist lightly.

“Ican handle the smaller things, while you handle the militia and Scarecrow.”

He stared at his daughter for a moment, wanting to argue, but he knew it was pointless. Finally, he nodded, pulling away and pushing a few buttons on his wrist screen. “I need someone to help Dick with Penguin, and I need to handle the Man-Bat flying around.”

She nodded as she glanced at her screen, taking in the information he’d sent. “Do you know where it came from?”

“The DNA matches that of Doctor Kirk Langstrom,” he said. “He owns a lab on Bleake Island. Here’s the coordinates.”

Humming, she slid a wave-marker into the cowl’s visor to give her direction before stepping up on the ledge. “I’ll go to the lab, then help out Dick.” He stared at her as she turned to face him, her feet nearing the edge. “Be careful, dad…I don’t want to lose you.” She didn’t give him time to respond, falling backwards over the ledge.

A few seconds later, she was gliding through the sky; a faint smile came to his lips as he watched her, then he turned, heading in the direction of the other island.

***

When she finally found the lab, she was alarmed to see what had happened. Her eyes focused on the screen, replaying the last moments of the experiment, then she put a finger to her ear. “Dad? Can you hear me?”

A few moments later, his voice came over the line. “What happened at the lab?”

She grimaced as she looked at the body of Francine Langstrom. “Apparently Langstrom was trying to find a cure to his deafness by mixing in vampire bat DNA with his. Something went horribly wrong, and he mutated into the giant bat thingy flying around Gotham.” She paused, her voice mournful. “His wife’s dead.”

There was a slight pause from her father then he murmured, “Can you get to a computer to synthesize a cure?”

She glanced around, trying to find a working computer amongst the shattered screens. When she found one, she moved to it, typing away at it.

After a few moments, she pulled the cure out and put it into the injector she carried. “Alright. I’ve got the cure. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s on Bleake now. Find him in the skies.”

She nodded, moving to the door. “Will do.”

***

When she arrived back in the city, she climbed up the clocktower and waited. Once she saw him darting across the sky in a hulking mass of gray flesh and black talons, she acted, kicking off the ledge to glide across the sky until she was above him; she dove, tackling him to the ground and injecting him, but he fought her, viciously slicing at her with his claws until she rolled away. He screeched at her and flew off.

She grunted as she clambered to her feet, dusting off the dirt they’d rolled in and a voice came over the comm. “Did you find him?”

A huff escaped her, and she explained, “I did…but he wrestled with me and took off the second I injected him.” She looked down at the injector, still holding the remaining cure. “We’re gonna have to go another round.”

“Watch the skies then. In the meantime, go find Dick. He’s somewhere on Miagani.”

She took a moment to catch her breath before pulling out her grapple and aiming it towards the roof of an adjacent building. “Alright. Will do.”

The crinkle of her father’s communicator faded out and she pulled the trigger, letting her body go weightless as she shot up towards the ledge. Holstering the grapple gun, she climbed over the ledge and paused, glancing down at her screen as she stood on the roof. A few moments had passed, and she looked at the city, seeing the chaos that had enveloped it within the few hours that had gone by. Riots littered the boulevards and the militia had begun putting mines in the roads as they started barricading the avenues and main streets. Something akin to hopelessness rose in her chest, but she shoved it down, reminding herself that with her, Dick, Tim, and her dad, they could save Gotham. It was just going to take some more time.

“Are you thinking about how Batman let the city go to hell?”

She couldn’t fight the gasp that escaped her as she spun around, taking in the image of the Arkham Knight before her. His stance was nonthreatening, in fact it was almost curious, but she stood on her guard anyway, her voice and eyes cold.

“There’s only two people to blame for this city going to hell. Scarecrow…” She pointed at him, her voice frosty. “And you.” He gave her no reaction, other than taking a step towards her, heavy metaled boot making a thump against the concrete roof.

Reaching down, she pulled the Ka-Bar from her thigh and warned, “I’d be careful how close you come, pal. I’m one person you don’t wanna tango with.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Look around you, Batgirl. This is what Gotham City truly is. Chaotic and beyond saving.”

She tipped her head back, her tone becoming challenging. “Is that what you’ve been conditioned to believe? Or did Scarecrow just feed you something to change your mind.”

That seemed to irritate him because he snapped harshly, “You have no idea what I’ve been conditioned to believe.”

“I know you’ve got a petty grudge against Batman, and you believe that inciting chaos amongst people is the best way to deal with it.”

His anger seemed to cool as his voice turned to ice, and she almost shivered at how the temperature seemed to chill around them a few degrees. “My grudge with Batman is more than petty.” He pointed at her, the holographs on his mask shifting with every word. “He deserves to die.”

She flipped the knife into the air and caught it, raising it defensively as she reached out with the other out and beckoned him. “You want Batman?” she challenged. “Then you come through me.”

The Arkham Knight didn’t move until she jerked forward, stabbing out with the knife. He dodged her easily enough, sliding beside her and she twisted, following him with a well-rounded kick aimed for his torso. Instead of evading, he grabbed her foot and yanked her. Hard. Her breath caught in her throat as she was hauled forward and cursing inwardly, she brought the knife down, hoping to catch him as she fell. His gauntleted hand shot out and caught hers, and when she reached out with the other, he caught it too. Not wasting any time, he kicked her feet out from beneath her and dropped them to the ground, putting all his weight onto her hips to stop her from moving as he slammed her hands beside her head against the rooftop.

Her eyes widened in shock at how quickly everything had happened. No one had ever been able to take her down that fast, and the reality that she might meet her end caught up with her. She began to squirm, trying to rise up enough to catch him with a shoulder but with her wrists in his grip it wasn’t likely, and with all his weight on her legs, she couldn’t kick out or try to flip him off.

“Stop moving,” he suddenly commanded, but it didn’t sound as harsh as his earlier words.

She glared at him and spat, “You wanna kill me, go ahead. But he’s still gonna take you down.”

There was a pause, then he shifted her hands until he held them both in one hand, and he reached towards her face. She reacted like anyone would subdued by an enemy, emitting a warning in her throat as she tried to avoid the oncoming touch. When his hand came into contact with her cheek, she flinched at the chill of the titanium, but his touch was…kind and gentle.

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N),” he promised softly. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

She stilled at the mention of her name, shock etching across her features. His fingers brushed her cheek once more, this time a loving caress, his thumb brushing over her lips.

“How…how do you know my name?” (Y/N) questioned and his hand halted, then he reached up and pressed a button below his jaw.

She watched the mask rise and when his face came into view, she felt her heart stop and she blinked, breathing, “…Jason?”

At the mention of his name and the recognition, he let go of her hands and reached down, removing the gloves from his hands. He reached back down to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones then to her eyebrows, like he was trying to remember how her skin felt underneath his calloused hands.

She could see the long-withheld emotions fighting inside him as choked, “God, I’ve wanted to see you for so long.” His hands felt warm against her face, and she reached up to touch him, but stopped as she saw the “J” burned onto his face. He must’ve realized she was staring at it, because he pulled one of his hands away and covered it, muttering, “The Joker…he did it.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting, anger, fury, disgust, it wasn’t the one she gave him, as she let out a sob and jerked forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. His entire body went rigid, then slowly, his arms wound around her waist, pulling her to him until there was no space between them, and even then, he tried to pull her closer, squeezing with all his strength. She began to shake in his arms, and he quietly shushed her.

After a few moments, she pulled back and took off her cowl, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes; she swallowed thickly before murmuring, “…We thought you were dead, Jason.”

His expression turned dark as he muttered, “Joker kept me locked in the asylum all that time.”

(Y/N) had no idea what to say. What could she? She figured she could apologize for not looking in the asylum. Or that she failed him. Instead, she said nothing and took his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. He shut his eyes and a shuddering breath left him as he gently grasped her forearms, trying to ground himself. Some time had passed before he pulled away and helped her to her feet. (Y/N) stared into the eyes of her lover and readied herself for what she was about to say.

She took a deep breath and bent over, picking up the knife to put it back in its sheath. “I…I can’t even begin to imagine what happened to you, Jason,” she said as she gazed at him. “And I’m sorry it did…I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to find you.”

Grasping the cowl, she pulled it back on then clenched her jaw and said, “You can go this time…but if I see you again…I will stop you.”

His eyes widened in shock for a split second, then they narrowed, and he tipped his head up, questioning, “So, this is how it’s going to be?”

She nodded despite the grief welling in her chest. “This is how it has to be.” (Y/N) explained as she turned away from him. “You’re trying to kill my dad and destroy Gotham…I can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t care that he left me to die?”

She spun back around, her voice wrought with disbelief and resentment of the accusation. “That’s not what happened, and you know it!” she condemned. “You turned you comm and tracker off then went off on your own! We searched everywhere for you! None of us let you die!” She reached out and curled her fingers in the straps at his side. “We saw you die Jason! I watched my father fall into the deepest pit of depression I’ve ever witnessed!”

She let him go, her hands falling limply to her sides. “Don’t you dare say that he didn’t care that you died…it haunts him.” (Y/N)’s eyes met his and she lamented, “It haunts me.” He said nothing, and she shook her head, turning back around. “I don’t know what you expected from me. To help you destroy Gotham? To kill my father and everything he stands for?”

She paused, then admitted, “I love you, Jason. More than anything…but you’re dead wrong if you think I’d be on your side with this.”

The sound of mechanized armor echoed in her ears and his sarcastic laugh turned robotic as he ridiculed, “Guess there is life after love, huh?”

(Y/N) gave him no response, and a moment later, she was standing alone on the rooftop. A feeling of overwhelming numbness seeping out from her heart to her limbs as her lungs began to tighten.

“Yes…I guess there is.”

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allteacher · 3 years

Text

also on ao3

Eris has been in the Tower for barely three weeks when she gets the message.

It should come as more of a surprise, but Eris has known since she crawled gasping out of the Moon’s tunnels that she would not have peace for long, even in the Tower. Even after she’d been discovered and inspected and questioned, spoken softly to and coddled and ensconced gently in her own private quarters— quarters in the civilian wing, far away from her old rooms.

“All your things are still in storage,” Ikora had told her that first day, watching Eris look around her new bedroom, empty save the large windows looking down on the memorial gardens. The view is of the Firebreak section; Eris had refused anything where she could see the names of the people she’d known, where the City planners had just yesterday taken down the stone inscribed with her own name.

She still hasn’t retrieved any of her things, the ragged cloaks or the blankets or the chipped mugs she’d stolen from the Hunter’s Lounge. She thinks about going into that dark room filled with the markers of her past life, sometimes. Sometimes she thinks she will open the heavy metal door and her old self will be standing there, surrounded by the past. Sometimes this is a dream; more often it is a nightmare.

Every few days, Eris sneaks into the supply closet at the end of the hallway and takes one of the chain locks from its carefully-labeled container. She installs them carefully, tests her weight against the door to see if it gives: fragile charms against some future ruin. She knows anything she is truly afraid of could not be stopped by something so mortal, but the action gives her hands something to do; material action, however useless, in service of her own protection.

(She’d done the same on the Moon, before they’d ventured down into the pit: the six of them, holed up in some small lunar colony outbuilding, she and Vell nailing sheets of spinmetal to the doors to keep out wandering Hive in the night. The chalk of bone dust in her throat as Toland had hung Hive-charms over each threshold, humming to himself.

Sai had looked at him, grin questioning. “Are those going to blow us up?”

Eris knows now they would’ve done much worse.)

She hauls herself to her feet, examines her handiwork. If Ikora saw her, she’d call Eris obsessive. Eris knows she is; she wants something new to obsess over. Wants to think of nothing but Crota, to dream of nothing else until his great luminescent corpse is rotting in his Throne. This is why, when her comm chimes with the one-two tone of a summons, she turns toward it with an eager expectation. Maybe Ikora has convinced the Vanguard to listen to her, finally.

The message is from a channel she’s never seen, not before she entered the Hellmouth or since. There’s no text, just a string of coordinates and, at the bottom, a series of pictographs. They’re not Hive runes, have none of the sinuous incomprehensibility.

Eris, the habit worn into her, has her suspicions. But she speaks of them to no one, has the feeling she’s guessed the importance of the secret she’s been entrusted with.

The message has no date attached, so she waits a few more days before acting. She spends that time in a stupor, drifting around her little room, sometimes venturing to the library or to the secluded back hallways of the Hidden to ask for information. She still keeps to the shadows, because no one in the City or the Tower has grown used to her presence yet. Idly, she considers the idea that she is making her problem worse, only alienating herself further by refusing to come fully into the light, to let herself be seen. In these in-between days, she cannot bring herself to care.

She considers leaving without telling anyone. She does not think she will be gone long, and she does not need permission to leave the City. But she considers what the Vanguard, already suspicious of her, would think, what conclusions they would draw. What Ikora would think if Eris disappeared into the night, like she’d done with Eriana so many years ago.

Finally, she sneaks into Ikora’s office.

Eris wastes no time on formalities once she sees Ikora's figure behind her desk, piled high with reports. "I am leaving the City for the afternoon," she says. It is not a lie, because she is loathe to hide anything but what she must from the one person who has tried to welcome her back into the City, who still sees her as an equal. "I am not going off-world. I should be back before tomorrow." The words feel stiff in her mouth even as she says them, but she is still relearning conversations not conducted in whispers or screams.

Ikora does not beam at her, does not over-indulge her, but Eris can still feel the warmth of her Light radiating outward. “Alright," she says, "Radio if you need any assistance. And let me know if you see anything unusual. I’ve been receiving strange reports, lately.”

Eris hopes that isn’t a warning. She inclines her head, leaves without a word.

She departs immediately, before her paranoia can get the better of her. She flies over the Cosmodrome for half an hour before inputting the coordinates she’d long since memorized— some Hidden practicality had made her delete the message almost as soon as she’d read it. She comes to the location soon enough, a little clearing tucked into some foothills. Still on Earth, which she privately considers a blessing. She does not know if she would have been able to leave it, yet, not when her wounds are still so raw.

Eris parks her little ship in the shadow of a few trees. She feels secure having it a physical presence near her, a concrete mode of retreat. It’s more than she’d ever had in the tunnels.

She picks her way across a stream, climbs to the top of a small hill that rises over the clearing. She sees the figure immediately, cutting a striking figure against the weak afternoon light. Even from here, he hurts her eyes to look at. She grimaces, continues down towards him.

As she grows closer, the figure grows more obvious: Osiris. She’d had her suspicions, driven by what she’d remembered of his writings before his exile, Toland’s ravings. Even the message had a certain Warlock quality to it, a mystery, a challenge. She and Eriana had crafted just such a message with their own hands once, join us in our quest…

Osiris looks as she remembers him, though she’d only ever seen him from a distance. Eriana had disliked him, had hated his presence as Warlock Vanguard. Despised his position because of the power it gave him over the Praxic Fire, who stood in clear opposition to everything he'd gradually become.

(“I don’t see why he’s so desperate to understand them. I’m tired of trying to simply understand,” Eriana had groaned once, servos whirring, bent over some ancient tome. “I do not need to know the Hive to raze them to ashes. I only need to know what they have taken from us.”)

Forgive me, Eris thinks. She will not get her vengeance without fully comprehending everything the Hive are, without learning the weft and weave of their existence so that she can unravel it.

She blinks and she is standing before him. “Osiris,” she says. Maybe it is her memories of Eriana but she feels like a newly-Risen, again, standing before him. He is a figure cut neatly from her past and transplanted into the present, unchanging, looking down at her.

“Eris Morn,” he says, and Eris does not startle but she is, for some reason, surprised that he knows just who she is. She knows that it is her own tortuous journey that has made him seek her out, that it is her pain that has made her valuable. Some part of her rails against it, even as she is desperate to turn her nightmares into something usable, to prove to herself that their deaths were not meaningless, that they have done something other than feed the Hive’s ever-eager desire for suffering.

Osiris is looking at her strangely. Eris tries to stare back, but her eyes skitter sideways off of him, the afterimage of his silhouette burning in her eyes. She must make another face, because Osiris’ Ghost slides close to him, spinning intently, and the aura of his Light fades to a shimmer over his skin.

“I know you have information regarding the Hive,” he tells her. “The City ignores your warnings.”

“As they ignored yours.” It is not meant as a challenge, but everything she says sounds bitter, now.

Most of his face is covered, but the tilt of his head changes. “Yes. But we both know what is coming. The question is how to stop it.”

Eris has never been good at these Warlock-games, at talking in circles, hinting closer and closer to what lies plain before them both. “I think I know how to kill Crota,” she says, because she needs to get to the heart of the thing that has been eating her alive. She needs to tell someone who will understand.

And she thinks Osiris will understand, because he has not been through the Hellmouth but he does understand what it is like to exist utterly alone with the enemy, to be shaped by your experience of something completely alien. To be so utterly changed that everyone around you can only think you mad.

“Tell me, then,” he says, and so she does.

#destiny the game #eris morn #osiris #my fic #sometimes you have to get a fic out of your brain in order to get to the actual fic you want to write #aka 'this is the prequel to that eris&osiris fic i was talking about last month'#(they'll actually interact in that one i promise)

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lulu-zodiac · 3 years

Text

Title: Blue Ink

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: College AU, Tattoo Artist!Cas, Fluff, Pining, First Kiss

Summary: And then, with the same tender carefulness with which he’d just been tattooing Dean, Cas leans in and kisses him.

If you want to be added to my fic tag list, let me know! <3.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Dean eyes the needle in Cas’s hand apprehensively, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. They’re both sitting facing each other on Dean’s bed, the lights low and Zeppelin playing softly on the record player.

Cas’s blue gaze flickers up to catch his, amused and reassuring all at once. “Dean. You’ve watched me do this plenty of times.” It’s true: Cas trained as a tattoo apprentice for part of his art course last semester, and since then has informally tattooed a bunch of their friends at parties, as well as himself. Dean has been pestering him to give him one for months.

“I know, I know,” Dean hedges, fiddling with the bedspread. “It’s just –”

“It’s normal to be nervous, you know,” Cas tells him, “You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to,” his eyes are suddenly serious, regarding Dean closely, soft blue and familiar in a way that tugs at Dean’s heart. “And if you want to stop at any point, I’ll stop.”

“Christ, I’m not some blushing virgin, Cas,” Dean rolls his eyes, mainly to cover up the way his heart is suddenly fluttering in his chest. “Just get on with it, okay?”

Cas rolls his eyes right back at Dean and rolls up the sleeves of his vintage patterned shirt, exposing the intricate ink on his own arms. “Alright, give me your arm, then.”

Hesitantly, Dean holds it out and Cas’s fingers grasp it reassuringly, warm and dexterous and familiar. His heart rate picks up further, not entirely from the prospect of being tattooed for the first time. Swallowing, he watches Cas swab his bicep with alcohol and pick up the marker that’s sitting on Dean’s bedspread.

Cas leans in, head bowed in concentration, fingers skilled and precise as he inks the outline of the sigil on Dean’s skin. This close, Dean can smell the distinct muskiness of Cas’s skin, the way the patchouli incense he always burns clings to his tousled hair. Dean has to force himself to concentrate on the image taking form under Cas’s touch, resisting the urge to lean in closer than he should and do something monumentally stupid like brush Cas’s hair away from his face or kiss him.

“Alright?” Cas’s low, gravelly voice breaks Dean’s spiralling thoughts. He glances up fleetingly, a flash of dark blue that has Dean’s heart racing. They’ve been friends for years now, but the rush is still the same, the thrill of being this close to Cas. Fleetingly, he wonders if it’ll ever change.

Wordlessly, Dean nods.

They’d met at freshers’, at some house party thrown by someone Dean doesn’t remember. Dean had known he was a goner the moment he glanced up and found Cas’s blue gaze on him, quiet and intent, head tilted slightly, watching Dean like he was fascinated, like he could somehow really see him. They’d flirted that night, but when Dean next ran into him Cas had made a whole speech about not wanting to date anyone, and so Dean had tried to put how Cas made him feel out of his mind. By the time Cas finally dating people last year, they’d already fallen into the pattern of friends and Dean couldn’t stand the risk of losing him to some stupid crush that had no guarantee of working out.

Slowly, though, it’s felt increasingly like they’re edging into this, into something more. Cas spends most of his evenings round at Dean’s, and Dean often looks up to find Cas’s gaze on him, as intent as that first time but laced with something different now; warmer, heavier. It makes Dean’s stomach do cartwheels. It’s got to the point where he doesn’t trust himself not to say something both of them might regret, so he’s started deliberately distancing himself from Cas to protect their friendship. This is the first time they’ve been alone like this for a few weeks, and the quiet tension between them seems to have deepened rather than dissipated. With a not insignificant degree of panic, Dean wonders how he’s going to get through this, Cas’s hands all over him, without doing something stupid.

“Tell me about the design again,” Cas says quietly, interrupting Dean’s internal panic. The cold wet nib of the pen tickles Dean’s skin, slow and careful. Dean watches his hands move expertly, long fingers with chipped black nail polish that Dean finds inexplicably sexy.

“Uh, it’s from the mythology on divine beings I’m looking at for my dissertation,” Dean forces himself to look away from Cas and breathe, trying to calm the thump of his heart and the heat blossoming through him. “An ancient sigil. Enochian, it’s called.”

“Like this?” Cas is frowning, examining his work.

“Yeah,” Dean nods, a little breathlessly. “That’s perfect.”

“Alright,” Cas clicks the cap on the marker and looks up, blue eyes glittering, “Ready?”

Dean swallows, “As I’ll ever be.”

Cas smiles, tightens his grip on Dean’s bicep and leans in again, this time with the needle. “First few moments will sting, but after that it’ll fade, I promise,” he says, eyes searching Dean’s. “Let me know if you want to stop.”

Dean nods, biting his lip. The first pierce of the needle does sting, but it’s not as bad as he imagined, and it soon numbs into vague, prickly discomfort. The downside of this is that Dean isn’t as distracted from Cas’s proximity as he’d like. The sooty sweep of Cas’s lashes, his full lips slightly parted in concentration, his rumpled hair. He’s wearing his shirt unbuttoned and Dean can see a distressing amount of smooth, toned skin, the tangle of pendants round his neck, including the one Dean gave him for his last birthday. Cas had been quiet when he’d opened it, had hugged Dean so hard it hurt a little. It makes Dean’s chest ache just thinking about it now, about this fleeting moment where Cas had just looked at him like he wanted him too, like something was going to happen. But neither of them had made a move, and Dean has always wondered if he’d read too much into it.

“Okay?” Cas asks quietly above the sound of the needle, not looking up.

Dean nods dazedly, before he remembers Cas can’t see him. “Yes – yeah,” he mumbles stupidly, dizzied by the strong grip Cas has around his arm, the tenderness in his touch and the care with which he tattoos Dean. “Yeah.”

“You’re doing so good,” Cas murmurs, and god, he’s so close that Dean can feel the warmth of Cas’s breath against his skin along with the heat that blossoms through him at Cas’s praise. “So good, Dean,” he strokes his thumb along Dean’s skin where he’s holding his arm in place, sending sparks shooting through Dean.

“Uh,” Dean grunts, because Cas’s praise has turned him from low level horny to uncomfortably hard in his jeans. He shifts slightly on the bed, breathing hard. His arm is aching dully, but all he can think about is Cas’s hands on him, Cas warm and familiar and so goddamn close Dean feels dizzy with the proximity. He watches dazedly as black ink slowly appears on his skin under Cas’s careful hands.

“It’s halfway there, almost,” Cas glances up, maybe planning on reassuring Dean – but something unreadable passes over his expression as he takes in Dean’s face, the flush Dean can feel on his cheeks and how he knows his pupils must be blown wide.

For several, long beats they just look at each other, and it suddenly feels impossibly quiet, even with Zeppelin humming in the background. Cas hasn’t let go of where his hand curls around Dean’s bicep, palm a brand of heat against his shoulder. The sexual tension in the air between them is almost unbearable, years of almost crammed into a single, charged moment.

Dean watches the way Cas’s eyes darken slowly, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips unconsciously. He always looks gorgeous, but right now in the soft light of Dean’s bedroom with dishevelled hair and hooded eyes and inked skin, he’s so beautiful Dean aches with it.

“Cas –”

“I’m going to finish this,” Cas says, at last, voice even rougher than usual, sending a thrill of arousal through Dean, “And then I’m going to kiss you.”

Dean lets out a sound that might be a breath of surprise or a groan, staring at Cas wide-eyed, heart pounding. Because this, this is all he’s wanted since he first laid eyes on Cas all those years ago and he can’t quite believe it. “Yes,” he murmurs, dazedly. “God, Cas – yes.”

Warmth mixes with the heady darkness of Cas’s expression, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Okay,” he strokes his thumb across Dean’s bicep and turns back to his work, the smile even wider than it was a moment ago.

Dean’s smiling too, he realises, so wide it should hurt but it doesn’t. He winces fleetingly at the sharp point of the needle again, but it soon fades into the background. The muscles in Cas’s forearms are taut, tensed under their ink. Dean looks at the constellation points of ursa major, two lines of Latin poetry, the wildflowers. It doesn’t do anything to help his current state, looking at Cas’s soft, warm skin, picturing it against his on these sheets. Knowing that Cas wants that now too, that it’s not just a fantasy. That maybe Cas has fantasised about him like this too. Dean has to bite his lip against a groan as Cas’s grip tightens slightly, blue ink slowly blossoming under his fingertips.

Cas has moved closer, leaning over Dean to work at a slightly harder to reach spot. One of his thighs is pressed against Dean’s in a warm line that sends arousal shooting through Dean. He shifts slightly against Cas, pressing closer, heart thumping. From the sharp intake of breath, he knows Cas can tell how worked up he’s getting, how affected he is by this.

Cas lets out a sudden breath against Dean’s skin, as though he’s been holding it, and his hand tightens on Dean’s arm again. Dean hears himself let out a sound this time, helpless, rough and low in the back of his throat, and watches Cas’s throat work as he swallows, jaw set in determined concentration. “Cas,” Dean breathes out, shifting again, cock uncomfortably hard in his jeans. “Cas –”

Abruptly, Cas, sits back on his haunches, breathing hard. “I can’t concentrate like this,” his eyes are darker than Dean’s ever seen them, a flush just visible creeping up the exposed skin of his chest. He lets go and sets his materials on the bedside table without moving away from Dean, without letting go. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, Cas leans back in until they’re even closer than before, both breathing unsteadily. Then, with the same tender carefulness with which he’d just been tattooing Dean, Cas leans in and kisses him.

Dean’s heart fumbles a beat in his chest, his world implodes quietly, infinitely. Cas’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect. Dean tangles his hands in Cas’s tousled hair like he’s always wanted to, tugs him closer, all warmth and racing hearts. Cas lets out a low groan against Dean’s mouth and then suddenly Dean is on his back on the bedspread, breathing heavily. It’s the same one they’ve sat on together night after night, all those times Dean wondered if this would ever happen. It should feel surreal, but it doesn’t. It just feels startlingly real, like this was always inevitable.

They kiss until Dean’s jaw is aching, until they’re both breathless and grinding against each other like they’re still teenagers. When they pull apart a little to catch their breath, Cas’s eyes are shining with the same quiet happiness threatening to overwhelm Dean, full of the same longing that Dean has spent years trying to hide. Dean’s heart suddenly feels so full it hurts, and the moment turns serious, quiet, as they lose themselves in each other’s gazes just like that first night they met. Gently, Dean traces the line of Cas’s jaw, and when he pulls him in again, the kiss is searing, poignant, so full of promise it should terrify Dean, but it only makes his heart beat harder. Cas’s hands are all over his skin, more memorable than any ink.

#reorganising all my fics onto tumblr!#feedback makes me smile like an idiot at my screen <3 #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #destiel au #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn #superntural #spn fandom #my stuff #my posts: fanfic

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ahkaahshi · 3 years

Text

appreciation [nanami kento x reader]

pairing: nanami kento x fem baker reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): swearing, brief violence, mentions of injuries and a curse

word count: 3.7k (yeah I went off a bit lol)

overview: you know how you feel about nanami and how nanami feels about your bakery, but on a rainy day, you finally learn how he feels about you

As you watch rain pour down outside, forming patterns along the windows of the shop and collecting in murky puddles disturbed by the rushed footsteps of people trying to find shelter from the storm, your eyelids threaten to close once more. The elbow propping your chin up on the counter wobbles slightly, the gentle rhythm of the store’s soft instrumental music melting together with the gentle patter of raindrops to form a lullaby that, combined with your exhaustion, sends you to sleep.

The sound of growling and a pair of familiar, red eyes appearing in the darkness, however, quickly wakes you up with a start, and your gaze darts around the shop. With an exasperated sigh and shake of the head, you stand up straight on shaky legs and task yourself with making a fresh cup of coffee to give you a bit of much-needed energy. As long as you stayed awake, you wouldn’t have to be haunted by this image an unsettling experience earlier this week had created.

While you prepare the caffeinated beverage, a glance up at the time finds the clock’s hands at a familiar hour—one that always marks the arrival of a regular customer. Once your drink starts dripping into the cup you’ve placed in the machine, you busy yourself instead with opening one of the display cases housing a vast array of different breads and baked goods.

The aroma that greets you fills you with warmth and brings a smile to your face, as does the thought of his impending arrival. Your hand knows the location on the shelves of his favorite loaf by heart, since you make it specially for him without a care in the world if anyone else wants to purchase it. Upon retrieving it from inside, you wrap it up carefully and set it down on the counter.

Contemplatively, you eye the other pastries waiting patiently behind the glass, wondering if it would be too obvious to get him something else to eat and some coffee as an invitation to stay a bit longer. Sometimes, he found half an hour in his busy day to seat himself at one of the booths along the wall and enjoy a treat you’d selected for him while he occupied himself talking to you if you weren’t busy or reading through one of his books if you were. But no matter how long he stayed, it never felt like long enough to you.

I hope the rain hasn’t driven him away today.

But you should know better than to think this way, since, through your conversations with him and his actions, you’ve learned he’s a man of routine. Regardless of what you should or shouldn’t be convincing yourself to believe, however, your attention snaps to the door when you hear the bells above it jingle. The sound of rain, cars honking, and passing conversations seep inside for a few moments as the man in question shakes water off his umbrella and places it securely into the holder by the entrance.

Against the bleak darkness of the cloudy sky outside, his sand-colored suit and blonde hair seem to glow in the warm lights hanging down from the ceiling, making him look almost ethereal—to the point where you wouldn’t have been surprised if white, feathery wings sprouted from his back. Maybe he was your guardian angel, since he’d just saved you from falling asleep on the job once again.

“Kento, welcome back!” you chirp, lips curling up into a grin you struggle to keep as professional-looking as possible.

Taking off his glasses and tucking them safely away in one of the pockets of his suit jacket, he turns to you and sends a hint of a smile your way that you know is rare given his serious demeanor. “Good evening, (f/n),” he greets you as he walks towards the counter, making your heart beat faster with every foot of distance closed between the two of you.

You ask, once he’s approached the counter and glanced at the loaf you’ve wrapped up for him, “So, can I convince you to dine in and take a little break with one of our fresh pastries, hmm?”

A hint of a chuckle sounds from him through a short breath out his nose, and he reaches into a pocket in his trousers to retrieve his wallet. “I don’t need much convincing on a day like this, but I’ll take a pastry as well, please. And a coffee, if you don’t mind.”

“You came in right as I was brewing my own, so you can just have it, instead, since I know we take ours the same way,” you mention, turning away from him to grab the steaming drink.

“Nonsense,” he utters, stopping you in your tracks, “If you made it for yourself, keep it for yourself. I can wait a few extra minutes for mine.”

Prickles of heat rise to your cheeks, but you nod and give him a small, appreciative smile. Once you’ve selected a treat of his choice for his visit, you enter the total cost into the register, which he prepares promptly and hands to you. His fingers brushing against yours sends tingles across your skin like stray sparks of electricity. “I’ll bring your coffee over once it’s ready,” you offer, speaking to distract yourself from your racing thoughts, “Go ahead and get comfortable; you’ve got the whole shop to yourself.”

He thanks you with a small dip of the head and picks up his food so he can head over to the same booth he selects each time he visits while you start making a fresh cup of coffee for him. As you take a sip of your own, you can’t help but pause a moment to admire his appearance now that his attention is focused elsewhere. He’s a striking man with sharp features and a straightforward, authoritative manner of speaking, but there’s a certain softness to his edges that you’ve seen within him over the time you’ve been acquainted.

You wonder if that tenderness to him is reserved for just for you. If you’re the only one who brings about the softness you can see behind his warm, brown gaze. If he would put his book down as quickly if someone else approached him. You like to think yourself the only witness to his subtle, gentle mannerisms, but you prevent yourself from getting too caught up in your thoughts by reminding yourself that he’s a customer. Someone who comes solely because your bakery’s the closest one that makes his favorite bread, rather than because he has any sort of attachment to you.

With a small sigh, you bring your cup of coffee to your lips for a long drink before taking the one you’d made for Nanami in your other hand and wandering over to his table. Judging by how the crowds outside are moving, everyone seems to be more concerned with getting home and out of the terrible weather than with picking up treats from your bakery. If you hadn’t had such a busy day, you’d be concerned by the lack of customers in at this hour. Now, however, as your aching feet move over to the empty seat across from the shop’s sole patron, you appreciate the quietude in the store that allows you peace in its final hour before closing.

Nanami slides a page marker towards the spine of the journal he’s writing in and closes it when you arrive with his freshly brewed drink, setting it down in front of him. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Mind if I sit?” you ask, even though your knees are already bending to guide you onto the padded seat across from him.

“As long as I won’t distract you from your work, please, go ahead,” he answers, then takes a long, appreciative sip of his coffee.

“I don’t think anyone here would be opposed to me taking a break, considering it’s just us,” is your response given with a smile. You’ve forgotten quite how long it’s been since you’ve had a moment off your feet, and you let out a long sigh as you sink into the booth. Weariness makes itself known in a yawn that suddenly escapes your mouth—a sign that all the fatigue you’ve been somehow avoiding is starting to catch up to you. “Excuse me.”

Blonde eyebrows furrowing slightly with concern, he wonders, “Long day?”

Shrugging, you gaze into the dark liquid filling the cup in your hands, watching it quiver with each minute movement of your body. “It’s been a bit of a long week, to be completely honest,” you sigh. A pair of red eyes appears in your coffee as your mind wanders momentarily. Taking a deep breath and curling your lips into a forced grin, you quickly gather yourself and add, “But, anyway, it’s alright. I’m sure you’re much more exhausted than I am given what you have to do on a daily basis.”

“The nature of our jobs may be different, but I’m sure you’ve been just as busy as I have.”

You chuckle softly at his words and add, “You fight curses and I make baked goods. I’m sure one’s a bit more taxing than the other. Or, at least, more life-threatening.”

“Both deserve appreciation,” he states in his usual, matter of fact tone that never fails to amuse you. Though he’s completely serious, you always find a bit of humor in his straightforward manner of speaking, especially when he argues the essential nature of your job. “I know that you make this specifically for me just to make my life that much easier—” he taps the wrapped loaf of bread with one of his long fingers—“so, I appreciate your work and what you do.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, making you lower your head bashfully while you take a long drink of coffee. It’s a surprise your voice doesn’t falter when you comment, “You’re too kind to me.”

“There’s no such thing in your case. I’m simply being honest.” There’s a short silence that ensues his compliment, during which you try to slow your racing heart by glancing out the window at the other shops, cars, and people all distorted by watery veins across the glass. Nanami’s gaze doesn’t leave yours, however, and he inquires, “Are you taking care of yourself?”

Somewhat dozily, you echo, “Taking care of myself?” as your eyes flutter shut so you can think for a moment. Almost immediately, they fly open once more at the sight of those red orbs piercing the darkness once more. “I just… haven’t been getting enough sleep, I don’t think.”

“Is something bothering you?”

The expression of concern on his face could easily be mistaken for frustration or disgust, given the way his lips are pursed, and brows angled downwards. But you know from experience that those emotions are reserved for conversations about his work, rather than those regarding you, and his level of interest warms your heart. “I… I saw something earlier this week, and… it was a bit unsettling, is all.”

You can’t help but notice how his full attention is on you when your eyes meet again. Neither his pastry nor his steaming cup of coffee is on his mind, since neither one is in his hands. Instead, his gaze searches yours for the answer that you’re not speaking. Before he can attempt to coax it out of you with another question, you quickly realize that the conversation has veered off in a direction you deem selfish given your desire to allow your most devoted customer a peaceful refuge from the world under the roof of your shop.

“Please, I really don’t want to worry you,” you speak quickly, your hands moving energetically for extra emphasis. Unfortunately, your fingers nudge the cup in front of you just hard enough to topple it over rather dramatically, and its contents flow across the table in a dark wave that has you uttering a curse word under your breath and reaching for the napkin dispenser. Your fingertips are met with plastic, bringing you to realization you’d forgotten to refill it after the morning rush. “I’m so sorry. I’m really out of it today, it seems. Give me a second while I run to the back, okay?”

Before he can respond, you’re up and making a beeline for the kitchen and storage room, cursing yourself on the way there for being so clumsy. A rush of unusually cold air along with the sound of rain pounding the ground greets you when you set foot in the kitchen, and your gaze moves across the room to where the back door is mysteriously ajar. You shudder, but not just because of the chill.

I just got the lock on that damn door fixed…

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, and your feet feel as if they’ve been replaced by sacks of bricks when you try to lift them. It’s as if every fiber in your body is resisting any and all movement toward the door even though you know you can’t leave it open. The horrible sense of dread welling up inside of you almost makes you want to call for Nanami but telling yourself you’re just being dramatic allows you to walk to the other end of the room, but it feels like miles separate you and the far wall.

With a deep breath, you shut the door once more, returning the air within the kitchen to its original stillness, but the weight of the silence that follows feels crushing. And that’s when you hear it. The low, distorted rumbling that you’d heard nearly every night this week from outside your bedroom window. You almost don’t want to look, but when you finally muster enough courage to follow the direction of the ominous sound, you’re met with that same, red gaze that had burned through the gap between your shutters at night.

A few feet away, in a corner that seems much darker than usual, a disfigured but humanoid hand splays across the tiled flooring as the curse who’d been making house calls pulls itself out of the shadowy depths it’s created. Your breath hitches in your throat as fear takes hold, its cold grip freezing your body in place so all you can do is watch as the creature rises up from the floor and stares at you hungrily from where it stands on all fours.

Before you can even understand what’s happening, it lunges at you with a shriek. Thankfully, one of the loudest screams you can muster leaves your mouth, and your survival instincts break you free of the paralysis your emotions had trapped you in. You’re barely able to evade the curse’s grip as you run around the corner of a counter and grab the closest thing to you in the moment, which happens to be a broom. Furiously, and without thinking, you whack the creature as hard as you can while you try to run back towards the shop.

“Kento!” you shout, words accompanied by a loud hiss as you slip, falling against the cold tiles with a thud. The arm you use to brace yourself courses with pain, but that doesn’t stop you from using your free arm to continue throttling the curse with your barely effective weapon of choice.

Just as you see a shadowy hand reach out towards you to grab you, your vision is suddenly obscured by the familiar, sandy brown of Nanami’s suit. In an instant, he’s swinging his cleaver in front of him with his cursed technique that downs the beast in one fell swoop. Once the threat has been eliminated, your knight in business attire places his weapon in its holster on his back and bends down to check on you.

Any questions he asks you are lost in a hum of shock that rings in your ears for a moment, and you find yourself unable to do anything but stare at where your otherworldly assailant had been looming over you mere seconds ago. However, a sudden moment of clarity brings you back to reality, and you finally meet Nanami’s gaze, feel his hands on your arms, and hear his voice.

“It was waiting for me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The curse,” you clarify before repeating, “Bastard was waiting for me.”

As he helps you up to your feet and gets you settled back down at the booth you’d previously occupied—and that he’d cleaned, you notice—you explain to him the story of the unsettling visitor whose loitering had robbed you of your sleep the entire week. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you could see curses?” he wonders, taking off his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders when he notices you shivering. Whether you’re doing so out of shock or your body’s need to maintain its natural temperature, you’re unsure, but the warmth of the garment he sheds soon puts an end to it.

“I don’t know,” you answer slowly, eyes steadily making their way up to his face where it hovers above your arm so he can carefully place a bag of ice he’d wrapped in a towel on the steadily swelling lump adorning your forearm. “I think it’s because I wish I couldn’t see them and saying that I can would really make me think about all the horrible things I’ve seen.”

“Do you have any other injuries?” His touch is gentle in an unexpected way, given the level of his strength and the ease with which he’d disposed of your attacker, and you can’t help but watch his fingers rearrange the bag of ice to cover your injury after you shake your head in response. “Give me a moment,” he states, retrieving his phone from his pocket, “I’m calling a coworker to take us back to Jujutsu High’s campus so you can have a proper examination.”

“I’m okay! I promise!” you splutter quickly, but the pain in your side that suddenly makes itself known when you try to stand causes you to grimace and further solidifies his suspicions. “I don’t want you to work more than you have to.”

He ignores you and delivers a very to the point message to his colleague with information about your whereabouts anyway. After he hangs up, a feeling of appreciation spurs you to open the palm of your opposite hand as you extend it towards him and rest it on the table. He returns your gesture by placing his unoccupied hand in yours so your fingers can wrap around it tenderly. But even once you’ve given it a gentle squeeze, he doesn’t make any attempts to retreat from your grip.

Quietly, you ask, as your heart flutters in your chest, “Why are you doing this for me?”

With a gentle sigh, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of amusement meet yours. “Do you remember the first day we met?” You nod and a small smile forms across your lips at the pleasant memory coming back to you, pushing away all the worries and doubts that had been previously swirling around your head.

“I came in here, asking if you sold my favorite type of bread. You told me you didn’t—much to my dismay. However, you looked at me for a long moment and I don’t know what it was you saw in me, but whatever it was spurred you to say, come back again tomorrow, and I’ll have some made for you.”

The short pause he takes while his gaze shifts to the bread you’d given him earlier is filled with the soft music playing throughout the shop. “I’ve thought about how you could’ve just said no and been done with me. We didn’t have any obligations to one another. We were just strangers. Yet, you chose to go out of your way for me.”

“You were exhausted.”

He watches you expectantly, so you explain, “That’s what I saw in you. That you were just so, so tired, Kento; and I wanted to do anything I could to give you some peace of mind. That’s why I make it, just for you.” A giddy grin spreads across your lips at being reminded of how your coworkers had always asked if you were making the special loaf whenever you’d been working on your own in the kitchen after your first meeting with Nanami.

“Plus,” you continue, “you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You’re constantly putting your own life on the line for the rest of us, so you should be able to enjoy a simple pleasure like being able to eat your favorite bread.”

When he smiles, the pain throbbing deep beneath your skin subsides for just a second. It’s such a rarity to see that tough and somewhat aloof demeanor of his break and give way to what you’re witnessing now that you wish you could stop time and hold onto this moment forever. But what he says next makes you glad that it continues without a care in the world about what you desire.

“You asked why I’m doing this for you. From the first day I met you, you’ve made it clear that you care about me. Please, let me show you that the feeling is mutual.”

Maybe it’s a combination of the week you’ve had or the fact that you’d just narrowly avoided death thanks to the man sitting in front of you, but his words nearly bring tears to your eyes; and your heart swells with affection at every effort he makes to do right by his promise. He helps you gather your belongings, even going so far as to sling your bag over his shoulder, places an arm around you to support you and keep you under the cover of his umbrella while the two of you walk out to his colleague’s car, and allows you access to his hand to hold during the car ride to campus.

“Kento.” His attention shifts over to you from where it had been directed towards the window, watching the city pass by outside. Placing your other palm atop the back of his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, you say, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate you.”

“As I do you.”

fun fact that didn’t make it in the fic: nanami didn’t say it, but he thinks you’re ruthless for going after a curse with a broom. and maybe a bit insane. but he’s certainly not put off by it.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #x reader #reader insert #tw violence #tw injury #fran writes jjk!!

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omniscientwreck · 3 years

Note

Hello! For the imtimacy prompt list #30 for Shadowgast🖤💜

Hello! This was the prompt I was most hoping someone would ask me so THANK YOU for that! If anyone else would like to make a request I have one left in my inbox and am always happy to do more, especially for this list! Here is the post in question!

As a side note: welcome to the version of Caleb and Essek from my no rules no angst just right Carly Rae Jepsen song lyric inspired College!AU in a modern fantasy kinda setting. This just feels most to me like the version of Essek and Caleb that would do this and it gives you a bit of insight into the tone of my BIG work in progress right now! Enjoy!

30: doing beauty treatments, like facials or manicures, hair dying or face masks

Essek has long stopped knocking before entering Caleb, Beau and Jester’s apartment, but he still likes to call out his arrival though he knows Caleb is the only one home.

Jester and Beau have gone back home for a few days, visiting Jester’s mother in Nicodranas. Caleb elected to stay behind saying he had too much work to do, which is true. Essek finds him in his room, still as much a mess as it was the last time he was here. The small desk is completely covered in books all with several markers placed in their pages and the mess spills onto the bed. Caleb is ‘sitting’ on the chair containing most of his clothing and doesn’t appear to realize he’s come in.

He drops his levitation, trying to make noise so he doesn’t startle Caleb too badly as he approaches from behind and smooths his hands from his shoulders down to his hands. Caleb looks up as Essek’s chin presses into the top of his head, “Drogi, when is the last time you ate anything?”

Without hesitation, “Around elven, I’ll take a break soon I’m on the edge of something here.”

Essek sighs, “Darling it’s nearly six, I brought food, just take a break now with me?” He watches Caleb place a marker in the book to save his space and he finishes a few thoughts in the literature review before standing and smiling wearily at him.

“Ja, a break is probably a good idea. Thank you Schatz.” He stands and for a moment Essek lets Caleb distract him by wrapping strong arms around his waist and pulling him in for a kiss.

Essek has been looking forward to this particular date for a while and finally got the chance to suggest it, surprised when Caleb agreed with little hesitation.

It had started a few days ago when Caleb had slept over. He’d watched Essek’s skin care routine and had begun asking questions which led to the confirmation of Essek’s theory that Caleb has never so much as moisturized his face, much less done any of the other pampering that Essek considers central to his sense of well-being.

Tonight, Essek gets to show Caleb what it’s like. After they finish eating, they wind up in the bathroom. Essek pulls out a massive bag full of creams, ingredients, washes and all kinds of products. “Sit.”

“Essek, I need to see the mirror to shave.” He presses Caleb’s shoulders and sits him on the closed toilet lid shaking his head, “Caleb, you are taking a break. Let me.”

Drow are not immune to facial and body hair. Essek has never had much but Verin always has. One time when Verin was particularly injured in early adulthood Essek had to learn how to shave him during recovery. He has someone else for that now, so Essek transfers his knowledge to Caleb.

He gently spreads a soft cream across his partner’s face with the gentle touch of a brush and he pulls out a straight razor, the only possession he has from his father. Carefully and gently he shaves Caleb’s face, dragging the razor across tawny stubble while the man sits beneath him with closed eyes, completely trusting.

It doesn’t take as long as he’d thought it would and he’s able to begin gently washing his lover’s face, humming as he goes, occasionally singing in undercommon. Caleb looks more at rest than Essek has every seen him, sighing every so often as Essek exfoliates, washes and tones his skin. He steps back and instinctively Caleb goes to touch his face. Looking in the mirror the main difference is calm and peace. “Okay now this is the fun part.”

Essek mixes up two small cups of ingredients, one is his proprietary blend for his own skin, one that he thinks will suit Caleb more, “Ok now trust me. We’re going to leave these on for 15 minutes. I’ll do yours, you can do mine. As revenge.”

Caleb’s eyebrows quirk in confusion as Essek begins slathering the face mask onto his pale skin and then grimaces at the cold unfortunate texture of the mask. “Ah ja I see what you mean, this helps? In some way?”

Essek nods, “It will help tone out some of the redness and smooth out other things. I promise it will be worth it.”

“I trust you.” Essek smiles and puts a dollop on the tip of Caleb’s nose and the fake scowl that follows is delightful and adorable.

“You shouldn’t.” Essek winks and flashes fangs at the other and Caleb grabs the cup of Essek’s mask and boldly smears it over his forehead in protest. A shiver goes down his spine, he hates this part but it’s more fun with Caleb.

They go into the living room and put on one of the old movie musicals Caleb is so fond of and Essek starts on Caleb’s hands. “I won’t do anything extravagant I promise. You can just do a top coat if you’d like, but I did bring most of my collection if you’d like to look.”

Caleb opens the deceptively small case and shakes his head fondly upon the realization it’s enchanted to hold more than one would expect. “All this enchantment for nail lacquer?”

Essek scoffs, “Of course, you don’t want to know how much room this would take up if I had to lay it all out in the apartment.”

Caleb hums along to the music as Essek works, taming and shaping the nail beds that have been left to their own devices for decades and Essek finds himself distracted by romantic songs and well choreographed dance numbers occasionally. Far more distracting is the beauty of Caleb’s baritone singing along to a style of music Essek is unfamiliar with, warm and low and full of love as he looks down at Essek’s meticulous work.

He ends up with an iridescent top coat, just a little bit of flair but subtle enough most won’t notice. Midway through they pause to rid themselves of the face masks and Essek removes the mixture for Caleb and then for himself so as to not mess up his own work. He smooths on some moisturizer for Caleb, ever patiently sitting with his eyes closed. “How does that feel perełko?”

“Good, it’s very cool, my skin feels… fresh?”

“Take a look for yourself.” Essek smiles, it isn’t a miracle by any means but some of the redness of Caleb’s face is brought down just a bit, giving more prominence to the scattering of delicate freckles across the bridge of his nose and it’s smooth and fresh.

“I can see the merits of this.” he says, in slight awe, feeling this skin of his face.

“Now, let me finish your hands so I can do mine.”

He finishes Caleb’s hands with moisturizer and a good long massage, and starts to work on his own, removing the customary black polish he usually keeps there, Caleb’s arm around his shoulders, watching him work. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Essek considers, “Well I’ll shape on my own. Would you like to pick a colour for me? I’m tired of black. You can do the last step as well.” Caleb is back looking into the nail polish case and, rather quickly, presents him with a deep burgundy.

“How’s this? I just think it would look good.”

Essek presses a kiss into his forehead, “Perfect, thank you darling.” He goes back to shaping his nails to fine points and applying a base coat. As he begins to apply colour Caleb watches him intently, focus on the movie lost. “Would you like to help with his?”

He blushes a bit, “I do not think I would be very good at it and I don’t want to ruin your hard work.”

Essek laughs, “You won’t ruin anything. Here, watch me do my right hand and you can do my left. It’ll help me immensely. Any mistakes you make can be cleaned up with little effort I promise.”

Caleb is better at this than either of them expected. Only a little varnish makes its way to Essek’s skin and that’s easily enough removed, he even flips Essek’s hand as he’d done his own to apply the polish underneath. Then, when it’s dry, he rubs the stress away from Essek’s hands and they share many looks as a second musical begins playing. They pay little attention to it, instead giving in to the quiet comfort of the evening, of learning to care for another and yourself. Caleb has all but forgotten his previous state of anxiety for the evening and Essek hopes he’ll let him do this again. “Thank you for this liebling I needed this more than I could have guessed.”

Essek is pressed to his side now as they drink tea and finish up a horror movie, “I am glad my love. Thank you for letting me share this with you. If you ever want it again all you have to do is ask.” Caleb nods and over time they both fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, waterlogged with the quiet, weighty bliss of love.

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #the mighty nein #tm9 #cr fanfic #prompt meme #my writing #gay wizards #i still love them and i'll never stop writing them #omniwrites

52 notes · View notes

depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

5 times Leo hit on Calypso as her Barista and one time it worked

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Coffee Shop AU! Calypso is running late one day so she ends up going to a coffee shop- what she doesn’t expect is for her barista to be Bad boy supreme

Later on in this fic, they sing this song.

Warnings?: Not much, terrible pick up lines, mainly fluff, making out.

A/N: This took me so long but alas, here it is! This is kinda my first official fluff and I tried okay. Anyway, enjoy, comment, share, like- you know the drill. <3 from moi!

The 1st Thursday

Calypso was not happy with the line she was waiting in. She was running late and thus was at a coffee shop- somewhere she preferred not to go. The weather was terrible, grey skies as well as heavy rain that had Calypso drenched. The stupid forecast hadn’t predicted the rain and thus she had left her apartment without an umbrella nor raincoat.

The coffee shop was small but cute, she had to admit. The staff seemed small but efficient and within a few minutes, Calypso found herself at the front of the line, face to face with a boy with rich dark tan skin and the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. He had long dimples and his dark curly hair would flop over his face in a cute manner.

“Hi, Welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Super sized Mcshizzle and I will be taking your order today, do you have your order ready?” He looked up at the girl in front of him and immediately, his lips stretched into a lazy and goofy smile. She frowned at the nickname but internally she wanted to laugh, even his name badge read Super Sized Mcshizzle- Who called themselves that?

“Can I get a cappuccino with 2 espresso shots, please.” She reached into her bag to pull out her purse while the boy at the counter hummed and tapped at the machine in front of him.

“What kind of milk?” He looked up again, cheekily smiling as if he had something planned.

“Uh, almond is fine.”

“And your name?” He asked, pulling out a marker. Before she could answer, he cut in.

“Does your name start with a C-”

“-Actually it doe-”

“-Because I can C us together.”

Calypso resisted the urge to smile and instead raised an eyebrow at the horribly cheesy pick up line. Despite this, she was a bit impressed- Her name did technically start with a C.

“Calypso. That’s my name,” She told him as she walked away from the counter and sat at one of the stalls, waiting for her name to be called out.

The 2nd Thursday

Somehow, Calypso found herself queuing outside the same coffee shop the next Thursday. Whilst she told herself it was because the coffee was perfect, it was truly to see the brown haired grinning boy who had served her last week. Pick up lines weren’t really her poison, but he wasn’t creepy and even she had to admit it- He was cute.

As the queue grew shorter, she grabbed her purse ready to pay. She had subconsciously chosen to wear better clothes and style her hair today. Was it a stupid decision to wear white when drinking coffee? Absolutely. But Calypso was 100% willing to take the risk.

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Bad Boy Supreme and I will be taking your order today, do you have an order ready?” The boy looked up, with his hair flopping about. He had rolled his sleeves up and Calypso, who wasn’t about to get caught, quickly averted her eyes elsewhere. She noticed that his name had changed- so had his badge. Did he have a collection of these names? She’d have to ask him next time.

Oh, so there will be a next time, huh? She asked herself.

Shut up.

“Oh. Calypso, right? Same as last time?” He asked as he hovered his finger over the machine.

“Oh, yeah. Cappuccino please.”

As she waited for her name to be called out, she pulled out her sketchbook and started sketching the cute barista. From his elf like ears to his slanted chocolate eyes and the funny curl that went in the complete opposite direction of his hair earning him a messy hair look. It was only a basic sketch but it had outlined him.

“Cappuccino for Calypso?” a familiar voice called out. She was slightly surprised to find her Barista also handing off her coffee but she also quite flattered. Or maybe she was just overthinking this. He could easily just have switched around for a friend- it can’t have been just for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she reached into her purse, trying to find the appropriate change in her purse.

“You and I are like nachos with jalapeños. I'm super cheesy, you're super hot, and we belong together.” The pick up line rolled off his tongue as he leant over the counter separating them. He had a smirk that made Calypso immediately lose her strong front and spill her change all over the counter.

“What?!” she sputtered as her eyes darted to the change. She managed to scoop most of it into her arms without looking too much like a fool. She quickly grabbed her coffee and made her way out of the shop as fast as she possibly could, hoping she didn’t look as ridiculous as she thought she did.

The 3rd Thursday

“You don’t understand, last time the pick up line was creepy. She probably thinks I’m a weirdo now!” Leo groaned as he slammed his head on the counter beside his friend Will who always worked the same shift as him. Unfortunately, Will did not get to witness what Leo kept on describing as ‘a catastrophe’.

“She won’t come in today, I bet. Ugh, I really screwed up.”

“It really can’t have been that bad!” Will argued, dragging Leo by the arm to the front counter.

“I said You and I are like nachos with Jalapenos. I’m super cheesy, you’re super hot and we belong together.”

Will cringed. “Okay, that is bad.”

Calypso could not believe she was coming back to the coffee shop. The previous pick up line was terrible, in fact it was almost as bad as the ‘I’m here, what are your other two wishes’ pick up line that a creepy person had used on her earlier but in all honesty it wasn’t the barista that was the problem. It was the fact that she could not crush over someone with pickup lines as bad as those. This time, she had decided to use her card to pay so she wouldn’t have to deal with spilt change everywhere.

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Commander tool Belt- that’s because my major is engineering and I fixed the old coffee machine- how can I help you?” The curly haired boy in front of her said miserably while slumped behind the counter with his face practically leaning on the machine.

“I was hoping for the usual?” Her meek voice came out questioning. Leo’s head shot off the counter, almost slamming into the machine.

“Wow… uh cappuccino again?”

“Yep…” she searched for something to say. “So engineering major huh?”

“Mhmm. I like making things I guess. What about you?”

“Natural sciences. I was going to do art but I guess plants and animals are more of my poison.” She shrugged.

“You can draw?” he asked, his voice peaking interest and turning around slightly.

“Yes, why do you sound so surprised at that?”

He batted his hand. “Oh nothing, just something we have in common.” He then winked and Calypso had to do everything she could to not react. She stood in front of the counter, waiting for her coffee but saw that her barista was screwing his eyes up and writing something on a cup. She wanted to pull out her sketchbook and draw the cute face he was pulling, leaning back and holding the cup in front of him as if it were an invention he had never seen.

“Cappuccino for Calypso!” A sing-song voice that could only be her barista called out. She had to admit, his voice was not bad. In fact, it was quite impressive and it had a nice harmonious tune to it.

“Thank you…” she said in a suspicious tone, as she swiped her card over the contactless payment machine. Her barista was suspiciously silent and she had yet to hear a terrible pick up line. He had a mischievous smile as if he had set something on fire and not told anyone anything about it. As she picked up her coffee, she noticed a lot more black marker on the cup and held it away from her face to read it.

Are you made of Copper and tellurium? Because you are CuTe.

She wanted to face palm at such a classic science pun but she was also impressed that he knew elements of the periodic table so easily. She let out a small laugh to let him know that she had noticed the pick up line before she took a small sip and smiled.

The 4th Thursday

“I’m telling you, she actually laughed at the line! That’s a good thing right?” Leo asked as he put on his apron.

“And I’m telling you, if you want her to go out with you, hit her with a star wars pun,” Will ugred while tying his apron behind his back.

“You’re obsessed with star wars.”

“Hey, it worked for me and Nico!” Will pointed out as they made their way to the counter.

“Sun boy, we all know you and Mr Debbie Downer did not get together over Star Wars pick up lines,” Leo argued.

Calypso was running late. She hated being late. It was like slowly ticking off the boxes for panic 101. She was wearing mismatched socks, had the wrong books for class and the laces of her shoes were untied. At least the line was significantly shorter than usual and while normally that would have made Calypso question the occasion, she was too much in a rush to truly care.

As she ran in, she tripped over her laces and almost fell had it not been for the arms of the person in front of her. As she looked up to find her saviour, she found herself face to face with the curly brown haired boy who today wore the badge of ‘Admiral Leo’. She thought Leo was a nice name and it suited him very well- much better than any other name would have.

“Hey, tie your shoes!” he scolded her and she was surprised by his concern over her safety. Alas, she had spoken too soon,

“I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” he murmured, his lips right by her ear and his hot breath making goosebumps form all across her neck. He then reached down onto his knees, and did her laces. However, she noticed the manner he did them were different to how she would normally do them.

“You know that’s how children do their laces, right?” Her hands rested on her hips as he gasped dramatically and held his hand over his heart.

“Are you calling me a child?”

Before she could say yes, he cut her off.

“The answer is I totally am a child because that means I can eat off the child menu,” He grinned foolishly. “Life hacks with Admiral Leo!”

The 5th Thursday

“I’m telling you Leo- Make the Star Wars pun. Please! For me, do it for me!” Will begged as he tied Leo’s apron for him. Leo was reluctant to go with a Star Wars pun. He didn’t know if Calypso would get it or if she was into nerdy stuff like that but he was running out of ideas. He hadn’t gotten any terrible sparks of inspiration and the Star Wars inspired pun that Will had told him couldt go too badly?

Nervously, Leo waited behind the counter, his hands tapping as if he had just slapped on a nicotine patch and then glugged 6 espresso’s. In other words, Leo was anxious. If he just made the drinks without thinking about it, he could get his mind off it but when he started remembering that she may walk in at any moment, he could feel his hands shake and his stomach begin to churn.

Calypso was very happy. She had no classes today, no research studies to deal with and she had even managed her time well enough to hang out with a friend before heading towards her newly found and now favourite coffee shop. She knew it was it because of a certain curly haired and cheekily grinning boy.

“Hello, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee, I’m Flaming Valdez- don’t ask please- how can I assist you today?” He once again looked up and when seeing Calypso, he recited her order before the words could come out of her mouth.

“Cappuccino with 2 espresso shots and almond milk?”

Calypso, a bit shocked, nodded. She could feel small butterflies forming in her stomach thinking about how Leo had memorised her order.

Stop being silly. He probably memorises every regular’s order.

“Soo… Flaming Valdez… what’s the story behind that?” She asked, despite his warning. Leo tipped his head back and let out a throaty laugh that had Calypso tingling all over- How can a person have such a gorgeous laugh? How can someone look so good while laughing?

“Oh, that’s a good story. Every year, we celebrate the owners birthday by having the shop to ourselves. No customers, just the staff chilling. Anyway, so it’s like 9pm and we’re all meant to be out because it was sunset an hour ago but instead we’re still in the shop. Everyone’s gathered right out there because your boy, Flaming Valdez, brought in Roman candles!” Leo pointed to the chairs and tables outside the shop.

“Roman candles?” Calypso asked, a tad confused. Her face scrunched up a bit and Leo almost died from how cute her face looked.

“They’re like fireworks. There’s a slight difference with how the shell explodes compared to fireworks and they are a much more traditional version of fireworks but…” He trailed off when he noticed Calypso’s confused face- he just managed to remember that she wasn’t a nerd like him and didn’t study fireworks in her freetime.

“Anyway, Will has the red ones and I have the green ones and so we literally start shooting them at each other like we’re re-enacting Harry Potter or something!”

“What! Can’t someone get set on fire from that?”

“Well yeah actually, they can. Will shoots one at me, sparks at my hair and sets it on fire. I’m running around trying to stop my burning hair while everyone is laughing. The crowd started cheering ‘Flaming Valdez’ and since then, they’ve adopted me that name. I’ve tried to get them to change it but it seems to stick,” he laughed while making her coffee.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seemed to notice. Super sized Mcshizzle, Bad boy supreme, Commander tool belt, Admiral Leo and today- Flaming Valdez.” She listed all the names he would wear on his badges off her fingers. However, that may have been a mistake because when she looked up, she saw Leo shooting her a sly grin that made the butterflies start going crazy in her stomach again.

“So you remember my names, huh?”

“It’s the nice thing to do,” she defended, a blush rising on her cheeks as she reached for some napkins.

Leo took a deep breath- he couldn’t believe that he was going to use Will’s Star Wars pick up line.

“Do you like Star Wars? Cause Yoda only one for me.” The words practically rolled off his tongue and Calypso froze before breaking in laughter. She couldn't hold it in anymore- this was by far the funniest of all the pick up lines he had used. She pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on her sketchpad before ripping it out.

Leo, distraught, watched as she laughed at the pick up line. He should have listened to his gut and never made the pick up line. Oh gosh, he looked like an absolute loser now. Who makes Star Wars puns other than nerds? He handed Calypso the coffee and watched as she quickly left.

He noticed the sketch she had left behind, it looked oddly familiar. In fact, he could have sworn it looked just like him. She had been sketching him everytime she waited for her coffee. He traced finger gently over the outline of his face, smiling. She had drawn everything in such detail, he felt like he was looking in the mirror but at the same time he felt she had facetuned him and made him look.. Well, perfect. Did she think he needed all these faults fixed? Or was this just how she saw him? She somehow made every flaw seem gorgeous and beautiful and he didn’t know how to feel as he looked at the bottom of the sketch.

His eyes widened as he read the note left at the bottom of the sketch.

Hey Leonidas (your co-worker told me that). Here’s my number - 07669833256.

P.S- Star Wars puns ALWAYS work.

Yours truly, Calypso

“Leo? Are you good?” Will stopped to ask him.

“Star Wars puns always work- you were right,” he said starstruck.

The Next Friday

“Mamacita, get off those tables, I need to clean them,” Leo huffed, holding a spray bottle threateningly and a cloth in his other hand. Calypso, giggling and giddy hopped off the table. She watched as Leo quickly sprayed it down before wiping it.

“Are you checking me out?” Leo’s smug voice cut through Calypso’s thoughts, snapping her out of mind. Her initial reaction was to stutter and wildly deny it however today at 7pm, she felt more bold than usual and decided to tease him a bit.

“So what if I was?”

Leo almost froze at the bold response, not expecting the reaction from her. They’d been officially going out for one week and so far, Calypso had been quite shy. A kiss on the cheek here and there, a bit of innocent flirting but no one had really openly confessed their feelings. It was obvious to everyone around them that they liked each other but they seemed determined to have the other say it first.

“Well if you were… " He turned around to see her smirking with both hands on her hips. He was not losing to Calypso- he would make her confess her feelings first if it was the last thing he did. She sat herself on the counter behind her and beckoned Leo forward with her finger. He raised an eyebrow at the bold move but obliged.

Leo stood between Calypso’s thighs, his hands slipping around her waist. Their faces were close enough that if Calypso and Leo both moved their head slightly forward, they’d be kissing. Funnily enough, they both had started eating mints and chewing gum whenever they’d be with each other as if they were planning the moment.

“I still can’t believe those pick up lines worked,” Calypso sighed, her hands moving onto Leo’s shoulders, comfortably rubbing them back and forth.

“Bad Boy supreme is very much offended by those comments.”

“Nu uh. Ever since that blond co-worker of yours told me that your full name is Leonidas...” She paused to unsuccessfully hold in a small laugh. “...That your name is Leonidas, it’s been Leonidas and it will always be Leonidas to me.”

“Not even Leo?” He asked, his eyes entering puppy eyes mode. Calypso remained unimpressed and shook her head. Their eyes locked and they could feel each other's thoughts. Just as their heads were leaning in,the radio behind the counter bugged out and static started blaring everywhere. Calypso wanted to curse god- of coure something just had to ruin the moment. Immediately, the two students shoved their hands over their ears and Leo jumped over the counter to quickly fix the horrendous noise. A few minutes later, About Love by Marina started softly playing through the cafe’s speakers.

The moment seemed like it was manufactured for a movie. The beautiful sunset on the horizon, the romantic music and most of all, Leo’s playful smile as he held his hand out asking Calypso to dance. She, of course, accepted and the two twirled about in each other's arms. They weren’t very good and they kept on stepping on each other's toes but eventually they got into a position where Leo’s hands were wrapped around her waist and Calypso’s arms were thrown around Leo’s neck.

Leo watched as Calypso closed eyes and softly sang the words to the song under her breath.

“Started in the strangest way, didn’t see it coming.”

Leo started singing with her, “My head gets messy when I try to hide.”

“The things I love about you in my mind” Their voices were harmonious and in sync.

“I don’t really know a lot about love, a lot about love, a lot about love but you’re in my head, you’re my blood and it feels so good, it hurts so much.” Calypso had her head leaning on Leo’’s chest and she could hear the steady thumping of his heart quicken.

“Shall I take this as your confession of love to me?” He murmured into her hair. Calypso shot her head up so fast that she almost butted Leo in the chin.

“Hell no, Leonidas.”

Yet, as she said those words, her face leaned upwards towards Leo with her intense gaze falling to his lips. They looked soft, supple even and she felt so tempted to reach out and brush them. In fact, she felt so tempted to touch them that she didn’t even notice her actual hand reaching out to brush against his bottom lip.

Leo had to physically restrain himself from shivering when he felt Calypso’s finger brush over his bottom lip, dragging it back slightly before slowly setting her hand at the side of his face. Slowly, like they were two magnets slowly attracting each other, they leaned in. When they were practically breathing in each other's face, Leo decided to spring one more pick up line on Calypso.

“Did you know that my lips are skittles?” Leo cut in quickly. Calypso quickly frowned, not catching on. Leo continued, “ And you’re about to taste the rainbow.”

Calypso groaned, throwing her head back while Leo giggled to himself. Sick of chasing each other, Calypso grabbed Leo’s face with both her hands and smashed her lips into his, abruptly shutting him up. To say Leo was surprised would be the understatement of the year. He was in a true state of panic, thinking what he should do with his hands, his lips, his entire being. Her lips moved against his, encouraging him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, both of them moving up her back, pulling her into the kiss.

They pulled away for a brief second, looking each other in the eye before slamming their lips back together. Had anyone walked in on them, it would have only been appropriate to say that they were devouring each other- their lips pushed and their hands pulled. Their lips moved in sync and Calypso weaved her hands into Leo’s curls. It was demonically passionate as their tongues slipped across each other's lips. The heat of the kiss spread across Calypso’s face- the blush was so obvious, she felt like her lips were on fire. Nothing could have stopped them, not even if the entire world was on fire.

As they pulled away, Calypso had one more trick up her sleeve.

“As far I’m concerned, the rainbow tasted pretty damned good,” She remarked, referencing to Leo’s previous pick up line.

65 notes · View notes

capaimagines · 4 years

Text

ateez - when you have depression

Pairing: ATEEZ x Reader | Genre: angst & fluff | Warnings: themes of depression, mentions of past self-harm | WC: 2.3k

kim hongjoong

Hongjoong is very intuitive. He would notice the smallest things, especially when your moods and behavior started to change. When your appetite started to decrease, that you’d spend longer in bed or find excuses to stay home instead of going out. He’d notice that your once bright smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. He’s been there, he gets it and oh how he wished you would have never got it.

Waking up to knocking on your door was a little frightening. Unfortunately, you couldn’t muster the energy to get yourself out of your bed. Staring at the ceiling, the knocking ceased and you breathed a sigh of relief, until you heard the door open. Hongjoong’s frame entered the corner of your vision and you shrunk under the covers. You hadn’t showered in three days.

“Y/N?” His voice is gentle as he sits at the edge of the bed. You only peek at him and even in the darkness of your room, he can see the way your eyes are glossy, with the bags adoring your under eyes. He sighs, leaning down and gently kissing your forehead.

“You don’t have to tell me anything now,” He says as you feel the lump in your throat tighten. This is why he was your best friend; knowing what you needed and didn’t without you having to say it.

“How about I run you a bath and we order some food, hm? We haven’t had a movie night in a while,” Whilst the little things he did that day weren’t enough to fully help, it gave you just a little more hope that things could get better. Especially with Hongjoong by your side.

park seonghwa

Another intuitive member, but also quite timid. He’d known of all your past battles with depression and the scars you bore on your thighs and arms just showed him how strong you were to make it through. You were pretty open with him about your past, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, which thankfully it didn’t.

He still believed that you were just as beautiful, maybe even more. He loved you for who you were and scars weren’t going to change that. He was amazed with how much of a fighter you were. Even though he knew it wouldn’t be gone forever, no matter how much he wished just him being in your life would allow you happiness every day.

He caught on, more than once, when he would come home after late night practices staring out the window like a statue. You smiled less, your once shiny black hair that you always had hanging naturally over your shoulders had become greasy and tossed into a messy bun on top of your head.

He wanted to wait, give you time to come to him. He just hoped it’d be sooner rather than later this time. He was always there; making sure that you had food delivered to eat if he wasn’t home, keeping up with your hygiene, getting fresh air. While you were grateful for all his help and support, you were just stuck in that black hole and you were struggling to get out.

It wasn’t until he came home particularly late one night when he found you, sitting on the bed tracing the scars on your thighs with your finger, he couldn’t wait for you to come to him any longer. He crawled across the bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest to which you hesitantly let him. He felt you tremble, and his shirt damped as he squeezed you tighter.

“I’m always here, Y/N. You’re not alone anymore and you never will be. I’ve got you.”

jeong yunho

It would probably take Yunho a little bit longer for him to notice you weren’t yourself. Yunho’s a generally happy person and while he’s had his share of hard moments in life and with his members, he lives in optimism and that everyone around him is happy.

However, when he noticed the dark bags under your eyes and how easy it was for you to snap at one of them for the littlest things, he knew something was wrong. He showed up at your place, a quick knock to the door before shyly shoving his hands into his pockets.

You answered the door and he immediately felt guilty as you stifled a yawn and rubbed your eyes. He knew you hadn’t been sleeping well and he had just woken you up.

“I’m sorry, I can come back later,” You waved him off, letting him inside.

“I was just tossing and turning anyways, doesn’t matter,” He frowned, biting his lip and clenching his hands into fists inside his jacket pockets.

“Are you okay? You haven’t seemed like yourself lately.” You shrug, plopping yourself down on the couch and pulling him down with you. You snuggle into him, closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow? I’m tired and I always sleep better when you hold me.”

His cheeks blushed a bright red as he timidly snaked his arms around you, picking you up and carrying to your bed before climbing in next to you and pulling you close. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m not letting you go.”

kang yeosang

Yeosang wouldn’t know what to say with words, but he’d show it with his actions. He may be quiet and keep to himself more than the others, but he is very observant and is able to sense a change in energy with those he’s close to.

He’d bring you food, making sure you eat at least half of it before he’ll leave you alone, “When you gain 10 more pounds I’ll stop showing up unannounced.” He tells you every time. He always makes sure he has the bath filled before he leaves, making sure you’re in the bathroom taking care of your hygiene before he leaves for the night.

He’ll send you your favorite flowers on random days, with the hopes that it puts a smile on your face, even if it’s just for a little bit. He’ll bring up to your rooftop, making sure you get sunlight for the day.

“A little vitamin D never hurt anyone, Y/N,” He’d chide, and you’d huff but the sunlight did feel good on your skin.

While he couldn’t say much in terms of words, you did start feeling better by all his little gestures, making sure you let him know that when you started feeling more like yourself again.

choi san

San would notice right away when you weren’t feeling like your usual self. He could tell as you weren’t as chirpy as you’d usually be, or you wouldn’t cook meals for yourself or him. Cooking was something you loved to do, bu recently your bedroom was the only place you’d be and no one would see or hear from you for hours on end. San knew not to waste a moment in trying to get you back to your normal state, after all, he is your best friend and that’s what you always do for him. Now, it’s time for him to return the favor.

“Y/N! We’re going to have a movie night tonight with everyone! Don’t even think about saying no!” You’d groan, but smile when you turned around. He knew not to leave you alone to wallow, besides, even if you tried not to go, he’d just come pick you up and fling you over his shoulder anyways.

But when you got there, you realized it was worth it. As you sat in between his legs, your back to his chest and his chin rested on the top of your head, you felt safe. You felt grounded. He’d feed you candy every now and then, rubbing small circles on your stomach because he knew how much it calmed you down.

“You know I love you right?” San whispered only for you to hear, pulling you ever closer to his side, “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you here with me and by my side. I’m not giving up on you.”

song mingi

Another member that wouldn’t notice something was off right away. It wouldn’t be until you had completely swarmed yourself in work and other activities to distract yourself from the empty feeling that he would realize something was wrong.

On the rare day you made time in your busy schedule to come to the dorm for dinner with all of them, he noticed how exhausted you looked. The bags under your eyes were prominent and he noticed you were wearing the same clothes that you had on just a few days ago.

He wouldn’t ask you in front of everyone, but he would keep his eyes trained on you, waiting until he could get you alone. When that moment came, when he saw you nearly stumbling to put your shoes on to leave right after he suggested for you to stay the night, he wasn’t going to let you drive home in that condition, not a chance.

“Are you feeling okay? No offense, but you look like shit.” He would tease lightly and while you let out a tired laugh, he knew it wasn’t a real one, “Talk to me, Y/N.”

Eventually you would, telling him how you’ve been feeling so empty and alone the past few weeks, not wanting to do anything. Forcing yourself with extra work just to distract your mind with how you’re feeling.

He’d hug you, listening quietly as you told him everything. He’d squeeze you tighter when he heard your voice crack.

“I don’t know how I can help, but don’t shut me out. Come here whenever you need anything, even if it’s just to sleep or relax. I’ll be here and my bed is always open. My ears too.”

jung wooyoung

While he’s loud, in your face, and eccentric, Wooyoung knows when he needs to tone it down and when it’s time to be serious. That moment came when he showed up to your workplace one day, to surprise you with lunch.

He didn’t find you at your desk like you usually were, no. Instead he found you sniffling in the bathroom, looking at your faint scars that lined your arms. He had seen them before, but he never asked and was waiting for you to tell him when you were ready.

Though seeing you standing there, tears streaming out of your eyes, red nose and dead eyes, he just knew. Knew what those scars were markers of, what memories and feelings were hidden behind them. Your hair was a mess, not in it’s usual tidy bun that you wear to work. You looked tired, really tired and he felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t noticed sooner.

“Baby girl,” He cooed lightly, causing you to jump and hastily wipe your face. Smearing your mascara more than it already was. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You bit your lip, not wanting him to see this side of you, you wanted him to know you as the happy Y/N, not the depressed, hysterical crying one.

“I’ll be right back,” He said quietly after bringing you back to your desk. He disappeared and you honestly thought he wasn’t coming back. This was too much for him on top of his idol life. But he came back, picking up your bag and gently coaxing you out of your chair.

“C’mon,” He’d say and you didn’t question it, just followed closely behind him as he led you out of the building. He bought you ice cream on the way back to his dorm and picked up your favorite snacks. You two were settled on his bed, watching your favorite movie as he kissed your temple.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m here. I’m always here and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You can always come to me.”

choi jongho

He knew. He always knew. You two have been attached at the hip since you were both born. He knew you inside and out and it was breaking his heart seeing you like this right now. Your boyfriend had just broken up with you, your mom’s health wasn’t doing well, work was busier than usual and all that on top of your already crumbling mental health wasn’t helping your situation.

You sat on the couch, some commercial playing on the TV but he saw how you were blankly staring at it. Actually, he had kept time. Two hours you had sat there, unmoving, just staring. He had tried to talk to you, tried to snap you out of it but you hadn’t spoken a word. It was like you were looking through him.

The curtains were closed, no light coming through. You hadn’t changed your clothes since yesterday, and he was pretty sure that you had lost a significant amount of weight.

“Y/N,” He said quietly, bringing his hand up to lightly brush a strand of hair behind your ear which seemed to snap you out of it.

“Jongho? When did you get here?” Your voice was monotone, face showing no expression except the blank one you’d been wearing all week.

“I’ve been here every day Y/N, I’ve always been here.” You furrowed your brow and he let out a sigh of relief that you weren’t a statue, yet.

“How about a bath? And maybe we can go for a walk.” You shook your head just the thought of getting off the couch seemed too tiring for you to conquer right now. He sighed, turning around and showing you his back.

“Get on, Y/N. My best friend can’t stink.” You managed a small smile for the first time all week and timidly latched on to him, welcoming the warmth.

He didn’t get you to bathe that day, nor go outside, but he did get you to eat a little and get some proper sleep. He never left your side and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you smiled as you woke up, seeing him sleeping next to you.

268 notes · View notes

theworldinclines · 3 years

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Title: any old tuesday Pairing: Pang/Wave Ao3 link Excerpt: He doesn’t want to wonder the malintentions behind someone’s kindness the way he used to; he doesn’t want to constantly worry that he’ll be left without warning. Like a wise — and infuriating — boy had said a while ago, the other shoe doesn’t even exist, and waiting for it to drop only serves as a waste of Wave’s time. He knows that, theoretically. And up until two weeks ago, Wave had had a real grip on that as his reality.

Wave’s parents die on a Tuesday.

He’s got his English notebook open for the quiet-work portion of the class as he follows the assignment, to print any passage from Charlotte’s Web by hand. Nothing had spoken to Wave in particular; the book was rather bittersweet and at this point, because he has to, he’s chosen a page at random to copy down lest he run out of time.

These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall. Christmas will come, then the snows of winter…

He takes his time because even if the quote doesn’t necessarily mean much to him, he can at least be sure that his handwriting is neat. The headmaster appears in the doorway, beckoning their teacher toward her, but Wave doesn’t spare them much attention as he goes on with his careful work.

…the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours —

“Wasuthorn.”

He’s asked to speak with the headmaster in her office, and the walk there is strange for a reason he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to warrant a scolding; for him to have somehow gotten in trouble when there’s only an hour left of the school-day would be unbelievably irritating.

His hands flex with nerves as he tries to keep in mind that he’s really only ever minded his business and done his best in class. Unless someone’s made up a story about him, or there’s been some sort of rumour, Wave can’t imagine what he might’ve done.

His certainty falters when their arrival at the office shows Wave’s grandparents already waiting there.

Wave can’t help questioning, “Did I do something?” as Headmaster Weerawatnodom ushers him inside. His grandmother’s flushed cheeks give her a look of perpetual discomfort, the buttons of his grandfather’s overshirt have one done incorrectly, like he had been in a rush. “Are you okay?” he asks them.

They’re perfectly fine, they assure him. Wave is whisked away to his grandparents’ house in a flurry of confusion as they refuse to tell him exactly what’s going on until he is planted on their familiar sofa.

As it turns out, his grandparents are fine, but Teep and Wipha Worachotmethee aren’t. Wave’s parents had been shot that morning in their duty as officers, Wave is told. The fact is spoken in such a tone that implies even a 12 year old mind should understand that this sort of death is more meaningful or less of a complete waste than another. He’s a smart boy and in a way he does understand, but that doesn’t prevent him from shutting down.

His interest in class dwindles to half, if that, of what it had been, and if it weren’t for his natural intelligence he would likely be out of luck. What little luck he retains is drained when his grandparents pull him from school into another, public instead of private and therefore more affordable for their lifestyle. Wave didn’t dare ask them to reconsider, not when they’d already sold their own house to move into Wave’s. His parents’ will had made such a request so that Wave, should he lose them, wouldn’t be uprooted from the house he’d grown up in.

With that sacrifice on his guardians’ end, Wave does what he can to stay out of the way and as quiet as possible. However, the change in schools does nothing to help Wave’s attentiveness in class, and his new teacher is judgmental and prickly, completely infuriated by what she takes as Wave’s disregard for her teaching. His parents only passed a year ago — 11 months and three days — and he’d transferred here less than four months ago. Did she never get the memo that maybe Wave’s inattention in maths doesn’t stem from rudeness, but from simply struggling to function as normal in a world he doesn’t see his place in at all, let alone something so dreadfully easy as maths?

He’s made to transfer for a second time after the Incident occurs. The woman responsible is fired from her position but Wave can’t possibly stay at this school, where the rumours about him have spread like a forest fire. It doesn’t matter that they’re all total falsehoods; if anything, the lack of clarity around the subject spurs their need to fill the gaps. So he moves again.

More than ever, Wave hides in his bedroom, and when he’s alone he often can’t help thinking of how the grandparents he’d known for so many years had seemingly died with his parents. He wasn’t their grandson anymore — he was the burden they’d had to sell their own years-loved home for, he was the troublemaking child whose every move was suddenly their responsibility for a lifetime instead of the occasional weekend visit. Wave came to recognise stress and disinterest toward him in place of where had once been hands helping him to stir pots and arms lifting him onto a bicycle.

He’s resentful, is what it comes down to. Still, after so long, he’s resentful, even though he knows it isn’t fair to them. But with so much of Wave’s recent life reminding him again and again just how unfair things actually are, he found it difficult to tamper that resentment. Why had losing his parents meant losing his grandma and grandpa too? Why did he have to hide away in his bedroom to avoid the fact that neither of them could really look at him anymore? They’re disjointed, a caricature of anything resembling a family, his grandparents at one end of the house and Wave tucked away in the other.

As though his final year of high school isn’t hard enough, his grandfather dies the week before the semester is set to end.

He knows how he’s supposed to feel, but it’s been nearly a fortnight since the elder’s passing and the feeling itself has remained elusive to Wave. His grandmother hasn’t cried so much as she’s been quiet, quieter than ever. After the death of his parents, her quiet had become something more resigned than calming, and he’d grown used to that too. She’s again in shift, and allowing her space to grieve is nothing new to Wave. Unwilling to be seen or heard, he’d spent years doing what he could to remain separate from nearly everyone, and up to becoming Gifted he had been content to remain so. Maybe content isn’t the word; it’s more likely that he’d been resigned as well.

With his grandfather’s passing, Wave thinks of the ways in which his grandparents had had a fair hand in cultivating his negative thoughts, even if they hadn’t been aware of it, and he just… can’t find it in himself to cry.

In the absence of tears arrives an all too familiar voice in his head, sounding remarkably similar to his grandfather, to inform Wave that the reason he hasn’t cried is because he’s self-centered, that Wave’s care for the world starts and ends with himself. In a correlated sense, those who claim to care for Wave don’t, when it comes down to it, because how could anyone care for someone so self-obsessed?

Wave knows that can’t be true, because how could it possibly be? But outward logic does nothing to help, and his final semester of high school’s arguably sour end finds Wave in a similar state to a friendless, bitter self he thought he’d left by the wayside ages prior. If not completely discarded, he’d maybe hoped that that part of who he’d been was buried deep enough down to never resurface, but like that incessant voice, Wave can’t seem to shake him.

He doesn’t want to wonder the malintentions behind someone’s kindness the way he used to; he doesn’t want to constantly worry that he’ll be left without warning. Like a wise — and infuriating — boy had said a while ago, the other shoe doesn’t even exist, and waiting for it to drop only serves as a waste of Wave’s time. He knows that, theoretically. And up until two weeks ago, Wave had had a real grip on that as his reality.

He’s been staring at his black laptop screen for the past hour. The battery bit the dust a while ago but he hadn’t had it in him to grab the charger from the floor. There’s an incredible tightness to his chest and he also feels like his head is wrapped in fish netting, so although he’s likely conscious, in no way would he bet his life on it.

Wave can’t sit here anymore. He walks right down the stairs and onto the street, stopping only a few steps off their property. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. He would go to the rooftop but the school is closed to students for holiday — besides which, he’s no longer a student, and that’s an entirely separate headache for another time. He just goes on walking, paying no attention to wherever it is his brain is leading his feet. It doesn’t matter anyway, really.

He trudges onto a grassy path and however long later comes to a stop in front of his parents’ grave-markers. Their photos smile up at Wave from their place right beside his grandfather’s.

He hadn’t looked at the newest addition to their family plot, hadn’t even lifted his eyes from the ground when he’d come with his grandmother. But there it is, a shot of him and his grandparents, Wave kept snugly between them as though he belongs, some fantasy world where neither of them had slapped Wave to bruising for lying or made him feel like an outsider in his own home. A sweeping nausea hits Wave and he turns around, unable to look anymore.

He presses his forehead and hands onto a nearby tree to steady himself, the bark digging hard into his skin. He knows he’s crying when he pushes weakly off the tree to rub at his tired eyes, only to have the palms of his hands sting from the tears. He shakes his head and sets off for somewhere else.

It’d been another hour of wandering around until he had to accept that walking all over the city can’t change the final destination. The surprise comes when he sees a certain someone with their back to the wall by Wave’s house, eyes on the sky. He’d even brought his dog, for whatever reason. Wave removes his glasses to wipe them down, quietly and ineffectually preparing himself for whatever this is going to be.

Even with Wave trying to be noiseless, Pang’s attention falls to Wave within seconds of his approach. Wave would ask what he’s doing here, but he doesn’t have to. They’d promised months passed that they would always reply to one another’s messages, even if that message was two or three words, so that the other wouldn’t worry. But Wave’s not responded to Pang in a week, his negative spiral not allowing him room to honour their agreement. He’d even silenced his phone because he knew that hearing his phone beep with any message from Pang would have cracked him, and Wave hadn’t wanted to allow that.

He knows the system is especially for situations like this, when either isn’t able to communicate like usual, but now that Pang is standing here looking all concerned, Wave has to wonder if they might need to entertain a Plan B.

Wave doesn’t want to see Pang though. Actually, he does. It’s just that the idea of facing him after six days of radio silence leaves a heavy anxiety in Wave’s gut that he doesn’t want to face right now. He isn’t sure that he’ll be able to handle the sympathy in his eyes, or how he’ll be extra careful in dealing with Wave. Always Wave with FRAGILE stamped across his forehead in blocky red ink.

He doesn’t try to walk past Pang. He just stands there some distance away, useless, while Pang holds tight to Dip’s leash to keep him close.

“It’s past midnight,” is the first thing Pang says. Wave gives a slow, meaningless nod. “You left your window open so I tossed a rock through, but… you didn’t answer.”

“What’s up?” Wave manages. It’s vastly inadequate a question, all things considered.

“I wanted to see you,” because he’s always been forthright and transparent when it comes to Wave.

“Well, you’ve seen me,” Wave says, because he’s notoriously dismissive and unable to let himself be vulnerable.

This mood Wave has found himself in is one that they’ve seen less and less, but if Pang is taken aback, he doesn’t allow it to colour his words.

“Ohm invited us to some karaoke thing tonight but I said we have plans already,” he says. Wave shifts where he stands and Pang is quick to assure him, “It was just an excuse to get us out of Claire’s typical solo and double encore.”

Wave sits on the ground. He’s tired and remaining on his feet feels pointless right now. Pang follows suit without hesitation, still talking as he rubs Dip’s head.

“I had to say I forgot Dip’s after-dinner walk just to get out of the house. Mae thinks he’s taking an extra long bathroom break. Not sure how much time I can buy with that one before she wants to call up the vet. And then Prae wanted to come so I had to promise a whole cake or whatever it is from that French bakery just to shut her up. I can’t even pronounce the name but of course the six-year-old has the menu memorised — ”

“Are you done?” Wave interjects. “It’s one in the morning, Pang.”

Pang nods slowly. He releases Dip’s leash and Dip scampers over to Wave, leftover excitement at seeing him for the first time in a week coming back fast. Reflexively, Wave runs a hand down Dip’s head to his back and the dog wags his tail. Prae loves that bakery. She’d become obsessed with France after a school lesson and already asks when their family can visit the country. Prae’s the one who’d convinced her parents to get Dip, so Wave has no doubt she’ll wear them down into Paris. She always includes him in that too, like they couldn’t possibly go on holiday if Wave isn’t going with them.

It’s dark enough that Wave doesn’t bother wiping at his damp cheeks. He’s a pretty quiet crier, so he just sits it out, Dip in his lap and Pang across the way.

“I’m sorry,” Wave murmurs after some time.

“I know. You were caught up again? With the bad thoughts?”

“I haven’t… I’m not doing well,” Wave says. There’s so much more he needs to say, but the words won’t come out. As it is, he’s speaking through partially gritted teeth.

His grandpa is gone, and the best memory of him is from before Wave had turned 13. His grandma is a living ghost, his parents are long dead. It’s all too easy for Wave to think that he has absolutely no one left to care whether he’s here at all.

It’s taken two weeks to cry at his grandfather’s passing and half the tears aren’t even for him. The remaining can be attributed to so many miscellaneous bits and pieces that Wave can’t begin to think about them, at least today. He just focuses on how soft Dip’s ears are.

“Since the funeral?”

“Mm.” Wave inhales. “I hear him, and the usual — and before I know it — ” Wave doesn’t go on.

“Will I sound like an asshole if I say you’ve been doing so good?” Pang asks a few moments later. “I thought — I hoped since it wasn’t happening as often, it might’ve meant — ”

“I know,” Wave says quietly. An afterthought, though he means it, “You’re not an asshole.”

“Wave, I… I love you, you know? I just love you and I — God, I hate how mean your brain is to you. Like, you’re supposed to be on the same team and it’s…”

“Yeah,” Wave scoffs, “you’d think so.” He sighs a little and shakes his head, eyes on the dark sky. “You came all the way here because I can’t answer a LINE.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Pang says immediately. “You should know by now I’d run cross-country to meet you; a couple blocks’ walk is nothing. And you are a pain in the ass, but I like that.” They both cringe and Pang says, “So that didn’t come out — ”

“Let it go.”

“Letting it go.”

Wave gets to his feet and adds, “I cried.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I didn’t… cry at the funeral.” Pang knows this, as he’d been there too. “And I hadn’t up until earlier, and here, just now. Is that… Do you think that’s, like… weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Because of course everything is that simple with Pang. “I didn’t cry when my parents told me my grandma died, and I lost it at her funeral. Cried the whole time and looked like a baby in front of my entire family. Brains are weird.”

Pang takes the hand that goes to relinquish Dip’s leash, giving Wave time to decline the hug, but Wave lets Pang hold him close instead. He always feels like precious cargo in Pang’s arms, but rather than feeling humiliated as he’d feared, Wave feels embarrassed but touched by Pang’s sweet disposition. How he’s still constantly surprised after years of living around it, Wave doesn’t know.

“Are you alright to go back in on your own?” Pang asks.

“It’s whatever,” because there really isn’t much else to say.

“We’re going to have our own place, you know.”

“Huh?”

“When we’re at uni,” Pang clarifies. “Like, I just think about how we’ll have a dorm-room to share, the two of us. And then we can get an apartment, if we want to.”

It isn’t shocking to hear that Pang has ideas for their future, seeing as they’ve spoken about it, but the same as it always does to hear it said aloud warms a place inside Wave, the furnace Pang started up when they met.

“I’ll be there when you need me and I won’t let you be lonely,” Pang goes on. “You can tell me to fuck off when you have to though; I won’t be mad.”

“I won’t tell you to fuck off,” Wave says, even if he very well might.

“Maybe we can have a precaution for whenever you can’t answer messages,” Pang says. “You were too stressed this time to message me but not messaging me added to the stress. We’ll come up with something to help.”

Wave nods a little against him. Satisfied, Pang gently ruffles Wave’s hair as they pull apart.

“I’ll get going,” he says. “Mae’s probably got the vet on hold by now. But I’ll call you.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep, okay? At least 10 hours.”

Wave rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, sure. You too.” Pang grins and tugs Dip along on the street with a hand raised in goodbye.

In bed that night, Wave takes his phone off silent. He catches the most recent messages from Pang, before Wave had been responding, but he tries not to look at them and focuses on the present.

let’s take Prae to the bakery tomorrow.

she already loves you more than me, stop this! but i love you more than *anyone so i get it

ugh gn love you

i love you too

He’ll be fine, even when he inevitably falls apart again. He’ll be fine.

God, if only he could bet on it.

#my writing #pangwave #ao3 #archive of our own #the gifted #the gifted graduation #tgg #mlm #thai series #pang x wave #fics

23 notes · View notes

broadstflyers · 3 years

Text

A/N: Alright, here it is! Chapter two. Thanks for the support on the first chapter! As always, you can add yourself to the tag list for this series or give constructive feedback here. This chapter is still in the past tense. This one is a longer chapter, sorry! Although I have a feeling most chapters will be this long. If you like this series and want to read more, give it a like or reblog or pop into my asks, it encourages me to continue. any feedback is appreciated :)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter one

October

Grade: 9

Age: 14

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Ever since that class, you and Joel became inseparable whenever you were within talking distance. You just seemed to gravitate towards him, and he seemed to do just the same. When you needed a pep-talk before a big test, he was there. Whenever you needed a laugh, he was there. He seemed to just always be there. He even noticed when your hands started to slightly shake before a quiz or test. How would he respond? He’d do what any nice, respectful, and caring teenage boy would do: goof off. The way he did so was completely up to how rambunctious he was feeling that day.

Would he throw crumpled up paper at his friends and just smile as the teacher yelled at him?

Or try and balance the close by meter-stick on his head (that was soon taken away after)?

Or would he possibly take a different turn and re-explain a topic you were still shaky on?

He was just unpredictable in that sense.

Now how were you feeling about this newly kind Joel?

“Your face is the reddest I think I’ve ever seen it,” Luna teased while you both walked out of the classroom after the bell rang, “and if I held up my bright red backpack to it, I don’t know which one would be redder.” She was on a roll that day.

You scratched your eyebrow in a lame attempt to hide your glowing cheeks. See, on that day, Joel decided to calm your nerves by drawing a star on your hand. Yes, your hand. It went sort of like this:

Your right hand was resting on the table so the back of your hand was facing Joel, who was also on your right. He was messing around with an orange marker, threatening to draw it on his friend just a table over.

“Draw one on y/n,” the friend slyly suggested with a devilish smirk. Joel’s eyes widened to the size of hockey pucks and he whipped his head around to look at you. He glanced down at the marker and then regained his cool facial expression.

Meanwhile your blood ran cold and your head started to pound uncontrollably. You glance at Luna and she nods vigorously. You ball your hand into a fist and shakily stick it out, the adrenaline causing your hearing to slightly go. He offers a light smile, and you swear you can see him slightly exhale from relief. He positions the marker in his hand to get a good grip on it, because if he was going to draw on your hand, it had to be perfect.

He rested his hand under yours to hold it steady. Yes, his hand. He cleanly knocked the breath out of your lungs. You could feel the warmth radiate from his hand. He carefully and neatly (well as neat as a fourteen year old boy can) draws an orange star on the center of your balled up fist.

When his hand finally let go of yours, the touch felt too brief but also like forever.

You literally wanted to jump out of your skin. A mix of different colors felt as though they were swirling around your head in an intense blur. You wanted to throw up color and those sickeningly sweet feelings.

At this point, unlike the first time you guys were civil to each other, you surpassed the point of being screwed.

No. As soon as he touched your hand, you knew one thing for certain: you were in love with Joel Farabee.

“Now that’s one perfect good luck charm,” he says with a smirk.

Man, you just wanted to kiss that stupid smirk. That stupid yet adorable smirk….

And that’s how you ended up almost falling over in the hallway with Luna. In the hallway, she takes your hand and looks at the perfectly messy star.

“You’ve got that boy head over heels for you,” she sassed and laughed.

You playfully shoved her, but your heart skipped a beat.

You couldn’t help but wonder, did you really?

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

“LOVE?” Luna practically yelled in your room. Your parents let you guys hang out after school that very same day because it was yet another Friday. Which is how you ended up with Luna screaming at you on your bedroom floor.

“SHHHHH,” you aggressively said as you tried to calm her down. You pointed downstairs to your parents. You had told them earlier that Luna drew the star on, not Joel. They didn’t even know Joel existed.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “but LOVE? You’re in love with him? Are you sure? Aren’t we too young for that? At least, that’s what my mom says.”

You sigh deeply. “Look, I know, Luna. But there’s just something so different about him. Something I can’t explain.”

“Okay, but you also haven’t liked more than two people,” Luna counters, “and we’re fourteen.”

“But have you looked into someone’s eyes before and felt safe? Have you wanted to cling onto them and never let go? You’ve got to listen to me, these feelings are so intense that I want to throw them up in a glittery mess. He runs in circles around my mind 24/7. I wonder how his hugs feel, I wonder how I would act if I met his parents.” You pause for a moment and stare her in the eyes.

“I barely understand how I feel, myself,” you whisper. “I am so screwed, Luna, but I don’t care.”

Her face relaxes and she slowly nods her head. She breaks out into a smile.

“I hear you,” she calmly states as she takes one of your hands. “I will be here with you while we figure this out, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod in a soft whisper tone.

Maybe it was the cumulation of him constantly caring for you in his own way. Maybe it was the way he never made dumb jokes at the expense of your feelings. Maybe it was the way talking to him came so easily and naturally to you, like you’ve known him for lifetimes. Or maybe it was just the fact that you were young, like Luna said.

But you knew deep down you couldn’t wholeheartedly buy into that logic.

Because in the end, you knew you were right.

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

You turned fifteen on November 25, so you’re always exactly three months older than Joel, which he definitely did not appreciate. He found out when the teacher wished you a premature Happy Birthday the day before Thanksgiving Break.

“I cannot believe you,” he said in a mockingly defensive manner.

“Joel, I can’t exactly control when I was born you know,” you jokingly shot back. The playful banter was your favorite part of the day. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to it now.

“Well, how am I supposed to wish you a happy birthday when we won’t be in class?” He dramatically pouted.

I could give you my number, you thought. You’d never actually say that, though.

Suddenly, he turned and snatched a random piece of paper from one of his friends, and judging by the sharp “Hey!” that came out of the friend’s mouth, it probably was of some sort of importance. He grabbed your pencil and borderline slammed them down in front of you.

“Here, write down your number and all of our problems will be solved.”

Did he just? Did what you think just...happen? Fourteen year old you was absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sure,” you said as nonchalantly as possible, when in reality you were about to black out.

You scribbled down your number and handed it to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang, and you both scrambled for your things in the midst of chaos.

“I will be looking forward to that birthday wish,” you called out as he headed for the door. At first, you didn’t think he heard you, but at the last moment, he turned around and winked before stepping out the door.

You would have melted onto the floor if it wasn’t for Luna squealing in your ear like it was a holiday morning.

November 25 couldn’t come soon enough. Yes, you were excited to turn fifteen, but now you had another reason.

The question was, was that a good thing?

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

November 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

You woke up on your birthday morning with adrenaline coursing through your veins. After a fun Thanksgiving with family the day before, you were excited to finally celebrate your birthday with just your mom and dad, like you always did.

You’d be lying if you said the first thing you checked was not your phone. But, It was the first thing you reached for on your nightstand. Not your glasses, like normal.

You quickly scrolled through your notifications looking for an unknown number. There’s a text from your aunt, uncle, grandma, grandpa, cousins. Your heart sank when you reached the end. Nothing from him.

You placed your phone down and shook your head to clear out the negative energy that engulfed your body.

It was your birthday, you weren’t going to let anyone ruin this day for you. Even him.

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

It was after dinner, which was your absolute favorite meal. You had gone to the mall with your mom and dad for some birthday shopping, a tradition you were very grateful for.

On the way home, you were happily thinking about the new outfits you were gifted, until your phone buzzed. Your heart quickened.

Luna!!: did he text you yet?

You exhaled sharply.

You: no, he hasnt :(

Thanks for the reminder, Luna.

Luna!!: bummer. i’m sure he will soon.

Luna!!: he’d be an idiot not to, don’t worry, love!

You mindlessly stared out the window of the back seat, hoping the blur of the trees would take your mind off of him.

You could sense your dad glancing at you using the rearview mirror.

You turned to look at him. “What?”

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You plaster a huge smile on your face and say yes, of course, because your parents have done so much for you that day that you should have been fluttering from happiness. You mean, you were happy. You couldn’t have been more thankful. Your heart just yearned for him to fulfill his promise.

Because you didn’t know what school was going to be like if he didn’t, and you weren’t ready to face that reality.

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

That night, you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. Your heart felt heavier each time you checked your phone and “No Older Notifications” was displayed instead of seeing the one you longed for. You glanced at your clock on your nightstand. The bright red numbers glared at you. It was close to 11:00.

You sighed and spun your phone around in your hands as you thought. Call it delusion, but you refused to put your phone down. You knew he was going to follow through.

Did you know why you knew? Not a clue.

Without warning, your phone vibrated in your hands. You couldn’t have flipped it upright faster if you tried.

Maybe: Joel

Maybe WHO?

Maybe: Joel: Happy birthday math partner 🥳

Maybe: Joel: This is Joel by the way, that’s probably important to add

Maybe: Joel: Although you do only have one amazing math partner

You really thought you died there for a second. They were, like, a handful of words (excluding the Joel part) but they were enough to make you hug your pillow from overload.

You spastically texted Luna.

You: JESFEUN You: HE IFHUHF You: HE TEXTED ME LUNA

She must have been waiting for this text all day, just like you. She responded right away.

Luna!!: YAYAYA WHAT DID HE SAY?

You: Happy birthday math partner with the 🥳 emoji and he forgot to say his name until the second text lmaooo

Luna!!: aww thats so cute! he sounds like he has an empty head but you go hon!!

Luna!!: now text him back idiot before you forget or he goes to bed

You: yep one sec

Your thumbs circled aimlessly around the keyboard. You wanted to say so many things. You settled on this:

You: thanks, math partner :)

You hit send on that, hesitated for a moment, then typed:

You: and yes you’re a pretty great one

You took a deep breath and pressed send. You changed his contact to “Math Partner”

You wanted to throw up, but in a good way? You sighed into your pillow. Almost as quick as you sent it, you felt another buzz.

Your hand shot out to grab your phone.

Math Partner: Hey, anytime you need a star, I’m here

You glanced down at your hand, where the orange star was just a few short days ago. It was gone. You wished it didn’t fade.

You: the orange one has already faded :(

Math Partner: Well, to make up for the late birthday wish, I can give you another one once we go back to school since we have another big test

You nodded vigorously, as if he could see that through the screen.

You: maybe in red this time? it’s my favorite color

Math Partner: Whatever you want, birthday girl

What a simp, you thought. Also, you were surprised you still had a pulse at that point. Birthday girl?

Math Partner: I have to go now, I have hockey super early tomorrow. Goodnight 😁

“Hockey?” you whispered to yourself.

You: yay, thanks :) and goodnight!!

He plays hockey? you thought. Shouldn’t you have known that?

You frantically Facetimed Luna and whisper-yelled every word you two exchanged. Luna beamed with so much happiness that you could have sworn she was getting the guy.

“This is literally the best thing EVER,” she quietly exclaimed.

You just laughed a giddy yet nervous laugh. You still had no clue what was happening, but you were ready to embrace it.

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

January 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

When the teacher switched around the seating charts during the year, she mostly kept you and Joel within talking distance each time. If that thing about teachers sensing when kids like each other was thought to be true, she definitely proved it to be so.

Thankfully, she kept this trend going when she switched the seats around on Joel’s birthday. She moved you guys back next to each other for the next quarter. Before, she briefly separated you guys for about two weeks (when Joel wouldn’t stop yelling to his other friend who was near him). During that time apart, you both were noticeably droopier and mopier than normal. He still joked with his friends, but you only heard his loud laugh a handful of times instead of….too many.

As for you, some kid you’ve never even talked to asked you if you were okay. The answer was of course no, but you couldn’t say that.

So when the brown haired boy sat down next to you for the first time in two weeks, it felt like the day he drew the star on your hand all over again. You wanted to reach out and hug him so he’d never leave you, much less say something, anything, but you just couldn’t still. Thankfully, he did the talking for you.

“Miss me?” he joked with his trademark smile.

“Very much so,” you said with a balance of sarcasm and lightheartedness. “Happy birthday, by the way.” You lightly shoved him, not entirely knowing where the guts to do that came from.

“Thank you, thank you. Did you get me anything?” he teased. He lightly shoved you back.

Your heart beated frantically. Your impulsivity urged you to do something you never would have a few months ago.

“Actually…” you paused for a moment. He raised his eyebrows. You reached for an orange marker and uncapped it with a pop.

“May I?”

He could hardly believe it.

“Do what?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Draw a star, dummy.”

“Ohhhhh,” he said as he connected the dots. He stuck out his clenched fist as he fought back a huge grin.

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing that.

You tucked your hand under his to keep it steady, just like he did with your hand a few months back. You took your time making sure each corner was connected precisely. You also didn’t want to let go of his hand, like, ever.

You finished way too soon for both your likings. You pulled away and closed the cap.

“Happy birthday, Math Partner.”

“Thanks,” he said. He had his eyes glued on the star you just drew. He didn’t even try to fight the grin that was creeping on his face.

Now you were the cause of his smile. Warmth flowed through your body. You just wanted to keep him that happy forever.

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

That night, Luna called you on Facetime because apparently talking about those events in the hallway afterschool wasn’t enough.

“What’s up?” you calmly asked, as if you didn’t know why she was calling.

“What’s up? What do you mean what’s up? I mean, first you lightly shoved him. Yes, I saw that. But then you draw a star on him? I don’t know where this confident you came from, but I am living for it. I am so proud of you,” she sincerely said through a smile.

“Aw thank you, I appreciate it. Yeah, I don’t know either, honestly. He just brings out this good side of me now.”

“I can see that, and I love it. So...” She dragged out the “so,” and that was never a good sign.

“So?” you asked.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” You played dumb as best you could.

She didn’t buy it. “Oh come on, y/n. You know you love him, why don’t you tell him?”

You shuttered at that idea. By doing that, you risked losing what you’ve created so far. You were texting him roughly once or twice a week at that point about random stuff and talking to him in class every chance you got. Losing that was just something you were not prepared to face. And you told Luna that.

She (mostly) understood.

“I respect that,” she said. “But if you guys don’t hang out in the summer and keep this going, I will kill him.”

You snorted. “Me too, honestly.”

Could you guys keep this going for that long?

Only time would tell, you told yourself.

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

April

Grade: 9

Age: 15

Every time you saw Joel, you came home with a pep in your step. It was like clockwork. You would bounce into the house with a grandiose “Hello Mother” and hum a song stuck in your head. Today it was “Love Story” by Taylor Swift.

“How was your day?” your mom asked with a hint of suspicion. After months of letting your intriguing happiness spell go, it was too obvious for her to ignore.

“Good,” you said. You didn’t really want to tell her much about Joel because you knew she wouldn’t believe you if you told her how you really felt about him. Those strong feelings didn’t waiver once over the last few months. Okay, maybe once on the day that he accidentally spilled water on your homework. But you couldn’t stay mad at him after he willingly placed his own homework in the same water.

“You’re very happy today. Anything happen in particular?” She prodded.

“Nope,” you pop the letter “p”.

“Who’s the boy?”

You froze. “Boy?”

“There has to be, you haven’t been this happy to go to school pretty much ever.”

You sighed. It was your mom after all. Maybe she would believe you if you told her.

“His name’s Joel, he’s in my Algebra class,” you mumbled.

“Is he nice? Is he smart? Does he play hockey?” The questions flew from left and right.

“Yes, he’s nice. He’s really sweet to me. He is way better at math than me. Yes he does,” you rattled off the answers to her bombardment.

“Excellent,” she smiled. “You like this boy?”

“Yeah, I really do. A lot actually.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A lot?”

“Yeah, honestly, I might love him.”

That confession froze the kitchen over. She paused.

“Honey, you’re too young to know that,” she tried to reason.

Your chest stung. “What if I’m not?” You questioned.

“You’re fifteen.”

“I know Mom, I know.” She opened her mouth to talk, but you said, “I have to go start homework.” You charged up the stairs and crashed on your bed.

So what if you were fifteen? You didn’t care how old you were. Call it being naive, but you were sure you knew everything when you were young.

You just had to wait for timing to fall into place to prove everyone wrong.

tagging: @teamcanadasimp :)

#joel farabee #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee fic #okay i caved and posted it because i miss them all very much #read chapter one if you haven't already!

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princessmariaphiliper · 3 years

Text

THE SLEEPOVER FIC | Part 2 The Nightlife

Notes: James Acaster, Ed Gamble (Platonic), and other characters to be added. Smoking and alcohol consumption warning I guess

Pairing: James Acaster x Reader

Genre: Fluff with eventual smut, Slow Burn fic

Words: 2,507

Summary: You and James have put yourselves into trouble, but you think maybe it’s hotter that way.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

The bright humming of ABBA played across the bar as the three of you entered from the Uber. You’d all had a tequila shot each before leaving your apartment and you were begging to welcome a great night with new and old friends alike.

On the way inside, you had all discussed how strange it was that the two of you had never met before, considering Ed was close to both of you it was hard to pinpoint why. You shook it off, dead ready to bust out some terrible dancing.

It was quite a dingy bar you’d come to but, in a sexy sort of way. You’d been here plenty of times with friends over the years and you and Ed had both agreed that it was one of the best places in London. With cheap, but suspiciously strong, drinks and a decent range of music to get you feeling a buzz.

You entered first, heading straight to the bar to line up for a drink. James and Ed hot on your heels.

“What do you want?” You asked, “I’ll buy the first round as a thank you. I’ve missed you Ed!”

“Don’t be silly, you've already given us one at yours” Ed replied, getting out his wallet.

“No I insist please”

“Okay but me and James will get the next two”

“Deal” You looked between the two “what's your damage boys?” You winked, starting to feel a little flirty after the shots you’d had at home.

“Dirty Martinis?” James suggested, beginning to speak closer to you as a group of football lads entered the club. Changing the volume from a 7 to a 9. His breath dusted lightly across your skin, secretly exciting you.

“Sounds sexy,”

“Dirty Martinis it is.”

James and Ed moved across the club, beginning to search for some of the other friends Ed had invited out tonight. While you waited patiently and ordered the three of you drinks. The music had changed now, they were playing Ashnikko through the speakers. You observed James as him and Ed found their way around bodies at the bar. You smirked watching him laughing between his and Ed’s, now found, companions. There was something about him you found attractive, you couldn’t quite tell if it was the schoolboy humour you’d seen him perform or his down to earth personality that you’d discovered thus far tonight. He looked over at you. The two of you making slightly awkward eye contact, before he broke the uncomfortableness with a smile.

“What would you like darling?” The lady at the bar spoke over the speakers. You smirked back at him before turning around and ordering the three of yours choices.

Digging through your purse for your bankcard you waited as the bartender mixed the martinis. You were slightly hypnotised by the pouring, something about cocktail making always mesmerised you, especially after you’d already had a few drinks. A hot hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your trance however, and you flinched around to meet James standing directly behind you.

“Thought you might need a little help carrying three” He smirked, giving back the one you delivered him earlier.

“Thanks, that's very gentlemanly of you”

“Not a problem.”

“I’ll get Ed’s and my own you can have yours”

“Sure” You scanned your card and began making your way over to the stools where lots of new faces were. You took a sip of your drink, ready to start feeling more buzzed.

“So how did you and Ed meet?” James struck up a casual conversation.

“Oh, well, when he started rehearsing at the basement, he couldn’t get in the first time. Luckily, I was walking past, and I had some work there a few days before so I had the managers number. He was blessed to have met me really!”

“Sure was” He commented, more to himself than you. But you heard him clear as day over the sound. You hoped you were not mistaking kindness for flirting, but who could blame you. You were three drinks in, single, and he was wearing a goddam suit.

“What?” You challenged him as you took a seat next to Ed. He sat opposite you, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing. At. All”

Ed looked between the two of you, seemingly questioning what you had been discussing. Neither of you elaborated though and so he began introducing you to some of his university friends. You and James exchanged devious smiles as you shook hands with them, half his face in a glass.

The night continued on, two more drinks of chatting and getting to know the people you were to spend the night with.

“So what exactly do you do at work then?” James asked you, elbows on the table, now sipping on a mojito.

“Well, it depends what day.” You admit honestly. “Two days a week I work along women with traumatic pasts to use art for self-discovery and mental healing. The other days my projects switch, sometimes I’ll be writing a play or someday I’ll be outsourcing for other people. So drama therapy with freelance work”

His face softened, and you saw a genuine smile surface. “Wow. That’s, amazing. I didn’t expect that.”

“Scared Acaster?” You teased.

“Why would I be?”

“Most men get afraid when I tell them I have a career in therapy. They get scared I’m reading them”

“Not me”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a tough nut to crack” He wiggled two thumbs at himself, “Good luck getting under my skin behbeh”

You laughed loudly at him, drawing the attention from the table. Ed gave you a questioning look again but you shrugged it off. “Anyone fancy a dance?” You stated, taking advantage of the interrupted conversations as one of your favourite songs had just begun.

“I’ll grab us another drink, Ed what do you want?”

“Same again please mate.”

You moved out towards the outside of the cluster on the dancefloor. Raising your arms and spinning as you did so. Ed followed you from the table along with some other people that you, embarrassingly, were a little too drunk to remember the names of. You and Ed began to dance, him bending his knees oddly as you wiggled your hips naturally to the music. He came up close to you, having to shout in your ear to talk.

“What are you plotting?”

“What do you mean?” You quizzed, the two of you bobbing too and from one another's ears now.

“With James, I’m not daft.”

“Nothing, just some friendly flirting.” You admitted, although you couldn’t convince yourself your intentions were entirely pure.

“Well, just so you know and you don’t do anything you’ll regret. He’s with someone.”

His statement took you by surprise, James had not yet made any mention of having a girlfriend. And it wasn’t as though you had been one sided flirting. Maybe you’d gotten the wrong impression and he was just being friendly. Either way you shrugged it off.

“A little flirting never hurt anybody Ed,” You rolled your head back to the music, smirking at him now. Moving your hips and shoulders in sync as James approached you and Ed again. Holding three glasses in a triangle of hands. You took one from him, easing him into a more comfortable stance from his hunched over ‘I’m trying my hardest not to spill any of this’ one. You drank from your glass. Your free arm weaving its way into the air. Deciding that, even if you could not take him home now, you could at the very least have a boogie with him and Ed.

The music changed from the classic club tune to a slower, sexier Blondie tune now. The room roaring with approval towards the DJ. You screamed giddily, loving this song too. You, Ed and James shouting the lyrics at one another as though you were auditioning for a season of Drag Race. Loving the energy, you spun around in a circle, beginning to down the drink in your hand. James and Ed joined you, his friends all chanting to egg you all on and crown a winner for the spontaneous challenge. Ed finished first, embracing his victory by moving towards James and jabbing him in the ribs. Forcing him to uncontrollably spit his mouthful onto the floor. Surprisingly not wetting any area but his shoes in the process. The group laughed and continued to dance. The songs got more and more blurred as the night went on. You bust out your favourite moves, the sarcastic slut drops and finger guns coming out more often than you’d be proud to admit.

Avril Lavigne, Ariana Grande and The Fratellis later, you found yourself desperately needing the bathroom. You made your way up after letting Ed know you were going while he ordered another round. The men and women’s toilets were on the same end of the bar as the smoking area here. It was quite a studenty sort of place, with lots of people sitting on the wide stairway chatting to one another. As the booming of music was captured in the main room. There were posters plastering the walls of different musical artists and marker pen of peoples names. You went to the bathrooms, slightly worried about having now broken the seal and the inevitability of needing to piss every ten minutes from now on. You washed and dried your hands quite sloppily under the purple light of neon in the toilets. Making your way back out onto the stairwell. You captured James on the back end of a conversation.

“Well did you expect me to just sit home for weeks?” He said in a rather deflated tone. The person on the other end responded. “Okay yeah. Speak to you tomorrow then.”

He hung up the phone. Shaking his head in frustration and lowering it to press into his palms now.

“James?” You spoke timidly, not wanting to startle him. “Everything alright?”

“Not really.” He looked up at you, eyes going slightly flat and one side of his mouth scrunching into a dimple. You took a seat next to him, feeling genuinely sad without knowing his troubles.

“You wanna tell someone about it?”

“Maybe.”

“Shall I get Ed?” You asked tenderly, not wanting to overstep a boundary with someone you’d just met. You’d placed your hands atop of your knees, not wanting to touch the dirty stairs you sat on. He lifted his head up to face you. Your breaths fighting each other in the cold from the smoking doors being wide open. His eyes softened from their screwed up tension when they met with your own.

“No.” He said breathily. “Can you stay?”

“Sure. What's wrong?”

“Well” He broke contact, looking up to the ceiling. Ready to vent. “I think my relationship is finished. We just keep arguing all the time and sometimes I just want to throw in the towel.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You know when you just feel something not working anymore. I don’t know how to tell Ed as she’s so close to Claire. You’re actually the first person I’ve openly told I just feel so stuck.”

“Oh.” You didn’t quite know what to say for a while. Before deciding to give him the advice you’d wished someone had given you towards the end of your last relationship. “Well. Can I be honest?”

“Sure”

“I think. You have to do what’s best for you. A few years ago, I was going through a similar thing. We just had no goals left to fill together and it sort of died out. We clung to each other for so long afterwards simply because we were both afraid to be single again.” He nodded, looking back at you again. “But it's really not so scary once you get used to it. We’re all born into the world alone, sometimes you have to put your own mental health first. I say give it a little more time and if you still feel the same then don’t be afraid to walk away. There's no shame in it.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re an attractive man James, I’m sure there'll be plenty of people falling at your feet when you’re ready again!” You smiled at him. Rather proud of your shitfaced advice. Even if you couldn’t remember what you had just said James seemed a little more relaxed now.

“You think I’m attractive?” He wiggled an eyebrow comically.

“Shut up.” You paused, pulling your bag onto your lap. “Listen, I convinced one of Ed’s friends to give me a cigarette earlier. You want half?”

You didn’t usually smoke. You’d given up doing so socially sometime after university as you could see it becoming a bit of a habit. But every now and again you’d do so on a night out. James looked at you with a cheeky grin as you pulled it out and held it between your thumb and forefinger. He winked at you, snatching it from your hand and stumbling over to the smoking area. You followed suit clumsily yelling a rendition of his name. Making it outside you made your way over to him asking someone for a lighter and placing it in his mouth. He inhaled as he flamed the end, passing the lighter back to its rightful owner.

There was something mysterious about watching James smoke. It was something you couldn’t imagine him doing before then given his persona on the Tv. If you had to be honest you found him a little sexy as he passed the cigarette over to you. His fore finger resting on your bottom lip as you took a drag. You noted the darkness in his eyes returning from before as he moved a strand of hair from your cheek. You took the cigarette between your own fingers now, pulling it out of your mouth.

“So,” You started, before exhaling. “Is girlfriend mad because you’re not home?”

“Yeah. She’s away for the next three weeks for work and isn’t happy that I’m out without telling her.”

You pulled a face accidentally at the notion. James luckily didn’t take offence, he just laughed. “Sorry, drunk actions.” You shrugged.

“Sober truths.” He added a ‘thank you’ as you passed back the cigarette.

“She not let you out much?”

“No, she hates when I’m out without her. Thinks other women will flirt with me,”

His sentence laid itself heavy. Adding an awkward guilt into the exchange between the two of you. Luckily to break that pause Ed gambles face made itself present in the entryway.

“Are you two smoking!” He said in a way that was laced with disappointment. James took the Cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground. You felt like two kids having been caught eating a bar of chocolate before dinner. You giggled as you butted the glow out with your foot.

“No?”

“Definitely not.”

“As if we would Ed!”

#james acaster x reader #jamesacasterxreader #james acaster imagines #james acaster fanfic

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